Ch 1 Out Of The Ashes
"Cave quid optes, ne veniat in veritatem."
Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, reader discretion is advised. (Seriously, I warned you)
In the darkness, he suddenly found himself standing alone in a meadow, the familiar setting twisted and strange, bathed in an eerie, unnatural light. The grass beneath his feet felt sharp and cold, almost like blades of ice, and the sky above was an angry shade of red, swirling with dark clouds.
Beau looked around, his senses heightened to an almost unbearable degree. Every sound, every movement, was amplified, sending jolts of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt the liquid fire that had consumed him during his transformation burning within him, roaring like a furnace, driving him to the brink of madness.
Suddenly, he wasn't alone. Three figures emerged from the shadows of the trees, their movements fluid and predatory. Two men and one woman, their eyes gleaming with a sinister light as they closed in on him. Their presence was suffocating, and Beau instinctively tensed, every fiber of his being screaming at him to flee, to escape the inevitable confrontation.
But there was nowhere to run. The vampires circled him, their expressions twisted with hunger and malice. They moved as one, launching themselves at him with a speed and ferocity that took his breath away. Beau dodged the first blow, his movements awkward and clumsy in comparison to their fluid grace.
They attacked relentlessly, each strike more brutal than the last. Beau was forced to defend himself, his arms raised to block their blows, his body twisting and turning to avoid their fangs. He could feel their cold breath on his skin, their snarls filling the air as they tried to tear him apart. It was a desperate, frantic dance, and for a moment, it seemed as though they had him cornered, their fangs inches from his throat.
But something inside Beau snapped. The fear that had been holding him back was consumed by a sudden, burning rage, and the fire in his veins roared to life, fueling him with a primal energy he had never known before. He stopped dodging, stopped defending. Letting the razor edged nails of his opponent rake across his stonelike skin, deep gashes leaking out the putrid blood in his veins. The pain was silent, the voice of fear in his head went completely and utterly quiet.
Beau was gone, leaving only a blood starved vampire inhabiting his skin. Within it was only rage, and the thirst, an eternally undying unquenchable thirst that made his entire body scream with its desperate, clawing need for blood.
With a snarl that echoed through the meadow, Beau lashed out, his movements fueled by the raw, animalistic power that surged within him. His hands were no longer clumsy—they were weapons, precise and deadly. He moved faster than he thought possible, his vision sharpening as his instincts took over.
The first vampire, a tall, muscular man with dark hair, lunged at him, his fangs bared. Beau sidestepped at the last moment, his hand shooting out to grab the vampire by the throat. With a feral growl, Beau sank his newly sharpened fangs into the vampire's neck, tearing through hardened flesh and bone with ease.
The vampire's blood, foul and bitter, filled his mouth, but Beau didn't stop. He drained the vampire dry in seconds, he drank until there was nothing left, leaving behind only an empty husk. The body fell limp in his grip before he tossed it aside like a ragdoll.
The second vampire, a blond man with cruel eyes, let out a roar of fury and lunged at Beau, his movements fueled by rage and desperation. Beau caught the vampire's arm mid-swing, the impact sending a shockwave through his body.
They struggled for a moment, their strength evenly matched, before Beau let out a snarl and ripped the vampire's arm clean off. Blood sprayed across the meadow, soaking into the grass as the vampire stumbled back, his eyes wide with terror.
He tried to flee, but Beau was faster. With a savage roar, Beau grabbed the vampire by the head and slammed him into the ground with enough force to shatter bone and stone alike. The vampire's skull cracked open like an eggshell, a gruesome splatter of blood and brain matter painting the ground as the life left his immortal foe.
The third vampire, the woman, was paralyzed with fear, her red eyes wide like saucers as she watched Beau slaughter her companions. She tried to back away, her lips trembling as she whispered desperate pleas for mercy, but they fell on deaf ears, the only sound he heard was the ceaseless roaring of his blood within him.
Beau's bloodlust was too strong. He moved toward her with a predator's grace, his eyes glowing with a sinister crimson light that seemed to burn straight into her soul.
As she turned to flee, Beau's hand shot out, his fingers digging into her back with a force that made her scream in agony. He hoisted her into the air, her body dangling helplessly as she struggled to break free. Her pleas grew more frantic, her voice trembling with terror, but Beau was beyond reason.
With a final, monstrous growl, Beau ripped the vampire in half, hungrily gulping down more of the foul liquid as it poured down his throat. Her blood spraying across his face and chest as her body fell in two pieces at his feet. He stood there for a moment, panting, his heart racing with the thrill of the kill. The scent of blood filled his nostrils, intoxicating and repulsive all at once. His skin was slick with it, the sticky, foul-smelling liquid clinging to him like a second skin.
But something was wrong. As the last vampire's life drained away, a nauseating sensation welled up in Beau's stomach. The blood that had given him strength now curdled in his veins, turning to poison. He gagged, his body instinctively trying to expel it, but it was too late. The blood twisted and writhed inside him, his body rejecting it as he forced himself to keep it down.
His blood had finally gone quiet, the sound of a rushing waterfall in his ears ceased, leaving behind a deathly silence in its wake. He felt the fire in his veins turn icy cold as the realization of what he'd done came over him. Looking at the trembling bloodsoaked hands that felt alien, that they should belong to someone else, anyone else.
A sickening chill spread throughout his body as he collapsed to his knees, his vision swimming. The warmth of the sun could do little to warm his cold, dead heart. He held his head between his hands,
He looked around the meadow, now soaked in blood, the bodies of the vampires scattered like broken dolls. The once-vibrant grass was now slick and matted with gore, the air thick with the stench of death.
The world around him began to blur and darken, the edges of his vision closing in as the fire in his veins sputtered and died. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was his own reflection in the blood-soaked grass, his lonely eye glowing a hellish crimson that seemed to burn straight into his soul. Bleeding a singular tear of crimson blood, barely noticeable on his bloodsoaked features.
And then, there was nothing.
The world had dissolved into a chaotic whirl of agony, each moment a disjointed fragment of consciousness that bled into the next. Beau's body was no longer his own—it was a vessel of unrelenting pain, an inferno that consumed him from the inside out. He couldn't think, couldn't reason, couldn't even scream; his voice had been stolen by the fire that raged within him. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, each beat like a sledgehammer against his ribs, the blood in his veins boiling as though it were molten lava.
In his delirium, Beau was certain he had died. This must be hell—this endless torment that knew no mercy, no respite. There was no way a person could endure such pain and live. His mind flickered in and out of awareness, slipping between the unbearable present and the dark recesses of his subconscious where terrifying visions awaited him.
He blinked and found himself in a black void, weightless and drifting. Edythe's voice echoed around him, disembodied and filled with a sorrow so deep it tore at his very soul. "Beau, I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I'll never leave you, even if you hate me. Please, please forgive me…" Her words were a lifeline, pulling him back from the brink of madness, but they were tinged with a desperation that made them feel less real, more like the cruel imaginings of his broken mind.
The blackness shifted, flickering like a dying flame, and he was suddenly aware of movement around him. He could feel the cold touch of hands on his burning skin, but he couldn't open his eyes, couldn't even tell if they were really there. Voices mumbled urgently, rising and falling like the tide, but they were muffled and distant, as though he were hearing them from underwater. He struggled to make sense of the words, but they slipped through his grasp like sand through his fingers.
A sharp, searing pain exploded in his chest, and he was yanked back into the inferno, his body arching as though it were being torn apart by invisible claws. He was vaguely aware of being lifted, carried, but he couldn't tell if he was flying or falling, the world spinning dizzily around him. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and blood, and the taste of ashes filled his mouth.
Was this death? Was this what it felt like to be torn apart, only to be stitched back together by fire? He wanted to scream, to thrash, to fight, but he was trapped in his own body, a prisoner to the agony that had taken over every inch of his being.
"Edythe… where are you?" The thought drifted through the haze, a desperate plea that echoed endlessly in the darkness. Her name was the only thing that anchored him, a flicker of light in the void. He clung to it, trying to ignore the way the flames licked at his bones, searing his flesh from the inside out. But even her name couldn't shield him from the nightmare that had become his reality.
He was vaguely aware of being placed on a hard surface, the cold seeping into his skin. The pressure of hands on his chest, on his arms, holding him down as though he might try to flee. He wanted to—God, he wanted to run, to escape this relentless torment, but there was no escape. The pain was too intense, too overwhelming. It was as though his body was being ripped apart at the molecular level, every nerve igniting in a burst of pure agony.
"Hold him down—Carine, help me!"
Archie's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and panicked, but it seemed a world away. Beau's mind latched onto it, trying to follow it back to reality, but the effort only sent him spiraling deeper into the darkness. He could feel the hands pressing harder on his chest, as though trying to keep him grounded, but it was no use. The fire was too strong, too consuming, and it pulled him under, drowning him in its flames.
The world shifted again, the sensation of weightlessness returning, and Beau was floating in the black void once more. This time, he was not alone. A figure appeared before him, her outline blurred and indistinct, but he knew it was Edythe. Her face was twisted in anguish, her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn't decipher—love, guilt, regret? Maybe all of them at once. She reached out to him, her hand trembling, but as he tried to take it, she pulled back, her expression crumpling as if she were afraid to touch him.
"I'm sorry, Beau… I'm so sorry…"
Her voice cracked, and she seemed to dissolve before his eyes, slipping away like smoke in the wind. He reached out for her, panic seizing him as she faded into the void, but his arms wouldn't move. He was paralyzed, helpless, as she disappeared into the darkness, leaving him alone in the burning agony that was his existence.
He blinked, and the world shifted again. The cold pressure of hands on his body was gone, replaced by a different kind of weight—the weight of despair, of knowing that he was alone in this suffering. The fire still raged within him, but now it was accompanied by a suffocating sense of emptiness, as though the flames had hollowed him out, leaving nothing but a shell behind.
"Edythe… don't leave me…"
His voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible, but it carried with it all the desperation and fear that had been building within him since the transformation began. He didn't know if she could hear him—didn't know if she was even real—but he couldn't stop the words from spilling out.
The void began to close in around him, the darkness pressing down on him from all sides. His breath came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle against the weight that threatened to crush him. The fire in his veins grew hotter, more intense, until it felt as though his very bones were being consumed by the flames. He couldn't think, couldn't see, couldn't feel anything but the searing pain that had become his world.
But even in the midst of the torment, a part of him refused to let go. A part of him clung to the hope that this wasn't the end—that somehow, he would survive this. The thought was a fragile thing, barely more than a whisper in the chaos, but it was enough to keep him from slipping into oblivion.
And then, suddenly, the world shifted again.
He was no longer in the void, no longer floating in darkness. He was lying on a bed, his body still wracked with pain, but the fire had dimmed slightly, enough for him to register the sensation of the mattress beneath him. The cold pressure of hands had returned, but they were gentler now, their touch soothing rather than restraining.
"Beau… please, stay with me…"
Edythe's voice was close, so close, and he could feel her breath on his skin. He tried to open his eyes, tried to see her, but his eyelids felt like lead, too heavy to lift. He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that he was still here, still fighting, but the effort was too much. His body was too weak, too battered by the transformation to respond.
"Edythe… I'm here…"
The words were silent, a thought rather than a sound, but he hoped she could hear them. He hoped she knew that he was holding on, that he was fighting for her, for the chance to be with her again.
But even as he clung to that hope, a part of him knew that he was slipping away. The fire was growing stronger again, the pain intensifying as it spread through his body. He could feel it consuming him, burning away everything that made him human, everything that made him Beau. And as the flames took hold, he realized with a sickening certainty that he was losing himself.
His thoughts became more disjointed, his sense of time slipping away as the agony consumed him. Reality and dream blurred together in a chaotic haze, moments of lucidity giving way to nightmares that he couldn't escape. He was trapped in a never-ending cycle of pain and fear, his mind splintering under the weight of it all.
He blinked, and suddenly he was back in the meadow with Edythe. The air was warm, the scent of wildflowers filling his lungs, the sunlight filtering through the trees to cast dappled shadows on the ground. Edythe was beside him, her hand in his, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. She smiled at him, but the smile was tinged with sadness, as though she knew something he didn't.
"Beau, I love you," she said, her voice soft and melodic. "I'll always love you, no matter what happens."
He wanted to respond, to tell her that he loved her too, that he would never leave her. But the words wouldn't come. All he could do was hold her hand and try to memorize every detail of her face, knowing that this moment could be his last. The warmth of the meadow, the softness of her touch, the sound of her voice—it was all slipping away, like sand through his fingers.
The meadow began to fade, the vibrant colors bleeding into the darkness that had become his world. Edythe's face grew dim, her features blurring as she was pulled away from him. He tried to hold on, tried to keep her with him, but the fire was too strong, the pain too overwhelming.
And then, finally, there...was nothing but darkness.
The void returned, the flames within him raging with renewed intensity. He was lost again, adrift in a sea of agony with no end in sight. His thoughts fragmented, splintering into a thousand pieces as he struggled to hold on to some semblance of himself. He was no longer sure what was real and what was a product of his tortured mind. The pain was all-consuming, a relentless force that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, dragging him deeper into the abyss.
In the midst of it all, he felt a hand on his forehead, cool and comforting against the searing heat of his skin. A voice, gentle and familiar, whispered words he couldn't quite make out, but the sound of it soothed him in a way nothing else could. He focused on that voice, letting it anchor him, pulling him back from the edge of oblivion.
"Beau… you're almost there… just hold on a little longer…"
It was Edythe. He knew it was her, even if he couldn't see her. Her presence was a balm to his tormented soul, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this hell. He tried to reach out to her, but his body wouldn't respond, trapped as it was in the throes of transformation. The fire raged on, but her voice gave him the strength to endure, to keep fighting, even as everything else slipped away.
Time lost all meaning. Minutes, hours, days—it was impossible to tell how long he had been trapped in this inferno. The agony was relentless, unyielding, but so was Edythe's voice, her presence a constant in the storm of his suffering. And slowly, so slowly, the fire began to recede, the flames dwindling until they were nothing more than embers.
Beau's thoughts grew clearer, the fog of pain lifting just enough for him to grasp at the remnants of his sanity. He could hear the voices around him more distinctly now, could feel the gentle touch of hands on his skin. But he was still trapped, still unable to move, his body caught between life and death, human and something else entirely.
And then, finally, the fire died out. The agony that had consumed him for what felt like an eternity was gone, leaving behind a strange, empty stillness. Then he noticed it, the rhythmic beat of his heart had left, leaving only silence in its wake.
Beau lay there, his body exhausted, his mind numb, as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He could feel the change in himself, in his very being, but he wasn't sure what it meant. All he knew was that the pain was over, and he was still here.
But was he still Beau? Or had the fire burned that part of him away, leaving something new in its place?
The darkness lingered, a comforting void that beckoned him to rest. But before he could sink into it, a voice called out to him, clear and strong, cutting through the last remnants of his delirium.
"Beau, open your eyes."
It was Edythe, her voice filled with a mixture of relief and fear. Slowly, hesitantly, he obeyed, his eyelids fluttering open. The world was bright, too bright, the light searing into his newly sensitive eye. He blinked, trying to adjust, as the blurred figures around him came into focus.
Edythe was there, her face inches from his, her golden eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hope. Behind her, he could see Archie, his expression tense, and further back, the rest of the Cullen family, their faces a mix of concern and apprehension.
"Beau…" Edythe whispered, her voice trembling. "You're… you're okay…"
He wanted to respond, to tell her that he was here, that he had made it through, but the words wouldn't come. His throat was raw. Instead of words all that escaped his lips was a faint rasping noise. All he could do was stare at her, the reality of what had happened finally sinking in. He had survived. But he was no longer the same. He was something else now, something more—and yet less—than human.
Edythe reached out, her hand trembling as she touched his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I'm so sorry… I didn't want this… I never wanted this…"
He closed his eyes, the overwhelming reality of it all crashing down on him. But there, in that moment, he realized that he was still himself, that he still loved her, despite everything that had happened. He had changed, yes, but that love remained, a constant in the chaos.
As Beau opened his eyes to his new vampiric existence, he was immediately overwhelmed by the sight before him. The entire Cullen family stood around him in a protective semi-circle, their faces a mix of concern and cautious hope. Edythe was at the forefront, her golden eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his already heightened senses buzz with a mixture of relief and unease.
The family he had come to see as an odd but comforting constant in his life was there for him, ready to support him through this unimaginable transition. For a fleeting moment, relief washed over him—he wasn't alone in this. But then, a shadow crossed Edythe's face, a flicker of doubt that sent a cold jolt of fear through Beau's chest. His relief evaporated, replaced by a gnawing dread that twisted in his gut. Had she already seen the monster he feared he had become?
His newfound clarity of thought brought back the memory of something Edythe had said to him months ago. Her words echoed in his mind, as fresh and cutting as the day she had spoken them: "If you became a vampire, you would become just another one of us, and you'd lose all interest to me." The memory sent a jolt of panic through him, a sharp, cold dread that curled around his heart like a vice.
A heart which no longer beat, in reality he felt nothing, but the pain was real. Like a phantom organ he could still feel it, where his heart should be, it still ached, it still felt like he was falling each time fear overwhelmed him. The Cullen itself was a maelstrom of sensory input, the sound of insects in the other room was crystal clear, he could count the individual threads on each bedsheet carefully stacked at his feet. He could see everything and yet right now it felt like he was blind. It was all too much at once. All he could focus on was Edythe, on her face that looked just as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her. Now he could see it more clearly, study the perfections in her face and curls in her hair with a new clarity.
No. She would see him now, not as Beau, but as a creature—an undead thing, devoid of the warmth and humanity that she once claimed to love. He could feel his breath quicken, though it was no longer necessary for his survival. His chest tightened as the room closed in around him. His mind raced, the realization crashing over him like a tidal wave—he needed to escape, to get away from the horrified stares he was certain were hiding behind their carefully neutral expressions.
Without a word, Beau bolted upright from the bed, his movements more fluid and powerful than he had anticipated. He was halfway across the room before anyone could react, the world around him a blur of motion. The instinct to flee, to run as far away as possible from the judgment he feared, overtook every other thought.
"Beau, wait!" Edythe's voice was filled with a mix of desperation and fear, but Beau couldn't stop—wouldn't stop. The sound of her voice, the very thing that had once been his anchor, now only fueled his need to escape. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, though none fell. He was no longer capable of such a human reaction.
Instead the scent of tainted blood filled his nostrils as his eyes burned yet nothing left them, ignoring the sensation as he charged forward out of the house.
Archie moved quickly, stepping in front of Edythe before she could follow. "No, let him go," he said, his tone firm yet gentle. The rest of the Cullens paused, their eyes flickering between Edythe and Archie, uncertain of what to do.
"But—" Edythe began, her voice breaking slightly.
"He needs time," Archie insisted. "He needs time to process what happened. We can't force him to stay."
Edythe's face twisted in anguish, but she relented, her shoulders slumping as the fight left her. She watched helplessly as Beau disappeared into the forest, his figure swallowed by the trees as he moved with impossible speed.
The moment Beau hit the tree line, he pushed himself harder, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the Cullens as possible. The wind whipped through his hair, the sensation sharp and exhilarating against his skin. He was moving at a speed that should have been terrifying, but instead, it felt natural—effortless. His feet barely touched the ground as he darted through the forest, each step propelling him forward with a power he never imagined himself possessing.
As he ran, the world around him seemed to slow. He could see each individual leaf fluttering in the breeze, hear the distant rustle of animals in the underbrush, and smell the rich, earthy scent of the forest floor. His senses were heightened to a degree that was both awe-inspiring and overwhelming. But no matter how fast or far he ran, he couldn't outrun the thoughts that plagued him.
Eventually, Beau found himself in a clearing that was achingly familiar. He slowed to a stop, his chest heaving with breaths he didn't need to take. The homegrown gym he had built in the months after Edythe left stood before him, a testament to the life he had tried and failed to build without her.
He approached the small boulder he had once struggled to lift, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. With a single finger, he pushed the boulder off the ground, watching with a detached curiosity as it soared through the air and collided with a nearby tree. The impact shattered the tree into splinters, the raw power behind the throw both exhilarating and terrifying.
But the thrill of his newfound strength was short-lived. Despite the rush of power, something felt wrong—different. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally. They were his hands, but at the same time, they weren't. The skin was flawless, almost unnaturally smooth, and the strength that pulsed through his veins felt alien, like it didn't belong to him. A deep sense of unease settled in the pit of his stomach.
Beau's eyes were drawn to the pond nearby, its surface still and reflective like a mirror. He approached it slowly, his footsteps hesitant. When he caught sight of his reflection, his breath hitched. The face staring back at him was both familiar and foreign, a grotesque blend of the boy he had been and the vampire he had become.
His scars were still there, scattered all across his body, but they had faded, the jagged lines on his skin looking more like silvery streaks of lightning than the deep, ugly wounds they had been. But the most striking change was in his eyes—one was a brilliant crimson red, while the other was still a dead, milky white, a stark reminder of the injury that had almost killed him.
Beau recoiled from his reflection, a wave of nausea washing over him. How could he look like this? How could he be this...thing? The sight of his own face made him feel sick to his stomach, though the sensation was hollow and meaningless now. His body was a corpse, animated by something dark and unnatural. He was no longer human—he was a monster.
He stumbled back from the pond, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, the memories of his transformation blending with the nightmares that had plagued him during the change. The only thing that had been real, the only constant, was the searing fire that had burned through his veins, drowning out every other sensation.
But now that the fire was gone, he was left with the cold, hard truth—he had become exactly what he had always dreamt of. A vampire, so why was he so upset? This was what he wanted, isn't it?
To be cursed to live an eternal existence devoid of the warmth and humanity he had once known. And worst of all, he had no idea what that meant for him and Edythe. He wanted to be with her but wouldn't force her to be with him out of some misguided feeling of pity or guilt? Would he be able to spend his newfound eternal youth with her? Would she hate him? Pity him?
He had no idea what any of this meant.
The reflection in the pond haunted Beau as he stared at the stranger's face looking back at him, losing track of time as he did.
His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and despair, and he couldn't reconcile the twisted image of himself with the person he had been just hours—or was it days?—before. The twisted scars, the crimson eye, and the dead, milky white one felt like a mockery of the life he had once known. How could this be him? How could he ever face Edythe like this?
The forest seemed to pulse around him, each sound amplified, every scent sharpened to an unbearable degree. The world was too loud, too bright, and too vivid, and Beau felt as though he were drowning in the overwhelming stimuli. Panic clawed at his throat, and without thinking, he turned to run again. He couldn't stay here—couldn't face what he had become.
But before he could take more than a few steps, a figure appeared in front of him, blocking his path. It was Archie, his expression a mix of concern and something Beau couldn't quite place—sympathy, perhaps?
"Beau, wait," Archie said calmly, though there was a firmness in his tone that told Beau he wasn't going to let him run this time.
Beau's first instinct was to push past him, to escape into the depths of the forest where no one could find him. But something in Archie's eyes made him pause. There was no judgment there, no pity—just a quiet understanding that cut through Beau's frantic need to flee.
"Just hear me out, okay?" Archie continued, taking a cautious step closer. "I know you're overwhelmed, but running isn't going to help."
Beau hesitated, his mind a tangled mess of fear and anger, but he forced himself to stay still. His chest heaved with the effort of holding back the impulse to run, to escape from this nightmare that had become his reality. "I'm fine," he said, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.
Archie's eyes narrowed slightly, and he tilted his head as though considering Beau's answer. "Are you?" he asked, his voice gentle but probing. "Because I've seen how 'fine' looks on a newly turned vampire, and trust me, this isn't it."
Beau opened his mouth to protest, to insist that he was handling it, but the words caught in his throat. The truth was, he didn't know how he was supposed to feel. Everything was wrong, twisted beyond recognition. The power surging through his veins was intoxicating, but it was a power he had never wanted—not like this. "I don't know," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I always thought...if I became like this...maybe I'd be better, stronger. But I just feel...wrong. Like I'm not me anymore."
Archie nodded, his expression softening as he took in Beau's words. "I get that. I really do," he said quietly. "When I was first turned, I was lost. I didn't know who I was, where I was, or what I was supposed to do. All I had were these...fragments of memories, and none of them made sense. I felt like I had been ripped out of one world and thrown into another, and nothing fit."
Beau glanced at Archie, his initial hostility melting away as he heard the sincerity in his friend's voice. It wasn't just a story—it was something Archie had lived through, something he was sharing with Beau not out of obligation, but because he genuinely cared. And that realization made Beau's shoulders sag with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. He wasn't alone in this. Archie knew what it was like—maybe not exactly, but close enough.
"I just...I thought I was dead," Beau murmured, his gaze dropping to the ground. "When I woke up, everything hurt so much, and I couldn't think, couldn't tell what was real or not. I was sure I was dead. But then I woke up and...and I wasn't. But I still don't feel...alive."
Archie's face softened even further, and he placed a reassuring hand on Beau's shoulder. "You came very close," he said gently. "When Edythe found you, it was almost too late. She did what she had to do to save you, but it wasn't an easy decision."
Beau looked up, meeting Archie's eyes. "She...turned me," he said, the words heavy on his tongue. It wasn't a question—it was a realization that had been slowly creeping up on him, a truth he hadn't been ready to face.
Archie nodded. "Yes. She did it because she loves you, Beau. She couldn't bear to lose you. None of us could."
A mix of emotions surged within Beau—relief, anger, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal. He had wanted this once, hadn't he? He had dreamed of being with Edythe forever, of sharing her eternity. But now that it was real, now that he was like her, all he could think about were the words she had said to him months ago.
"But she said...she told me if I became a vampire, she'd lose interest in me," Beau whispered, his voice barely more than a tremor. He looked away, unable to meet Archie's gaze, the memory of Edythe's words stinging like a fresh wound.
Archie's expression softened, a flicker of sadness in his eyes as he placed a reassuring hand on Beau's shoulder. "People say a lot of things when they're scared, Beau. That doesn't make them true."
"That's not all she said." Beau shook his head, wanting to believe the words but the fear in his heart kept him at a distance, a safe distance. Because if he got his hopes up for them to only be dashed immediately. It'd break him, of that, he was certain.
Archie sighed, shaking his head slightly. "She said a lot of things, Beau. But I promise you, that wasn't true. She was scared—of what it would mean for you, for both of you. But none of that matters now. If you want answers, you'll have to ask her yourself. But just know that she agonized over this decision. She did it because she couldn't bear to live in a world without you, and you didn't leave us with a lot of better options."
Beau felt his temper flare at Archie's words, the volatile emotions that came with his transformation bubbling to the surface. "What was I supposed to do, Archie? Sit around and wait for someone else to save me? I had to do something! I couldn't just..."
Archie's frustration boiled over. "You nearly got yourself killed!" he burst out, the calm mask he usually wore cracking. "Do you have any idea how close you came? If Edythe hadn't found you when she did—" He stopped himself, clenching his fists as he struggled to keep his anger in check. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was?"
Beau flinched at the intensity in Archie's voice, but the frustration in him flared just as hot. "Tell me then! What was I supposed to do?" he shot back, his voice rising. "Sit around and do nothing at all? Wait to die?"
Archie's anger flickered, replaced by a flash of understanding, though the frustration was still evident in his eyes. He opened his mouth to argue, but Beau cut him off, his voice raw with emotion. "You couldn't have expected me to just stay put while Victor was out there! You couldn't have honestly expected me to just sit back and let him come for me!"
His voice broke off as the rage surged, and before he could stop himself, he lashed out, his hand shooting forward to grab Archie by the collar. An animalistic snarl escaping his lips. But Archie moved faster, effortlessly dodging Beau's grasp with a speed that left him spinning on his heels.
Beau stood there, trembling with the aftershocks of his outburst, his chest heaving as the anger slowly ebbed away. He was horrified by his own reaction, by how easily the anger had taken control. But when he looked at Archie, expecting to see judgment or anger, he found only a look of understanding and sympathy.
Archie exhaled sharply, his irritation visibly fading as he recognized the truth in Beau's words. "No, Beau, I get that," he admitted, his tone softer but still edged with lingering frustration. "But there had to be another way—something less...suicidal. You didn't have to do it alone. You didn't have to take that kind of risk."
Beau's anger ebbed, replaced by a weary resignation. He shook his head, feeling the weight of his actions pressing down on him. "I didn't know what else to do, Archie," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I had to do something."
Archie sighed, running a hand through his hair as the last of his anger dissipated. "I know. But you didn't have to do it like that. You're not alone in this, Beau. We're here for you—we want to help you. You don't have to go through this the way we did."
Beau looked at him, the fight draining out of him completely. The truth was, he didn't want to be alone in this. He didn't want to be consumed by the darkness that had nearly taken him. With a reluctant nod, he finally relented, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay... I'll… let's just get out of here."
Archie's expression softened into a relieved smile, the frustration from before now replaced by genuine concern. "Thank you, Beau," he said, his tone warm and reassuring. "That's all any of us want—to be there for you."
Beau took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his chest begin to ease. He wasn't sure what the future held, but whatever may come, Archie was still with him.
With one last look at the clearing, Beau turned and followed Archie back toward the Cullen house, uncertain of what lay ahead but comforted by the knowledge that he didn't have to face it alone.
"Be careful what you wish for, lest it come true."
AN: I was writing this as one long chapter that I decided was too long and chopped in half then polished up the first half, this is the result, hope you enjoyed, see ya on the next one. Consider this a gift as my original plan was to not release anything until I had the whole story mapped out and leave the cliffhanger dangling.