Twilight is the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter 45: Waltz of Wolves & Secrets

APOV

Sun March 20/05

"Anya…" Jasper said softly. "I know it wasn't normal. And I'm sorry that I—"

Jasper's scars and bite marks felt like an intricate map under my fingertips, each one a thread in the complex tapestry that made up his vampiric existence. The pattern was hypnotic, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in it, drawing parallels between the pale ridges on his skin and the mark on my wrist – a permanent reminder of the moment he had saved me from James.

But beneath the quiet intimacy of this moment, I began to realize that my thoughts were starting to drift too close to the edge of that uncomfortable truth—one I still wasn't ready to face, let alone share. The truth about my time in that strange, shadowy place between this fictional world and my real life back in Montreal, where I had felt the presence of my family, siblings and future generations that never had a chance because my other self from this fictional world—American Anya—had been orphaned too young, the vibrancy of her family cut off before it even had a chance to bloom.

I could tell that Jasper was following the clues I had been dropping all morning. He wasn't stupid, he was the smartest one of the bunch, in my opinion. And I could see the understanding dawning in his eyes; I just wasn't ready to give him more than that. Not yet. To say the words aloud would make it true – I was cut off from home, tethered to Meyer's Twilight.

Thankfully, my stomach chose that moment to rumble, cutting through the heavy silence that was beginning to settle around us. I realized I couldn't even remember the last time I'd eaten. My fingers lingered on Jasper's arm for just a moment longer, marveling at the strange beauty of his bite marks, but I could tell it was starting to make him uncomfortable. And if I was being honest with myself, there was something unnervingly familiar in the way I was drawn to him, like I was bound to him in some inexplicable way.

Were Jasper's scars my own version of Edward's singer? The thought flitted through my mind, unsettling in its implications. Maybe it explained why, in that in-between place, I had felt an almost magnetic pull to return to him, to this Dreamworld. My life in Montreal was gone, the door to it slammed shut, the moment he began to remove James' venom, and maybe that was why I had relented, choosing to accept that this reality was where I needed to be. That perhaps my creator – God – had this all planned out.

The layers of this train of thought were making my head spin.

"Anya," Jasper's voice broke through my thoughts, soft yet laced with confusion. His eyes, rimmed with the lingering traces of my blood coursing through his body searched mine for answers I wasn't ready to give.

I smiled, pushing back the flood of memories and thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. "I need to eat," I said, my tone light, almost teasing. "Let's see what Esme bought for me. I'm a little curious to find out what your matriarch thinks a librarian's diet consists of."

I hopped off the couch and started to move towards the kitchen, but I couldn't resist a detour to the record collection. It was one of the few things that felt wholly mine in this strange overlap between my life in Montreal and the one American Anya had forged here.

Flipping through the records, I was relieved to find that my other self had an eclectic taste that matched my own. A pang of longing shot through me as I thought about my old apartment, filled with the remnants of my bohemian life. Would my family have to start packing it up? I quickly pushed the thought aside, not wanting to dwell on it. Instead, I smiled as I pulled out The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, a comforting relic from both our lives.

The moment the first strums of the opening track filled the room, I noticed Jasper giving me a look that clearly said he thought I'd lost the plot. And maybe I had. I did after all have a near death experience. Or was it death? Was my family preparing for my funeral? Stop it, Anya! I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and focused on the ridiculousness of the soundtrack, humming along, the familiar notes soon chasing away the gloom that had been threatening to settle in.

When I finally made it to the fridge, I was pleasantly surprised to find it stocked with some of my favourites—things I knew couldn't have been bought in Forks. Esme had outdone herself, clearly taking the time to track down specialty items that reminded me of home.

I turned to Jasper, narrowing my eyes playfully. "Alice wasn't being very truthful, was she?" I asked, a teasing edge to my voice. "Esme didn't perhaps make a detour to Vancouver to pick up a few of these Canadian items, did she?"

Jasper chuckled, a low sound that made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. "Alice may have had a little foresight," he admitted, not quite meeting my gaze. "She wanted to make sure you felt at home here."

"Thank you," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't just for the food—it was for the effort, the care, the way they had tried to make this strange new world feel a little bit like home.

Did they know? Did they suspect what really happened in that dance studio?

When I spotted the bottle of Quebecois maple syrup—liquid gold in its purest form—I couldn't help but grin. The thought of making proper crêpes, the kind I used to whip up on lazy Sunday mornings back in Montreal, sent a little thrill of excitement through me. Esme had really thought of everything.

Jasper's smile widened as he watched me, clearly attuned to the sudden burst of energy that had replaced the heavy thoughts from earlier. It was almost like he could feel my giddiness radiating through the room. And when the unmistakable opening notes of "The Time Warp" came on, well, there was no way I could resist.

I did what I did best in The Dreamworld – I leaned into it and embraced it for all it's strangeness and supernatural dangers.

With the kitchen as my stage, I let the music take over. I grabbed a mixing bowl and started gathering ingredients, all the while swaying and spinning to the beat. By the time the chorus hit, I was full-on dancing, using a spatula as my makeshift microphone. I belted out the lyrics, not caring that my audience of one was a vampire who had probably never seen anything quite like this before.

I could practically feel Jasper's amusement as he leaned against the counter, a half-smile playing on his lips. There was a light in his eyes, a kind of bemused curiosity, like he was trying to figure out this strange human ritual. And maybe he was. After all, I doubted he'd ever seen a human dance and sing their way through making breakfast, especially not with this much enthusiasm.

I spun around, flipping a crêpe in the air as I sang the last lines of the verse, and I could've sworn I heard a soft chuckle from Jasper. The kitchen was filled with the scent of warm batter and the sound of laughter, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself just be in the moment.

"See something you like, Major?" I teased, shooting him a grin as I plated the first crêpe, drizzling it with the maple syrup that tasted like home.

Jasper's smile softened. "I think I could get used to this," he replied, his voice low and almost thoughtful.

It was a simple statement, but it carried a weight that made my chest tighten. Home. The word felt foreign, almost impossible to grasp, yet here I was, standing in a kitchen stocked with my favourite foods, listening to a record that was as much a part of me as my own heartbeat. And there was Jasper, solid and real, a connection to this new life I hadn't fully accepted yet. The first bite of the crêpe was like tasting heaven itself. The rich, buttery flavour mingled perfectly with the sweet, amber syrup, and I couldn't help the soft moan that escaped my lips. It was everything I'd been craving, a little piece of home wrapped up in warm, golden batter.

"Sacrament, Jasper," I sighed, letting the warmth of the food fill me up in a way that I hadn't realized I'd been missing. "I really wish you could taste this. Esme has truly spoiled me. I might have to ask her to make a weekly run up over the border to get my favourites."

Jasper's eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched me devour the crêpe, his expression a mixture of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite place. There was a part of me that wished he could join in, that we could share this simple pleasure together, but I knew that wasn't possible.

Did Edward ever join Bella for dinner at her house? Did he have to throw up afterwards? Why do I care?

I pushed the thoughts of vampires' digestive physiology aside and focused instead on the idea of Esme making regular trips to restock my stash. "Ooo, how long would it take her to run over to Montreal?" I mused, half to myself, half to Jasper. "Would she be willing to stop at my favourite local bakery? There's this place on Saint-Viateur that makes the best bagels. I'd kill for one of those right now."

Jasper chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I'm sure Esme would be more than happy to oblige," he said, his voice warm with affection. "Though I think you might have to settle for a few visits a year. Even she has her limits."

I couldn't help but laugh at that, imagining Esme sprinting across the country just to pick up my favorite treats. It's not like she'd even break a sweat. "Alright, I'll take what I can get," I said with a wink, taking another bite of my crêpe and savouring every last morsel. "But I'm not above bribing her with my own baking if it helps."

Jasper's expression faltered, clearly unsure of how to respond to that little slip of the tongue. Right, me bribing a vampire with baked goods—what would she even do with them? The image that popped into my head was so absurd that I couldn't help but let out a small snort of laughter.

"Tex," I said, my eyes gleaming with amusement, "what exactly would Esme do with my baked goods? Place them on a cut crystal platter and use them as decor?"

He stared, his lips twitching as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh along with me or try to come up with a serious answer. The idea of Esme arranging my cookies or cakes as an art piece was so ridiculous, so completely out of place in the world I was now a part of, that the thought became even funnier. I could just picture her arranging my perfectly iced cupcakes like a centerpiece on the dining room table.

Jasper finally let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You know, I wouldn't put it past her. She does have an eye for aesthetics."

I laughed. "Great, so I'll be contributing to the Cullen family's interior design," I teased, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face. "Maybe I should start making pies in abstract shapes, really go for that modern art vibe."

When the sugar from the maple syrup hit my system, a wave of giggles bubbled up inside me. I felt a sudden burst of energy that I needed to burn off, so I practically bounced over to my record collection, flipping through the albums until I found just what I was looking for—Werewolves of London. The opening chords were all the invitation I needed to let loose, dancing my way through the living room, giddy from the tastes of home that still lingered on my tongue.

To my surprise, Jasper joined in. He moved with a fluid grace that was almost otherworldly, his version of dancing somehow both effortless and precise. Of course, a vampire could dance—what couldn't they do? I mean, I knew he could dance, we danced dozens of other times in my living room and kitchen, but slow dancing and howling our way through Warren Zevon are two very different acts. This was playful and silly and just perfect after the hellish week we'd both gone through.

I couldn't help but smile when I noticed that he hadn't bothered to roll down his shirtsleeves. The scars that crisscrossed his arms shimmered in the sunlight filtering through the windows, adding a new dimension to his already mesmerizing presence. There was a real beauty to the scars and bitemarks, and with him gliding around my living room and watching how the sunlight caught them I was hypnotized once more. Decadent weapons indeed!

The song ended far too soon, leaving me breathless, though for entirely different reasons. I collapsed onto the couch, still laughing, and Jasper followed, a smile lingering on his lips as he sat beside me.

"Who knew you had moves like that, Major?" I teased, nudging him playfully.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a light I hadn't seen before. "You might be surprised at what I can do."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the challenge in his voice. "Care to show me more?"

He smirked, a look of mock seriousness crossing his face. "Only if you keep that syrup away from me. I'm still not sure I trust it."

I chuckled as we sat there, the record still spinning, the music wrapping around us, a comfortable silence settling in. Jasper's sudden, soft laugh broke through my thoughts, and I turned to him, confused by the shift in his mood.

"Care to share the joke, Tex?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he turned towards me. His fingers found my left wrist, gently tracing his teeth marks embedded in my skin. There was a softness in his touch, a kind of reverence that made my breath hitch slightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant, as if he was weighing each word carefully.

"When you first arrived in Forks back in January," he began, his gaze fixed on my wrist, "Eddie boy was... adamant about keeping an eye on you. Since he couldn't read your mind, he was determined to watch you, to figure you out. He was frustrated, you know, not being able to see inside your head. Eventually, the family asked me to follow you, to see if I could get a read on you emotionally."

Jasper paused, his thumb brushing over the mark on my wrist in slow, thoughtful circles. I held my breath, feeling a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside me. Part of me wanted to be angry, but it also clarified for me that I had always known that the Cullens had been watching me from the moment I crashed into town.

"I remember watching you dance to this song one night," he continued, his voice even softer now. "It was after school, and you were in your living room, just like this. You were so free, so happy, and I couldn't help but be drawn to it. To you. That night, I let my guard down, let myself really feel your emotions. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. You were a mix of everything—joy, happiness, contentment, all swirling together in this... emotional cocktail, as I like to call it."

He glanced up at me then, his eyes searching mine for a reaction. I could see the sincerity there, the way he was trying to explain without overwhelming me. The idea of him watching me, feeling what I felt, was both unnerving and oddly comforting at the same time.

"So, you've seen this show before?" I asked, my voice light.

Jasper's smile softened into something more genuine, more real, as he continued to trace slow, calming patterns on my wrist. "I have," he admitted, his voice low and steady. "But seeing it up close, with you here... is infinitely better."

I mulled over his words, letting them sink in. A part of me wanted to dissect what he meant, to pick apart the layers of his confession, but another part, the part that was tired of overthinking everything, decided to just accept it for what it was—a moment of honesty between us. And honestly, being here, stuck in this world where the rules were written by someone else, and unsure if my presence would mess with Meyer's timeline of events... well, I figured, 'what the hell.'

My fingers began to lightly trace his scars, following the raised lines with a delicate touch. There was something soothing about it, the way our hands mirrored each other's movements, both of us exploring the stories written on our skin. It was becoming hypnotic.

"You know, Tex," I began, my voice taking on a teasing lilt, "I already knew that. I mean, that I was being watched. Why do you think I never bothered to close the curtains?"

His eyes widened just a fraction, the surprise evident on his face. I could see him processing what I'd just said, the way the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to figure out if I was serious.

"You knew?" he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

I nodded, a small, mischievous smile playing on my lips. "I had a feeling. Forks is a small town, and I'm not exactly the most subtle person. Plus, Edward not being able to read my mind? I figured you all might want to keep tabs on me. So, I thought, why not give you something to watch?"

Jasper's laugh was soft, almost disbelieving. He shook his head slightly, his thumb pausing on my wrist as he looked at me with newfound respect. "You really are something else, Anya."

I shrugged, trying to play it off, but there was a warmth in my chest, a sense of satisfaction that I hadn't expected. "I wasn't too sure what else I could do, to reconcile that I had found myself in the pages of a book, so I leaned into it. I figured if I was going to be in the Dreamworld, I might as well have some fun with it. Besides, I wasn't doing anything I wouldn't do on my own. Just... with a bit of an audience."

His gaze softened even more, the weight of his earlier admission still lingering between us. "You've always been more in control than any of us realized, haven't you?"

"Maybe," I said, my fingers still tracing the scars on his arm, feeling the way they told a story all their own. "Or maybe I just decided that if I was going to be watched, I'd make it worth your while."

Jasper's eyes sparkled with amusement, his smile widening just a bit. There was something comforting in the way he looked at me, like he was genuinely intrigued by the layers I kept revealing.

"Although," I continued, feeling a little playful confession bubbling up, "if we're going all confessional here, Werewolves of London was the closest supernatural song I could think of."

He laughed at my confession. "So that was your idea of sending a message?" he teased.

I shrugged, grinning mischievously. "Well, I didn't exactly have a playlist titled 'For the Vegetarian Stalker Outside My Window.' But I figured Werewolves of London was fitting enough."

He continued to laugh and trace my bitemark, as I continued to trace the ones on his arms, though his eyes never left mine. But I wasn't done yet—there was one more confession I'd been holding onto.

"Although," I continued, a sly smile creeping onto my face, "when you boys were in the library for detention and Edward's behaviour was so… broody, Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush was a stroke of genius, singing softly. And when you started to sing along, I knew you loved it. Especially how it irritated Edward."

Jasper's eyes widened slightly in surprise before he burst into laughter, a genuine, full-bodied laugh that made my heart skip a beat. The sound was so rare, so unexpected, that I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"I can't believe you caught that," he admitted, shaking his head, still grinning. "You're right, though. I couldn't resist. Seeing Edward so riled up by something as simple as a song... it was priceless."

"He really hated it, didn't he? All that brooding, and then hearing 'Heathcliff, it's me, Cathy, I've come home...' I thought he was going to explode." I continued to confess.

Jasper's mood shifted slightly, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light that he was clearly trying to keep under control. I could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and I raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story.

"Tex," I began, a playful lilt in my voice, "why do I get the feeling that I wasn't the only one to hum a few bars of Wuthering Heights?"

He looked away for a moment, sheepishness creeping into his expression. "Well," he drawled, trying to sound casual but failing miserably, "I might have done the same at home... And Emmett too. He really enjoyed the reaction."

When he said those words, I remembered lunch and how Emmett started to belt out Kate Bush just to annoy Edward flashed through my mind, and I shrieked with laughter.

"Oh God, Jasper, are you trying to say Emmett did that more than just at lunch?" I managed to say between giggles, clutching my sides. "I truly am a bad influence on you!"

Jasper finally let out a full laugh. "Yeah, he did and yes, you might be a bad influence," he agreed, his eyes twinkling. "But I can't say I mind."

"Just imagine," I gasped, still catching my breath, "Emmett in full dramatic mode, serenading Edward with 'Heathcliff, it's me, Cathy...'"

Jasper's smile turned into a grin, and he shook his head, clearly enjoying the memory. "He sang it with gusto. And Edward's frustration just made it that much better."

I wiped away a tear from laughing so hard, still unable to shake the mental image. "I wish I could've seen that. You Cullens have a lot more fun than you let on."

Jasper's expression softened, his eyes meeting mine. "Well, you're definitely bringing out a different side of us."

"Glad I could help," I said with a wink.