A/N I don't own Twilight, that's the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter Five: The Baby Sitter

JPOV

It wasn't just a long night—it was a long-ass weekend that crawled by, dragging its heels like a reluctant soldier. The hours seemed to stretch on, each one more excruciatingly slow than the last. Friday night bled into Saturday with a kind of torturous monotony, the kind that makes you hyper-aware of every ticking second.

I spent most of Friday night with my guitar, letting my fingers dance across the strings as I strummed random songs, drawing inspiration from the swirl of emotions that filled the house. The vibrations of the guitar felt grounding, a welcome distraction from the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

Across the room, Edward and Alice had resumed their eternal chess match—a battle of minds that was as predictable as it was tedious. Their hands hovered over the pieces, frozen in place as they each tried to outmaneuver the other in some endless mental deadlock. It was a staring contest disguised as a game, and trust me, you never want to get into a staring contest with either of them. It never ends well.

Emmett, never one to sit still for long, found himself back at his PS2 console, his thumbs flying over the controls as he decided to scrub his first way through the game and try again on the hardest level possible. His frustration was almost palpable, a mix of determination and stubborn pride as he muttered curses under his breath. The sounds of gunfire and explosions provided a fitting backdrop to the chaotic energy in the house.

Esme and Carlisle, ever attuned to the moods of their children, had wisely picked up on the arousal simmering between my darling siblings. With a shared look, they'd escaped to the small cabin on the edge of the property, no doubt to have their wicked ways with each other. The thought of it made me smirk—vampires don't age, but they sure don't lose their passion either.

Rosalie, predictably, was back in the garage, still muttering about BMWs. If I wasn't an empath, I'd swear she was jealous of sweet Anya's ride. The metallic clang of tools and the low hum of her voice created a rhythm of their own, a background track to the madness of the weekend.

Ahh, Anya. She never strayed far from my thoughts, even when I tried to distract myself. But I didn't dwell too hard on her, not wanting to stir the pot and provoke another round with Edward.

Not that it mattered—round two happened anyway. Brother dear was not prepared to wait until Monday morning to take another crack at figuring out the enigma that was Anya. Oh no, in classic Edward fashion, he decided to sneak out just before dawn, heading straight for her house like a moth to a flame.

Alice was the one who burst into my room, her expression a mix of urgency and exasperation. She saw how frustrated Edward was with the human, saw him potentially wrecking that oh-so-lovely red BMW in Anya's driveway. I sighed, already knowing what this meant.

I had to go babysit the loser, trailing him like a shadow as he lurked around Anya's house. My job? To provide him with a play-by-play of Anya's emotions, as if that would somehow help him crack the code.

So, there we were, two grown-ass vampires perched in trees, staring at a house like a pair of pervs. The rain kept falling, making the branches slick underfoot, but neither of us moved. It was a relentless drizzle that had soaked through our clothes long ago, though it didn't bother us. We were used to the cold, the wet. What we weren't used to—or at least what Edward wasn't used to—was being left in the dark.

"She's infuriating," Edward hissed under his breath, his frustration spilling over in waves three hours into our stake out. His eyes were locked on the small house below, his hands gripping the branch he was perched on like he might snap it in two. "How can she be so… blank? It's like trying to read smoke."

I leaned back against the tree trunk, letting my senses extend toward the house. "Not completely blank," I murmured. "There's something there, just not what you're used to. More like a… flicker than a full-on flame."

Edward's jaw tightened. "A flicker doesn't tell me anything. It's like she's hiding behind a wall, and I can't even get close enough to see over it."

No, I thought to myself, you're just perched in a tree like a perv watching her house. But instead of voicing that, I kept my tone measured, trying to diffuse some of his tension. "She's not hiding," I corrected. "There's no malice, no deception. If anything, she's probably as confused as you are."

He shot me a look, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. "Confused? What could she possibly be confused about?"

And you're acting like a toddler, I thought, biting back the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. "She was in a car accident, Edward. That kind of thing messes with people. It's normal for a human to be shaken up, for their emotions to be all over the place afterward."

He narrowed his eyes, studying me like he was trying to read something between the lines. "But it's more than that, isn't it? It's not just the accident."

I met his gaze steadily, not letting on how much Anya's emotional cocktail—especially that ever-present base of happiness—had drawn me in. "She's just trying to process everything, like any human would. Don't read too much into it."

Edward huffed in frustration, clearly not satisfied, but he didn't push further. He knew better than to doubt my read on emotions, but I could tell he was still wrestling with the idea that there was something more to Anya. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. So, he resorted to just stare at the house as if willing it to give up its secrets.

I let the silence stretch out between us, my own senses tuned to the emotions drifting out from inside. Anya's mood was more stable now, though there was that ever-present undercurrent of happiness. It was like a melody that played softly in the background, even when other emotions crept in. Confusion would bubble up now and then, followed by brief moments of sadness, but the happiness always returned, steady and unwavering.

"She's listening to music again," I said after a while, picking up on the faint strains of a familiar tune. Anya had a good sound system—better than good, really—and she wasn't shy about using it. The volume was probably cranked up, and even though we were perched in the trees outside, the music filtered through, just loud enough for us to catch every note. The emotional resonance it created was unmistakable. "Something classic—rock, maybe? It suits her."

Edward's expression didn't soften as I'd expected. Instead, his brow furrowed slightly. "Classic rock," he muttered, his tone making it clear that it wasn't exactly his preference. "It's… loud."

I smirked, nodding. "Yeah, but it's got soul. Not everyone appreciates it, though."

He sighed, glancing down at the house. "I suppose it's better than some of the noise people listen to these days, but it's not exactly… refined."

"You mean it's not Chopin or Debussy," I teased, knowing full well that Edward's tastes ran more toward classical piano than the likes of Led Zeppelin or Queen.

In that moment, as I watched Edward struggle to make sense of Anya, I couldn't help but think how different we were in our approaches. Edward, always needing everything to fit neatly into a box, to be understandable and logical. He couldn't reconcile the loud, expressive music with the frustrating silence of her mind, and it was driving him nuts. But to me, that contrast was what made her so interesting—so human.

Of course, it doesn't match up perfectly, I thought as I tapped my fingers along to the beat. Nothing about people ever does. Edward's frustration was almost amusing in its predictability; he wanted her to be an open book, to fit into a mold that made sense to him. But humans weren't like that. They were messy, complicated, full of contradictions. And that was what made them so fascinating.

Edward's need for order and logic was bumping up against the very essence of what made Anya unique, and I could see it grating on him. He couldn't understand why her mind was silent when her music spoke so loudly, and it was gnawing at him. But to me, the fact that she didn't fit into a tidy box only made her more intriguing.

Maybe that's the difference between us, I mused. I'm okay with the contradictions, with the unknown. Maybe that's why I can't help but admire her for it.

"Not everything has to match up perfectly," I said aloud, keeping my tone light as I watched Edward's internal struggle play out on his face. "People—humans—are complicated. Maybe the music is a way of expressing something she can't quite articulate, even to herself."

And maybe that's the point, I thought, though I kept that to myself. Maybe it's the parts that don't fit together perfectly that make her so compelling.

"Perhaps," he conceded, though he still seemed dissatisfied. The music continued, each song blending into the next, and while Edward didn't join in my quiet humming, he didn't seem entirely repelled by it either. He was trying to understand, even if it wasn't his style.

For me, the music was a welcome distraction, something I could lose myself in, even if just for a little while. And despite Edward's reservations, I could tell he was at least trying to see why it resonated with her—and with me.

But as the night wore on, the music eventually faded, signaling that Anya had likely gone to bed. The house settled into a quiet stillness, the kind that usually meant things were winding down.

Except, with Edward, nothing ever really wound down.

I noticed the shift in him almost immediately. His posture straightened, his eyes narrowing with a renewed sense of purpose. It didn't take a mind reader to know what he was thinking—or, in this case, plotting.

"Don't even think about it," I warned, my voice low but firm.

Edward shot me a glance, his expression half-amused, half-determined. "She's asleep. Now's the perfect time to get a better read on her mind."

"And break into her house?" I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

He shrugged, already inching toward the edge of the branch, his intent clear. "She won't know I'm there. If I can just get close enough, maybe—"

"Maybe you'll do something stupid," I interrupted, my tone sharper than I intended. I pushed off the trunk of the tree, blocking his path before he could make a move. "Edward, this isn't some game. She's human. You can't just go sneaking into her house because you're frustrated."

He stared at me; the conflict evident in his eyes. "Jasper, I need to know. There's something about her that's different, and I can't just let it go."

I didn't back down, meeting his gaze head-on. "I get that you're frustrated. But this isn't the way to figure it out. What happens if she wakes up? What are you going to do then?"

"She won't wake up," he insisted, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice.

"And if she does?" I pressed; my arms still crossed. "Edward, you're better than this. We're better than this. If you want to figure out what's going on with her, fine. But not like this. Not by invading her privacy."

He hesitated, the internal battle playing out on his face. For a moment, I thought he might just brush past me and go through with it anyway.

I could see the gears turning in dear brother's head, his resolve hardening even as I stood in his way. And that's when it hit me—this wasn't just about Edward's curiosity. If he screwed up, if he did something reckless and got caught, it wouldn't be the first time we'd had to pack up and disappear in the dead of night. Only this time, it wouldn't be my fault. I may be the newest vegetarian but I'd been playing by the fucking rules, keeping a low profile, doing everything right. It would be Edward, the usually responsible one, who might force us to bail and do a midnight flit.

"Edward," I said, my voice taking on an edge of warning, "you know what's at stake here. If you get caught—if she wakes up and sees you—we're all screwed. Not just you. All of us."

He hesitated, the weight of my words sinking in. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his need to know and his understanding of the consequences.

"This isn't about just you and her," I continued, pressing my point. "This is about the family. If you slip up, we're the ones who have to deal with the fallout. We'd have to leave, start over somewhere else, again. And this time, it wouldn't be because of me."

Edward's expression tightened, his frustration giving way to something closer to guilt. He knew I was right, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"I'm not trying to stop you because I don't understand," I added, softening my tone just a fraction. "I get it. She's different, and that's driving you nuts. But be smart about this. It's not worth the risk."

He sighed, the fight draining out of him as he took a step back. "I know, Jasper. You're right. I just… it's infuriating."

"I know it is," I said, nodding. "We'll figure out what's going on with her, but we're not going to do it by sneaking around like idiots."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the quiet of the forest settled around us like a blanket. Finally, Edward nodded, conceding the point. "Okay," he said quietly. "Let's go home."

I led the way, keeping an eye on him as we moved through the trees. Edward was a lot of things—stubborn, determined, often too serious for his own good—but he wasn't reckless, not usually. Still, I'd have to keep a close watch on him. His obsession with Anya was growing, and I wasn't about to let him jeopardize everything because he couldn't handle being left in the dark.

Making our way back to the house, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of irony. I'd spent so long worrying that I'd be the one to cause us to flee in the night, the one who couldn't handle the delicate balance we'd struck with our vegetarian lifestyle. Now, it was Edward, the one who'd always seemed so in control, who was the wild card.

Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. It was like fucking Groundhog Day. Once more, Alice rushed into my room to warn me about our baby brother's latest plan, and once more, I found myself hunkering down in a tree in the damn rain, playing babysitter for the loser.

This time, I was smart enough to wear a raincoat. Sure, I'm a vampire, and I don't feel the cold, but there was no way in hell I was going to sit in the rain for eight hours without some protection, only to provide another play-by-play of Anya's emotional state. Just because I didn't get wet and cold like a human didn't mean I had to enjoy being soaked to the bone.

Edward, meanwhile, seemed fine with looking like a rag doll.

Settling in for yet another long, tedious day of surveillance, I couldn't help but shake my head at the absurdity of it all. How did I end up here, playing watchdog for Edward? But as frustrating as it was, I knew I had to keep him in check—because if I didn't, it wouldn't be long before we were all packing up and leaving Forks behind.

And for once, it wouldn't be because of me.

Sunday dragged on with more of the same—Anya's emotional state continued to be a steady mix of that ever-present happiness, with fleeting whiffs of other emotions—confusion, maybe a bit of sadness, but nothing that lingered long enough to take root. It was like she was running on a baseline of contentment, and everything else just bounced off.

At one point, she even made an appearance outside, hauling cardboard boxes to the curb. I couldn't help but smirk at the sight. There I was, a vampire perched in a tree, watching a human unpack and move in.

At human speed.

It was almost laughable. She moved slowly, methodically, as if she had all the time in the world. She was dressed for comfort, not for the task at hand—plaid pajama bottoms that hung loosely on her petite frame, a Michigan State hoodie that looked a size too big, her blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Those delicate wire-rimmed glasses were perched on her nose, giving her an almost studious look, though the rest of her outfit screamed relaxation. Her feet were bare, and I couldn't help but notice her manicured toes peeking out from the bottom of her pants, a small detail that seemed oddly out of place with the rest of her laid-back appearance.

As she moved past me, the wind shifted, and I caught that same scent from before—lilacs and sunshine. It was light, fresh, and entirely out of sync with the dreary, rain-soaked surroundings of Forks. The scent was uniquely hers, a small piece of brightness in the otherwise gray world she now inhabited.

And here I was, stuck watching her go about her business like some kind of supernatural neighborhood watch. It should have been boring—mundane, even—but there was something oddly captivating about the scene. The way she moved with unhurried precision, the way her toes curled slightly against the cold pavement, the absent-minded way she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she focused on the task at hand. It was all so… human, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away.

The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on me. A vampire, powerful and deadly, sitting in a tree, observing a human in her pajamas as she unpacked her life. But something about Anya—her calm, her unassuming presence—made it feel almost natural. As if this was exactly where I was supposed to be, watching over her in this strange, quiet moment.

Sitting there in my tree, watching Anya's every movement, I let my thoughts drift. The way she moved with unhurried precision, the comfort in her plaid pajama bottoms and oversized Michigan State hoodie, those delicate wire-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on her nose—it was all so human, yet so intriguing. The scent of lilacs and sunshine clung to her in a way that felt like a breath of fresh air in the dampness of Forks. It was impossible not to notice the small, intimate details—the way her bare feet pressed against the cold pavement, her manicured toes peeking out as she hauled yet another box to the curb.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't even realize I was letting them slip, until Edward's voice cut through my reverie.

"You find her fascinating, don't you?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and something else—something that sounded almost like irritation.

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"

Edward raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying my attempt at deflection. "You've been sitting here, practically cataloging every detail about her—what she's wearing, how she moves, even the way she smells. You're intrigued by her, more than you're willing to admit."

I frowned, trying to rein in my thoughts before I let anything else slip. "It's not like that," I countered, though even to my own ears, it sounded weak. "I'm just… observing. She's different, that's all."

"Different how?" Edward pressed, his gaze sharp as he studied me. "Because she's human? Because she's not reacting the way you expect her to?"

"Because she's not reacting the way anyone would expect her to," I shot back, a little more defensive than I intended. "She's calm, collected, even in situations where most people would be a mess. You can't tell me you haven't noticed that."

"I have," Edward admitted, though his tone was still guarded. "But it's more than that for you, isn't it? You're drawn to her emotions, the way they flicker and shift. The way she seems to be at peace, even when everything around her is in chaos."

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "I'm an empath, Edward. Emotions are what I do."

"But it's more than just her emotions," he insisted, his voice dropping lower. "You're intrigued by her. The way she carries herself, the little details you've been so carefully cataloging. Admit it, Jasper—you're fascinated by her."

I narrowed my eyes slightly, feeling the need to set the record straight. "No, you're the one fascinated by her," I countered, adding just a touch of persuasion to my words. "You can't read her mind, and that's why I'm here—because I can read her emotions. I'm the empath, remember? So, what else am I going to do but, as you say, make a catalogue of every detail? You're too wrapped up in your annoyance at not being able to read her that you're going to want me to tell you everything I pick up. Like last night when we came home. Or have you forgotten?"

Edward's expression tightened, and I could tell my words had hit home. He wasn't used to being the one left in the dark, and it was clearly eating at him. But the truth was, I was just doing what he'd inevitably ask of me—observing, analyzing, preparing to relay every detail because he couldn't stand not knowing.

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "I haven't forgotten," he finally said, though his tone was more subdued. "But that doesn't change the fact that there's something about her that doesn't add up."

"There's plenty that doesn't add up," I replied, relaxing my stance just a bit. "But it's not my fascination that's driving this, Edward. It's yours. I'm just here to keep you from doing something stupid."

Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "I know, Jasper. It's just… I've never encountered anything like this before. It's frustrating."

"I get that," I said, my tone softening. "But let's be clear—I'm not the one obsessing over her. You are. I'm just doing my job, making sure you don't lose your head over it."

He didn't respond immediately, but I could sense the shift in his mood, the tension easing just a little. "Alright," he conceded after a moment. "Maybe I am a little too fixated on this. But can you blame me? It's not every day someone comes along who's a complete enigma."

"No, it's not," I agreed, leaning back against the tree. "But just remember, we've all got to keep our heads on straight. There's more at stake here than just figuring out what makes Anya tick."

Edward nodded, the frustration in his eyes tempered by a grudging acceptance. He knew I was right, even if he wasn't ready to fully let go of his fixation. But at least, for now, he was a little more grounded—a little more in control.

And that was enough to keep us both from crossing any lines we couldn't come back from.

And thankfully, Anya was back inside, her sound system cranked up again, and the rocking tunes she was belting out made the entire situation almost bearable. She had good taste—classic rock that resonated with a raw energy I couldn't help but appreciate. It was the one saving grace of this whole ridiculous situation. Every time she turned up the volume, it felt like a little bit of life was being injected into the otherwise dull and dreary day. And even though Edward was still brooding in the next tree over, I could tell the music was keeping him somewhat grounded, too. And it provided me with the opportunity to chastise myself quickly over letting my thoughts slip.

So, there we were, two vampires in the trees, watching a human unpack her life at a snail's pace, while the sound of classic rock rolled through the air, making it all just a little more tolerable.

As I sat there, half-listening to the music and half-watching Anya struggle with the placement of her ottoman, Edward's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife once more.

"You find this amusing?" he asked, his tone laced with frustration. He didn't look at me, his eyes still fixed on Anya through the living room windows as she moved furniture around, apparently given up on the ottoman.

I didn't bother hiding the smirk that crept across my face. "A little," I admitted. "We're sitting in trees, watching a human unpack at human speed. It's absurd, Edward."

He shot me a sideways glance, his expression dark. "It's more than absurd. It's maddening. She's so… content. So calm. I can't reconcile that with everything else."

I tilted my head slightly, studying him. "How do you even know she's content and calm if you can't read her mind?" I asked, turning the tables on him.

Edward's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "It's in the way she moves, the way she carries herself. There's a… stillness about her, an ease that's almost unsettling given everything that's happened. You've seen it too."

I nodded, conceding the point. "Yeah, I've seen it. She's happy, Edward. It's her default state. The other emotions—confusion, sadness—they're fleeting. They don't stick because they don't mean as much to her as that underlying happiness does."

"But why?" Edward pressed, his frustration simmering just below the surface. "Why is she so damn happy all the time? It doesn't make sense."

Maybe it doesn't have to make sense, I thought, but I didn't say it out loud. I could feel Edward's agitation, his need to understand what made Anya tick. He wasn't just curious—he was obsessed. And that obsession was making him see shadows where there were none.

"She's just a human, Edward," I said instead, trying to steer him back to reality. "Not everything has to be a mystery. Sometimes people are just… content."

He shook his head, his frustration mounting. "No one is that content, Jasper. Not without reason. There's something about her, something that's keeping her mind closed to me and making her emotions so… off-kilter."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Off-kilter? You're the one who's been pacing in trees all weekend."

Edward ignored the jab, his eyes narrowing as he watched Anya flop down on the couch. "It's like she knows something. Something she's not aware of herself."

"Or maybe she's just good at compartmentalizing," I countered. "Not everyone is an open book. Maybe her happiness is what keeps her grounded."

"But it's more than that," he pressed, his voice almost a growl. "There's something underneath it all, something she's not letting anyone see."

I shrugged, leaning back against the tree trunk. "Or maybe you're overthinking it. Sometimes a smile is just a smile, Edward."

His eyes flickered with uncertainty, a rare thing for him. "Or maybe it's a mask," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I sighed, knowing there wasn't much more I could say to ease his mind. Edward was going to obsess until he figured out what made Anya different, and there wasn't much I could do to stop him. But for now, at least, I could keep him from doing anything reckless.

Because Edward is nothing if not fucking predictable. Anya went to bed around 10 O'clock and brother dearest was jonsing about sneaking into Anya's house, like some sort of cat burglar.

I had to nip that in the bud before he did something we'd all regret.

"You know," I said, keeping my voice casual, "it's been a long weekend. Maybe it's time we took a break. There's a lot of humans at school tomorrow, and you're going to need your energy."

He glanced at me, but the look in his eyes told me he wasn't entirely on board with letting this go. "I'm fine, Jasper. I don't need—"

"Yes, you do," I interrupted, not giving him the chance to dismiss it. "You've been obsessing over this human for days now, and it's draining you. You can't afford to be off your game, not with a bunch of hormonal teenagers swarming around us tomorrow. Trust me, the last thing you need is to be distracted."

Edward's expression darkened, but I could see the logic in his eyes. He knew I was right, even if he didn't want to admit it. "And you think a hunt will make everything better?" he asked, a touch of skepticism in his tone.

"It'll help," I replied, a little more forcefully. "You need to clear your head, Edward. Take a break from all this and focus on something else—something that'll keep you from making a mistake."

He hesitated, his gaze flicking back to Anya's house for a moment before he finally sighed. "Alright," he conceded, though the reluctance in his voice was clear. "But I'm not giving up on this."

Of course, you wouldn't. "I wouldn't expect you to," I said with a nod, knowing better than to try to dissuade him completely. "But let's do it right. Take a break, get some perspective, and come back to it with a clear mind. You'll be better off for it."

Edward didn't argue further, and I took that as a small victory. He was still frustrated, still restless, but at least he wasn't going to do anything reckless—at least, not tonight.

"Come on," I said, moving to leave our perch in the tree. "Let's go hunt. There's a herd of deer not far from here, and I don't know about you, but I could use a little distraction myself."

What the hell am I doing? I thought to myself, shaking my head as if to clear the fog. I was no better than Edward, sneaking around her house like this. But I couldn't seem to help it. There was something about Anya that intrigued me in a way I couldn't quite explain—a puzzle I was tempted to piece together.

With a sigh, I finally turned away, forcing myself to head back to the house. The dawn was approaching, and I needed to be back before anyone noticed I was gone. But as I slipped through the forest, the sound of her heartbeat still echoed in my mind, and I knew this wouldn't be the last time I found myself drawn to her.