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Angel

Summary:
Edward Cullen is a human. Bella Swan is a vampire. This is their story. It's only my second fan fiction, people. Please feel free to criticize it.


Notes:
I'm not really sure where I'm going with this... I think it'll be long, though.


10. Sleep

Rating 5/5   Word Count 782   Review this Chapter

Chapter Ten

BPOV

I heard Edward’s breathing slow when he finally fell asleep. And I lay awkwardly in bed, wondering what I could possibly do next. Was I supposed to stay here all night, with nothing to do? Would Esme and – I winced slightly – Carlisle be offended if I left? Would they be concerned if I left? I couldn’t just leave, could I? That seemed wrong. Especially considering how much Esme had fought to keep me here.

I was prepared to wait it out – to see how long I could stand laying here and listening to Edward breathe. I was sure that after a while, I’d get bored. Maybe I’d take a quick run – jog around the parameters, check to see that everything was safe and clear.

And then Edward started sleep talking. God, I’d almost forgotten about that.

“Blood,” he moaned.

I jerked straight upright, looking down at him in panic. But he was still asleep, just frowning, curled halfway into fetal position. His breathing was almost as erratic as his heartbeat. I held my breath, waiting.

“So much blood! No. No, please. I don’t mean any harm. I was just leaving.” Pleading?

I was just leaving. I should be leaving. I stood, but Edward’s voice stopped me.

“No, please!”

Please what? I knew what he dreamed about. Not a dream – a nightmare. I could see it clearly. A dark ally. The stink of alcohol, and the drunken laughs of strange men. The terror and elation of an adrenaline rush, trying to run, trying to stay calm. And then a girl –a strange beauty, flying out of the sky. Aimed for the attackers. Blood. So much blood. No. No, please. He didn’t mean any harm. He was just leaving. So long as the bloody, dark-haired beauty didn’t come after him next.

Please, don’t hurt me, too, I thought. Because he knew, intuitively, that I could not be trusted.

I shuddered.

“Bella!” He cried out. “Don’t leave.”

Oh God. This went from being his nightmare to my nightmare. This wasn’t supposed to happen. After all that, he couldn’t actually want me here.

He gripped the pillow tighter, like a lifeline. I took it from him gently, and he seized my hand.

“You saved me.”

Oh, God. What was I to do? All I could think of was when I used to watch Charlie sleep. How I’d held him when he had nightmares. Even then, I knew that I couldn’t protect him from the nightmares of the daytime. I’d do anything at least to grant him safe, happy dreams.

Timidly, I scooped up Edward and cradled him. Awkwardly, but it felt nice. His body burned hot against my icy skin, but again, it felt nice. I’d seen enough real blood tonight not to be distracted by the mouthwatering scent that was Edward. It was nice.

“Bella,” he said again. He almost sounded happy. Too happy. I could take the heat of his skin, the fire in my throat that his blood fueled. But his words burned my heart, and that made all the difference.

A prejudiced Edward, I could take. An Edward who hated me for what he thought me to be, I could handle. A remote, distant, frightened Edward, I could survive. But an Edward who was happy to feel me nearby? Impossible. Dangerous. Wrong.

Gently, I set him down on the bed and tucked the covers around him. He settled back into the cushions, looking every bit like a sleeping angel in the moonlight that filtered in through the window. My throat felt tight. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about Edward.

It was okay for me to be protective of the whole Cullen family. I had reason to. But I hated Edward. I didn’t think he was beautiful. I didn’t notice him.

Or, at least, I didn’t used to.

It wasn’t good of me to become emotionally involved in all this. This wasn’t about the Cullens. It never had been. It wasn’t supposed to be. This was about revenge. This was to make up for what he had done to me, to Charlie, to the people I’d loved. To show put him through a physical representation of them emotional hell he’d put me through.

This was not about emotional attachment – not that there was one, of course. There could never be an emotional attachment. Ever.. Even friendship could distract me from my real purpose.

I ripped the top sheet off the pad of hotel stationary, and scribbled a quick note so as not to give Carlisle and Esme a heart attack. Then, convincing myself that it was only because I felt more useful running around outside, that my disappearance had nothing to do with Edward’s sleep talk, I slipped out the window.

Without a second glance at the sleeping angel.