Gives You Hell

By: azzie adams

AN (Try and read these. Some of them are important. Lol): I own nothing.

Pairs: Harry/Edward, Alice/Jasper, Rosalie/Emmett, Esme/Carlisle

05SEP18 - Chapter cleaned up for a better reading experience. No major changes were made.

Prologue: I Wake Up Every Evening

"Kill them!"

"BURN THEM!"

"What say you, my lord!?"

The London square teamed with life, fire, and exhilaration in the night. People from near and far were gathered in hopes of seeing a despised neighbor or competitor on the hanging block, finally receiving the karmic retribution their religion promised them. They watched with hungry eyes as another round of prisoners were brought to the noose to be hanged. The gallows were placed on a high platform so that the whole of the square would be able to see the last moments of the condemned, to delight in their fear and helplessness. They cheered vehemently at the terrified and hopeless looks in the prisoners' eyes as they were led up the wooden steps, bound together by the heavy shackles clasped on their wrists and ankles, and lined up under each available noose.

A young man, barely twenty years old, stared warily at the platform filled with women, children, the elderly, and the sick. His father, who stood slightly off to his side, wore a grim expression on his face as his unforgiving pale eyes ghosted over the square. He turned to his son, as many called for the final verdict on the accused, and nodded his head sternly. "Now or never, my boy."

Carlisle nodded at him, and his heart sank as he cried to the hangman. "In the name of the Holy Ghost... let Justice be done!"

Screams and triumphant bellows erupted over the square, and the accused shook, pleading with their jeering audience, and Carlisle, for mercy. Carlisle spared a look at his father, who wore a look of reserved satisfaction. He wondered how anyone could think half the people on the guillotine were guilty of witchcraft or the like. He watched as the hangman brought the nooses down upon the trembling condemned, tightening them one by one until the hard rope cut into their necks.

Carlisle felt a hitch in his throat as he caught the eyes of the youngest in the group. A small boy, about fifteen to sixteen years of age, pale and lovely, stood toward the middle of the group. Carlisle's breath caught the moment he had laid eyes on the boy.

He remembered being with his father, Tobias, when he and several other pastors had broken down the door to a large plantation in the countryside of England. The man who owned it was elderly, with a long white beard that he might have been able to tuck into his belt. He wore half-moon spectacles and carried a long stick to walk. The town's people called him Albus.

Quarrelsome and jealous neighbor plantation-owners accused him of casting spells that killed their livestock, healed their sick, and bewitched their children. When they came to arrest him, Albus had been astoundingly accommodating and calm, even as they held his arms behind his back and clamped irons onto his slender wrists that looked as though they might break under the weight. Carlisle had been bewitched himself with Albus' fragile beauty, even as an old man. His hair was sparkling silver, and his eyes were like deep blue pools that threatened to consume him. Worse still, his voice, though showing so many signs of age, seemed to sing to him.

Albus was the first man whom Carlisle thought might have really been capable of magic.

But before they took him away, a snarling woman in the village called to Tobias, telling him, "He has a boy with him, m'lord! A corrupt soul that he uses as his aide! He lives here with him, sir! He's the very spawn of the devil!"

Tobias sent the other pastors into the house, and only then did Albus object. "He is no devil spawn, my lord. He is an innocent child! It's me you want." He tried to reason with Tobias, but the second Carlisle's father saw the boy in question, he chained him up as well.

Silky midnight-black hair hung to the boy's shoulders, and his ivory skinned-face, defined cheek-bones, and breath-taking green eyes almost made Carlisle weak in the knees. The boy was dressed modestly in a long green tunic with black work trousers, cloth boots adorning his feet.

They chained him to Albus. The older man spoke softly with the boy, shaking his head every once in a while. The boy kept his head down, nodding, and even smiling slightly at his mentor. Albus nuzzled the boy's cheek, kissing his forehead, and whispering reassurances until Tobias had put a boot into the man's back, pushing them both towards the wooden trailer that was waiting.

Children, both boys and girls, screamed at the pastors to release them, but it only fueled their suspicions more. Young girls of marring age cried even harder than most, and even the older boys seemed conflicted about their arrest.

Carlisle found out that the charge's name was Harry Potter. The story was that his parents had died when he was an infant, though no one could attest to ever having seen the boy's real parents. Albus had raised him in the comfort of his own wealth, and no one had ever questioned their relationship.

The one thing that always troubled Carlisle was that, even in the face of such terror and cruelty, both Harry and Albus had stayed calm and resolute, not letting the raceouness of their surroundings affect them. Standing next to the others, their expressions looked out of place, almost bored. Their countenance had suggested that this wasn't in fact the end. More like a necessary step to a new beginning.

Carlisle shook out of his reverie, eyeing the ancient man beside Harry. He was at ease, staring into the faces of the hateful crowd, but showing no resentment toward them. The boy, however, looked fiercely into Carlisle's eyes, almost striking through to his soul. He breathed to contain himself, but he felt as though there was something the boy was trying to tell him. As if he knew Carlisle's burden in following his father's footsteps.

The boy really was beautiful. Harry's eyes bored into Carlisle, and almost as if he were standing right in front of him, Carlisle saw a flicker.

Just as the hangman brought down the lever that would trigger open the trap doors, Harry's eyes turned black.

Four years later, Carlisle was bitten by the very thing his father was trying to weed out. In the instant Carlisle knew the changes that had taken place in him, he knew one thing was true.

Harry and his mysterious mentor Albus were still alive.

Carlisle spent many years trying to track down the boy known as Harry Potter, but everywhere he looked, there was nothing.

He spent many years thinking back to that day, about how the hangman had cut the bodies down after they had gone limp. It would have been too easy to fake death for Albus and Harry. Their skin would have already been ice-cold, and their hearts wouldn't have been still. So easy, it must have been, for them to lay still, waiting to be picked up and buried in shallow graves, waiting for the crowd to disperse, and then climbing out and disappearing into the darkness.

One thing that continued to puzzle Carlisle, however, was their eyes. He remembered vividly the clear blue of Albus', and the emerald-green of Harry's. He remembered as if he had been only a breath away from Harry how his eyes turned black before they closed as he hanged. They were vampires, he was sure. All the parts of the puzzle came together when he knew this fact. The livestock that they kept, dying in the night; their uncommon beauty, making others mad for them; their eerie calm in which they dealt with their impending fate; and the black eyes Carlisle remembered so well.

The first thing Carlisle had done when he had outgrown his maddening thirst was to begin looking for Harry and Albus. He looked everywhere, but they had disappeared. The villagers from their plantation had thought it odd that when they had gone to the mansion for the goods they'd left behind, there was nothing. They attributed it to the Devil taking back his possessions, or other looters having gotten to the items first, but Carlisle knew better.

It was only when he found the Volturi that he had learned anything.

Aro had been over the moon when he heard that Carlisle had sighted them. He was astonished that Carlisle had run into them when he was still human.

"A truly providential coincidence!" He cried.

Caius and Aro related the story of Albus and Harry. Albus was truly an ancient. If Carlisle had thought the Volturi were old, he was speechless when Aro said that Albus had been the one to change them. The details of Albus' life were a mystery, but they told him that as long as they had known Albus, Harry had always been with him, his ward.

The details over whether Harry and Albus were actually related, as they had both lived longer than any other vampire that was still around to that day, were unknown. Harry and Albus had been partners for thousands of years, never leaving each other's side.

Carlisle was beyond curious about their eyes, and Aro had acquired an almost envious gleam in his eyes as he told him that they had a particular and most coveted power. Albus and Harry both had the power of changing their appearance. Their eyes were the colors they were when they were born, and their skin didn't sparkle in the sunlight. They were able to walk among humans as one of them. "They also," Caius remarked distastefully, "don't eat humans."

There was a brief period, as Marcus had surprisingly cut-in, in which Harry had rebelled against Albus' teachings, and that had led to a massacre in Egypt in which Harry had butchered thousands in his insatiable lust.

"He's mellowed out a bit, since then," Marcus defended, almost affectionately. Carlisle had assumed that the Volturi knew both Albus and Harry intimately from the way that they spoke of them.

"We haven't seen them in almost… well, it's been centuries. It's been far too long," Aro swooned.

"Is there anyway to get in touch with them? Do they send word when they move?" Carlisle had asked.

The three frowned, and conveyed that they rarely spoke to them anymore. Carlisle assumed that maybe the lavish lifestyle that the Volturi lived might have been a factor, but he had never encountered a group of vampires that still held such reverence for a sire that didn't live with them.

Carlisle gave up his search soon after that. If the Volturi couldn't tell where Albus and Harry were, he had no hope of finding them.

He couldn't explain the urge to find them. They had no relationship whilst they lived close to him those years ago. Perhaps it was to talk to them about how they lived, learn from their knowledge. Or perhaps he was drawn to the peculiar companionship they had, and wanted the same thing for himself. Whatever else he learned about them from his contacts, he wanted to know more.

The Volturi could do little more than tell of their past relationship with them, how they had become very good friends before their differences drove them apart. The only proof they had of their existence, however, was a small painting that looked centuries old. Carlisle recognized the beautiful ageless face of Albus and the smiling face of Harry, along with the three Volturi leaders. Harry stood close between Albus and Marcus, sharing a smile with Didyme, Marcus' long-passed wife. Aro and his wife, Sulpicia, stood to Albus's left with Caius and Athenodora. Together, they starred into the night they had been painted in. The only emotion Carlisle could detect came from Harry, Marcus, and Didyme. Something told him that Harry's relationship with Didyme contributed to Marcus's apparent affection toward him.

Carlisle asked if perhaps he could make a copy of it, and Aro hired a painter to duplicate the picture. The painter then asked to do another portrait of Carlisle and the Volturi together, stunned by their unearthly beauty.

Carlisle took the painting wherever he wandered, feeling like Albus and Harry were a piece of his past that he should want to forget, but couldn't quite escape.

255 Years Later…

Forks, Washington

Carlisle sat in his study, attempting to finish an article in a recent medical journal amidst the chaos that was going on downstairs. He could hear his beautiful Esme scolding Emmett and Jasper since their most recent wrestling match had almost murdered her Victorian antique table in the dining room. Alice seemed lost in thought next to Edward while he played a medley on the grand Gibson Concert piano Esme had purchased for him in the hopes of getting him to play more often.

Carlisle's longing for companionship had ended when he found Edward Masen barely holding on to life in Chicago during the Spanish Influenza outbreak. Edward had been everything he wanted in a companion. That is until he met Esme. His family had grown since falling in love with her, but still Edward remained alone. He had tried to find a mate for Edward, even turning the beautiful and dying Rosalie Hale. But it was fruitless. Edward was frustrated with her self-adoration and pig-headedness and had fallen into resentment instead of love, as Carlisle had hoped for. Even Rosalie had found someone to love her for all her faults, and Carlisle continued to see that Edward had no interest in finding a mate. He had slighted poor Tanya and the Denali coven, though she had showed significant interest in him.

Carlisle had worried a few years into his transformation that he would end up alone. It had taken well over 200 years for him to find Esme. He supposed that if it could take him that long to find his chosen, then he really shouldn't worry about Edward finding someone. He was only approaching one hundred, and had more than enough time to look when he finally chose to. He seemed content enough to just be alone.

It wasn't long before Edward got frustrated with Rosalie's narcissistic thoughts that he whisked himself into Carlisle's study, if only for the silence that it promised. He shut the door behind him with an irritated sigh, and looked imploringly at Carlisle, who could only spare him a sympathetic smile.

Carlisle chuckled at his first adopted son. "At least she doesn't have self-image issues. It could be worse."

"A little insecurity wouldn't hurt. Just a moment of peace without having to hear about Rosalie's perfection would be bliss," Edward scoffed as he walked towards the wall on the opposite of Carlisle's desk. He began scanning through the various journals and books on the shelf, like he'd done many times before when his siblings had gotten overly frustrating. It wasn't that he didn't love them. He cared deeply for Alice and Esme, and he often did enjoy playing pranks and wrestling around with Emmett and Jasper. Rosalie was much too prim to offer him any kind of companionship unless he was in a particular mood.

He was still flipping through the literature for something interesting when Alice hopped into the room. "Edward! We're going in to town for the day, are you coming?"

"I'll think about it Alice," he said, distractedly.

"Please?" She floated toward him, watching his marble hands quickly moving cross the spines of the books. "I need someone to talk to, and Rosalie will only tell me that everything looks horrible on me."

"What's her problem this time?" Edward chuckled, happy for the lightened atmosphere. How Emmett could fall in love with a girl like that was far beyond Edwards understanding.

"She says I'm too skinny."

"Good luck trying to gain some weight. I heard cheese and red meat does wonders…"

"Edward!" She punched him hard on his arm, which flew back, knocking something off the bookshelf.

"Careful, you two! There's important files in there!" Carlisle rose and flashed over to rescue the fallen.

"Oh!...what a beautiful picture!" Alice squealed, picking up the dusty old canvas before Carlisle could see what it was. "Oh, it's the Volturi…" She seemed almost disappointed.

Carlisle felt a pang when he saw what Alice and Edward had found. It had been over a century since he had last seen the painting. He'd put it away with his old things, hoping to forget it and move on to other matters. Once he'd turned Edward, it had all but disappeared from his mind.

There was a thin layer of dust on the canvas, and Edward blew across the painting and pointed to the two distinguished figures in the middle of it. "Who are they?"

He didn't have to ask. Carlisle knew that Edward was currently breezing through his mind as memories of the last day he had seen Harry and Albus surfaced, as well as the information that the Volturi had confided in him. Edward looked puzzled as he turned from Carlisle to the painting, scrutinizing it.

"Albus and Harry?" He already knew the answer but he asked anyway, if just to provide some clarification for Alice.

"Who's Albus and Harry?" Alice asked, her voice sounding far away.

Edward traced Harry's arm that hung by his side as he smiled with Didyme. "You killed them…"

"Killed would be incorrect, since they were already dead, Edward," Carlisle huffed, but looked properly chastised.

Edward laughed. "I keep forgetting that you were human once. It's ironic that it was only when you turned into a killing machine that you stopped killing people."

Carlisle looked at Edward with a dry look on his face, and Edward had the decency to look regretful. "Sorry. I'm in a mood."

Carlisle sighed, and took the painting from Edward's hands, and proceeded to tell them everything he knew about the pair.

"Why did you care so much about finding them?" Alice asked.

"Well," Carlisle sighed, "I think that maybe it was because they were the only other vampires I'd ever crossed. The first real ones I'd ever crossed, anyway. Maybe I thought they could help me. I think it might be deeper than that though. I can't explain it," Carlisle's brow furrowed. "I feel connected to them. I'm not sure what it is, but I have a feeling that one day we'll meet again, and I'll finally find out," He stared reverently into the distant blue eyes of Albus.

"You always were obsessed with learning, Carlisle," Edward chuckled. "Maybe you're just curious, like the rest of us."

"I can't believe that man is the reason we're dealing with the Volturi," Alice said, squinting at him. "It's hard to imagine anyone being older than the Volturi, but look at him. He must have been changed when he was… 90!" She looked scandalized at how someone could bite a man so elderly.

"From I've gathered, you shouldn't judge a book by the cover, Alice," Edward said, looking at Carlisle as he said it.

Carlisle nodded, wondering to himself what kind of ageless knowledge the man must hold in those eyes of his. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Edward looking intently at Harry. Carlisle looked at Alice, who seemed to be watching Edward as well. Carlisle asked with his eyes, and she shrugged.

If anyone would be able to see anything of Harry or Albus, it would be Alice.

Osaka, Japan

The night was darkest over the sea. The flush of humidity echoing off the waves and swept up into the young man's face, ruffling his perfectly untidy hair. The black of his eyes was reflected in the sky and the water, and he inhaled the frosty air, laying back into dew-drenched grass alongside the runway of the Osaka International Airport. His shirt rustled along his chest as another plane took off beside him, and he watched it fade into the dark clouds overhead.

Harry sighed, happy for a relaxing moment. He checked his watch to see he had about twenty minutes before he needed to find Albus and prepare for the flight. He chuckled when he thought of the older man. He was probably inside searching through one of the gift shops for any new gizmos to bring with him and add to his collection. The guards at the security check point had stared at Albus as if he were about half as barmy as he really was when they saw all the toys in Albus' carryon. Before, when old men acting the way Albus did was clearly unacceptable, Harry used to switch bags with him. Harry's bag carried more practical things that a man twice his age would carry: Books, music, newspapers, food. Albus' bag had about all the things that a boy Harry's age would have: gossip magazines, music, some magnetic bits that you could fashion into a sculpture, Play-Doh, and a slinky.

Harry remembered when he bought the slinky for Albus when they had finally come out of seclusion in the mid-1940s. Albus had been fascinated with it, and took it on the plane with them when they decided on a vacation to Fiji later that year. The honeymooners stared at him while he 'ooo-ed' and 'aaahhh-ed' at the toy for the whole twelve hours they were on the plane from Mexico.

Albus had been his closest friend for over seven thousand years and, despite the age difference, he found more things in common with him than most people could hope to find in another. When Harry was human, he had grown used to being alone after his parents had been murdered when he was only a year old. The group he lived amongst was very violent. Harry had read up in some books that they had grown into a large people that people referred to as the Celts. That was after Harry's time though.

They had been prepared to kill Harry and relieve themselves of the burden of raising a newborn that didn't belong to anyone when Albus had turned up and offered to take him off their hands. After raising Harry for well over a decade, he decided that Harry would be his companion, and after Harry gave him his permission, he bit him. Albus' history was a mystery to many, however Harry was a special case. Albus was everything that Harry needed in his life. He was his confidant, father, grandfather, teacher, mentor, and best friend. Albus had been known to pull the age card on Harry before, but for the most part, they acted the part of two friends. To outsiders, they were grandfather and grandson.

"Harry!"

Harry smiled as he heard his friend's boots clicking on the runway behind him. He sat up quickly and turned to see Albus in a Seattle Mariners baseball cap and Seahawks football jersey thrown over his dress shirt and trousers. Harry sighed. It was going to be another embarrassing plane trip to Seattle, Washington. Albus and Harry had a system for where their next destination was after they had tired of their current position. Osaka had intrigued both of them for over thirty years. There wasn't a lot of speculation, and the man that was in charge of their affairs made sure they weren't disturbed during their dormancy. The scheduled seclusion suited both of them perfectly, since they were both private people anyway. It helped not having to deal with the hustle and bustle of human life. They preferred to just float through unnoticed. It definitely worked.

The system was simple. They packed their things and set off for the airport, picking the next flight out of Osaka. The attendant had given them first class tickets to Seattle, Washington, and Albus had wasted no time in making sure he was up to date on the latest fashion trends, picking up magazines, all sorts of new candy, and, apparently, the sports garb.

Albus dropped something into Harry's lap, and he picked up a slender green object and looked at it. "What is this, Al?"

Albus smiled at him. "It's an iPod! Apparently that little thing can hold THOUSANDS of songs on it! I found it at one of those stores with the big apple on it when I was checking my bags. They have whole stores in the airports now. It's nifty."

Harry raised a brow as soon as he heard the word 'nifty' leave Albus' mouth.

"Whatever the matter," Albus continued, "I mentioned to the shop assistant that I had two grandchildren that would like one, and she set me straight with all the functions and even put her 'playlist...'" Albus sounded the word out like it was in a foreign language, "on it, and now, all you need to do it press play, and it plays all these songs. Modern technology never ceases to baffle me." He scrutinized his own little gadget, putting something attached to a cord in his ear, and then promptly started swaying to the sounds in his ear.

Harry chuckled, putting the thin object into his pant pocket, and before standing completely up and grabbing Albus' arm gently. "C'mon, Al. We'll miss our flight," He guided Albus towards the building.

TBC

Love, Azzie