Brad and Emily gazed into the forest through a blanket of darkness. The house's open doorway did little to offer additional illumination outside, only truly working to elongate their shadows as they sat on the porch steps. A full moon partially hidden by fluffy clouds offered little aid to brighten the surrounding terrain. Brad was able to rely on his enhanced vision and superior hearing to tell him if anyone was on the way. Emily, on the other hand, could only wait and hope.

Both people held each other's arms, anxiety running its course through their bodies.

There hadn't been any phone calls or text messages. No howls had been made to alert anyone of the pack's collective presence either.

For over an hour, two friends watched a peaceful treeline, expecting their loved ones to walk through. For this whole vampire-hybrid-baby mess to be over.

Because, truth be told, they were tired.

Although Brad and Emily hadn't been able to step in for very obvious reasons, it was still difficult for them to rest peacefully when knowing their family members hadn't been able to. Both people were constantly hypervigilant of their surroundings. Keeping windows open to catch approaching footsteps outside, preparing too much food in case of the off-chance anyone came back early, in Emily's case: sleeping on an air mattress in the dining room for easier access to the front door, and in Brad's case: when he was well enough, sitting on a rooftop for hours on end, ready to leap if any trouble came to greet him. Not being on the frontlines meant having to find their own means of killing time. To keep busy, yes; and to distract them from negative emotions which grew every passing day.

What would they do if someone came back injured?

What would happen if the pack came back, several members short?

What if...no one came back at all?

Brad previously evaded death because of his best friend's selfless actions. Disregard for personal injury was stronger than any fear Marshall possibly had about putting himself in harm's way. There was no hesitation when weighing the odds of how badly his wounds could get or how torturous the healing process would be. He, quite literally, risked everything for the sake of making sure Brad's new life wouldn't end before it truly started.

What would he do if the most important person in his entire existence was killed?

Slow footsteps, crunching leaves, and snapping twigs made him perk up.

Emily mirrored his gesture, pulling her palms together and silently praying for everyone's safe return.

Sam, Jared, Quil, and Embry were the first ones to exit the forest. Behind them, Jacob, Seth, and Leah approached. Paul followed with a pensive expression on his face.

A few paces back, Marshall walked forward with clenched fists.

His gaze was locked onto the ground, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Kempt brows were pinched together. A firm set in his jaw wouldn't lessen. His chest rose and fell with each forced breath. Veins bulged against his forearms with how tight his grip was. Each step forward barely made any noise, as if he were doing his best to erase his presence from those around him.

Something was...definitely wrong.

Something really bad had happened during his confrontation with the Cullens.

Whatever it was, however everything ended, it was impacting him in an extremely frightening way.

Because, while Marshall had become accustomed to voicing his troubles after distancing himself from his old coven, he was now strikingly silent. His rigid frame made him appear hollow inside. An unfocused stare revealed his fragile, crumbling mental stability.

Brad held back a saddened whimper at his friend's concealed pain.

"...I can get something ready, if you guys are hungry. We have...a lot of leftovers."

Emily's suggestion was met with several nods. A majority of the group followed her inside to finally relax after a long, daunting, stressful couple of days. Recently departed pack members, now rejoined, entered the house with hesitancy. Leah glanced toward her imprint before bowing her head.

Brad paid her no mind when running down the stairs at full speed.

His curls hadn't yet settled back in place by the time careful hands took a gentle hold of Marshall's cheeks.

Red eyes finally moved upward to reveal themselves.

Half a decade's worth of companionship made it easy to see the underlying storm brewing within them.

Marshall grabbed his friend's wrists to free himself. Shaking his head, he maneuvered around his best friend and husband to settle down in the dining room by himself. Rather than comfortably sitting like everyone else, he chose to lean against the wall with both arms crossed over his chest. To shield himself physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Brad and Paul looked at each other, worried.

Neither of them wanted to leave Marshall to steep in his suffocating emotions. At the same time, they didn't want to bombard him with questions or crowd his space to the point where he completely shut everyone out.

They entered the room, sitting down on a long bench together, quietly taking note of inaudible cues which gave permission for them to intervene. For now, they would continue to observe, ready to move at the slightest tell.

Marshall kept his focus on linoleum tiles beneath his feet.

"Tonight...really didn't end the way we expected it to," Sam stated, leaning his chin against his palm in thought. "A lot of unexpected factors came into play that we weren't prepared for."

"How so?" Emily asked while getting together several place settings, more so to give others a chance to vent than actually get concrete information.

"Well, for one, Jake finally imprinted. The fact that his connection was made with the hybrid child was pretty crazy, but, really, it's not too surprising. Just considering we already have two couples with vampires as imprints handpicked by our tribe's spirits themselves. I guess this was just an oversight none of us, or many of us, saw as a possible outcome. Regardless, whether we were enemies or not, rules pertaining to imprints took precedence over everything else. Had the Cullens not made a sudden moral shift during our battle, they probably would've lived."

Brad's lips parted in shock. "You mean..."

Sam nodded. "The other unexpected hurdle we ran into had to do with the treaty. Edward specifically saw to it to see the old agreement as void. I think he had a sort of mental break or something after realizing Bella couldn't be saved. By the time we left, we were informed she'd been bitten and could possibly turn in the future; but the odds of her living through her transition are pretty much zero. I guess Edward took that realization as an opportunity to just...throw everything away. A battle to protect became a battle of mindless aggression in the blink of an eye. In the end, the child, Carlisle, and Esme were spared. Bella was left for dead. Everyone else was killed."

"I'm surprised you actually chose to spare anyone." Emily leaned into her husband's form to hug him. "It must've been a difficult choice to make."

"It was. But it wasn't me who had to make the decision."

Brad let out a quiet sigh. It felt like his heart dropped into his stomach.

Marshall's silence and detached stare finally made a lot more sense.

In the past, he'd always apologized about any events following a brief instance where he couldn't control his temper. Encompassing rage was capable of momentarily blinding him to his own sense of morality, leading to heated confrontations where he said and did things he didn't always mean. Blunt, brutal, honest claims were tossed out because they made him feel better. Getting into fist fights with people who tried to harm him always ended with him as the victor. 

But he always held immense guilt after those situations happened.

Even when people truly deserved to experience his wrath, Marshall was too kind hearted to ignore how his lash outs caused extra pain. 

He was so driven by his anger before leaving earlier—the decision to kill most of the Cullen coven had more than likely been made in a rage-induced fog.

Now, the only one to truly suffer the consequences of said actions was Marshall.

Brad allowed a hand to rest on his friend's arm. "Are you okay?"

"Does it matter?"

Marshall's quick, defensive response caught everyone off guard.

Still, Paul didn't let that stop him from jumping in. "Of course it matters, honey. As liberating as tonight might've been, it was also extremely traumatic. You faced your abusers head on, and they revealed their truest character to you in their final moments. After Edward said all of those awful things to you, something changed. After you came back outside after dealing with your sister, you seemed even more reserved. I can't say why, but we all can tell that going through so much in such a short amount of time was... a lot. None of us expected you to be okay after everything was done."

Marshall's arms began to shake. "I killed the people who ruined my life. Why on earth do you think I'd be upset about them dying?"

"Because if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you don't like being the reason lives end. When you were still a vegetarian, you felt bad for having to kill animals to feed. You felt bad about all of the lives lost because of the battle with Victoria's army. You've even told me, aside from my blood, you've never drank from a human before because you didn't want to be the reason innocent families were torn apart just to quench your thirst. You only found joy out of killing the men who assaulted you because, past the euphoria of getting some well-deserved justice, you were the reason why other people weren't put in the horrible situation you had to experience. 

"Whenever you're in the position to end a life, you don't do it because it's fun. You don't do it because you're power-hungry. You only kill when there's a bigger purpose behind your actions. You only choose to kill people if they've legitimately harmed you, and you know, if given the chance to keep living, they'd spend the rest of their lives doing everything in their power to keep hurting you. Tonight- even though your main goal was just to protect the people you love, getting rid of the Cullens looked like something you did without meaning to. And after dealing with Edward, getting rid of your other siblings was something you did on autopilot."

Marshall turned his head toward the house's entryway, staring out into the dark void beyond. "Yeah? And how do you know I didn't enjoy murdering them in cold blood?"

Paul rose to his feet. "Because I know what you look like when you're happy. I know the look in your eyes- the warmth in your smile. There wasn't anything about your reaction after Edward made you snap that could make me think you were anything but upset. You were empty when you killed him. And you've been empty since we left that house. You can't possibly convince me you're okay with everything ending like this when you can't even look at me, honey."

Although his face wasn't visible, it was noticed how pale skin gained a red tinge on the back of Marshall's neck and ears. Waves of heat rippled away from him, shedding light on an unspoken amount of rage skyrocketing to the point of causing a physical reaction.

He turned toward the front door completely with the intent of running out of the house.

Brad tightened his hold on the arm in his grasp.

Paul quickly walked forward to meet his husband face to face. Warmer hands gently settled on top of trembling shoulders.

"...You don't have to run away from your problems when you're here, baby. You don't have to pretend like nothing is wrong- or that you aren't affected by what happened tonight. We want to be there for you because we know you're not okay right now. And that's okay. We just want to help you move on from this. So, please, if you can, talk to us. Don't shut us out, Marshmallow."

His favorite pet name being uttered in such a caring, delicate manner was enough to break down Marshall's carefully handcrafted walls. His overall form drooped in defeat. His head hung low, black, wavy strands hiding a majority of his expressive features. Biting the inside of his bottom lip only worked to partially stop a faint quiver.

Paul and Brad pulled Marshall to sit between them.

Hunching over, he leaned his elbows on top of his knees and rested his forehead against a loose fist. "...I killed them. Got rid of a long standing problem. I finally rid the world of a coven of selfish assholes who found joy in my torment. All they ever did was use me. Belittle me. It was like I was a house made of glass, and they grabbed every rock they could find to try and break my windows. And when I tried to close myself up, their assaults got more violent- to the point where even shielding myself couldn't stop me from shattering. They deserved what happened to them.

"So why don't I feel better?

"Edward said I was never a real family member. He said they kept me around for convenience and nothing more. He said the world would've been better off had Carlisle left me to die. Then, Rosalie confessed how she wished I'd never been changed. How she wished I would've never returned to the coven after my real father passed away. How she could understand why mother didn't love me- because I wasn't the perfect man, son, or brother.

"I couldn't comprehend what I ever did to make them feel that way. I only started taking steps to put myself first when Paul and I started dating. Before that, those depraved bastards were constantly trampling over me, and I took their beatings with a smile. But me doing that meant nothing in the end? Because I wasn't able to give even more after I already gave everything I could? Do you know how much of a slap in the face it was when, even after I've told them on several occasions how much they've scarred me- even when they were moments from death...that they still didn't care?"

Marshall shielded his face behind his hands. All of his fingers threaded into his air, almost pulling out of growing frustration.

He didn't react to unexpected warmth as it settled in the middle of his spine to offer comfort.

"Do you regret it?" Paul asked. "Do you regret killing them?"

Marshall shook his head. "You were right when you said I don't like killing. Even though I wholeheartedly think they should've gotten worse, in the end, I couldn't bring myself to draw out their deaths. They all died quickly because my bleeding heart took pity at the very last second. And it fucking hurts. Because, now, they don't have to suffer any real consequences when it comes to how they treated me. But who's to even say they would've suffered any in the first place- seeing how they didn't care to apologize to me at any point. Had I let them live, deep down, I know they would've continued on with their happy lives without batting an eye about all of the mistreatment they forced onto me.

"I mean, I confessed to my own sister how I sometimes agreed about not wanting Carlisle to save me. How, as a human and a vampire, life got so difficult for me, I had thoughts of just ending everything. On multiple occasions, I tried to end everything. But I could never go through with it. And I was forced to witness the cruelty of fate put on someone who didn't deserve it. 

"I'm glad they're gone, but- but it all just feels wrong.

"They put me through Hell, yet they were able to live long, fulfilling, meaningful lives- while I was left alone to pick up the broken fragments they caused. How is that fair? Why does it always come down to me having to clean up their messes? Why did they get their happy endings when I was never even worth a fucking sorry?"

Marshall thought back to his siblings' final moments. He thought about the genuine fear in their eyes. Their fleeting screams which cut off into permanent silence. 

He thought about Carlisle and Esme's distraught faces.

He thought about how, in the end, it was solidified that he always was just a stranger in comparison to the rest of the family.

A harsh, burning sob was disguised as a bemused laugh. "Maybe my purpose in life is to be cursed by misfortune. Maybe my worth only stems from how much other people can squeeze out of me. Maybe my mother was right to not love me- because she knew I wasn't worth the hassle. Maybe the only peace I'll ever get to know is a false sense of security that's destined to get snatched away from me when I least expect it.

"Maybe everyone had been right to wish I'd never survived."

A strange sense of tranquility blanketed one of unforgiving dread.

Coming to terms with his family's refusal to ever accept him, coupled with an understanding that no one ever would, awoke a misplaced feeling of calm.

Because Marshall finally understood what life truly had in store for him. Whether his existence brought him fulfillment or happiness, well, it didn't matter.

Not expecting any form of good to come his way would make it easier to not be hurt again.

"...Or maybe I've just finally lost it. Maybe I've finally gone crazy and lost my fucking mind."

A presence moved from his right side to directly in front of him. It crouched down, settling in a more comfortable kneeling position. Long fingers wrapped around his forearms with a firm, solid grip. One capable of tethering him to reality instead of allowing him to drown in a murky ocean.

Pessimistic thoughts tried to beckon him closer to the point of no return.

But the person holding him acted as a warm ray of light to follow back to safety.

"You. Are not. Crazy."

"Then what am I? If I'm not insane, what the hell am I?"

"In pain," Paul answered with a knowing, unwavering tone. "You've been dealing with this heavy burden for so long. And now you don't know what to do or think because the happiness you thought would come right away isn't there yet. Because grief has come into play. And, really, I think it's because a small part of you was lost tonight. The part of you which still cared about them out of habit. The part of you which desired for the familial love they never bothered to give you. Their final moments made you realize how they never prioritized you or your feelings, and the hope you had for them to change was shattered.

"You managed to cut out the greatest toxicity poisoning your life. But we know, even if they deserved what happened to them, making such a big leap is painful. Cutting relationships which used to mean so much- it's not easy. Realizing your siblings would never change wasn't only a slap in the face. It was a stab in the heart.

"You love so honestly, Marshall. So completely. And when your trust is broken, it's that much more devastating. It's that much harder for you to open yourself back up to all of the positive things you truly deserve. Sure, you're not perfect. You have weaknesses. You can't meet every expectation made by other people. But that doesn't mean you deserve to be hurt because of it. That doesn't mean you don't deserve love, happiness, and the freedom to just be yourself.

"The Cullens might've been a lost cause, but we would never put you through something like that. We would never make you feel like you don't belong- like you don't matter. We'd never force you to face your hurdles, no matter how big or small, on your own. Because we love you. I love you. And if I have to spend the rest of eternity mending your wounds, I will. Because I would do anything to help you feel whole again. I would do anything to see you smile again.

"You've been lost in the shadows for so many decades. I'll do whatever I can to pull you back into the light so you can shine at your brightest."

Paul pressed a long kiss to his husband's forehead, sealing his promise. His gentle caress made the weight of his declarations that much more substantial. More...real.

He meant every single word he said; and, beneath his relief, Marshall was overcome by a greater sense of guilt.

Life wasn't okay right now. No one knew when it would be. He didn't know how long everything would feel so broken and scattered.

Regardless, Marshall aimed to apologize for his prior rambling. For not being in control of his conflicting emotions or thoughts. For ever thinking his pack mates wouldn't understand what he was going through.

Nothing could've prepared him, however, for the world around him to come to a halt as he met Paul's gaze.