Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or any of its characters. But I do own my brand of Darkward. S. Meyer owns everything that's Twilight.

I'm continuing this one shot. FINALLY! Yeah, if you don't remember what the hell is going on, don't worry. This story did win the second place in the Darkward Vampfic Contest, and now it's a one shot no more. ;)

A/N:I must thank Bailey, the comma saviour, who beta'd the first 3 chapters of this story, that is, the one shot part.

Then, my word of thanks goes to Dragonsexist, who showered her love to this twisted tale, and also kept my sentence formation uncluttered. I hope to have her supportive ass with me all through this story.

NOTE: I'd suggest that you see my profile page for the playlist for this story. If you listen to those songs when you read, the experience will be heightened. No, you sincerely can forego the playlist, it won't affect comprehension, but since this story is based on the piece, Danse Macabre, it's only logical to hear it, no? :)

"Dance Macabre? Dance with an 's,' huh?" Angela asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I nodded, adjusting the bodice of my red ruffle dress while she applied her make-up.

It was the night of Halloween, and I was heading out to enjoy it with my friends at the local bar-cum-dance club, Drunken Dancing. Angela and I had decided to take part in the amateur Halloween dance competition that the club was hosting. I had chosen a classical composition for my turn, whereas I still didn't have any idea what song she was dancing to.

As for costumes, we had opted for cocktail dresses instead of the traditional costumes to make us more comfortable when dancing. Angela was dressing up as some kind of glam ghost, with pale white make-up and a white flowing dress, while I was dressing up as the equally glam version of Little Red Riding Hood. I was going to wear a red hoodie with it, for the added effect, but it was coming off inside the club.

"Okay, I understand the dance part and the macabre part, but I haven't heard of this one before." Angela looked at me in the mirror, her eyes curious. "Which artist?"

I sighed at her lack of knowledge about classical composers. I couldn't blame her; she had no interest in classical music.

"Camille Saint-Saëns, a French composer," I replied, buckling the straps of my red stilettos—fuck me shoes, as Angela very endearingly labeled them.

"Why do you play with me, Bella? You know that I know next to nothing about classical music," she chided.

"How do you know that it's classical?" I asked, in the mood to tease her a bit.

"It's obvious, your face is all cocky and patronizing," she replied sourly, turning back to face the mirror, a mascara wand in her hand.

"Aw, Angie, be a sport." I stuck my tongue out at her, and she responded with her own double bird.

"Whatever you say, I'm not turning to classical music. It depresses the hell out of me!" she grumbled under her breath.

"It's an acquired taste," I said wryly, re-adjusting the ties of my halter. "So, what's your dance number?"

Angela snorted, almost smudging her mascara. "La tortura!" she exclaimed with feigned excitement.

"Shakira, you say?" I snorted with her, imagining her and her boyfriend, Ben, dancing to their chosen song.

"I left it to Ben, my bad." She shrugged and turned around to face me, doing a little pirouette. "How do I look? Not too spooky for a ghost, huh?"

"You look amazing, Angie, you make a hot ghost," I assured her, waggling my eyebrows.

"And you look illegal for a Red Riding Hood," she commented, "Now stop fiddling and fussing over your dress."

"I'm not! It's just these damned ties, and I'm not even wearing a fucking bra!" I finally shared my discomfort with her. "And I have to dance, tango no less."

Angela shook her head and rolled her eyes at me. "It has a built-in bra, and the ties are fine. You said you could pull it off, but now I see you backtracking. Not fair, Bella."

With a resigned nod, I stopped my obsessive adjusting and began applying make-up. Angela helped me, and within half an hour, we were ready to roll.

The club wasn't packed by the time we arrived but still crowded enough to surprise me. It was the time of twilight, and people were still trickling in. I had assumed that not many would want to spend Halloween eve here, but I was proven wrong.

We made our way through the club to our favorite corner lounge, the one nearest to the bar. Ben sat waiting for us, dressed as Jack Sparrow. I tried not to laugh; he looked like a goofball.

His face lit up as he saw Angela; same for her. I couldn't help but smile at their dopey faces.

"Boy, you look stunning," he said dazedly as she sat down in his lap. They kissed, and I had to look away. It was an intimate moment, and I felt like an intruder.

"Hey Bella! What are you?" Ben looked up at me after he was done canoodling his girlfriend.

"Little Red Riding Hood. Can't you see?" I gestured at my dress, pulling up the hood on my head. "I have a hoodie too."

Ben just laughed at me, so I took off the hoodie and playfully shoved it at him. "Okay, okay, I get it." He winced away from me. "Where's the big bad wolf?"

I lost some of my humor then, as the mention of 'wolf' reminded me of Jacob, my friend and my first love. I didn't know if it really was love or just a figment of my imagination. Perhaps it was an expression of my gratitude towards him…

Jacob wasn't just any ordinary man, he was the stuff of legends: a Quileute werewolf. I was the only one outside his tribe that knew of this secret.

How and why I knew of his secret is another story altogether. I knew of a world that was beyond normal, a world that was well hidden… where legends were still alive. A world that almost took my life, but for Jacob's intervention.

I shook my head and tried to rid myself of Jacob. I didn't want to ruin my Halloween thinking about my teenage puppy love.

"I'll bring you ladies some drinks, huh?" Ben interrupted my internal musings. "What'd you like, Bella? And you, Angie?"

"A Bellini?" I shrugged. It seemed the apt choice considering the low alcohol count. I had to dance later on, which is difficult if you're top-heavy.

"Mint cocktail for me," replied Angela, and Ben was on his way to the bar in no time.

"Don't drink too much, or you'll be entertaining the crowd in a wholly different way," I warned her, although I knew she'd never listen.

"Who cares?" She pouted and waved me off. "I'll be dancing to Shakira anyway."

"So you're planning to get uber drunk so that you don't have to dance? It's not that bad," I commented, as Ben came around to hand me my poison. "After all, you'll be dancing salsa. The beat suits salsa."

"Here's the Bellini for Bella," Ben drawled as I took the champaign flute from his hands. He returned to the bar to bring Angela's drink.

Angela snorted a little as I sipped the orange liquid, looking at me with a wicked twinkle in her eye. "For your info, I don't plan to dance as much on the dance floor as I do on my bed," she whispered.

"Ugh, Angie, TMI!" I scolded her, and she laughed it off. Ben came back with her drink then, so I didn't say anything else. I didn't want to embarrass the poor guy.

"Here's your mint cocktail, babe," he said, handing her the glass. He plopped down beside Angela, his own mojito in his hand.

"So, where's your dance partner cum boyfriend?" asked Ben, eyeing me curiously. I rolled my eyes at him, and Angela almost choked on her drink. She was on the verge of bursting a laugh.

"For the n'th time, Mike isn't my boyfriend!" I scolded both of them. Their teasing was getting old, but it irritated the hell of me.

Mike Newton was my friend and my dance partner but nothing more than that. We did flirt with each other sometimes, and tango did create a lot of heat, but still, we had the boundaries drawn. Outside of that bubble, we were back to being buddies. Besides, we were both still kind of recovering from our past heartbreaks.

I'd known Mike since high school, and I also knew he had a similar situation with Jessica that I had with Jacob. Jilted first love. He was still reeling from it because their relationship had lasted for a considerable time—six years no less.

"There he is, oh my… Zorro!" Angela's voice brought me back from my high school memories, and I realized that she was talking about Mike. I spotted him quickly; he was dressed in a Zorro costume, something that I had told him not to do. But he made me eat my words, since he looked quite hot in this one, a toned down version with no rhinestones. Thank god for that!

He waved at us from beyond the dance floor and then quickly strode over to sit beside me. "Hello, Miss Hoodie," he greeted me with a smirk. "I bet that the wolf would've changed his intentions if he saw such a hot Red Riding Hood."

Ben hollered, while I turned red at Mike's compliment. The wolf certainly didn't change his mind, he fucking left me for a Quileute girl and told me some shit about werewolves and soulmates and imprinting. Of course, I didn't believe him, that's why I chose the path of least interaction with him once we were done.

Why the hell I was reminiscing about my past tonight was beyond me.

I put aside my gripes of lost love and playfully shoved Mike's shoulder. "Thanks, Newt, you don't look so bad yourself. El Zorro!"

"Told ya you'd like it," he replied with a wink.

Angela giggled and ordered another cocktail. I guess she really hated her chosen song. I sighed and turned to Mike, who looked to be contemplating drinking as well.

"Hey, wanna practice the moves?" I offered, "You know I was quite serious about this competition, unlike a few people here." I pointed at Angela and Ben, who rolled their eyes at me.

"Sure, Bella, I'd like to stretch my limbs a bit," Mike beamed, grabbing my hand and gliding me over to the dance floor.

Smooth Operator was playing in the background. It wasn't the same as my chosen song, but we changed our rhythm to match it.

"Here you go B." Mike turned me around to face the opposite side, my back pressed into his chest, and I got a view of other dancers in the area. There weren't many.

Mike held my shoulders as I swayed and tapped my feet around him. We were dancing in sync, and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I knew we were going to be awesome on our actual turn.

Out of general curiosity, I perused the crowd to see the various attires for the night. Some were tacky, others were quite classy. I could see that many were courting the princess/prince themed ones, since it was the easiest option for a dance.

And then my eyes inadvertently fell upon a face beyond the dancing crowd, a face so perfect that it had given me nightmares in memento. I couldn't believe my eyes, I couldn't believe that my luck could be so shitty, so I looked more closely.

He appeared quite comfortable in this crowd, dressed in black jeans and a blue shirt under his black denim jacket; no costume. He didn't need one to show that he was mythical, his game was in hiding it. Fucking vampire…

"Bella, turn around, are you forgetting the steps?" Mike whispered in my ear, but it sounded distant. The monster of my nightmares looked at me then, courting a smirk I knew all too well.

I was frozen in my place, my whole body numb with shock and fear. My death was here, looking just as menacing as he did seven years ago…

A chance meeting in the school parking lot;

A helping hand from my classmate, Edward Cullen, as he walked me to my truck;

The hairs on my back rising with each step;

My ancient truck not roaring to life;

Him offering me a ride home;

My home passing in a blur as he refused to stop;

Me telling him to stop with tears in my eyes…

I knew that something horrible was going to happen to me, even though I didn't know how or why;

Him dragging me out of his car and into the deep forest;

My screams echoing around the green walls of hemlocks and ferns;

Him caging me in his arms and flashing across the forest at blinding speed;

My struggle against his cold, hard body and the bruises it caused;

My horror at noticing his eyes turning black, full of hunger;

The howling in the background;

The humongous wolves;

The disorienting feeling of watching flashes of white and brown and black as they fought;

And the final lull as my death decided to leave me alone for once…

"Bella… did you have too much to drink, or are these shoes killing you? What's the matter?" I wanted to look at Mike, to tell him to run and take me with him, but I knew it'd be futile. I'd be risking his life as well.

My death smiled at me from the distance; it was enough to send chills down my spine. He hadn't stumbled upon this club by chance, he was here for me.

Reviews are always welcome.