Before you read, you need to know that:

The words in BOLD are the lyrics of the songfic.

The words in ITALICS represent the human girl.

The words with no bold or italics represent Jasper.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Jasper. The Killers own "A White Demon Love Song."

This story is very dark as it shows Jasper during his non-vegetarian days. There is bloodshed.

She walks through the lobby of the deserted theatre, distracted by the beautiful humming that is ringing throughout the room. Fear overtakes her. She is trespassing, and she worries that the humming may be coming from a security guard. The theatre has been deserted for years, but there have been rumors that it may be bought and restored. She thinks of turning and running off the property, but she's fascinated by the lovely tune. She stands still, listening to it transform into a new song.

She recognizes the new song immediately. It is a piece called "The Ashoken Farewell," and it is the very one that earned her admission into the school of performing arts. She is a dancer, the most graceful and talented one at her ballet studio, completing her last year of high school. She is looking forward to attending the new school, knowing that she has enough talent to excel there. She comes here to the theatre every week to dance onstage where no one can see her. Her feet are getting used to the planks of performance. Her ears are growing accustomed to the acoustics. This is her spot, her place to truly practice and condition her body.

But now someone is here with her, and this someone has the most alluring voice she has ever heard. She can't resist walking down the hall, risking the chance that it may be a security guard who may get her into legal trouble for trespassing. As a lover of music, she has to meet the source of this song. She follows the sound down a hall she has never been before. The sound grows distant, as if the person is walking away from her. Still, she follows, like Alice going down the rabbit hole to Wonderland.

The hall opens up into a wing of the audience seating of the theatre. The humming has stopped. She hears nothing. She glances around the theatre, looking for any sign of life. There is none.

White demon shadow on the road.

Suddenly, a shadow extends across the richly-carpeted floor. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She knows she is being watched, and it appears that her musical voyeur is in the balcony. She glances up to the balcony...and the shadow moves. She can't see anyone up there.

Back up your mind, there is a call.

"Hello?" she calls. "Is anyone there?"

He isn't coming after all…

A minute later, there is still no reply. Swallowing hard, she walks to the stage and lifts herself up on it. The cheap CD player she has left there for months is still in place. She turns it on and starts warming up to a simple, fast piece.

He stands behind the curtain of the balcony. Avoiding this human has been too easy. He can sense that she is intrigued by his angelic humming-almost intrigued as he is by her. He has been watching her in the theatre for a couple of weeks now. She is small, thin, and graceful, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She speaks with a Southern accent. She dances with passion and skill.

…love this time.

She is the most adorable creature he has ever beheld.

And her blood? It is the most luxurious scent that has ever hit his nostrils.

He wants her body. And he wants her blood. And finally, after two weeks, he is tired of waiting. He very quietly jumps from the balcony and skitters to the backstage area. She hasn't skipped a beat with her dancing. He is enthralled by the way her body twists and flows to the music. The lust that rolls off of him is a strange feeling; he has always only truly been attracted to women of his species. Vampires. But this human-this little, tiny, insignificant human-is making him have the dirtiest of dirty thoughts. He wants every inch of her.

He steps from backstage and turns her CD player off before flashing back behind the curtain. He can hear her heart stutter.

Her music has ceased. She is not alone. She feels her stomach tighten and sweat breaks out on her temples.

"Is anyone there?" she asks in a shaky voice. "If you don't want me here, just tell me to leave. I'll never come back."

The humming begins again. Another performance of "The Ashoken Farewell" is in play. Frighteningly intimidating. Devastatingly beautiful.

This person, whoever he may be, is playing with her. She is totally aware of this, and her instincts immediately tell her to run.

But a man suddenly steps out from behind the curtain. He walks at a normal pace, and his body is completely relaxed. He hums more loudly, and she wants nothing more than to sway to the lovely song.

His face comes into the light, and she gasps. He is the most beautiful person she has ever seen in real life, movies, photographs, paintings, anything. He has honey curls, a chiseled face, and an obviously-muscled body. His eyes are a strange yet beautiful shade of black. He has a slight smile on his face as he continues to hum.

"I'm just leaving," she stutters, transfixed by the angel standing in front of her.

"Don't," he tells her. He has an accent that is uniquely Texan. As frightened as she is by his chilling behavior, she has to smile. "I'm not the owner or anything," he continues. "I just come here to...hang out."

"I see," she says. Her heart is still advising her that this man isn't good. She doesn't need to be alone with a man, anyway. She's a good girl, just a child. "I was just leaving," she adds, trying to keep her head. Yes, leaving is good. Strange men aren't.

But she can't let that argument stop the lust that is building inside of her.

She likes the way he sings...

He smiles at her, trying to keep his white teeth from looking menacing. "Don't leave," he pleads. "I like to watch you dance."

He is even more pleased as the blood appears beneath her cheeks. He uses his special gift to taste her emotions; she is flattered and is taking the compliment well. He can also sense an undercurrent of fear and discomfort. A very wise girl, indeed.

"Thank you," she says softly, glancing at her ballet slippers.

"You're a beautiful dancer," he assures her, and the feelings of flattery intensify. "Please don't let my presence stop you."

"How do you know that song?" she suddenly asks. He realizes that she is brave.

He calmly and slowly steps toward her. "I've been watching you for the past two weeks. Please don't be afraid." This last part is a contradiction in itself. He loves for his victims, his feasts, to be afraid. The adrenaline in their blood makes them taste that much sweeter. But when they feel fear, he has to feel it as well. It's the curse of being a vampire empath. Often, the fear his victims feel is too much for him to bear. He tries to cover it up with waves of endorphins shooting through their veins, but somehow his power is weakened when he's so thirsty.

She is amazed at how she doesn't feel any more fear at his confession. Actually, she feels special. She realizes that this man isn't much more than a boy. A very lovely boy at that.

"Oh," she says. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," he suggests. "Just continue to dance. Please? I promise I won't interrupt."

He jumps gracefully off the stage and sits in one of the dusty chairs on the front center row.

"Okay," she whispers. She isn't afraid of dancing in front of him. She has danced in recitals since she was five.

She turns her music back on and starts to dance.

He watches her intently, as she leaps and pirouettes and turns in chaines. Her small frame in her pink leotard and white tights is so delicate and poised. Her dark hair has fallen from her strict ballerina's bun, hanging in tendrils around her face. Her cheeks are red with heat and modesty and effort as she works her body. Her salty, delicious sweat creates a sheen on her face after she has danced for a while. Finally, he can resist no more.

After a flawless grande cabriole, she realizes he is back on the stage. She stops dancing as he walks toward her, holding a hand out. Her heart pounds. She has never held a boy's hand or danced with a boy unless it was for practice or performance. She had to skip her junior prom to audition for the performing arts school. She is completely inexperienced when it comes to the male species.

...white demon love songs in her dreams.

Swallowing her fear, she takes his hand, flinching at his touch. His hand is ice cold. She has never felt a human so chilly.

Feeling her anxiety at his cold skin, he sends soft feelings of comfort her way. She smiles at him, and they began to dance. He raises their hands, inviting her to spin. She happily does at a rapid, graceful pace. After a few revolutions, she pulls away from him before returning back to his arms. He wraps one arm around her torso, lifting her up into the air. She leaps and lands on her toes, spinning in a perfect pirouette. They begin a passionate exchange of tugs and pulls and falls and catches. She always purposely positions her body as if she will fall and break herself. He always catches her.

By now, she's feeling comfortable without his extra assistance. She is impressed by his dancing skills. Finally, she leaps high into the air, he catches her, and he holds her in the air over his head. She smiles down at him, keeping her toes pointed and her hands extended. He gives her a toss, catching her again before gently setting her down, and she tiptoes across the floor, teasing him with the way she shakes her hips. She's growing more playful.

He knows what is coming next. He has drank the blood and taken the lives of so many women now. He dances after her, grabbing her hips and spinning her so she is pulled flush against her body. He dips her back, lightly running his fingers down her belly.

White demon, where's your selfish kiss?

For just a minute, she stares at him, and he knows he has won. He leans down and presses his cold lips to hers. At first she freezes, feeling extremely self-conscious, but then responds to the kiss. He feels the emotions rise up in her: she has figured out that he is too cold to be a human. She feels afraid. He shushes the fear with his special gift. Now she only feels...lust.

White demon sorrow will arrange.

He kisses her forcefully, passionately, territorially. She knows that this beautiful angel isn't only looking for a kiss. He walks her forward, his tongue invading her mouth, until he pushes her against the wall. She lets her tongue dance with his, running a hand through his honey hair. His hand roams her front, feeling every subtle curve in her perfect dancer's body.

"Ow," she says softly as her back is pushed into the wall uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry," he lies, lightening pressure. "I really shouldn't be kissing you anyway. It's dangerous."

He is now playing with her. He wants to build that fear, make her blood reek of the adrenaline wine. He slows his power down, and he can feel fear bubble up in her stomach.

"Dangerous?" she murmurs, and he smiles.

"Dangerous," he affirms. "I'm probably not the best match for you."

Let's not forget about the fear.

Her heart picks up speed, but she ignores it. "I'm sure you're fine. You're a wonderful dancer, too."

He grins wickedly at her. "Silly girl…dancing doesn't make a man good."

She disagrees silently, thinking of her lifelong crushes on Patrick Swayze and Fred Astaire.

Black invitation to this place that cannot change.

"But am I a man at all?" he muses, pacing back and forth in front of her.

She raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe I'm not a man," he continues. "Have you ever felt a man as cold as I am?"

She silently chides herself. She knew something was wrong—and now she has the strong urge to run. Still, she is frozen in place. "No," she admits softly.

"Have you ever seen a man as graceful as I am?" he asks before suddenly running up the wall, grabbing hold of the light beams, and turning a backflip, landing again on his feet.

By now, her heart is racing. "No…" Her voice shakes.

"And have you ever seen a man as beautiful as I am?"

"No," she says, her voice surprised at how quickly she can admit to this.

He throws her an amused glance. "So you think I'm beautiful?"

She can only be honest at this point. "I think you're…gorgeous."

He smirks. "So if I'm so cold, graceful, and gorgeous, I must not be a man."

While strangely holy, come for a rain.

She is so hypnotized by him she can't move. She doesn't want to run. She is already craving his company, experiencing withdrawal symptoms. There is something about him that is just…enthralling.

"I don't care," she says in a surprisingly brave voice. "Please dance with me again."

"I'm not really in the mood for dancing," he says darkly, still toying with her. He wants to build her fear back up without using his special power. The adrenaline is already fading—he knows this as he tastes the emotional atmosphere. She is only drawn to him.

"Then what are you in the mood for?" she asks innocently, already feeling tingles of lust quake through her.

Unbelivable, he thinks. Every other human he has hunted has been terrified by this point. Still, he is a subtle man-he says, "Really, sweet girl, I'm not good for you." Try to spark the fear again, but take it slow…it is simply in his nature to stay subtle. Maybe because his gift is such a subtle gift.

White demon, widen your heart's scope.

"You must be a man," she surmises. "What else could you be?"

"I could be a monster," he smirks. "A wolf in sheep's clothing. You never know. I might even be a demon."

"I don't believe that," she states simply. It is the most obvious truth in the world—he is perfect for her. "You can't be a demon. You're beautiful. Demons aren't beautiful, but angels are. Are you an angel?"

"You believe the lie," he says firmly, ignoring her ridiculous question.

White demon, who let your friends go?

"So if you're a monster who isn't a man, are there others like you?" she challenges him, thinking she is being sassy.

"Yes, I suppose there are," he nods. "But I walk alone."

"Alone? There is nothing worse than being alone." Suddenly, after seeing his face, this is what she is being convicted of…

"I'm a loner," he shrugs. "I tend to be too…feral…for company. Especially female company."

Let us be in love. Let's do old and gray. I won't make you cry. I will never stray.

"I could change that," she whispers. "If you would only let me. We could be together forever."

She really is idealistic. Ruled by immature teenage beliefs and hormones, she is such an easy target. He just crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows at her. "Really?"

"Really," she nods. "We could be so happy together—if you would just drop the monster pretense."

He snorts rather unkindly. "It's not a pretense, little girl."

"Little girl?" She sounds and feels offended. "I'm not little. I'm a senior in high school, thank you very much. And you can't be much older than me."

"Oh, you're very little," he whispers. "If only you knew…"

I will do my part. Let us be in love tonight.

"Please?" she begs quietly. "I promise, we could do well together. Just dance with me, please…"

She can't figure out why she is so desperate for him. She has never had a heavy crush on one of her peers. These feelings are entirely new for her.

It's like…some sort of supernatural magnetism.

White demon, widen your heart's scope.

"Just take a chance on me," she whispers, her wide, beautiful blue eyes pleading with him.

But her body is releasing other hormones besides adrenaline. He has sensed these feelings before. It makes her smell a bit salty…and a bit sweet. It is the most heavenly scent he has ever beheld.

He knows she is growing desperate as she suddenly lunges for him. She leaps into his arms, wrapping her legs around her waist. "Please," she says again, clearly a bit speechless. "Just a chance."

Her blood is growing more delicious by the moment as these waves of lust rock through her. He finally surrenders into making her blood even sweeter, and sends more lust her way. She nearly attacks him with kisses. Every kiss they have shared has been guarded, his deadly teeth safely sheathed by his lips. But he can feel his control falter, his resolve slipping. His tongue is lashing with hers…

And just as he is about to feed, the dark clouds roll in again. This always happens when he is about to take a life. His conscience sets in, and he is convicted that this is an unforgivable sin. Torture…murder…every sin seems to run together in a vampire's eyes, but he always achieves this moment of clarity before he takes a life. It's wrong. He knows this.

He knows that maybe the girl is right. He doesn't have to be alone. She might be a rather good mate for him…

But he can't just accept a human mate. She smells delicious, he isn't as controlled as she may assume, and that would be unnatural, anyway.

And would he really want to damn another life to this thirst-driven purgatory?

No. No, he wouldn't.

White demon, who let your friends go? White demon…

Knowing he is about to give up what could be a good thing, he continues kissing her, but lets his teeth touch her lips.

I can't stand it anymore, darling…

She gasps. Something about his teeth…they are unbelievably sharp, and something is burning in her lip. She pulls away and touches her lip. Blood is dotting out of it.

She looks up at him and sees that his eyes are even blacker than usual. He is staring at the blood on her lip, his body quivering, as if he is trying to control himself…

He suddenly lunges at her, slamming her body into the wall. She cries out in pain—surely she will have bruises…and it feels like her bones are slowly growing more brittle…

I can't stand it anymore, darling…

He drags lazy kisses from her heavenly mouth, moving her blood to her cheek. He continues to drag his tongue in the traces of blood before sloppily going to her neck.

She can feel complete fear and pain overtaking her from where he roughly handled her. He can smell the changes in her blood. Adrenaline is finally here.

"Goodbye, beautiful little girl," he whispers, and then his teeth crunch down on her neck.

She can feel her life slowly slipping away. It is terrible, but for some reason, she can feel no remorse.

Yes, he is playing with her emotions, trying to make himself feel better as he drains her body of her practically-narcotic blood.

Finally, his beautiful little girl dies.

His body is made afresh with new blood. New energy to gobble up, new energy to find another food source.

This is his life. He may find a precious human life such as this tiny dancer, but he is not a human.

He is only a white demon.

He drops the corpse on the floor of the stage and calmly exits. He has fed, so he has happy. He won't have to deal with human emotions until his next kill, and that is something to feel happy about. After all, he is only a monster. Only humans and angels can stand human emotions. Only humans and angels can even imagine love. Sadly, humans tend to misread their emotions as love, just as this young, misguided girl did.

But a white demon only feels love for one thing.

The kill.

This may just be the darkest thing I've ever written so far. I hope it wasn't over-the-top or too "virgin."

Were the different fonts confusing? Let me know with a review so I can go back and try to fix it if it was. Also, let me know what you thought of the story.