You're going to want some tissues for this.

Love to my betas, HollettLA and MC101180. And I really want to thank Clint for all the late-night advice.

Twilight not mine.

WARNING: Character death (but remember, this is a ghost story.) Neither Edward or Bella will die, so please don't flounce!

There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which are heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

~Leonard Cohen

EPOV

Jasper didn't even sound worried. The prick had had one foot in the grave most of his life, never even trying to live. He didn't give a shit about the house, except as a place he could hide away with Alice. But once he was dead, he would be with her and to hell with the rest of us. I had always had high hopes that he would someday reengage in life, but I realized as I walked into the house and found him in his room meditating, trying to bring his emotions to a high enough level that Alice could visit, that the opposite was true. He was madly pulling himself toward her…toward death. He didn't give a shit about our family's artifacts, only about how the negative atmosphere was going to affect his romantic interludes.

"Jesus, Edward, I can feel the negativity coming off you. Can you at least try to control your emotions?" Jasper asked as he sat cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "If you help me clean up this mess, you'll be rid of me sooner. Bella's back at Charlie's, but if I don't get back to her soon, she's likely to come here looking for me. I can't have her exposed to this." I waved my hand behind me, toward the destruction.

"If you leave me the hell alone, I can talk to Alice and find out who did this."

I ground my teeth together to keep from snapping at him. "I think we both know who did this."

He finally opened his eyes. "Okay, sure. Maybe he's capable of knocking our shit around, but where the hell would he get live spiders?" He smirked. "Are you sure they were alive? Maybe he brought them through with him."

I gave him a sarcastic smile. "I don't think a ghost spider would leave remnants of itself on the bottom of my shoe."

Jasper chuckled. "True. But don't you feel like something's not quite right?"

"Nothing about this situation is right, Jasper."

He shrugged. "Whatever. I just can't help but wonder if something else is going on here. It takes a lot of energy for them to visit us, let alone cause the kind of mayhem he's supposedly been causing."

"What are you saying?"

"Maybe there's an actual living person behind all this. Like in those episodes of Scooby Doo – they take the mask off the ghost and it's Old Man What's-his-name from the jewelry store." He paused for a moment to let the idea sink in. "The Quileuetes were really upset with you when Jared died."

I thought about it then shook my head. "No, it doesn't add up. Of course the Quileutes were upset, but they wouldn't stoop this low." But the seed had been planted, and I couldn't stop wondering if Jasper was right. What had I gotten Bella into? Maybe I should take a leave of absence from work and go away with her—far away from all of this shit. She could write, and I could gaze at her, and smell her…touch her…

Jasper cleared his throat. "Maybe you should go back to Charlie's. With the vibes you're giving off, Alice is going to want some privacy when she gets here." He wiggled his eyebrows and I cringed.

I looked at him curiously. "How the hell do you know what kind of vibes I'm giving off?" Jasper was being even weirder than usual.

"You're thinking of Bella—I can tell. You've got this dreamy, faraway look and you're…uh…" He waved his hand toward my groin, and I realized that I had gotten into my fantasy a little more than I'd intended.

My face burned and I turned toward the doorway just as the doorbell rang. "That's probably the cops. I'll get rid of them, then I'm going to start cleaning up. I don't care if you help." I walked out of the room, leaving Jasper chuckling to himself until a thought struck me that filled me with terror.

I whipped around to face Jasper again. "Jasper—have you checked the attic?" His face blanched, but he quickly recovered.

"Not even he would do that—it could affect him too." He closed his eyes and tried to meditate again, but I could see the tension in his body.

"Can you just go…"

"Fuck, Edward! He wouldn't do that. It's fine!" Jasper screamed, his eyes tightly shut as he fought to regain his calm purchase on the river of denial. I walked away, wondering what it would do to him if my worries were true.

A lone police officer stood at my door. It was Charlie's deputy, Mark. A third of the Forks Police Department was here to investigate the alleged burglary at my house. He insisted that he have a look around, make sure the culprit had indeed left, but I saw the curiosity on his face. Stories about my family had been told for generations, and outsiders were very rarely allowed inside the house.

"Your attic window is broken." He tried another angle to gain access to my house, and my stomach dropped at his observation. "You don't seem the type to neglect your house like that, so I bet the perpetrator broke it. He could still be up there."

He needed to leave. "Mark, I appreciate your concern, but I do not require the assistance of the Forks PD today." I started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in it.

"What are you hiding, Cullen?" He glared at me. I was a little taken aback by his change in demeanor.

"I have nothing to hide. My family is very private, and we would prefer to take care of this on our own."

"Your family," he mused. "You mean, you and your brother?" He eyed me suspiciously, as if he was expecting me to admit that in fact, I was talking about my wife, Bertha, who was hidden in the attic.

"I have a lot of family in town, some in very high places." I didn't bother hiding the annoyance in my tone. It wasn't a good idea to threaten a police officer, but I'd had enough. One call to my Uncle Eleazar, the mayor of Forks, and the PD would leave me alone.

His eyes narrowed. "Right. Well, if you have any more problems with people breaking into your house and stealing your things, you just call your family." He turned and stormed off toward his car.

I walked back inside, taking a moment to survey the damage on the main level. I may have been stalling going to the attic—perhaps I understood Jasper's denial more than I had let on.

My blood boiled as I walked into the rec room, where I kept some of my most personal items. Bella hadn't even really seen in here, since it had been dark the night of the party. The room looked as though an earthquake had hit it, but then the ground healed itself, leaving only the devastation on the surface.

I picked the small tombstone up off the floor. It was cracked down the center, and I briefly considered calling my old friend Garrett, who had kindly made it for me one summer during college when I'd worked as a groundskeeper for a cemetery in Seattle. But I found that I actually liked the imperfection; it added to the graveside effect, making it look old and worn.

Like the person it represented would never be.

Or would he? I really didn't know what to think anymore.

I set the damaged effigy back on the desk, beside the shattered picture frame and candles and took a deep breath as I made my way to the staircase.

This was the part I'd been dreading.

Grief began to seep into the edges of my psyche, closing in and almost choking me as I slowly walked upstairs to the attic. I knew what I would most likely find, or not find, and I was trying to come to terms with the fact that my life, and my death, were about to change drastically.

The ladder was already lowered, and suddenly, I regretted sending Charlie's deputy away. What if someone was still up here? That would also mean that the criminal was human, and I would be able to bash his skull in. I was about to go back downstairs to get my nine-iron, when I heard muffled sobs coming from the top of the ladder.

Putting aside all thoughts of skull-bashing, I quietly climbed the ladder and pushed open the trapdoor.

Large chunks of cement littered the floor. Panicked, my eyes flew to the columbarium at the far end of the room, where my entire family's ashes were stored as far back as the first Cullens who had settled in Forks. A gaping hole marred the large structure, my family's history weeping out the center.

Jasper lay prostrate on the floor, his shoulders shaking. My stomach clenched, my whole body beginning to buckle in on itself as the pain coursed through me, pain that I had never known before. Not even when both my parents died in a plane crash, or when I discovered that my wife had been having an affair and was killed in a car accident with her lover, had I ever felt this body-ripping, muscle-tearing, entrail-twisting, brain-fracturing torment.

They were really gone now.

I fell to my knees at this vile attack on my family's final resting place, anger and disgust making the bile in my stomach boil and rise up to my throat. This was no act of ordinary vandalism. Whoever was responsible for this intended more than just the desecration of my family's final resting place—they wanted to seal the veil. Why else would someone steal ashes?

""""Who is missing?" I choked out the words. Jasper jolted upright at the sound of my voice. He didn't speak but slowly stood and turned around. I gasped when I saw his face. My brother was gone, and in his place was a hollow man who had lost his only reason for being. His eyes were wide and unfocused. His mouth gaped, his tongue hanging loosely inside.

He shook his head, attempting to regain himself and failing. His voice was a broken rasp. "Um, the center of the structure sustained the most damage." He closed his eyes and swallowed, then shook his head again. "It was the newest area and housed most of the family that was buried in the last fifty years."

Mom...

Dad…

Gone? They are gone? I shook my head violently. It cannot be. They always come back. Everyone in my family always comes back.

His voice was detached, his face blank. "Oh, and this one." He held up a chipped bronze plaque that read:

Alice Brandon Cullen

Beloved wife of Peter

11901-1920

He turned his head away and let the plaque fall to the floor with a loud, ringing clang, then walked in a daze to the trapdoor and climbed down the ladder.

I fell to my hands and knees on the cold, hard floor, gasping as my chest tore open, creating a hole that mirrored the one in the columbarium. I had never really known grief, I realized. I had lived a life devoid of these deep, dark feelings because we were different. Special.

Now I was just like everyone else. I was just like the little girl in my fourth grade class who had been devastated by the death of her mother. I couldn't understand what the big deal was—I told her that if she would just try to feel happy, she'd be able to see her mother again. She tried so hard. But one day, she cracked. She flung herself down onto the ground in the middle of the playground and just started shrieking. Her dad had to come and peel her off the ground.

She never returned to school.

I understood now. No amount of trying to be happy would bring my parents back. The chasm in my chest throbbed painfully until I thought of Bella, my beautiful brown-eyed girl. My solace. My soul was crying out for her to come and join with it, to make me whole.

She can't come here! It's not safe! My mind screamed as fear consumed me. My throat constricted; I couldn't breathe when the reality set in that she was all I had left, and I could lose her.

Now I understood the desperation I had been feeling since I met her, the intense feeling of wanting to pull her inside of me, to consume her and never let her go. It wasn't just my soul wanting to join with its mate—it was raw, unbridled terror.

I was now even more desperate to marry her. Desperate to make her part of my family, so I could live with her forever.

Through the broken window, I could hear tires on the gravel. Someone was here. As I went to look out the window, I vaguely wondered how it had gotten broken – it was at the front of the house, opposite the columbarium, and the rest of that part of the attic seemed untouched.

A dusty old yellow Saab was pulling up to the house. I watched as a small, scruffy looking man got out and surveyed his surroundings. Before I could move away from the window, he looked up, squinting, and saw me. He gave me a brief wave and walked to the door.

I didn't move from the window.

After a few moments of ringing the doorbell fruitlessly, he emerged and looked up at the attic again. He pointed to me, then to the door, like he was asking if I could open it for him.

He must be mentally incapacitated. I wasn't being subtle about ignoring him. Thoroughly annoyed, I stomped down the stairs, past Jasper's closed door, to the front porch.

The shabby little man smiled when he saw me and walked toward me, not deterred by the scowl on my face.

"Ah! You must be Mr. Cullen. My name's Jenks." He held out his hand, but I ignored it.

"Jenks. This is really not a good time."

He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh…so I heard. I think I may be able to help you."

I scoffed. "Help me with what?"

He looked straight at me, and his eyes appeared crossed behind his thick glasses. "Your ghost problem, sir," he stated matter-of-factly.

Pressure filled my head and I thought it would explode. I stormed back into the house, slammed the door, and grabbed my phone, calling Bella.

She sounded taken aback by my anger. I tried to tone it down for her, not wanting to scare her, but it was impossible with all the tumultuous emotions raging through me. She insisted on coming here right away, even though I vehemently protested. I hung up the phone and screamed, banging my fist on the wall. Everything was spinning out of control. At least she didn't have a vehicle, and Charlie couldn't drive her.

I looked out the window. Jenks was standing outside his car, smoking a cigar and staring off into the trees. His lips were moving as if he was talking.

Bella pulled up on an old motorcycle. I thought my head would explode—the fear and anger I had already been struggling with grabbed my throat and squeezed until I choked.

Did she have no regard for her safety whatsoever?

I flew out the front door and enveloped her in my arms, frantically pulling her off the bike. We fell to the ground, and I held her in my lap and fumbled with her helmet, desperate to feel her against me. She struggled, confused and surprised, but I only held her closer. I was crazed from my contradictory feelings; I wanted her with me, but I wanted her safe and that meant far away from me. I must have seemed possessed as I tore her helmet off and buried my face in her hair, grasping at her wildly, pinning her to me.

Suddenly, she began to struggle in earnest. "Edward?" Her voice was panicked.

Why was she fighting me? I let her go. She scrambled up and away from me, and my soul screamed at me to get her back. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, my breaths harsh and ragged. I was losing control of myself, but I didn't want to frighten her.

"Edward?" Her voice was tiny. "Is it…you?"

I nodded spastically, trying to get enough air into my lungs to speak. "Yes, it's me." I gasped. "They're gone, Bella. They're gone." My shoulders shook, and I tried to get a hold of myself, cognizant of the stranger standing only a few feet away.

She cried out, and before I could move to her, I was surrounded by her scent, her warm body wrapping itself around me as she stroked my hair and offered me her comfort.

My soul sighed as it linked itself with its other half, gracefully joining together like the insoluble liquid inside a lava lamp.

The cacophony of emotions broiling inside me came to a head when I touched her, releasing a single, gut-wrenching sob into her neck. I squeezed her so hard that she squeaked, and even then, I only released her the minimum amount required to allow her to breathe again.

She stroked my hair while whispering soothing words in my ear: that we would be okay, that she would take care of me, never leave me…

That she would love me forever.

I held her face in my hands and stared deeply into her eyes. Her eyes widened. "Then marry me, Bella…please," I begged.

I expected her to stiffen and pull away, but she only held me tighter. "Oh God, Edward. It feels so right. It doesn't make any sense—we've only just met."

"Don't think, baby, just feel. Feel how good we are together. That's never going to change. I need you. I can't live without you. I won't. Please?" I didn't care that I sounded pathetic and desperate—I was.

She buried her face in my neck. "Okay."

Even though the word was muffled by my shirt, my heart heard it and almost burst through my chest. Although I had been hoping for the more traditional answer of yes, beggars can't be choosers. "Okay?"

"Okay."

Okay may be my new favorite word.

Our bittersweet bliss was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. I exhaled slowly and turned my head toward the sound to find a pair of scuffed leather shoes covered by too-long pants standing next to us.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir…ma'am." Jenks nodded to Bella, still in my arms. "But may I please have a look in the attic?"

I stood, pulling Bella with me and brushing the dirt off of her. "Jenks, I…"

"Mr. Jenks, thank you for coming. I'm Bella Swan." Bella shook his hand, and Jenks smiled like they were old friends. "I see you changed your mind."

Jenks shrugged. "You can't be too careful in my line of work—there are a lot of weirdoes out there."

I stared at him, my arms crossed. "You don't say."

Bella stepped in front of me. "What made you change your mind?" Then she turned toward me. "And why does everyone want to see your attic?"

"I'm sure he consulted his Ouija board and got someone to give us a reference." I tugged on Bella's arm. "I need you to come inside with me, Bella."

Jenks chuckled. "Well, no, Mr. Cullen. Not quite. I understand that now is not good for you. Here's my contact information should you change your mind." He held out a card. I pulled Bella away, ignoring the card, but she grabbed it. I could feel her glaring at me.

When we got inside the front door, I released her, and she whipped around to face me.

"I haven't seen this side of you since the first day we met. He came all the way from Seattle to help us."

She didn't understand. I took her hand again and gently guided her toward the attic. "There's something you need to see."

I went up first, and then helped her through the trapdoor. She stepped forward hesitantly, taking in the crypt-like décor. Her eyes were wide, and she said nothing as she walked to the columbarium, holding her hand out to touch it as if she was making sure that it was real.

"Who would do such a thing?" she whispered. Turning to me, she said, "You didn't tell me about this."

I hung my head. Before I could utter an apology, she continued.

"So this means…" Her voice was barely audible.

I could only nod.

Tears welled in her eyes. I couldn't look; seeing her tears would bring on my own. "You're sure?" Her voice was so tiny, it could have fit in the bird's nest I saw in the rafters.

Clearing my throat, I invoked my years of training to remain clinical and detached. "The legend says that they can only come back as long as their remains are in the house." My throat felt like I had swallowed a golf ball.

She was quiet, thoughtful for a moment, and then her head shot up. "Edward, who knows about that part of the legend?"

I frowned. "Just my family…and maybe some of the Quileutes."

"The Quileutes," she pondered, walking back to the columbarium and reading the plaques. "Where was James? Is he gone now?" She stiffened, turning to look at me accusingly. "Why didn't you just get rid of his remains?"

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was getting a massive headache. "James' remains were never here." I scoffed. "Do you really think I would have let that bastard anywhere near my family's final resting place? Dead or alive?"

She blushed. "Of course. I'm sorry," she muttered, turning away from me. She grabbed her hair at the roots and pulled. "Then how…" She spun around to face me. "You don't know, do you? You have no idea how he came back?" Her voice was becoming shrill.

I went to her and grabbed her hands, forcing them to release the grip she had on her hair. "No. We have no idea." I pulled her into my chest. "I didn't want to upset you, and my family was working on it."

Her small hands pushed against my chest, and she struggled to move away from me. I reluctantly released her. "So, you didn't think I could handle it? On top of everything else, you thought that this bit of info would break me?"

I held out my arms. "No, Bella! I just…"

She grew calm, which worried me. "Edward, I am here for you. I will stand by your side no matter what. It hurts me greatly that you do not want me there."

I ran my hands through my hair. "That's not true! Of course I want you by my side."

She shook her fist. "You continually hide things from me and shut me out. Why can't you trust me?" she yelled, storming toward the trapdoor, almost tripping over a large cardboard box with dark stains on it.

I grabbed her arm, but she shoved me off. "I need some fresh air, Edward. This place, this situation, everything, is so fucked up. I need to get out of here." I released her like she was made of hot coal and went to the center of the room, my rage at a full boil.

I had taken so much for granted. My rage was directed straight at myself, burning a hole in my gut where I could store all my regrets.

Why hadn't I tried harder these last few years to create an atmosphere that welcomed my family's spirits?

Why couldn't I have just told Bella everything?

Why had I tried all these years to save Jasper?

That last regret took me by surprise. Did I really regret saving Jasper? In all his attempts to hide his bouts of illness from me, to waste away, I persevered, pushing him to get treatment, even using guilt to force him to stay with me.

Had I been selfish, wanting to keep him with me? He was the last of my immediate family. Besides, I was a doctor—it went against everything I believe in to just let him go.

But all he wanted was to be with the woman he loved.

I ruined everything. My family…Bella…

I picked up the heavy stone vase that used to adorn my mother's outdoor garden and heaved it at the window. The sharp crashing sound penetrated my body, the sound hitting the pit of my stomach and mushrooming out, sending me to my knees and knocking me out of my fury.

I panted as the adrenaline slowly left my bloodstream. Bella… God, how I need her.

I scrambled to the trapdoor, pushing aside the strange-smelling box that Bella had nearly tripped over. On my way downstairs, I checked on Jasper. He was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. He didn't acknowledge me.

I closed his door quietly and went into the rec room. Bella was outside, sitting on the ground next to the blasted motorcycle. I certainly hope she realizes that I'm driving her home. I kicked at the debris on the floor and grabbed the tombstone, resolving to have it fixed. I didn't want any reminders of desecrated graves.

I stepped onto the front porch just as Bella was putting on her helmet.

Taking long, furious strides, I reached her quickly, grabbing the bike's handlebars. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She glared at me. "I'm going to check on Charlie." She stood defiantly, her hair blowing around as it stuck out of the bottom of her helmet.

"I'll drive you." I took her hand. "Please, Bella?" I asked softly. "I can't bear to be apart from you for another minute."

Her shoulders slumped in resignation, and I put my arms around her, hugging her to me despite the awkward helmet. She does look rather sexy in it. We both sighed with relief. I led her toward my car, which was parked in front of the garage.

"Edward, look!" Bella was pointing at the broken attic window. A thin cloud of smoke was gathering, swirling playfully outside the shards of glass that remained attached to the frame.

"Stay here." As I turned to run into the house, I saw Bella pull out her cell phone. My foot hit the bottom step and a loud explosion sounded, shaking the wooden stairs. Bella screamed. I continued up the stairs to the front porch, but Bella ran toward me.

"No, Edward! There's flames! Wait for the fire department!" Through the front window I could already see smoke pouring down the stairs inside the house.

"Bella, stay out here. I'll be quick." Pulling my shirt over my mouth, I opened the door.

"Jasper!" I yelled, hearing nothing but the low rumbling of fire eating away at the top of the house. I ran up the stairs to his room and burst through the door.

It was empty. Where the hell was he?

The sound of sirens grew louder, and I exhaled into my shirt, relieved that help had arrived. Turning to leave, I noticed smoke billowing under the bedroom door.

Had the fire spread that quickly?

I touched the doorknob. It was cool. I cracked the door open slightly and was accosted by a wave of thick smoke. I closed the door.

If I ran, could I reach the front door before being overcome by smoke?

The room was filling with smoke, and I was already having trouble breathing. Running downstairs was not an option. I went to the window. Jasper's room looked out into the forest at the side of the house, so I couldn't see the fire trucks.

And they couldn't see me.

Smoke was pouring into the room through the crack under the door. I felt a sharp, stinging pain in my lungs and began to cough. I unlocked the window and pushed. The pane moved effortlessly.

Thank God I had the windows replaced when I moved back.

I pushed the screen out and stuck my head outside, gasping in the clean air. I could hear Bella crying and yelling my name.

"Bella!" My voice was hoarse from the smoke and barely came out. Jasper's room was on the second floor—too high to jump. There was a tree branch hanging close to the window; if I could make the leap…

Two firefighters carrying a ladder rounded the corner of the house. They saw me hanging out of the window right away.

"We found him!" one of the firefighters yelled, before they placed the ladder up against the house.

The firefighter checked me for smoke inhalation, and when he deemed that I would be okay after some oxygen, we walked around to the front of the house. Bella ran to me, tears streaming down her face. I caught her as she pounced, but I was feeling weak from all the smoke I'd inhaled, and we fell to the ground.

She kissed my face all over and ran her hands along my chest, my arms, my legs, making sure I was unharmed. Forgetting about the paramedics waiting to administer oxygen, I held her close as I peered over her shoulder and watched my childhood home go up in flames.

I was numb from grief. My body had had all it could handle and had shut down. I sat, holding Bella, and stared as firefighters shot water onto the house and surrounding trees, trying to stop the fire from spreading.

The roof began to cave. The roof that had sheltered my family for generations.

The columbarium would be completely destroyed. I would never see the ghosts again.

A firefighter emerged, holding a limp body covered in a blanket. Bella cried. I sat and stared.

My cousins were beginning to arrive, word having spread quickly. Angela and Sam got out of the car. Angela ran toward the ambulance.

My mind felt disjointed, like I was observing an episode of Third Watch or some such shit, where some nameless victim was being worked on in the back of the ambulance, and the paramedics and firefighters would meet up for beers later.

I'm a doctor. I should help.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and became Dr. Cullen. All of the turmoil Edward was feeling could wait.

Bella was sobbing. She took my hand as I got up off the ground. We walked toward the ambulance, where the paramedics, my cousins Eric and Lauren, were doing CPR on Ja...the victim. His body and clothes were burned. He must have been in the attic.

I climbed into the ambulance. Eric and Lauren exchanged concerned looks.

I cleared my throat. "Stop CPR." My voice had returned.

"Edward, you shouldn't do this." Eric looked at me sympathetically. I had to look away for a moment to keep up my façade of professional detachment. I looked at him again, and something about my expression made him stop. He moved away from the body. I looked at Lauren, and she removed the oxygen mask.

I examined the body and determined that there were no signs of life. Silence descended as I looked at my watch.

"Time of death, 6:42pm."

I closed my eyes as I heard the quiet sobs around me. Placing my hand on the body, I opened my eyes, my façade gone.

Good-bye, my brother. Go, be with your love.

Thanks for reading, friends.

I highly recommend that you head over to Liz Lemon Bennett's She Gives Me Religion, if you haven't already. Her characters are amazingly beautiful and deep, witty and poignant.

Also, another very inspiring and moving story is Gothic Temptress' Scintilla. She updates weekly and just posted the juiciest chapter yet! I'm still fanning myself!

Both of these wonderful authors are writing their first WIP. I mention this because the Avante Garde awards are on right now, celebrating novice authors. Just thought I'd throw that out there. So, um, yeah.