AN: Just a short little story that I decided to write because I miss not writing Carlisle fanfics!

Esme, simply put, doesn't exist for the purposes of this story, ok? Apologies to my dear friend Alice who loves nothing more than to chide me for removing Esme from any Carlisle story I've written so far…

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"Carlisle, help me!"

"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do." He turned away from the wreck of a girl who lay sobbing hysterically at his feet.

"Please." she whispered, tugging at his jacket.

He eventually took pity and he bent down so that he was level with her tear-streaked face. She was a mess. Her long copper hair was tangled and clung to her cheeks. There was a wild, tortured desperation in her dark green eyes that was nearly enough to make him weep. But he wouldn't. What would his father say?

His father would probably have not even paused to listen to the distressed woman's pleas that night. And hearing what Carlisle had just heard, his father would have seen her burn at the stake by now.

But Carlisle wasn't his father, and so he had listened.

………………………….

It was late July and, for once, the evening sunlight rippled through his study window and rested on the dark mahogany desk, creating striking stripes of fiery light that was really quite mesmerising for a vampire to watch. It was while Carlisle sat studying those fascinating patterns that he heard Edward call from downstairs. Slightly curious as to what was wanted of him he got up half-heartedly from his very comfortable armchair and went downstairs to find out what the commotion was.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs he froze.

He blinked. It couldn't be….

Edward looked at him oddly. "Carlisle, this is Scarlett. Scarlett, this is Carlisle, our leader."

"She's a new student in our class." Emmett explained, his grin fading slightly as he took in the expression on Carlisle's face.

"No…" he murmured, running a pale hand through his golden hair. "Impossible."

The young woman standing before him smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid so."

……………………………..

It was as Carlisle had been heading through the streets one Friday evening that he had happened to catch the sound of someone softly sobbing in a nearby house. Feeling pity for the poor wretch that felt the need to cry so passionately, had decided to call upon the person in question and find out what the dilemma was.

That was when he first met Scarlett Hawthorn.

She was at least four years his junior, and yet the things that she spoke of were so dark, so disturbing…she whispered of demons, of the dead calling to her, trying in vain to find their final rest. Naturally the sensible part of his mind told him that she was mad, dangerous even, and that he should get out the house and inform his father immediately. Yet instincts often send humans down different paths from what was logical. His instincts told him to help her.

And so he did.

It had started with the bread. Every few months, then every few weeks and finally every few days he would go the house with some fresh bread and drink and he would sit with Scarlett in the flickering candlelight, talking about simple subjects of the menial sort.

Her little house was small and dilapidated, but he had never managed to get the full story out of her of how or why she lived in it by herself. She did make a little coin form weaving, but whatever little that she made she spent on food and, on occasion, new clothing. All he did know was that her parents died a couple of years ago, and that the house had been theirs. He didn't feel the need to push her for information however, as he feared that she would refuse to let him in again, and God knows how losing her one and only visitor would affect her state of wellbeing.

He found that the more he visited her, the better her mental health was. Some days he could even pretend that she was just like any other woman he met.

But then she would start weeping once more, and talking about dark and terrible things that he could not comprehend, let alone understand. Things that she told no-one else except him.

Why him?

Carlisle asked himself the same question every time he stole through the deserted churchyard at night so that he could visit her once more. It was a risk, if his father caught him there would be severe consequences. But he knew the positive effect that his visits had on her and so he felt as though it was his duty to go.

Of course, if he had known just how emotionally involved he would get then perhaps he would never have gone back at all.

….......................................

Scarlett looked at him softly, her wild green eyes as captivating as ever. She wore her copper hair loose and it framed her pale face beautifully. He had forgotten how pretty she was. It was like that old analogy of a wound being opened once more, the memories pouring out that he had pushed away, shunned, hidden until he could find someone else to think about, to dwell on.

But he never had found someone else.

….......................................

It was a year or so later when Carlisle was sent by his father on that fateful and final vampire hunt. As usual he had had a lecture form his father beforehand, as usual he had gathered a group of villagers willing to help and as usual he was not looking forward to it in the slightest. And as the stalked the darkening cobbled streets for an unseen foe, something Scarlett had told him last night floated around in the back of his mind. It was during what had appeared to be one of her calmer states that she had tuned to stare at him with her wild eyes as though in sudden realisation. Leaning over she had whispered in his ear: 'Guard well your soul, my dear Carlisle, for demons walk the earth,' and leaning back in her chair she gave him a knowing look. Carlisle had passed it off as sheer nonsense, but as he was to find out soon enough, it wasn't far from the truth.

The attack had been bloody and brutal, and the several days that he spent in sheer agony were naturally some of the worst in his life. What he hadn't been prepared for was the powerful thirst that came after, the thirst that pushed him to complete and utter self-loathing, pushed him steer away from any humans, anyone of his former life. He had missed Scarlett more than he could have ever imagined, and it was only once he was condemned never to see her face again that he realised just how close he had become to her. Most of all Carlisle couldn't bear the thought that if he started killing, then it could be her next, and he would be powerless to stop himself. It was this reason, along with perhaps the more obvious ones, that pressed him to try and end his life once and for all.

How was he supposed know that vampires were close to being indestructible? Yet he tried. Over and over again. Until that final breakthrough. The breakthrough that saved his life, along with many of his could-have-been victims. Only once he discovered that he could survive on animals did he realise just what he could do. Scarlett. He could visit her again.

Eventually.

...........................................

Finally, Carlisle found his voice. "What…what are you doing here?"

She tilted her head slightly and looked at him oddly. Carlisle gave a startled laugh as he recognised the same strange, curious and yet wonderful look she used to give him all those years ago whenever he stated the blindly obvious. "To find you, of course." was her final reply.

He shook his head in disbelief, all too aware of the confused stares of the rest of his family. Edward couldn't make much sense of his thoughts either, although that wasn't much of a surprise considering the job Carlisle was having of sorting them out himself. "Why here? Why now?"

She shrugged and pulled at her jacket self-consciously. "I've been asking myself much the same question, to tell you the truth."

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It was at least three years later when Carlisle finally tried to visit her. His control wasn't perfect but it was good enough that he could visit her without putting her in danger. Besides, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to find her, explain what happened, make sure she was all right, make sure she was still alive. However, once he reached the old house he found it to be deserted. There was no sign of a struggle, nothing had disappeared. Naturally he jumped to the worst conclusion.

"Dead…" he whispered to himself numbly, kneeling beside the empty armchairs where they used to sit for hours on end. "No. You can't be…"

A heavy gloom descended upon him, and he knew that if he wanted to find out for sure if that was indeed the case then he could just check the book at church. Of course he knew that he would have to avoid his father at all costs, but it was a risk he felt obliged to take. So that was where he set off next.

It was far too easy in his vampiric state to break into the place that used to live as a child, and despair over the fate of Scarlett quieted any qualms he had over breaking in. Once he reached the old library he pulled out the most recent book of records and stared searching. But there was nothing. No mention of her whatsoever.

However, just as he closed the book with a heavy sigh, he caught a glimpse of another lot of records. It was the accounts his father kept of the witches, vampires and other demons that he was hunting down. Out of morbid curiosity rather than anything else he picked up the book and started flicking through it wondering if his name would show up-

There, it was near the end, alongside the names of one or two other poor souls that had been with him that night and had burned at the stake. He read down to the bottom of the page, where his eyes found a name that chilled his soul. "Scarlett hawthorn." he read softly to himself. Voice shaking slightly with shock. "Charged with witchcraft. Found guilty. Will burn at the stake on the twenty-ninth of this month."

He sat frozen, unmoving.

Twenty-ninth. That was today…

He caught the smell of smoke on clear evening winds. They would be building up the fire right now, but if he hurried…

...........................................

"Carlisle, I shouldn't have come-" she began, a trace of anxiety flickering across her soft features.

"Nonsense." he muttered, wanting to reach out and comfort her but knowing better than to.

"If I had known…" she shook her head, glancing at the rest of the people in the room. His family. "I wouldn't want to put them danger."

"You're not the only one wanted for your gifts by Aro nowadays," Carlisle explained quietly, glancing at Edward and Alice. "Trust me on that one."

She smiled grimly. "Exactly. I wouldn't want to bring you any more trouble."

For laughed humourlessly. "I think us pair go beyond trouble."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alice interrupted, clearly riled by not knowing what was happening.

It was Scarlett who replied. "It's… it's a long story. Not very interesting really."

Alice turned on him. "Carlisle?"

She's right," Carlisle replied, glancing over at Scarlett, and was rewarded by a faint smile from her. "We wouldn't want to bore you with the details."

...........................................

He vaulted through the church window, leaped over the old dry-stone wall and sprinted towards the hill where the burnings usually took place. He arrived just as the flames were licking up her body. For once in his life he didn't pause to think. Using every ounce of his vampire strength he leapt towards her and pulled her out of the flames, too angry, too distraught to even notice nor care about the flames closing in around them both. He pulled her away and ran, ran with her limp body until he was far away from the place.

After running what could have been several miles through houses and farmland in just under a minute or so he stopped and laid her body on the ground near the edge of the forest. Any hope he had of her surviving slipped away as he saw that she was dying before her eyes. He bent down and took her hand, grief and guilt hitting him with painfully equal measure. He saw her eyes flickering slightly as he whispered her name, and it was then that he realised there was one thing that he could still give her…

Clumsily, not really sure if it would even work or what would be the consequences, He reached down and sank his teeth into her hand.

It was only his new-found love for Scarlett that stopped him from killing her entirely.

A few days of hiding in the forest and guarding her body while she screamed in agony, Carlisle was finally release from the hell of watching her suffer. As she started to wake up he bent down beside her, not really sure what to do. Remembering what it had been like for him when he first came round, with the lights and colours and sound and smells, he gave her a moment to take it all in before speaking.

"Scarlett?" he muttered hesitantly. He didn't know how she would react.

"She turned and studied him as though they had never met before. "You saved me." she whispered, smiling weakly. "My dark angel, indeed. They said you had become a demon, but I knew better. I did warn you, you know. You should have listened."

Carlisle couldn't help but smile slightly at this. "I know," he replied, helping her to stand up. She glanced around the forest momentarily lost in her surroundings. Then she turned back to him and reaching up she stoked his cheek lightly. He would have been lying if he had said he didn't enjoy it.

"Looks like we're both in the same boat, then." she added, smirking slightly.

He nodded.

...................................

"So, you're gifted too?" Emmett asked, clearly eager to break the uneasy silence that had started to grow.

Scarlett nodded, not taking her eyes off Carlisle. "That's right. I see the future. I see the past. And occasionally I see things in between… The dead occasionally like to talk also, and so do dark angels when they aren't busy stalking the night. " as she said the last bit she smirked slightly at Carlisle. "Angels provide the best company, don't you think?" she aimed the last question at Emmett, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Erm…sure…if you say so…" he muttered, very much out of his depth.

Alice laughed slightly. "She talks in just as many riddles as you do, Carlisle. Sure you're not related?"

He shook his head. "No, no we're not."

"A good thing too," Scarlett added softly.

...........................................

Once Scarlett became a vampire things started becoming clearer. It appeared that she had saw things that others never, and also that she had a strangely unnerving and uncanny knack for prediction. They travelled together for a while across Europe, and he found himself falling ever more in love with her. He never quite found out if she felt the same way, but nevertheless she enjoyed his company. If it were possible he felt more alive than he ever did as a human. But things never stay as they should.

It all started when they first met the Volturi. At first the pair had been enthralled by the civilised nature of these vampires, their music and art and knowledge. But Carlisle felt uneasy about the fact that they could be so civilised and yet murder humans needlessly.

They should have left when they could. But once Aro found out just how potent Scarlett's powers were there was no turning back the clock. Carlisle had convinced Scarlett to leave with him, but they both knew it was only a matter of time before they killed Carlisle to get to Scarlett.

Carlisle refused to leave her, but Scarlett insisted. He wanted to be stubborn, to force her to stay, but he couldn't bear to make her do something if she didn't want to.

So she left.

And that was when he left to go to America, broken-hearted and lost, looking for some form of escape.

But it was never quite the same. The thought that she might not want to see him scared him more than anything else, so he convinced himself it was better so stay away.

Safer all-round.

He thought about going looking for her, but, considering that she could see the future, it would be as pointless as chasing the end of a rainbow or looking for the meaning of life.

He never really thought he would see her again.

............................

Scarlett sighed suddenly. "I'm sorry, this… this was a bad idea." she turned to leave, but Carlisle grabbed her wrist. She turned and he saw a flash of raw pain in her eyes that had not been present a moment ago.

"Don't go." he pleaded softly. He watched her pause, sigh, shake her head. He knew it, it was a lost cause. She would turn and his pleas would fall on deaf ears once more.

But then something changed. She didn't leave.

Instead she leant in and pressed her lips against his, and for the second time in his life he was acting without thinking first, returning the kiss more fervently and ardently than ever before.

…………………….