Chapter 1:

After pleading from MarshmallowStarfish (she asked me to write it) I decided to start this fic, now! So enjoy!

I hope you're proud of me, guys... I WROTE A STORY WITH A SHORT TITLE! That's a first, right? Anyway, read it!

Also, I KNOW Claire's bracelet got to go poof in the books, but this is my fic so it remains. There'll be reason for it later... Trust me!

I don't own anything

Claire's POV:

Life is utter bliss. I mean, Shane and I are happy, we're closer than ever, and then the rest of life seems pretty damned great. Eve and Michael are really happy, with the amount of arguing depleting every day (most arguments are about his vampiric status... But she seems to be accepting that) and the fact that no vampires have sworn revenge on Amelie (therefore Morganville) or any psychotic machines thinking that I'm in love with my crazy, fluffy bunny slippers with fangs, boss have been around for at least three months, it's pretty damned chilled! By comparison, the blip with the whole 'memory loss' thing seemed a little passé, menial almost. Maybe the reason that Michael and Eve haven't really argued is because they haven't been speaking... It's just occurred to me that the house has been devoid of any interaction (or Michael and Shane really - besides at dinnertime when I'm there) between them whatsoever, arguing or not. Still, I'm sure they'll work it out: I bet simply they argued and Shane took Eve's side so his interaction will have fuelled an even bigger vampires-are-evil attack... Probably when I was in class. Why do I always miss the good (well not good but you know what I mean) fights but manage to be present for the life threatening/blood draining ones with V.I.P backstage passes ones? Sooo not fair... Still, I'm sure it'll clear up: but maybe that's where Shane got that brusie on his jaw from last week and not by walking into a cupboard like he said.

Dare I say that life with no problems is rather, well... Boring? I bet I've just jinxed myself now, saying that; something is bound to happen soon - I mean whenever you say something that has potential implications (and none of them would be good ones) it always holds true. Always. Whether you're talking about your simple life or that you need it to be dry so that you can have a picnic, something happens to throw a curveball in life!

CB, you home yet?

I get this text from Michael (recieved on my geriatic phone which has seriously seen better days: I demand better luxuries for being 'Amelie's pet' and her Protectee, including new phones when the old one breaks doing missions for her!) and smile slightly at the whole 'big-bro' thing going on. No matter that he's a vampire - he's my best guy friend (that's not including my boyfriend) and he really cares for me. So what if he sucks a bit of plasma? There are some, as much as it pains me to admit, really good vampires out there: Sam instantly springs to mind and I guess Amelie definitely fits in there (the amount of times she's saved me when she hasn't had to is pretty remarkable) and also Myrnin (purely for his scientific knowledge - he's sometimes the one that causes me to need rescuing!)... Some of the undead aren't so bad. Of course Bishop, Ysandre, Pennywell and Oliver spring to mind to volatilely defend the vampire's reputation as the big baddies, but there are bad humans, so why not bad vampires?

No, I'm walking home at the minute... Be there soon! Claire x

I send this quickly before scurrying on; even in daylight hours, never linger in Morganville. If you stand in the shadows especially, you never know how old the vamps loitering are, so unless you want to play 'play your cards right' with your life, don't stay still for long.

I'm heading home early today - earlier than I told Shane - to surprise him. Well, really it's because my lecture was cancelled but I can always lie and pretend that it was because I just wanted to see him! May as well bolster his ego - something I haven't done in a little while!

I reach the Glass House and open the wrought iron gate to allow me entrance to my home. I smile as I walk up the stairs into the wide verandha area, shaded from the forcefully intense UV rays of the midday sun. I take a deep breath of pollen infested air (from the overgrown garden out front that Neighbourhood Garden Patrol - Eve calls them Morganville Nazis - continually harass us about) as my phone beeps. However, I ignore it: I'm about to walk in the door and I doubt that whatever Michael has to say is going to be different to what Shane or Eve could tell me.

I push open the thick wooden door and smile as the smell of my baby's chilli wafts into my face. Then the smile hardens on my face as I spot an abnormality in the living room. Clothes, discarded clothes, littering the floor as if they'd been removed in a great hurry. Maybe it's Michael and Eve's clothing and that's why he texted; but why would he stop, you know, to do that?

And anyway, that's Shane's top. He was wearing it this morning: turquoise with ragged edges and sleeves half hanging off. Now, unless he's arranged a striptease for me, he's got a girl up there. He's cheating on me. I come home early to find my boyfriend doing it with another girl.

I pick up my phone in my sweaty hand and take it with me, a weapon at the ready. I don't bother to read the message as it can't be important - not compared to this. I sneak up the stairs, noticing how Shane's clothing is littering the wooden stairs, mingled with girl's clothing. He's definitely got someone in here. I see rathe revealing clothing on behalf of the skank, including a bra which looks mighty familiar... I don't know why though.

Ignoring the possible fashion similarities I may have with the whore, I creep upstairs, ready to catch him in the act. Tears drip silently down my face as my hand reaches for the slippery doorknob. I hear noises that are all too familiar; a girl yelling and Shane's grunting and other noises that make me want to throw things now he's using them with some other girl.

With the sweat on my hand, it takes three goes to turn the door and let it silently open. However, when the door finishes opening, it crashes into the wall, causing Shane to jump. I notice his naked form, the way that he's protecting the identity of his whore by covering her face, as he turns to face me. His face is rapidly turning from flushed and happy to bone white, more anxious than ever before.

"Claire... This isn't what it looks like!" he protests but I don't react. I cannot move; I'm paralysed, rooted to the spot by which I currently stand... He's really cheating on me. He's with another girl in the bed we shared, fucking. Great.

"Really?" I manage to say, my voice full of bitterness. "As, to me, Shane it looks like you're sleeping with another girl and you've just been busted by the person you supposedly love," I continue and watch as his facial expression turns to guilt.

"Please, let me explain," he begs, but I shake my head. I take a step forwards as my body relinquishes it's stance by the doorway, and watch as he looks horrified. "Let me come and explain downstairs. Please, Claire..."

I shake my head again and stride forwards.

"Come on, let me see what girl you apparently feel is so much better than me," I spit out at him, hoping to send each word as a dagger into that girl's heart, then into his. It's what he deserves. I move closer and closer and wrench his head out of the way to look into the eyes I know so well.

The phone in my hand slips out in shock as my eyes shut, my head spinning around and around. This cannot be true. This. Cannot. Be. True. Please. You have GOT to be kidding me!

So, what did you think to the beginning of my first multi-chaptered Shane/Claire fic?

Who d'u think the girl is?

Should I continue? Review & tell me... Or just review! review and you'll persuade me to write the next chapter faster!

Vicky xx