AN: Hello all! I am back! Traveled all the way up to Chicago for the Fest for Beatles Fans and loved it like always! I'm back now—with a chapter! Yay!

Hey, by the way, I don't own this. As much as I'd like to, I don't. I know, it's sad. But if I did, this wouldn't be just a fanfiction—it'd be a mix of BD and the finale of Heroes! So, being that it is neither, you can assume. Poor me. :'(

Also, I'd like to announce that our Peter is, in fact, a living breathing man. So that was just his manstincts acting up—not romance. That's just a bit off, I'm afraid to say. But soon enough, my pretties.

And MORE characters. Trust, though, that I'm not simply adding them at random for my own amusement. It will all come to its strange end, I promise. But, by the way, there are still more to add. I know. Frustrating. GAR! But I'm having fun, and I hope you can say the same.

So yah. That's it. Enjoy, darlings!

Immolation Chapter 9: Bears

"First impressions can be deceiving…or not…"

Matt rolled over and yawned, glancing at the queen bed across from him where a small, barely moving bump under the covers indicated that Molly was still asleep. He sighed and flopped onto his other side, burying his cheek into the comfy pillow and wishing there was a way he could simply forget about everything. Forget his power and the complications it brought, his cheating ex and unborn child, the new job he was

practically throwing away by not attending in favor of everything he wanted to forget.

Deciding he didn't want to confuse himself further, he pushed himself off the bed and looked over—his eyes locked onto the painting on the table. He had ripped off the paper in an attempt to study it—see if he knew that face, that girl. He had memorized each and every inch at this point, but was no closer to any answers. All he knew was that things in Kirby Plaza hadn't gone as planned—or maybe something else went wrong. Either way, he had to get to Forks and pray that Peter was already there, mending the situation somehow. Because damn it all but he was afraid of everything. He didn't want to get involved and thrust his life willingly into the gutter. And not only his, but Molly was here with him.

And he had sworn to protect her at all costs. Yet here he was, carrying the both of them on a silver platter toward the apocalypse. Or close enough, at least. Damn. But that need to do right—that want to do good and help people that had brought him into the force in the first place—spurred him onward. That voice in the back of his mind was the push he needed to convince himself that he wasn't signing his death certificate—that he was, in fact, ripping it up and throwing it away. After all, the picture before him depicted some of the most gruesome slaughtering he'd ever seen…and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach made him sure that his death would be the same, if not worse.

He rolled his eyes. That and the fact that there I am, dead as hell, cartoonified. How is it not less scary? Probably because it had the potential to be true. And though he planned to risk his life for good, that didn't mean he wanted to die.

His feet touched the floor and he buried his face in his hands. He was just so tired. He didn't even know what to say or think. He had to help but damn, couldn't fate just not be so twisted? Couldn't he remain normal and not have to jump off metaphorical bridges just to survive?

Nope.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking over at Molly when she shifted, but remained asleep. She was his main worry—she was like a daughter to him. He needed to find a way to make sure the fate he saw on that canvas wasn't hers. She needed to remain safe, no matter the cost. He wouldn't let her near anything harmful. So why am I dragging her to the lion's den again?

He leaned back onto the bed, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep, even though it was five in the morning and he'd probably fallen asleep around two. It was just his mind ate away at him constantly. Was he doing the right thing by going to Forks? What would he do when he got there? Was Peter even there yet? If he was, what should he say?

And suddenly, he decided that he'd get back to sleep, just to avoid the questions.

III

"Interesting…" A curl of red hair ghosted over her face, but she paid it no mind. Her thoughts buzzed at an extremely fast rate as she began to strategize. These humans Riley spoke of…they're staying at the Cullen mansion? Without said vermin here? And not only that, but why are they so interested in Laurent's remains?

She sniffed the air again, as if to check. But she knew that scent—the man had traveled with her and James for quite a time. There was simply no mistaking it. Unless he had a twin who was a random passing vampire…in Forks, Washington, no less? Doubtful.

But yes, it was so. The air was permeated with rain, soil, Laurent, and human blood long dried. She turned at that thought, following the weak trail to a crater fifty feet or so away. Human blood, everywhere. I wonder…?

Had Laurent possibly been hunting, so engrossed that the wolves had gotten to him without his noticing? And yet if she knew anything about Laurent, it was that he was a precise hunter. He wouldn't have spilt so much blood, and never would have allowed the wolves to find him—much less plan a sneak attack. So what had gone on here?

She pushed it away. No use. Laurent had failed and died, so no need to worry about him. It was the humans—they were nothing like those mutts that wandered the forest. They were pale and soft and small with nearly nonexistent human senses. So how did they know about vampires? Or were they just curious of the scene and just happened to be staying at the coven's abandoned home. Not to mention that they knew Isabella, which made her strangely uneasy. Had the girl told?

She pondered for a moment, but ultimately came up blank. Though she vowed to not only avenge her mate, but figure out this mystery. James would be thrilled.

III

I walked into the school building as Angela spotted me, running across the lot to catch up. She was panting slightly as she wrapped her hand around my shoulder. "Bella? Where's Claire?" I looked over and realized people would probably wonder about her absence—and worry about the state I was in that week after…

"Gone for today," I said cryptically. I didn't want to spread around a lie Claire herself would later contradict, and with the situation being what it was, I wasn't going to risk the truth either.

"Oh," she sighed. "Cool. Hey, by the way, did you know that there's another new student?"

I cocked my head to the side. "Another? No, is there a reason I should know?"

She shrugged lightly, falling into step next to me as I made my way to my locker. "Well, new students are kind of uncommon and I thought maybe she was with Claire and her uncle." I kneeled onto the ground to dig through my neat little stack of books.

"No, neither Peter or Claire have mentioned anyone coming," I murmured, shutting the door and walking to our first class with her.

She shrugged again. "I'm just curious because she's been asking about you."

I hesitated, fiery hair and pale skin flashing through my mind. Mates are devoted to each other…and vampires are strong believers in vengeance. "What did she look like, exactly?"

Angela shot me a strange look, questioning why I cared, but otherwise didn't ask. "Blonde, kinda tall, slightly um…revealing." I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh. I wonder why she's asking about me," I muttered quietly, but my thoughts snapped to the girls I grew up with in Phoenix. They weren't close to me at all—in fact, I was more of a tutor than anything—but Angela had pretty much described one of them. Had someone come after me? And if they had, for what?

I shook it away. Why bother wondering? If she was so worried about finding me, she'd do so, and that would be when I got my answers. And until then I'd continue with school normally.

Although, that plan crashed and burned as the now crowded halls watched with laughter as I ran right into someone. I was in for a shock though—literally. It felt like that time I had accidently stepped on bare wires—a hot sensation traveled through my body, stinging and burning every inch of my insides. I fell back and stayed there for a moment.

"Hey, you little runt, watch where you walk, will ya?" I hurriedly got up, forcing my numb limbs to move, and began to gather my things while simultaneously blushing.

"I—I'm so, so sorry," I whispered quietly, forcing my eyes to meet hers, but she wasn't looking at me. Her blonde hair whipped around as she angrily shoved her papers and books into a heap.

"God, walk much, retard?" she grumbled more to herself than anything, but I still felt offended.

"Yeah, just not well," I snapped sarcastically.

"Practice then, how about? So, you know, you don't disgrace the human race as we know it." She looked up at me in a huff, continuing to push her things together. I, although affronted by her attitude, reached down to help her. Though she just swatted my hands away. "I got it."

She finished as I rose and brushed off my pants, picking up my various school-related items and waiting for her to get up as well. When she did, she pushed her hair out of her face and got a good look at me. The anger previously set in her features seemed to drain away.

"Isabella Swan?"

I felt my brow furrow, but then remembered that Angela had mentioned that new girl asking for me. And this one fit the bill. "Yes. Can I ask who you are?"

There was a small, almost palpable hesitation in which waves of concentration seemed to roll off of her. Though her face was carefully composed, I could tell she was mulling over something in her mind, as if she didn't want to tell me. "Elle Bishop."

I stuck out my hand to shake hers, deeming it the most appropriate response. Did Nathan rub off on me or something? A handshake? "Nice to meet you." She took my hand warily and eyed me with suspicion, her eyes narrowed, and there was something strange about her. Besides the fact that she looked well over eighteen, those skimpy clothes and ridiculous heels aside.

"Yeah, whatever," she responded coolly, pulling her hand from mine.

I didn't know what else to do but say what I was thinking. "So I hear you've been asking about me…is there a reason why?"

She looked at her nails and shrugged nonchalantly, as if I was simply insignificant—even though so far, she was the one seeking me out, and not vice versa. "My dad met your dad and your dad said you could show me around town." I felt a twinge of frustration at that statement—simply because, though I didn't like to jump to conclusions, this girl seemed amazingly rude, and the prospect of having to do her a favor made bowing down to Lauren seem like heaven.

And yet. "Oh, okay. Whenever you want to."

"Nah, not really. But…" She paused again, looking at the floor. But it was the kind of pause in which you could tell she wasn't sure how to say what she wanted—that or she didn't want to say it at all. "…I could, uh, use a friend. And your dad said you're nice."

I bit my lip. A friend? To her? At this point, it didn't sound that attractive—but still, I had to admit first impressions weren't something I could trust completely. That and I had knocked her down and spilled all her stuff, so she did have a right to be annoyed. Maybe now that she realized I wasn't so bad she would be nicer. Though her face was still a mask of indifference and boredom, as if this conversation was put on.

But I'd had experience with new kids pretending not to care so they could look better—maybe she was just scared I'd say no. Which, I wouldn't, even if she grew little red horns right now. I had to give the girl a chance. "Okay. I'll show you to class, I guess."

"Awesome." She smiled and handed me a slip of paper, showing me that she was heading in the wrong direction—but that she needed to turn around and go to the very same English room as I was traveling to right now.

"Um, we've got the same schedule," I said quietly, giving it a once-over. Every class matched. "Follow me."

"That's so, uh, cool. Can I sit by you?"

I nodded. "Sure. Better you than Mike."

"Mike?"

I rolled my eyes. "A disciple of sorts."

She snorted. "Christ." I laughed at that.

"So…" she began, but it seemed she was lost. "Who do you like?"

I furrowed my brow. "Who do I like?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You know, gossipy teenage crap. Crushes. All that bull—" She abruptly stopped.

"Uh," I began, but I didn't have an answer. My mind ran through all the faces of males I knew who weren't family, and none seemed to stick out above any other—besides one. I flinched and pushed that face from my mind with such force I felt slightly out of breath, but I hid it. "No one like that."

"Huh." I could tell she wasn't done, so I walked silently down the halls, the chatter of nearby students filling the gap in our conversation. "That's weird."

"Yeah, I'm pretty good for that," I muttered, before promptly stumbling and barely catching myself. Stunted silence descended, but she didn't seem to notice how awkward it was.

"What do friends normally talk about?" The question caught me off guard.

"Um…" Again, I didn't know what to say. I never was one to have normal human friends, so their topics of conversation were as foreign to me as they apparently were to her. "Different things. They usually get to know each other or something."

"Okay." We rounded the corner. "Well. Tell me about yourself or something."

"Uh," I bit my lip again in thought. "I'm from Phoenix, love to read, am horribly clumsy—"

She rolled her eyes and cut me off. "Yeah, whatever. Thanks for sharing."

I bit back another snappy remark. Instead, I talked tightly toward my sneakers. "You asked."

"I didn't think you were so boring." And neither of us said a word as we walked in, and I was filled with a genuine, only slightly spiteful glee as Lauren Mallory scooted over, leaving the only empty seat next to herself. Elle wouldn't be near me, which was fine. I even liked the fact that Lauren didn't seem able to stop talking—and normally I could safely say I wasn't a mean person, but when she was constantly swinging back and forth between an awkward acquaintance and a shrewd cheerleader, well, sorry. I couldn't say I liked her much.

I sighed and leaned my cheek onto my hand, letting it run off my back like water. So there was a rude new-girl about who didn't seem fond of me. What harm could it do?

III

Mohinder wandered through the grasses, just on the outskirts of a small village. He couldn't remember where at in Africa he was because it didn't matter—he was too focused on the mission. He would, in fact, have to call Noah soon, and tell him there was no word from the Company as of yet. Their alliance was strange, and yet needed.

The Company was to be brought down.

He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, continuing to simply meander. There was nothing for him to do in the few hours time until he would take the jeep back toward the airport and leave. Next was a speech in Oklahoma, and then on to Seattle. He didn't have time to waste—word needed to be spread, and the Company needed to be genuinely worried.

He heard some kind of wet noise, and his curiosity spiked as he made his way out to an isolated tree with a large boulder next to it. There was a slight shifting in the grass—and as he made his way around the boulder, he saw a man sitting on the ground, painting the boulder furiously. He swiveled and eyed the nearly finished painting with first mild wonder—and then blatant shock and disbelief.

I…I…I can't believe this! Impossible! He's supposed to be dead!

And yet there he was. Both of them, actually—two men he had thought died that fateful night at Kirby Plaza not so long ago, and a young woman he didn't recognize. And…he examined the sign next to them, reading 'Forks, Washington welcomes you!'

The road they stood on was desolate, rain falling as wind whipped at their clothes and hair. Peter's face was torn in what looked like pain and fury—Sylar's full of hate and triumph. The young woman's face was that of stone, her eyes the only thing to show emotion—misery. She stood mere feet behind Sylar, watching the soon to be battle with what, at first glance, seemed indifference. And yet in her pained eyes, he could see worry of some sort. And, in her hands, she clutched a large manila file.

The painting was vibrant and detailed and he wasn't sure what to think. He knew this man had to have that same ability, precognitive painting, by the look of his eyes and precision of his movements. Not to mention the fact that he was in some sort of trance and didn't seem to notice Mohinder at all.

He stared at the painting for three whole minutes when, with a slight gasp, the man came out of his trance. He looked around himself and spotted Mohinder immediately—his eyes softened and he stood, walking over and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Your plane will arrive soon. Go."

Had it been hours? He hadn't thought so—he had counted three minutes. And yet his watch confirmed that he had stood that long—and he felt slight cramps in his legs, which only further confirmed it. Without thinking or wondering how the man knew he was to catch a plane and at what time—hell, why bother?—he nodded and took off, the painting all he could see in his mind's eye.

Change of plan.

III

D.L. sighed and looked over at his son, fast asleep on the bumpy bus ride. He had had a bad feeling when he saw Niki stop taking her medications—and now it was confirmed. He had followed her to her first day of work only to find that she didn't plan on going at all—well, Niki did. But Jessica, on the other hand, did not.

He brushed Micah's sweaty hair from his face, glancing up to see that they weren't close to Seattle at all and wouldn't be for hours. He settled back in his seat and simply looked out the front window as the rickety old beast barely crawled down the highway, silently cursing Jessica for ever complicating their lives at all.

But she did, and now he was stuck, forcing Micah on a surprise trip after his mother, stopping their lives once again for this damned abomination inside her. If there's ever a way to get rid of Jessica for good…I swear…

He sighed again, forlornly. He loved his wife but…damn.

III

I closed and locked the door behind Claire and I. She had surprised me by jumping from behind the bushes after school was out—I had expected her to be gone until later that night, but she had explained that her father got a phone call of some sort that was quite urgent and she had to leave. And though I felt terrible because her time with her family had been cut short, I was barely able to keep my glee at her arrival under wraps, and I knew she knew.

But that didn't matter. She was here now and didn't seem saddened at all, which was good. "Dad!" I called to the seemingly empty household. "You here?"

I heard his voice echo something faintly, and then noticed the slight murmur of voices. I looked around the corner and spotted three people—one being my father and the other two being a certain Billy and Jacob Black. Although, Jacob was nearly unrecognizable since the last time I had seen him. He was at least a foot taller, exceptionally broader, and extremely muscled—which was obvious, being that he had decided to disregard the pouring rain outside and go shirtless.

"Hello," I said quietly, and they all turned to look at Claire and I.

"Hey, B," Billy said easily, his dark eyes dancing with humor in the sunlight. Jacob nodded.

"I uh," I paused before deciding to go straight for the point. "What do you guys want for dinner?"

They each muttered something different, so I decided to just ignore the question and figure it out when I got to the refrigerator. I stepped aside then, allowing Claire complete entry into the room. "By the way, I've never gotten to introduce Claire. Billy, Jake, this is well, Claire." I gestured to her, and she gave a small wave. "Dad, this is the girl I hang out with all the time."

He nodded. "Hey Claire, nice to finally meet you." He directed a slight accusing stare my way, but there was no real malice in it. A small silence descended upon us in which everyone examined everyone, before I finally clapped my hands together.

"Well, Claire and I are off to cook." With that, we made our way to the kitchen.

"Who're Billy and Jake?" she asked curiously. I smirked, though she may not have seen it as I dug in the refrigerator.

"Why?" I asked innocently, and I heard her clothes rustle with a shrug.

"Just wondering."

"Don't lie." I turned, my arms full of random vegetables for a half-recipe forming in my mind. I clicked the door shut with my toe. "I saw the look you gave Jake. Or, his chest, rather."

She crossed her arms and sat on a nearby chair with a small, indignant huff. "Well, I figured he was kinda inviting you to look, considering he didn't bother to cover it up."

I rolled my eyes and laughed, nudging her arm playfully. "Don't worry about it. And they're old family friends."

She nodded. "Cool. It's nice to meet other people around here."

I acted upstruck by that. "Getting tired of boring old me, are you?"

She chuckled and nudged me back. "As if. I love you like the boring older sister I always dreamt of having." I stuck my tongue out at her, grabbing a large, sharp knife. I held it up in the air threateningly.

"Don't make me stab you again."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please. You were too chicken to do it the first time." I reluctantly agreed, holding the knife right and beginning to chop up the carrots. She watched for a moment before seeming to get bored.

"Want me to do anything?" I shrugged.

"If you want you can start to boil the water. Oh, and don't burn it." I winked at her and she, in turn, stuck out her tongue my way. Then we began to work in relative silence. Soon we had the water boiling, the meat thawing, and the vegetables chopped. I greased the pan quickly before heading out into the living room again. I was about to say something when a cell phone rang—Jacob answered it and nearly mowed the two of us down to get out the door.

I looked to the remaining men. "Food's on its way. It'll be ready in maybe a half hour. Sound good?"

Billy nodded. "Yeah Bells," Charlie said, his eye still on the game. "Great." He tore his gaze away to look over at Claire with a kind smile. "So, Claire, you're the girl Bella's living with."

She looked confused, pointing to herself. "Me? Bella isn't living with me."

He laughed, "Close enough. I swear she's always gone. That's alright though—glad she's happy again." A dark expression was cast over his face, and I recalled that week of numb hell I had spent. Well, recalled what I could of it.

She agreed quietly, and Jacob chose that moment to storm in. "Gotta go Dad. Sam called. Charlie, will ya take him home?" He fidgeted impatiently as he awaited Charlie's answer.

"Sure, course."

And he flew out without a word. Claire looked surprised, before leaning against the doorframe. "What's got him so worked up?"

Billy's happy smile was gone, replaced with a somber stare. He didn't seem as interested anymore. "He and…some of his friends are going on a prolonged hiking trip," he said carefully.

"Which reminds me," Charlie began. "I wanted to tell you two to be safe out there, if you ever have to go in those forests. Animal attacks are on the rise."

"Animal attacks?" Claire seemed astounded at such a thing.

I smirked grimly. "You're not in Odessa anymore."

Charlie nodded in agreement. "Twelve or so in a week. Got officers all over—there's been sightings of some giant, crazy bears. Dunno how true it is, though." By now he was more angled toward Billy, ready to gossip, though Billy was obviously not in the mood. "Gettin' really scared for the hikers."

Claire shook her head. "Who would hike in this cold weather?"

"There's dedicated people out there," Charlie muttered.

I sighed. "Well, after this lovely bit of conversation, I've gotta go check on the casserole." Knowing that Claire wouldn't want to be stuck in the whirlwind of testosterone—considering the cabin-like feel of my living room coupled with the droning ballgame, I added, "Coming Claire?"

She nodded and followed me into the kitchen. I dropped the various noodles I had gathered into the now boiling water, grabbing the meat out of the microwave to cook. She perched herself up on an unoccupied bit of counter, swinging her legs. "Twelve animal attacks in one week. That's nuts."

I nodded. "Yeah, even for Forks that's pretty uncommon." But my mind began to drift to certain other people, and the fact that when they were around, it wasn't simple animal attacks at all. Could it be a…? I shook the very thought away, refusing to think it. Charlie had mentioned sightings of giant bears—it had to be them.

"Bella!" Claire's hand snapped in front of my face. I jumped and looked over to her.

"What?"

"You zoned for a second there. Everything alright?"

I nodded. "Fine, fine, I'm fine." Maybe I spoke just a bit too quickly, but it didn't seem that she noticed.

Dinner, after that, went normally. The chatter was simply of mine and Claire's nonexistent plans and Charlie and Billy's upcoming fishing trip. We finished up and Claire and I washed the dishes, before we drove back over to her house. We watched a movie before turning in early.

Though, thoughts of the possibilities that those attacks weren't animals at all plagued me. It was just a small notion, being that when there were other things going on, animals were always to blame. I only hoped that it was really just some huge pack of bears and not what I didn't want to think about. Though I got a bad feeling in my gut.

I sighed and got up, looking over to find Claire fast asleep. I didn't want to wake her because she no doubt had jet-lag, but it was still early yet and my thoughts were things I didn't want to be left alone with right now. So I rolled out of bed and quietly padded out of the room, fixing the thin tank-top and boy-shorts that had ridden up in all my tossing and turning.

And, as I realized it was only enough fabric to cover what I needed covered, I cursed myself for forgetting to bring something to sleep in. I grabbed a random book from the shelf and turned on a small lamp, sitting back in the chair.

I was getting into the story as the door opened, and Peter appeared in the arch. I jumped up with a blush, immediately feeling out of place—Claire was asleep and I was up, just reading their books. How stupid!

His eyes went from my feet to my face in one smooth movement. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks at the look in them—he was so annoyed by my presence by now, there was no doubting it. "I'm so sorry, Peter—I just wasn't able to sleep and Claire went to bed early and—" I stuttered stupidly.

He shook his head. "Don't," clearing his throat, "uh, don't worry about it. I just didn't expect you to be here, is all." He looked away toward the chair I was at, noticing the book. I watched a small smirk slide onto his face. "Figures you'd be reading."

I smiled back. "Thanks. And yep, it's what I tend to do."

"Well," he said after a pause. "While that's awesome, I'm gonna get to bed before I pass out." I laughed.

"That would be preferable." And with that, he walked away. The house was silent besides the ticking of their clock, and I flushed red when I heard his clothes rustling. Don't just stand there you idiot—move or something! You must look like the creepiest houseguest alive!

I sighed and looked at the clock. Now, sitting out here while both of them slept didn't sound all too appealing for some reason, and I did need to get to bed eventually. So I put the book back in its spot and headed off down the hall, crawling in next to Claire and shutting my eyes—only to see hungry black ones staring back at me.

I was in for a long, restless night.

AN: So, whatcha think? By the way, I'm so happy and love all of you! My hits are ASTOUNDING! Ahem, also, directed to the general population (but I must credit sally94, as she brought it up. You're a favorite of mine Sally, just don't tell the others! ;) I promise I will not die until AFTER I finish the story. Then I could care less. :P

So yes, that's all I needed to babble about. Carry on. :D