There was supposed to be more happening in this chapter, except that it got too long so I decided to split it into two parts; that way I could go ahead and post something and you wouldn't have to wait so long (happy-making, right?)

Oh, and the part that I did get finished has some more of that stuff you shouldn't read to younger siblings – consider yourselves warned! Hmm, that came out more ominous than I'd intended. Oh well…

5/31/2012 edit: yesterday I decided to go through this story and fix some things I didn't like about it, and the updated/revised version of this chapter is a little racier than the original. I've therefore decided to up the rating to M.

Chapter 25: Aftermath, Pt. 1

My first thought when I woke up was that last night had to have been a dream. There was no way I'd really been killed by Victoria, brought back to life, and lost my virginity all in one night, was there? Then the fog in my head dissipated enough for me to gain a sense of my surroundings; finding myself in Peter's bed, curled up with him, I needed less than a second to realize sleeping with him hadn't been a dream at all, so nothing else had been either.

Thinking back to the way Victoria's fist had punched through my chest, crushing my heart, I wondered how it could have seemed probable for even the tiniest fraction of time that I'd dreamed that up. All the terror and trauma I'd experienced seemed unbearably and inescapably real now that I was awake.

But still, the night wasn't all bad. I rolled over and saw that Peter was still asleep. Not wanting to wake him, I carefully wriggled out from under his arm, slid to the edge of the bed, and looked around for something to put on. Unfortunately, everything I'd worn when I came in here was gone thanks to Peter's new disintegrating touch, and the clothes I'd brought for my 'sleepover' were in Claire's room. Deciding I did not feel like running down the hall and, if she happened to wake up when I came in, explaining what had happened to my pajamas, I retrieved Peter's t-shirt from the floor and pulled it on; it didn't cover me as much as I'd like, but it would suffice.

I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, but got sidetracked when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the girl looking back at me: my lips were swollen, my neck was mottled with scattered red marks from Peter's kisses, and my inner thighs were bloody. Light bruises had formed there overnight as well, a visual reminder of just how tightly I had wrapped my limbs around him, how desperate I had been to feel, to know I was really there, really alive. They were nothing serious – probably wouldn't be visible on someone less melanin-deficient – but on me they stood out in sharp relief. For the first time in living memory I was grateful for the perpetually cool weather that made shorts and low necklines impractical even in late March.

I was sure Claire wouldn't mind giving me a little more blood to get rid of them, but I had no intention of asking. Last night had changed my life so absolutely, so irrevocably, that erasing the physical evidence seemed like a futile gesture, even a silly one. Compared to the memories that would remain etched on my mind and soul forever, a few bruises seemed inconsequential, insignificant.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Peter was up and dressed in yesterday's jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. I stood there uncertainly, not knowing what to say, until he noticed me. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine. A little sore, but I've had worse."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"I know, and I really am fine. But, well, I didn't exactly plan on…doing what we did. I don't regret it or anything, I just-"

"You wouldn't have slept with me if you weren't freaked over the thing with Victoria?"

"Probably not," I admitted, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry."

Peter hugged me tightly, letting me bury my face against his chest, and I returned the embrace, crumpling his shirt in my fists as I waited apprehensively for him to say something.

"You have nothing to be sorry about; to tell you the truth, I wasn't exactly thinking straight either. After what she did to you and-and seeing you like that-" His voice cracked and broke off midsentence. "I don't even know how to describe it."

"I can't imagine it; if I'd been in your place last night, I would've fallen apart and been no help at all."

"Don't sell yourself short, Bella. I thought you were kind of a wimp when we first met, but you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

I laughed softly. "Thanks, Peter, I appreciate that even if it's ridiculous."

"It's not – you're the one that blocked the vamps from using their powers, and we'd all have been dead if you hadn't."

Flushing again, I tried changing the subject. "Hey, I'm hungry. Why don't we go downstairs and I'll make something for breakfast?"

"You go on. I'll be there in a minute, I just have to pick up something first." Peter bent down to kiss my forehead, then vanished.

My arms dropped to my sides as the space he'd occupied a second ago was abruptly vacated. "New rule: he's gotta start giving me a five-second warning before he does that." Muttering to myself, I traipsed down to the kitchen and began assembling the ingredients for omelets.

###

Peter materialized right in front of me as I was setting the table. "Hey, I'm back."

I jumped and dropped the forks. "Sheesh! You know, just because I've had a few months to get used to that doesn't mean it doesn't startle me anymore. Where the hell did you go anyway?"

"Pharmacy. We were both acting on impulse last night, but that doesn't mean we should keep being reckless now."

"Oh…right." I swallowed the morning-after pill he gave me, marveling at how embarrassing the action was. "Thanks, I guess. That's really, um, practical." I turned back to the stove and dished up the omelets in an attempt to cover my discomfort, though I should have known Peter would sense it anyway.

As soon as I put the plate I held on the table, he sat down, pulled me into his lap, and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. It's just that I've had a lot to process all at once."

"Yeah, most people would be having a breakdown by now, but you – you're doing great."

The admiration in his voice made me smile. "Only because you're here." I leaned on his shoulder, rubbing my cheek on his sweatshirt's dark gray fabric. He held still and watched my face, his mouth curling into an affectionate half-smile. After a couple minutes of this I reminded him of the omelet that was sitting in front of him getting cold.

He obediently dug in, then asked, "Don't you want some?"

I truly didn't care about food at the moment, but I ate a few bites just to please him. Then I went right back to my previous position, content just to watch him and feel his arm around me.

If it was up to me I might never have moved again but, unfortunately, the doorbell rang right after Peter finished eating, and he had to get up to answer the door. Suddenly mindful of my half-dressed state, I hung back out of sight, though I crept closer to eavesdrop when I recognized Sam's voice.

"…No sign of her," he was saying. "We think it was pure luck that she wasn't with those she created when we attacked, but once she realized what was happening, she never came to help them. It seems she circled the block while we were busy with the others to get to Bella, then disappeared."

"Pure luck, yeah," Peter repeated angrily. "Well, I scanned Jax's mind before I took his head off and got a good look at Victoria from his memory – good enough that I can focus on the image to track her down. That bitch won't get away with-"

"Peter Petrelli!" I exclaimed, running into the living room where he stood with Sam and colliding with him so forcefully that he staggered when he caught me. Ignoring the fact that I'd almost knocked us both over, I all but yelled at him, "You cannot seriously be thinking about chasing after Victoria!"

"She ran off while the pack and I were busy with the other vamps and killed you! I won't let her get away with that!"

"Yes you will!" I was shouting in earnest now. "Peter, if Victoria bolted before you brought me back, she thinks I'm still dead! Don't you understand? If she thinks I'm dead, she won't come back! She'll leave us alone – we won't have to deal with vampires anymore! But if you go after her she might- You could get- I don't- How can you even-?" I sputtered incoherently, fear and distress bringing the blood to my face once more.

"Bella- Hey, Bella, calm down!" Peter shook me, cutting off the stream of words pouring from my mouth. "It kills me, but I'll leave the bitch alone if that's what you want." I stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of dishonesty. "I mean it, okay?"

I drew in a deep, shaky breath. "Okay. Okay, it's just that no matter what you can do you're still human and thinking about you fighting vampires – that's enough to give me a nervous breakdown. You can't scare me like that; you can't go do crazy stuff that'll get you killed, okay? You just can't – not ever! I need you here, with me."

"All right, all right, just cool it." He looked freaked by my outburst, making me feel a little guilty.

I glanced away and met Sam's eyes briefly before they were quickly averted, reminding me that my current attire was a bit too revealing. "Excuse me." I edged back toward the kitchen, only to bump into Claire at the bottom of the stairs.

Her eyes flitted over me, taking in my slightly puffy lips, Peter's shirt, and my bruised inner thighs; first they grew wide as saucers, and then I could practically see the shutters close behind them as she decided this was one of those things she should see without really taking in. When she spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. "I just happened to look out the window and saw Charlie's cruiser turn onto this street. Since he's probably coming to give you a ride home, you'd better get dressed before he gets here."

"Right, thanks for the heads-up." As I started up the stairs I glanced over my shoulder to see her watching me go with an uncharacteristically blank expression. "Claire, can I- can I talk to you for a minute?"

She hesitated, but followed me up to her room. Then she shut and leaned on the door, folded her arms, and asked in a not-unfriendly way, "What do you want, Bella? Because if it's something about you and Peter, I'd really rather not hear it. I guess I can if you wanna talk about it, you know, girl to girl, but-"

"I don't want to talk about the sex," I interrupted as I shuffled into my underwear and pants. "I just need to know…if you're mad at me? Do you think I'm a slut now?"

Claire gave a short, surprised laugh. "Do I what? Why would I think that about you? You're my best friend and besides, I think you have to do it with more than one guy to qualify as a slut. But I can't help noticing you look banged up – no pun intended. Was it…you know…rough?"

"No," I lied, turning away to hide my reddened face as I remembered the edge of desperation in our touches and kisses, the way he'd used my hair to pull my head back so his mouth could reach my throat, how I'd bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood before it healed as my fingernails raked his back… In fact, if not for absorbing Claire's ability, he wouldn't be in any better shape than me this morning.

I knew Claire wouldn't want to know this any more than I wanted to tell her, so I kept my back to her as I exchanged Peter's shirt for mine.

"Uh-oh, that won't work," Claire said when I turned around. I raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Throat," she explained. "You don't want Charlie to see that." She rummaged through her closet and pulled out a cream-colored turtleneck. "Here, put this on instead; it looks enough like something you'd wear that he won't know the difference."

I gratefully accepted the offered shirt, stuffed mine into my overnight bag, scraped my hair into something resembling a ponytail, and made it to the top of the stairs just as Charlie's voice sounded from the front door.

He looked around, smiling when he saw me and Claire. "Hey, Bells. Ready to go home?"

I shot an involuntary glance at Peter, who nodded, indicating that I should go with Charlie. Panic bubbled in the pit of my stomach; I didn't know how I was supposed to go home and act like everything was all fine and normal. I'd only held it together so far because of Peter – I was safe with him, I never had to pretend for him.

But I couldn't stay with him all the time. Although I never questioned that I was important to him, he did have other things to do besides spend every minute of every day with me. So I got in the cruiser and let Charlie take me back to his house – the house I lived in, but that didn't give me that comforting feeling of coming home when I walked inside.

Home meant only one thing to me now. And he wasn't here.

Ch26 will pick up immediately after this, since it was meant to be one big long chapter. And I already have a lot of it written, which means maybe you won't have to wait a whole week this time *cheer*!