Dark Temptation

One of my favourite parts of writing this story is actually getting the chapters back from Leelan Oleander who fills my day with laughter and 'WTF' moments. For example, one of her comment bubbles contained the following: 'That's kind of sad. KNUCKLES, GET DOWN AND LEAVE THAT DAMN BAG ALONE! ARGH!' This is why I'm madly in love with her, and her cat.

Most of this chapter counts as a 'WTF' moment, so please take that under advisement as a warning for content of a… disturbing nature. Hopefully this chapter will help to fill in some of the backstory and answer some of your questions about 'what the fuck is going on in this damn story?' Holy crap this chapter is long. Seriously, it was going to be short, but instead it was 14 pages.

This story is rated M for language, adult themes, and some smexin' and highly disturbing content.

Disclaimer: I wanted to say something witty about how I don't own twilight… but then I realised, who reads this shit anyway?

Dark Temptation

Chapter 11

BPOV

I watched Jasper hurry across the parking lot towards the main street and I couldn't help but let out a small giggle.

"Is he…scared of me?" A few more giggles escaped me as my eyes followed his retreating form. He looked somewhere between scared and defeated, with his shoulders hunched up and his head down.

"Well, you are kind of intimidating." Peter rubbed the spot on the back of his head where I had hit him. If I didn't know better, it would almost look like he was wincing.

"But… I'm just a 'weak little human', what is there to be scared of?"

"Hell, Bella, I'm scared of you!"

"Yeah, but…we both know that I will sic Char on you, and that's something worth being scared of, but what does he have to fear from me?" I giggled as Peter gulped at the thought of me siccing Char on him.

"Bella, did you see what just happened? You whacked me on the back of the head hard enough that it actually hurt, and then you got right up in the face of an angry, volatile, human-drinking vampire without even flinching. I doubt you even felt an ounce of fear." Peter scoffed at me, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, only it wasn't.

"Well, yeah, but I had a brick in my purse." I grinned sheepishly at him as I extracted the offending object and noticed that it was a bit worse for wear. "And besides, I know that you wouldn't hurt me."

Peter glared balefully at the brick in my hand before making a lunge for my keys. Silly bastard, you think you're getting to drive this sweet, sweet rental?

"Nuh-uh, I'm driving." I danced out of his way and slid myself into the driver's seat, making a gesture for him to get in so we could continue our conversation.

"Ok, well I know that I wouldn't hurt you, and you know that, but he doesn't. And he doesn't know you anymore either, which I think is part of what terrifies him so. Edward's Bella would never have acted like that."

I bristled at his words; I was not Edward's Bella. I was not anyone's Bella. I refuse to be treated like some sort of possession. I opened my mouth to protest but I could see Peter raise his hand in my peripheral, part in apology and part to ward off the familiar retort. Instead, I kept silent and manoeuvred my way out of the parking lot and on to the busy downtown street.

"I know, I know, bad choice of wording. What I was trying to say was that you're not the Bella that he knew back in Forks, and so now he doesn't know how to act around you, how to anticipate your moves."

"It's not like he ever knew me that well to begin with," I muttered under my breath, knowing full well that Peter could still hear me with his super-vampire hearing.

"You'd be surprised; he's always been an avid observer of others' behaviour, preferring to stand on the periphery than in the center. Unless of course, there's a chance for bloodshed, venomshed, or whatever."

I nodded, remembering how he always seemed to lurk at the edge of the action. He tried to give off an appearance of aloofness and disinterest, but there was always an aura of watchfulness around him, attentiveness perhaps.

"Plus, I might have sort of mentioned that you punched a werewolf. He probably is afraid that you have more balls than him." Peter looked a bit sheepish, but couldn't help but smile at his own joke.

I almost laughed at the thought of that before my brain focussed in on the other part of what he had said. While I weaved through traffic on my way to the airport I reflected on Jasper's expression and demeanour when he first saw me at the jail.

"Peter, what exactly did you say to Jasper? And don't feed me your usual cryptic bullshit, or it won't be your head that gets smashed with a brick next time."

Peter made a strange sort of noise and sucked in a deep breath before glancing at me with no little amount of concern on his face. Somehow, I knew this wasn't just his fear of being bashed in the balls with a brick, he'd had one of his 'feelings' and it wasn't a good one.

"I swear to god, babe, I will tell you everything, but you need to forget that your dad is the Chief of Police for the moment and fucking floor it to the airport. NOW."

As much as Peter pissed me off sometimes, hell, most of the time, I knew that this was one of those instances where I should do exactly as he said. I hit the accelerator and frantically weaved in and out of traffic as my mind spun with possibilities.

"Wha…Why… are they here?" I hissed through my teeth, half in disbelief, half in fear. If it wasn't for Fucktard number 1 here, I wouldn't be in Montreal at all, I'd be safe down at La Push and it wouldn't matter where they were because they would never find me there.

"I don't know, it's not clear, but…" Peter scrunched his face up and ran his hands through his shaggy brown hair in frustration. "I can't tell what's going on, but we need to leave, just in case."

I nodded and refocused on my driving, cringing internally as I looked at the speedometer. No matter how many laws I broke on a regular basis, I still respected Charlie's views on responsible driving. Hell, if he knew half of what was going on in my life, he'd probably encourage my identity fraud and other associated transgressions, but would still sternly remind me that "speed limits are not merely suggestions, Bella."

Peter was busy on his phone making flight arrangements as I continued my internal war between my fear of disappointing Charlie with my reckless behaviour and my fear of whatever it was that had Peter so spooked. I had a really good idea about what was bothering Peter, so I tapped the accelerator a little harder and prayed that I wouldn't cause an accident or get pulled over.

I finally pulled into the car rental lot at the airport with screeching tires and as we hopped out, I flung the keys at the attendant before Peter and I high-tailed it through the airport. He had managed to find us a flight that left in only twenty minutes, so we were in a rush to check in and clear security before they closed the gate.

O_o;;

Once we were settled on the plane, Peter began to recap his conversations with Jasper. I was still royally pissed off at him for saying anything, but what he did tell him wasn't really all that bad. I sort of understood Peter's view on things; Jasper had hurt me, failed to protect me, left me in danger and then disrespected not only myself but Peter as well. If you looked at things from that perspective, Peter had every reason to be upset, but I had more reason, and it was my life.

I tried to explain it to Peter, but he had a difficult time accepting why I didn't want him to be angry with his brother. In their own weird and fucked-up way, Peter and Charlotte treated me like their sister, which was kind of gross in an incestuous sort of way. Ok, I was their sister, who Peter was married to and who had wild and mind-blowing sex with both of them on a regular basis. Was this a soap opera or just a small town in Alabama?

Ok, yeah, this was gross and incestuous, but it was the way that we worked. They were my older siblings and parents in the same way that Renee had been my mother. They didn't raise me, or discipline me, but they supported me emotionally, looked out for me and took care of me, but I was still my own stubborn and fiercely independent self. Perhaps they were more parents than Renee had ever been, most likely. In return I think I helped to balance them out, especially Peter, and helped rein them in and understand how to blend into humanity more easily.

~ O_O ! ~

As the plane began its final descent into the airport, I reflected back on how I had become involved in this strange relationship. I had encountered Peter one Halloween, and something in the way I blatantly challenged him and called him out on being a vampire got under his skin. I think my impressive array of scars had also sparked his interested. Instead of snacking on me, he bought me a drink and tried to coax my story out of me.

One thing led to another until eventually we were naked in bed and I was riding as if he was the last man on Earth and I was trying to repopulate the planet. Not that that could ever happen, he was a vampire, it's not as if he could some how sire a freaky half-vampire, half-human hybrid. Vampires and werewolves were one thing, but you have to draw the line between supernatural and fantasy somewhere.

So anyway, I'm riding him like there's no tomorrow when suddenly the door bursts open and I realised there may actually be no tomorrow, for me at least. Charlotte was standing there in the doorway, all blonde and perfect and positively feral and I somehow instinctively knew that Peter was her mate and I was in serious trouble.

I automatically scrambled off of him as fast as I could, unfortunately it was at the exact moment he came, spraying sparkly fucking vampire jizz all over me. I'm standing there, in all my glory, sparkly spooge dripping off my hair and face and splattered all over my body and one thought kept running through my head.

Fight, Item or Run. Fight, Item or Run.

Obviously running wasn't an option, but I realised that I needed to do something. It really came down to a choice between laughing, crying, or growing a backbone.

Backbone it was, I turned to the snarling blonde goddess before me as I pushed some of the jizz-soaked hair off of my face and tried to ignore the fact that I was as naked as a jaybird. Why are jaybirds naked anyway?

"Hi, I'm Bella. I'd say it's lovely to meet you, but I'm fairly certain that you're only seconds away from ripping my throat open and drinking my blood, which all things considered is pretty reasonable." I took a deep breath, encouraged by the fact that she hadn't moved yet and was rapidly flicking her gaze back and forth between me and Peter.

"Before you kill me, however, I have a small favour to ask. You see, dickweed over here neglected to mention to me that he was seeing someone, much less was mated. This is something I really would have liked to have known before, as I'm not really one for being a home-wrecker. So, I was wondering if you would mind punching him in the balls for me. See, I would do it myself, but it would probably break my hand and it wouldn't even hurt him at all. If you did it, however, maybe he would realise that some women don't particularly want to be the other woman."

I held my breath as I finished my rambling, and calmly waited for her to tear my head off. I even tilted my head to the side to expose my neck; I'm nothing if not courteous and it was only fair that I make this whole thing easier for the poor woman slash vengeful creature who was about to tear me limb from limb. Much to my surprise, instead of being the harbinger of my doom, she calmly walked over to Peter and socked him so hard in the junk that the bed frame broke.

A high pitched keening noise came out of Peter's mouth as he curled up in the foetal position, tenderly cupping his now-deformed junk. I was so distracted by the strange noise and the, well, the damage she had inflicted that I almost missed the hand she extended for me to shake. The very on which she had just used to demolish Peter's genitals.

"Hi, sug, I'm Charlotte. I'm surprised to say it is actually a pleasure to meet ya, despite the circumstances." She grinned at me and I robotically shook her hand as my brain tried to catch up with what was going on around me.

"Did you, did it…. Inside?" I stuttered.

She had actually punched him so hard that she knocked his balls back into his abdominal cavity. I had never seen anything like that before, I wasn't even entirely certain that what I was seeing was actually possible.

"Yep, it'll take them about a week to drop back out again, but it was worth it. That asshat knows better than to take a girl to bed without inviting me, and you clearly didn't know he was mated. Still, fucking a vamp and then challenging his mate? You've got balls, sugar."

All the tension sort of rushed out of me at once at the realisation that she wasn't going to kill me, yet. I started giggling, which turned into full blown belly laughs as Charlotte stared at me as if I had gone off the deep end, which I probably had.

"Sure, I've got balls, but he doesn't." I barely managed to get the words out between my laughs as I raised a shaky hand in the direction of Peter who was now rocking back and forth talking to himself. I caught sight of the jizz trailing down my arm and was immediately brought back to reality.

"So, umm…. I'm just going to… get this off of me, and then I'll just… go. Yeah, I should leave."

It took a while after that before I was comfortable around either of them, but Peter was persistent. He adamantly argued to both me and Char that I was important, and that they should keep an eye on me, which translated to keep me around and occasionally in their bed. I don't think him using my fantastic rack as a bargaining tool won me any points with Char, but we eventually reached a tentative agreement that they would take me under their wing until whatever 'feeling' Peter had was resolved.

_;

Our strange arrangement was solidified when I was forced to flee Dartmouth and we ended up relocating to Memphis so that I could attend Rhodes College and finish up my degree. I'm still really fucking pissed about that, as I had been incredibly excited for the opportunity to attend Dartmouth. I had been offered a full scholarship when I applied as a dependant under Phil and Renee, using his athletic contacts to help my application get the attention of the scholarship committees. I earned the scholarship on my own, but I would probably have been overlooked without the assistance that Phil provided.

Shortly after I met both Peter and Charlotte, I received a mysterious package in the mail, addressed to Isabella Swan from the University scholarships department. It sent up immediate red flags in my mind, as I was enrolled under the name Isabella Swan-Dwyer in order to take advantage of Phil's assistance. Why would the University be sending me documents under a different name? Well, perhaps because they were not actually from the University.

Careful examination showed that the documents informing me that I was the recipient of the Pacific Northwest Trust scholarship which covered both my tuition and living expenses for the duration of my undergraduate career showed that while they were similar to the official scholarship documents I had received, there were a number of discrepancies indicating that they were not in fact official. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, enclosed within the documents was a cashier's check for $150,000 and no information on how to return the money. After consulting with Peter and Char, I decided to cash the money in the bank account I had used back in Forks and let it sit until we had a better idea of what to do about it.

I knew exactly who the money was from, and I was far less than pleased about his interference, once again, in my life. He had promised me that it would be as if he didn't exist and here he was trying to 'take care of me' without having the courage to face me. I didn't want to accept his money; I didn't want anything from him except for him to leave me alone. Knowing that he was likely to be monitoring my bank accounts, I promptly went out and spent and outlandish amount of money on sex toys and lingerie, something we all found immensely amusing. It would almost be worth facing him to see his expression when he realised that his innocent, naïve little angel was spending his money on such tools of depravity. At the end of the semester, I withdrew my enrolment and fled the state.

That was when I changed my name for the first time and assumed my first fake identity. Isabella Swan dropped off the grid, and became Marybella Jane Watson, known to colleagues and peers as Bella. The following fall, Mary Jane Watson married Peter Parker. My diploma when I graduated from Rhodes carried the name Mary Jane Parker and she and her husband Peter and her husband's sister Gwen Charlotte Parker relocated to New England. Isabella Dwyer occasionally reappeared, only to visit her father on the Quileute reservation where he had moved after he remarried. It was a place that they knew Edward wouldn't dare approach her, and it kept him from looking too hard for assumed identities.

The whole thing was a bit over the top, and of course ridiculous, but I understood that it was a difficult trail to follow, especially for someone like Edward who completely lacked a sense of humour.

Charlotte wasn't necessarily all on board for this, but she came to realise that I understood and respected their mating bond, and that I refused to sleep with Peter again, despite his insistence, and eventually she grew to respect me as well. We slowly became friends before we became lovers, and eventually the three of us settled into the strange relationship where I was somewhere between mistress, sister and friend. Even if legally, Charlotte was the mistress, much to her chagrin. It also helped when Char and I finally realised that it was easier to keep Peter in line if we worked together. I was far more devious that Char, but she was more, well, vampire. So often I was the brains and she was the execution, though not always.

~X_O~

As we walked through the airport and hailed a cab to our home, I laughed to myself, remembering when Peter had discovered the Urban Dictionary website. He donkey punched Char one day during sex and she wouldn't talk to him for a week. Eventually, I stepped in and offered to help her get revenge. Char started talking to him, pretending to have forgiven him, and let him talk her back into bed.

While he was going at her from behind, I snuck into the room on the premise that I wanted to join in on the fun. This was not particularly unusual, and Peter was expectedly happy for the company. I fondled Peter's balls and whispered dirty things in his ear has he pounded roughly into Char and just as he was about to cum, I picked up the baseball bat I had brought into the room with me and knocked him in the back of the head.

Peter's reaction was priceless, apparently the shock of it caused him to somehow go limp halfway through his orgasm and he spent the next three days complaining about a back-up in the pipes and busted nuts and other nonsense. On the plus side, he learned his lesson about donkey punching and other various 'treats' he could find on Urban Dictionary. Char and I named the move 'donkey's revenge' and even posted it on the Urban Dictionary website. We still frequently used it to threaten Peter when he got some ridiculous idea into his head.

~ O_o~

Once we had arrived home, Peter began whining about the wolf stench so I hopped into the shower, figuring he had spent enough time inhaling 'eau de wet dog' as he so kindly called it. I always found the scent of the wolves to be woodsy and reassuring, reminding me of home in a way, but I also realised that the scent of their natural enemies might be more than a little offensive to their super sensitive vampire senses, or as Peter sometimes calls it, his spidey-sense. I begrudgingly scrubbed myself clean, all the while keeping up strain of insults directed at Peter for pulling me away from my family after sending me there at the drop of a hat.

I don't think he really expected to be arrested though, and I just needed to get out of town. Whenever we were 'informed' that Edward was out searching for me again, we took precautions to get away from our home, so that I couldn't be tracked here. It was frustrating and a huge imposition both on us and on my employees, but I wanted to stay here. I was happy and I was building my life and business here, so if I had to flake out unexpectedly every so often, I could accept that if it meant I could keep my life here.

As I made myself a meal, Peter declared that it was time for a strategy session. His 'gift' was telling him that things were going to be heating up soon, and we needed to be prepared. When Charlotte arrived home the next day, the three of us were going to sit down and make a plan of action to hopefully get Edward out of my life for good. It was bittersweet, because I didn't know if Peter and Charlotte would still welcome me as part of their lives once the threat was over.

It also meant that the reality of me becoming a vampire might be actualised sooner than I expected. We all knew that it would have to happen eventually, a human could not be allowed to live knowing the truth about vampires, and I would rather be turned than killed for the knowledge that the Cullens had so carelessly bestowed upon me. We all agreed though, that it was better to wait until after all threats were gone before I was changed, because evading the mind-reading freak and Pippi the psychic whore would be more difficult when I was in my volatile newborn stage. We had been using the Quileute wolves' ability to block Alice's visions to our advantage, which was one of the reasons I went there every time I was threatened. Edward and Alice couldn't find me in La Push because they couldn't look for me there. A carefully worded injunction from Sam, the packs alpha also insured that no member of the pack could accidentally think about me or my location in case Edward was lurking in the shadows.

The only information Edward would be able to gleam from the wolves was that I was married and that I had moved away. No location, no last name, nothing to go by.

Should he choose to approach Renee and Phil, well they knew nothing of my life. After making the arrangements for me to attend Dartmouth, Renee had decided that she had done her duty as a mother and wanted nothing to do with me in the future. I reminded her too much of her failed marriage with Charlie and she wanted a chance to start fresh with Phil. I was an adult now and I could take care of myself, so as far as she was concerned I was no longer her problem. Harsh, perhaps, but perfectly Renee. She was self-centered and immature in the extreme, and after my initial heartbreak over her callous dismissal of her only child, I realised that in the long run it was best not to keep someone as toxic as her in my life.

My only connection to them now was the occasional use of their last name, and I'm fairly certain they had no idea about that. I wouldn't know; shortly after my high school graduation in Jacksonville they had kicked me out of their house and left me on my own. I found out that Phil's career had taken them out of Jacksonville shortly thereafter but I have no idea where to.

~~.~~

The following morning, Charlotte arrived back home and regaled us with stories of the lovely antiques she had found. When she eventually finished her story, and we had caught her up with what we had been up to, Peter decided it was time for a strategy meeting, and I decided it was time to give myself a mani-pedi.

Maybe I was being rude, but I knew that Peter would talk at me for a few hours until he figured out what we should do, and that my input wouldn't be valued very highly. Not to say that Peter didn't respect me or my opinions, it's just that when it came to strategy and warfare, he wouldn't listen to anyone, except perhaps Jasper. The captain was out this afternoon and there was nothing I could do to rein him in. I resigned myself to his ranting and raving and pacing and muttering while I tried to surreptitiously choose a nail polish colour.

He started going on about enlisting help, and well, to be honest I stopped paying attention after about 5 minutes of him comparing our situation to the Battle of New Orleans. I simply couldn't draw a parallel and his metaphors were so thick and convoluted that they made a Gordian knot look like Google Maps directions.

Should I go blue, no, maybe silver? Black? Black was a bit too gothic for my tastes, sure I wore black to work constantly, but I didn't want people to start thinking I was emo and checking my wrists for scars. Well, they would find scars there but not the kind they were looking for. I left the room to grab myself a glass of wine before settling in and returning to wait for Peter to make a point.

…

Hmm, pink. Pink - ah! Precious Princess Pink.

No.

Hmm, red? Maybe…no wait. Mulberry. Yes mulberry, what is that song? "Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the…" I started humming along to the tune in my head only to be interrupted.

"Pumpkin! Are you listening to me at all?"

I frowned and huffed, irritated at being disrupted from my singing, however tone deaf and cringe worthy it may have been. Back to what I was doing; yes, Mulberry, or no, wait-what about Confucian Crimson?

"Damnit, woman this is important!"

I looked over at my husband, standing there in all his manly glory, trying his hardest to glare down at me. I could see the amusement ripple across his features as I held two bottles of nail polish up to him, waving them around to indicate I wanted his opinion.

"Ugh, neither. Do that one where it's all natural and shiny with the white bit on the ends." He shook his head at me, still struggling to hide his smile.

"French Manicure." I hummed in thought, considering his proposal, then smiled up at him. "Thanks, Princess," I cooed at him, all sickeningly sweet.

His head whipped around, glaring at me for once again calling him Princess. He turned his back on me and resumed his pacing of the living room. He had been doing this for days, trying to go over the plan, trying to make everything 'perfect'.

I picked up my glass of Riesling, smirking at him over the rim as I carefully considered my next option. You could only push him so far. My husband had a great sense of humour, but he also had a strong sense of duty, and I wasn't in the mood for another one of these discussions. I took a sip of the cool liquid and decided on my own little plan.

I tried to hide my smile as I reached over to pick up another bottle from off of the coffee table by my feet.

"Dark chocolate?" I waved the offending bottle of nail polish in his direction, quirking an eyebrow. This could go either way, but I had another trick up my sleeve.

"Goddamn it, Pumpkin. This is fucking important. Stop fucking around with your goddamned foul smelling beauty crap and pay attention. You know, you used to be real smart."

He whirled around and snarled at me, impatience taking over and pushing his usual playful demeanour to the backburner. This would not do. In order for this discussion to be productive at all, he needed to be in a more agreeable mood.

I shrugged my shoulders, replacing the brown nail polish and reaching for my ace-in-the-pocket. I had been saving this one for a special occasion, and it seemed like now was the occasion. I turned my head and called over my shoulder.

"Sister dearest, hubby is being so cruel to me; he won't even help me pick out a nail colour. Whatever is a poor girl to do with such a big mean man?"

Quick as a flash, I saw my 'sister' waltz into the room. Flashing her eyes over to me, she caught onto my plan quickly and grinned. Looking over my husband appraisingly, she tutted and turned to me.

"Well sister-mine, we just can't have that, now can we? Who needs men anyway? You know, I could always help you out with your little problem." She winked at me as she leaned over, brushing her breasts against my arm while she reached to grab the bottle out of my hand.

"Why yes, I do think you are in need of some Luscious Lesbian…Lavender," she said, winking over at hubby.

Upon seeing the look on his face, we both cracked up- the combined force of our giggles nearly bouncing me off the couch before I managed to right myself.

"Oh, for the love of Gord, girls, who the hell makes up names for these things anyways? Lesbian lavender? What the hell!"

He was ranting and roaring and failing his arms around wildly, but I could tell my mission had been successful when I saw the amusement dancing in his eyes. He suddenly dove, tackling us both and knocking us, along with the couch, backward in the process. I sighed in relief, laughing along with the two of them; he knew why I was being a brat, and that he needed to calm down, but he just couldn't do it on his own.

"Okay, Big Poppa, now that we're all settled, let's get this couch righted and get me another glass of wine since you so gracefully knocked mine over." I giggled from my position, lying on the floor, on my back, with my legs flailing in the air.

I smiled up at my husband as he leaned down to help both of us up off the ground, and then righting the couch before disappearing to the kitchen. He returned shortly, carrying a fresh glass of wine for me, and settled himself on the red leather recliner across from us.

"OK, alright, I'm focussed now." I clapped and then rubbed my hands together, calling our little session to order. "Apparently it's time to go over the plan, again, and discuss all the details."

I looked over to the recliner expectantly, waiting for the point of his earlier ranting to come clear.

"Alright my little lesbian lovers, I don't know when, but things are going to start to change soon." He was leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, and clasping his hands together under his chin. He was eyeing me suspiciously, waiting for me to pipe up with some wiseass comment.

"Yeah, about that, why does everything have to be so complicated? Why can't we just be direct about all of this? Or hell, why are we even bothering with this elaborate plan?"

I crossed my arms and glared at him with exasperation. Yes, I always knew he was one for dramatics, but this was pushing the envelope even for him.

Stretching out in the recliner, resting hands behind his head, he grinned over at me.

"Oh my little darlin', this is going to be so much fun. You don't know even half of what is in store for you."

I looked over at the blonde bombshell grinning on the couch next to me and sighed. I just can't win with these people.

"Yeah, what's with that…I know you're not telling me everything, but what I don't get is WHY you won't just tell me what you know! What am I missing? This is my LIFE, not some fucking game for your amusement. You are my HUSBAND, no matter how little that means to you…"

My rant was cut off by two very aggressive sounding growls. I shut my eyes and began banging my head against the back of the sofa. Good god.

"Yes, I am your husband, and you are my wife, and don't get me wrong, I very much enjoy your wifely devotion." Without even looking, I could tell he was wiggling his eyebrows at me suggestively.

"*cough*slut*cough*" I turned my head to wink at sissy and stifled a giggle at her expression. She was struggling to fix me with a disapproving glare but failed miserably when I slid over and rested my head on her lap.

"Oh, honey, don't worry, I can be wifely devoted to you too." I wiggled my head around in her lap and tried to look up at her innocently as I reached up and patted her left tit gently. Unfortunately, or fortunately I suppose, the bounty that were her breasts were kind of obscuring my view of her face. I could still feel her shaking with laughter.

"Ok, girls, enough dicking around. This is serious." He giggled and continued, "I said dicking…oh god." Clearing his throat, he stood up and paced over to the fireplace. He turned his back on us, and I could tell that he was gently tracing the lines of his medals from the war.

"Honey, I know you don't understand why this is so important, but you…" he broke off, and his shoulders hunching over in defeat. "Damn it, you can barely even talk about it. Do you remember what you were like when I found you? Do you want to have to keep running, keep hiding all your life? I know you love me, as I love you, but this just isn't the way it's supposed to be."

He pounded his fist down on the mantle, flakes of granite raining down to his feet.

"Fuck sugar, we have to do this." He raged, fists clenched at his side, frustration and anger evident in his posture.

"Sweetheart, we know that maybe you are feeling apprehensive, and I...we understand that. But you need to know that no matter what happens, we will always be there for you, and we will always support you. Yeah, maybe Sir Breaks-A-Lot over there is making this much more complicated than it needs to be, but he wouldn't lead you wrong. You need to listen to what he has to say." I moved my head out of her lap and looked my sister in the face. This might have been the first time I had ever heard her sound so serious. She was a snarky bitch like me, and the fact that she was being so sober about this shocked me.

I frowned to myself. I understood where they were coming from; I still couldn't wrestle my way out from under the thumb of my past. I get it. I whimpered, and then suddenly found myself encircled by strong arms, squished up against luscious breasts. I nestled my face into my sister's hair and breathed deeply, finding comfort in the familiarity.

"Ok, I get it. We can't keep going on like this; I need to move forward, but…" I sighed to myself and turned to face Big Poppa, "I just don't understand why all the subterfuge, the drama. Can't we just…I don't know, be direct about this?"

"Because direct won't work!" He roared, twirling around to face me, and stomping across the room to stand over me.

I gazed up at his face; normally so relaxed and carefree, now drawn with tension. His eyes nearly black with anger, his brown hair falling across his forehead, his lips pulled tight, his chest rising and falling violently with rage. My eyes continued their path downwards, appreciating the strong lines, the dips and bulges of muscle emphasized by the tightness of his t-shirt, further, until I reached the buckle on his belt.

Fuck me. I stared at his belt buckle, willing my mind to see something else, but no, I couldn't erase this. His big shiny silver belt buckle, standing prominently and less than three feet from me had captured all of my attention. It was an oversized monstrosity of chrome and lacquer, and it was staring me right in the face.

I looked up at the man who had literally saved my life so many times and could hardly suppress my laughter. Soon I was shaking with the effort it took to hold in my guffaws. I grinned up at the incredulous expression on his face and struggled with all my might to keep a sober expression as I quirked an eyebrow at him, reading what written in big swirly letters, right above his crotch.

"Disco Fever? Really?"

He stared down at me, frustration evident in the set of his jaw as I started humming, and then breaking out into the full song and dance, replete with jazz hands.

"Let's have some fun, this ride is sick. I wanna take a ride on your disco stick."

"A- Fuck You, Disco is Forever, and B – are you at all capable of taking anything seriously?" He fumed at me, evidently not enjoying my off-tune, off-beat, off-everything rendition of one of the worst pop songs of the decade.

I sighed deeply. "I just…I can't do this right now, I'm going out. I need to pick up some groceries, do either of you want anything?"

"Yeah, Pumpkin, can you pick me up some of the Axe soap that smells like sex and spice? I think it's called Dark Temptation."

I looked at him with a what-the-fuck expression written all over my face, and then shrugged and walked out of the room to grab my purse and my keys.

"See you later, bitches; please don't defile my goddamn kitchen counter again! I have to eat there."

~O.O~

I got the distinct impression, from Peter's not-so-subtle hint, that I was supposed to run into Jasper at the grocery store again and I really was not looking forward to it. I knew the shit was about to hit the fan, but I wasn't ready for it. That's why I had been so damn bitchy to Peter during his planning session. I get it, I appreciate everything he's doing for me, but all this hiding and running and craziness was starting to wear me down.

I love Peter, but sometimes I wanted to drive my truck over his face, then put it in reverse and hit him again. Instead, I got into my truck and reversed down the driveway and headed to the same grocery store where I had run into Jasper. It seemed like so much time had passed since then, but really it had only been a matter of days.

I counted in my head and realised that I had run into him on Saturday, fled to La Push on Saturday night, picked them up from jail on Monday and now it was only Tuesday. And I was supposed to work tonight. Fucking great.

I pulled out my phone and dialled Stef while I manoeuvred down the highway, she agreed to cover for me tonight in return for me having to have worked Saturday night for her. She had recovered from her cold and I was glad for it. No matter how much of an inconvenience it was when someone called in sick, it was better that they took the time to recover, plus who wants to pay $30 for a glass of high end whisky that someone had sneezed or coughed in.

I pulled into the parking lot and sat in my truck for a moment, trying to calm myself down and prepare myself for another encounter of the fucked up kind. A knocking at my window distracted me from my thoughts as I looked up into a concerned pair of amber eyes.

"Hello again Jasper, I was expecting you."

So, on the off-chance that some of these jokes aren't funny to you, I'll try to explain them.

Fight, Item or Run – a play on the classic format of RPGs, specifically Final Fantasy. For an amusing example, please see: http:/ questionablecontent(dot)net/view(dot)php(?)comic=720

For a definition of Donkey Punch, please see urbandictionary(dot)com. And yes, I actually created an urban dictionary definition for this story (see Donkey's Revenge)

Other things maybe I should explain? Gordian knot – its part of a legend about a knot that could not be untied and in the end was sliced in two by a sword, according to Wikipedia: 'It is often used as a metaphor for an intractable problem solved by a bold stroke'

And does anyone else find it amusing/annoying that MS Word autocorrects dickweed into duckweed? Because it really ruins the effect, but makes me laugh anyway.

So, I would like to take an uncharacteristically serious moment here and say that if I had to do this story over again from the start, I would probably completely drop the prologue/1st chapter. It doesn't make any sense, and it doesn't really fit here very well. I'll try to explain how it supposed to fit. It was a flash forward, to, you know, this chapter. It was supposed to set up some mystery and intrigue in this story, but I think all it really accomplished was to make every single person who has reviewed it go 'what the hell, this makes no sense'.

I would like to remedy that serious moment with the announcement that "oh my god its the zombpocalypse, I have updated two weeks in a row!" Also, it is so hot, my underboob is sweating.

And my story rec for this week? Slow Burn by givemesomevamp - it's still pretty early in, but its an alternate BD story about what would happen if those who swore to love and protect you betrayed you in the worst possible way?