AN: I am on a writing streak! No one has been able to pull me from the computer! Well, aside from the sandman, but I just get up and go back to it anyway…thank god for paid vacations… :P

Anyway, uh, nothing much to say. It's probably a pretty slow start, but I'm gonna start working in action and other characters and all that. But WOW. I've gotten loads of hits! I'm so happy I could cry! I love ya'll! :D

Um…well, really, there's nothing for me to tell you. So I'll let you read in peace.

Immolation Chapter 2: Dreams

"My mother always said that if I wished for something hard enough, it would happen…but they were all wrong…"

The silence between Peter and I lasted what I would say an hour. I stared off into space, lost in my musings and confusion, while he held his brother's hand or stroked his nearly-nonexistent hair. His tears fell silently, and while I felt the need to comfort someone who was obviously in pain, there was simply nothing I could do in my state. The burning numbness spread to my limbs, and I would periodically look down to make sure they weren't on fire—but they were only red and slightly swelled. I also began to wonder why I was in the hospital, and what had happened after I had passed out in the forest.

Later on, after the awkward silence had melted along with the tension, my father stormed into the room. "Bella!" Peter and I both jumped, and as I settled myself I thanked the higher power above I didn't tug out my IV again. He ran across the room to me, seeming to not notice Peter's presence. "I was so worried about you! Why would you walk off in the middle of the woods like that? I had search parties out—didn't find you till four in the morning! Doc said you had moderate hypothermia…God, Bella, seeing you so pale and your lips and fingers all blue..." He pulled back from the hug he had enveloped me in, looking at me with teary eyes. "I thought I'd nearly lost you again. You were bleeding out and so cold down to the bone…just got the call you're alright…"

He scooted backward into a chair, keeping his hand on mine, taking a deep breath. "I wish I could find the man that brought you out and thank him a million times over. But he disappeared with the crowd…he deserves a medal." His eyes continued to tear up, but then he seemed to finally take them off me to look at Peter—and his mouth dropped open. He jumped up and ran over—and Mr. No Emotions Charlie himself hugged a complete stranger.

I watched in utter disbelief as Peter looked uncomfortable in my father's tight grip, wincing, and glanced at me over his shoulder. Charlie pulled back and pointed to him, keeping an arm firmly around his shoulder. "This is him, Bella! The man that saved you!"

I felt my jaw drop as Charlie said this, before my eyes flicked over to confirm it—and Peter wasn't looking at me, but at the floor. I spluttered as I came to terms with this. The man saved my life, and here I was questioning him like some criminal… I didn't know quite what to say about this. The man who healed himself right in front of me had also saved my life, somehow. How had he brought in his brother, and still managed to get me out of the forest? Surely one man couldn't carry two people—he didn't even look capable of carrying Nathan all alone, let alone another girl on top of it.

Something was up with that one. I just knew it had to do with…whatever it was Peter could do. There was simply no other logical explanation in my mind. I felt my brows furrow with concentration. "You found me around four in the morning?" I asked quietly. They both nodded, so I decided to put a timeline together. The…walk...had started just after school. I wasn't sure when Peter landed in front of me—in fact, I didn't even know how yet. But I was determined to find out. I had a mission.

I bit my lip, shoving my thoughts away so I could finally react to the news. Charlie was still holding an uncomfortable looking Peter, smiling at me. I put on a grateful look—because I was, in fact, grateful. I probably would have died if Peter hadn't found me—his methods of finding me aside. "Thank you so much. I don't know how I could ever repay you," I said softly, looking into his eyes. He gave me a small smile.

Shaking his head, he replied, "Don't worry about it, I'm happy to reunite the chief and his daughter." I smiled again, bit my lip, and looked away, not thinking anything in particular.

"When can I go?" I asked finally, looking over at Charlie. He sighed.

"I really don't know, Bells. I'll have to talk to Dr. Gerandy and see what he thinks. But I'll have to do that later—gotta get back to the station. I'll see you later on today." And with that he rushed out of the room, apparently no longer feeling as sentimental since he had reassured himself I was, in fact, alive. I glanced over to Peter as the door swung shut, finding him next to his brother. I bit my lip, seeing him in a new light—before he was simply a mysterious, aggravating something. I wasn't even sure if he was human. And now he was the man who had saved my life—and while the pain at the time would have had me begging him to leave me there to die, had I been awake, I didn't want Charlie or Renee to suffer over my death. Not only would they be stricken with grief, but they would also have to hold and pay for a funeral service, which wasn't cheap. I would never put them through that intentionally.

Which made me look at this man differently. In a way, though he had me confused beyond belief as of right now, he was my hero. I continued to watch him for a moment before he looked up at me. I smiled uncertainly. "Thank you. Really, you did me a huge favor."

He chuckled. "It was no trouble at all, really." I saw a bit of humor in his eyes and my smile grew. Even though the mystery of what he was and what he could do and why he was here was still raging in my mind, he did seem nice—and my snapping at him early was pretty irrational. As I began to slip into my thoughts again—which, admittedly, I had been doing a lot of that morning—he looked over at his brother and a solemn sadness replaced his smile.

I bit my lip, feeling sympathy wash over me as I imagined seeing a member of my family in that state. "I'm truly sorry about your brother," I began quietly. "I know sorry's don't usually mean much, but if I could do anything to help, I would." He nodded, and shot me a grateful glance.

"Thank you. That does mean a lot, coming from a stranger, at least." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. I went back to chewing upon my lip. Another hour or so passed, the sun tilting westward through the thick clouds as a nurse I didn't recognize came in with a pile of clothes and my shoes. She smiled at me.

"Here ya go—get changed and I'll take ya down to Chief Swan. Dr. Gerandy says you'll probably still get some redness and swelling on your fingers and toes, but you've recovered well and don't even have a fever or nothing!" She smiled even wider and handed the pile to me before walking out the door, I presumed to wait in the hall. Peter stood up.

"Would you like me to leave?" He began to walk toward the door but I shook my head.

"That's what they make that little curtain thing for. But if you would…?" I hated asking this of him, not only because it made me feel dependent on others, but also because the man had just saved my life, and here I was asking him to shut the curtain to. But he nodded, no trace of annoyance visible as he pulled it across the room. I listened to him go sit on the chair and the fabric rustle as he took his brother's hand, and made to get up.

Every noise I made—the shift of the fabric, the small sigh as it hit the floor—seemed magnified times a thousand to me. I blushed the whole way through, sure he could hear and tell everything I was doing—why I blushed was beyond me, as he couldn't see anything, and that was all that mattered, and yet it was embarrassing nonetheless. But when the loud clink as each tooth of my zipper finally reached its end, I breathed a sigh of relief, folded up my hospital gown, made the bed, and then pushed the curtains aside.

Peter looked up at me briefly, before looking down at his brother. I felt awkward, standing here, and yet it would also feel rude if I left without some form of a goodbye—not to mention I didn't want to say a permanent goodbye until I found out what exactly he was. So I stood silently for a moment, biting my lip, brushing a hand through my hair. Finally, without looking back at me, he spoke.

"Is there something you wanted?" the comment wasn't rude by any means, simply curious, and I didn't know what to say. So I decided to be polite and ask what seemed like a normal question.

"Are you new to Forks?"

He nodded. I continued, "Are you…planning on staying?"

He looked up at me, scrutinizing me. "For a while, yeah."

I nodded back at him, licking my lips. "Well, I have to go, but…if you ever need anyone to show you around the town or anything, I'm sure you'd be able to find me. It's really not that big. And I kinda owe you my life, so a tour would be a small way to repay you…" I looked up at him and he wasn't looking at either me or his brother, but staring off into space.

"Okay. Thanks. I might give you a call or something one day." It didn't sound like he was very certain, but I knew my time for questions was over. I nodded again in response, whispered a goodbye, and took one last look at his brother before walking out of the room and down the hall.

It was rather easy to find the front desk, next to which my father was sitting in an ugly orange chair, adjusting himself with obvious discomfort. He jumped up to greet me, stretching out his arms with a wide smile. "Bella!" Hesitantly, I patted him on the shoulder, half afraid to be hugged by him again. Charlie showing physical emotion was a rare occurrence—I could expect a solar eclipse to happen more often. Though it was needless, as he seemed to get the hint and clap his hand on my shoulder. "I missed ya, kiddo. You had me worried."

I nodded, licking my lips again. "I'm really sorry dad," I finally said. "I do that too much."

He waved it off. "Nonsense. You're a teenager. It's expected."

I bit my lip, feeling a gaping hole rip through my torso. I curled my arms around myself. "But I'm not anymore. I'm eighteen. An adult." And he'll forever be seventeen. Immortally young and beautiful, while I'm left to wither alone.

Charlie sighed. "In a way, I suppose." He began to walk out the door, and I followed after him silently as he continued to speak. "Age-wise, you're technically an adult. But I always gauge it on finishing high-school and all that. Mentally, you've been an adult for years though." He shrugged, stopping at the rear end of the cruiser and turning to me. "But you'll always be my little girl, no matter what." With that, he went around to the other side of the car and grinned at me, pushing the button to unlock it. "Even if you make me pull my hair out sometimes."

I laughed slightly, still dwelling on the fact that I was older than him now. Maybe it wasn't the incident with Jasper at all…maybe it was that he realized I was too ugly and unworthy now, and that would only become more apparent with time…vampire or not, I'm simply unworthy of him. I sighed darkly, shutting the door of the cruiser and buckling my seatbelt, staring out the window forlornly. I couldn't help but dwell on the knowledge that he had finally realized and come to terms with the fact that I was just a plain human with no special qualities other than an unreadable mind and sweet-smelling blood. And he had worked around my 'mental block' of sorts by getting to know me and my facial expressions, and he had built up an immunity to the call of my blood. So now it was just me, plain old Bella, with no entertainment to offer.

I would leave too, I was sure. I mean, if I were a beautiful, perfect, talented, immortal vampire, I'd find someone at least slightly closer to my level. In a way I was glad—although I had been thrown into my own misery, he finally had a chance to be happy with someone who was worthy of him. And yet that thought was of little to no comfort.

After all, my whole life had been revolving around him, when suddenly he had torn himself from it. It was like the sun disappearing tomorrow…everything else would be thrown into a dark chaos. And I was just one little astronomer with no idea how to put it all back.

When we pulled up to the house, I jumped out of the car and slammed the door by accident. Charlie waited for me to make it around to his side, his eyebrows raised. "Relax, Bells." I nodded absently to him, just noticing three hulking figures on the porch. My steps faltered as I walked, but Charlie waved happily. "Hey Billy, Sam, Sam's friends!" I furrowed my brow at the unfamiliar name, but said nothing, sidling up next to my father.

"Bella, glad to see you're okay," Billy Black said to me when I made it up the stairs. He smiled and reached forward, shaking my hand. I simpered at the three huge men—if they could even be called that—behind him, and they nodded. "We stopped by just to make sure all was well," Billy continued. "Bella, I'd like you to meet Sam, Jared, and Paul." I licked my lips and smiled at them, slightly more confident now that I knew all their names and who was who.

"Hello." Sam nodded again, but the look on his face was an odd one—it was a blank stare, almost, except for his sharp dark eyes. They seemed to be filled with something akin to distaste, as if I were a stain on his favorite shirt. Not that he was wearing one, which was odd, given that it was September in Forks, Washington—rainy and chilly as always.

"Hi," I responded quietly. Charlie invited the men inside, but Billy declined, saying that he and the boys—although behemoths seemed to be a more fitting description in my mind—had some tribal business to attend to, and were bound to be late already. Sam wheeled him off toward a car I just noticed parked on the side of our house, already containing another huge figure that looked smooshed inside the tiny space. I recognized him faintly, but didn't get a good look through the slight fog that had gathered on his windshield. They all drove away, and Charlie opened the door behind me.

"Coming Bella?" he asked. I nodded absently, making my way inside and sighing as the warmth and smell of home enveloped me. But there was something missing…the one person I truly felt at home with. I felt my face twist as my heart was wrenched out of my chest and stomped on, before being set on fire. He's gone…forever.

To distract myself, I bit my lip, making my way down the hall and into the kitchen. "Wha—" I cleared my throat, hoping it would stop cracking and breaking with the depression that I was barely able to hold off anymore. "What do you want for dinner, Dad?"

He came into the kitchen, but didn't seem to catch the pained face I made. "Nah, I'll order out. I want you to rest and take a little Tylenol. Doc warned me you might be sore and all that—and he said to keep the house really warm, so…is it warm enough?" he asked gruffly. I smiled and nodded, before frowning.

"I want to cook," I said. I didn't tell him why, though. I knew it would only serve as a distraction from the pain I felt in my mind, trying to take over me. But He shook his head no.

He went past me to the shelf over the kitchen sink, getting me a glass of water and some pills. "Take this and go lay down or something." And he walked over to the phone, dialing a number and ordering a pizza of some sort. I sighed, admitting defeat, and nodded absently again, forgetting that he was unable to see it. Quickly, I swallowed the pills dry before gulping down the water, set the glass in the sink, trudged up the stairs, and shut and locked my door. While I was probably supposed to eat, thinking about food made my stomach churn. Especially because eating was another human thing to do—a reminder why I was even in this situation. But as I looked around my room, tears slipped down my face, everything I saw reminding me of him.

For a moment, I wanted to go to my album and play my lullaby, but I didn't have the heart. I would do so later. For now, I simply walked over to my bed, flopped down, and cried myself to sleep. And even then, all I did was dream about him.