AN: Well, more action! Yay! I love bringing baddies into the story! And yes, I know I'm rushing the Victoria fiasco, but it's not like I'm gonna jump us right into a fight, so don't worry. I'm kinda practiced in angst so we'll be good, lol.

Uh. I dunno really what to say. I hope you can see the separations, because looking back, my little hyphen, asterisk, hyphen formula decided to disappear and stuff. But it wasn't too confusing then, so I'm not too worried about it. Though now, if this separation doesn't show up, I'm really sorry, I'll fix it, but until then I hope you can manage!

Bt I hope the characters act like themselves. I'm trying to keep them the least amount of OOC as possible, except for Bella…well, technically, as I said, she came off as a strong, sarcastic, witty girl in the beginning of the saga, so that's who I'm making her.

Anyway, um, here's a chapter. A thanks to my great reviewers, you're totally awesome! And to those of you who don't review, I want to thank you also for reading!

Well, here we go! :D

Immolation Chapter 6: Healed

"And even the strongest of us fall sometime…"

A week passed, and my routine changed—I was alive again, after all. I would talk with Angela and Jessica all through school, sit with Claire and Mike at lunch, and go home with Claire every day. From there, we would play games or watch movies or something—Peter joined us on Wednesday, but worked every day other than that, so I didn't get much of a chance to see him.

Though, as Thursday was drawing to a close—I would have to leave when our movie was over—our routine was interrupted with the ringing of her phone. Claire, who had haphazardly thrown her feet on my thighs, raced across the hall to get it. I didn't listen to what she said, but perked with worry as she shuffled slowly back into the room, plopping on the couch sadly.

"Claire? Something wrong?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head. It took her a minute to say anything. "Not wrong, per se, but I didn't expect it."

"Didn't expect what?" I asked casually. And suddenly, with one small sentence, my crutch was pulled from under me.

"My Dad wants me to visit this weekend. He wanted me to leave tomorrow, but I was able to put it off by telling him our plan. I still have to go Saturday and won't get back till Monday night." She looked over at me worriedly—I had had a sneaking suspicion she had somehow sensed my attachment to her.

"Will you be okay?" she asked quietly. I gulped, but remembered that it was barely even three days. She would be back.

I waved my hand, putting on my best nonchalant act. "Yeah, of course. You need a break from me anyway. Have fun with your family." She smiled at me.

"Thanks Bella. That means a lot. And you can always hang out with Peter—he probably doesn't have much else to do. He seems to think a night out on the town'll be suicide or something." She rolled her eyes. And I decided that if I didn't have my best friend here, I'd have to get to know Peter, because he was definitely the runner up in that department. Even though I technically didn't know much about him as a person.

I guess this would be my chance to change that.

I smiled back at her. "Sounds good." I paused for a moment, before grabbing the remote from next to me and tapping the play button. "Let's finish this up so we can get some sleep for tomorrow."

She beamed at me. "Sounds…awesome."

The movie ended, and my way home was nearly catastrophic. I began to hyperventilate, thinking that I'd wake up any moment and find that Claire and Peter had never come along at all—that everything was simply an elaborate dream. I pulled into the drive and leaned my head on the wheel of the truck.

Breathe, Bella. There's no reason to freak out. She'll be gone for a few days and come back. Besides, you shouldn't get this attached to someone—look how well that worked out the last time. Don't be so stupid. Claire likes you, but it's like you're in love with her or something. Relax yourself.

I nodded to myself, but didn't feel reassured in the slightest. Walking in, I found that Charlie had taken care of his own dinner, which meant I had nothing to do but trudge upstairs and fall asleep.

III

He peered into the window of the sleeping girl. His mate had summoned him here, which was odd, as usually his days were spent either making love to her or watching the newborns. But since Laurent—who he couldn't help but feel extremely jealous over, being that he knew Victoria longer than himself—had disappeared, everything she did was rushed. She said she had been sure the mate had left the human, but now that he hadn't reported back…

He shook his head. Good riddance if he was dead—now there was no chance of competition. Victoria was all his.

He held his breath, jumping gracefully from his perch on the tree to her window seal. He hooked his shoes under the siding of the house as he quickly shoved open the window and rolled through—the human didn't even stir. He smiled, making sure he didn't breathe, and looked over her room. It was filled with her warmth, which assured him everything and anything he could grab would be covered in her scent.

Finally, he took a deep, controlled breath, and fought off the monster he kept just under the surface. Her veins seemed to call to him with that sweet scent, and his throat was parched…but he would never go against Victoria. And she wanted the human kept alive.

He followed his senses to two items—a pair of jeans and a large, blue book. They seemed to be the most potent things in the room—next to the human herself. She rolled over, uncovering her face, and he mused quickly that she was pale and pretty enough to be a vampire. Of course he would never in his lifetime betray Victoria; just that at least it wasn't an ugly prize they were going after. He had a feeling that would ruin the game for him.

He shook his head, cursing himself for being distracted, and escaped through the window in a flash. He shut it as an afterthought, before flitting into the trees, only a white blur to the normal eye.

III

I woke up groggily, but had a sense that today was the last of something…I was sad, after all…and then I remembered that Claire was leaving and she would be gone a while. I sighed, running a hand through my hair before twirling the ends on my fingers with my frustration. It just felt…unfair. I knew that was selfish of me to think, I knew it was wrong, and though I felt bad, I just couldn't help feeling that way. Claire's friendship had become my lifeline, and not having her to talk to or mess around with…would be odd. It was like I knew her my whole life, rather than simply a week.

I bit my lip. I was the wimpiest, most dependent person I'd ever known.

But then the memory of today flooded back to me—Peter would get home this morning, and he would have smuggled syringes back from the hospital. We would get there early so that way we wouldn't run the risk of a lot of people being there to conveniently drop in on us while we were injecting Nathan with Claire's blood.

I sighed, reaching for where I had taken off my jeans yesterday—I just didn't feel like dirtying another pair. And yet, my hand met the floor. I looked around the room, but they were nowhere to be found. I was sure I had skipped throwing them in the hamper and just left them on the floor.

Clad in my baggy t-shirt and sweats, I made my way to the bathroom. I danced, shivering, on the cold tiles, peering into the basket to be met with Charlie's fishing gear. If my jeans were in there, they would surely be on top.

I grumbled, trudging into my room and throwing on a different pair and a simple black t-shirt—I would have to find it later, I suppose. I sighed and ran a brush through my hair, slipping on my sneakers only seconds before Claire and Peter pulled into my drive. I forewent my jacket, rushing downstairs to greet them. I slipped into the backseat, and Claire turned back to me as I was buckling my seatbelt.

"I'm so excited, Bella! If your theory runs true, I'll finally get to use my ability to help someone else!" she clapped her hands to emphasize this point. I laughed at her almost childish antics, looking out the window as houses rushed by.

"I hope so. Not only will Nathan be healed, but this'll be some pretty useful information," Peter agreed.

I rubbed my hands together. "What if it doesn't work?" Always the pessimist.

Claire echoed my thoughts, "Don't be such a downer Bella! It was your idea, after all, and you're pretty smart." I blushed. "Besides, your logic totally makes sense."

"Thanks. I just can't help but think…"

"Then don't think," Claire reasoned. "There's nothing to think about, anyway. We're gonna try it, and if it doesn't work…well, we tried," she slowly trailed off, her words getting quieter and more discouraged. But she perked again. "It'll work."

I bit my lip and glanced out my window. "I hope so."

We didn't speak further until we got to the hospital. I looked over to Peter, expecting him to pull out a big black Doctor's bag or something. "Do you have the…?"

He nodded, patting his pocket where I could see three tube-shaped lumps. I licked my lips, nodding back—it was pretty stupid to think he'd be so obvious about it. I looked over at Claire, who danced over to us, excitement rolling off her in waves.

"I can't wait to actually save someone rather than being saved all the time," she gushed to me, before latching onto my arm and dragging me to the doors. They opened and Peter walked in after us, asking the lady at the desk to tell us where Nathan Petrelli was. He followed us—well, more accurately, followed Claire, as I had no idea where we were going and was only able to keep up because she kept a firm grip on my sleeve—up to the the room.

We entered to find Nathan asleep. I hadn't seen him since my run-in with Peter at the hospital, when I shared the same room, but I had heard he woke up once only for the doctors to deem it best they put him into a small medically induced coma for his next three surgeries. I shivered, sympathy and pity running over my heart and making a lump form in my throat.

Peter walked over to Nathan's side, squeezing his hand, before looking up at Claire and taking a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Ready," she confirmed, before letting go of me so she could roll up her sleeve. As Peter grabbed a syringe and took off the cap, exposing the needle, I felt my stomach churn. I turned around, holding my mouth and nose.

"Bella?" Claire asked curiously.

"I…blood makes me sick. And needles. That's probably half the reason I fainted when I saw Peter…that and the shock," I said, though it was muffled under my hand. I wasn't sure if she nodded or just didn't respond, but waited five minutes, singing songs in my head to distract myself.

"Bella!" Claire's happy exclamation made me turn around. Nathan's IV was clouded with red, but as it drained into the tube and his bloodstream, I watched in wonder…he was healing. His burns and scratches were covered with brand new skin, his nose and lips reshaping, his hair growing. Pretty soon there was a clean cut business looking man, lying there as if nothing had ever happened to him.

Claire squealed quietly and I laughed, but it was cut short as I was suffocated, and my feet left the floor. I looked around in shock, before realizing what was going on—my face first drained of color, before flooding with red.

Peter had tightly wrapped his arms around me, apparently forgetting that not everyone had super strength, and had even picked me up in his joy. And now I was at risk of being crushed to death. And yet he seemed so happy that I didn't say anything, simply struggled my arm up and around him in response. I patted his back lightly for a few seconds, before it turned deathly awkward for me—and I could see my cheeks turning from red to a purplish color.

"Peter," I choked. "Air…need…"

He seemed to realize this, and let me fall to the floor and loosened his grip on me, but didn't let go. "Thank you so much Bella. I don't know what I would do if Nathan had to live the rest of his life…forfeit his career…all because of me…" his arms fell away.

I felt sadness twist in my heart, just because someone else was sad. I placed my hand on his shoulder lightly. "It wasn't any trouble. Besides, you injected him—if you hadn't been here, it would have been up to Claire, and I don't know about her, but I'd have a heart attack trying to take my own blood…" And although it was the truth, we both laughed and turned to Nathan, who seemed to have woken up.

Claire was quizzing him anxiously, asking if he felt any pain or was tired or if he needed anything. The look on his face showed that he simply needed a moment of silence, but I pretended not to notice, letting Claire have her fill. Although, the fact that he was awake struck me.

I turned to Peter, who was standing silently at the foot of the bed. "Do you think the blood counteracts medications?" After all, he had been drugged into that coma.

"I don't know," Peter whispered. "But I'd guess."

Nathan finally turned away from Claire, and his eyes skated over me straight to Peter. "Peter," he said slowly. "Did you do this?"

He laughed, making his way to his brother's bedside—and as he grabbed Nathan's hand like he had so many times before, I couldn't help but feel like I was intruding on a family moment, and so I whispered to Claire that I'd be in the main lobby if they needed me.

I wandered down the halls back the way we came, finding the lobby and following it down to the waiting room. Only an older couple—probably in their forties or fifties, if I had to guess—were there. I sat across from them, shot them a kind smile, and grabbed a magazine to flip through.

I had been going through the cooking section, trying to memorize as many recipes as I could, when I heard someone walk in. Out of curiosity, I looked up to see Peter staring at me oddly. He walked over, sitting down next to me.

"Everything okay?"

I nodded and smiled. "Yeah, it's great. I'm really happy it all worked out and Nathan is healed." He smiled back at me, but then frowned.

"Then why did you leave?"

I started at the question, but gave an honest answer. "Well, I mean, you guys are family and I didn't want to interrupt a moment or anything."

He rolled his eyes at me, getting up and sticking his hand out for me to take. I thanked him, allowing him to pull me up, and set the magazine in the rack as he walked and began to speak. "That's it? I thought something was wrong."

I furrowed my brow. "Well, no, but I thought you'd want time alone." He shook his head.

"This isn't the movies, Bella, you didn't have to do that." And I felt strangely flattered, although why was beyond me.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

He shook his head again, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked. He looked down at me with a smile, and I vaguely noticed how short I seemed to be. "No need to be sorry. I just got worried that you were sick from the blood or something."

"Good thing we're at a hospital, of all places, I guess," I laughed, mimicking his action of putting my hands in my pockets. We wandered up the hall to the room, exchanging pointless palaver. When we did make it up, Nathan was back to sleep and Claire was sitting in the chair next to him, looking out the window.

"Bella! You alright?" she asked jumping up and over to me. I nodded, smiling at her.

"She just got the weird notion we wanted privacy or something," Peter said with a small chuckle.

Claire pulled me into an unexpected hug. "Thanks Bella. You're too sweet. And thanks so much for coming up with this idea—it feels good to help someone."

"No problem. I'll help whenever I can." With that, we all decided that there was nothing left for us to do, Nathan would need rest, and Claire needed to pack. So we left.

III

Bob Bishop stood over the ashes, a sweet perfume permeating the air around them. He took a deep breath before turning on his heel, looking at the crater that was left by none other than Peter Petrelli. There was no doubt in his mind—the only question was whether or not he was still here or had left by now.

He scratched his chin, unsure of how to go about finding that information. He wanted to skip the interrogations and intimidations and just get Petrelli back already. That was when the idea came to him—there was another missing Petrelli here, and he had no doubt the brothers would be traveling together.

He beckoned his daughter to him, her blonde hair bouncing as she stopped right next to him obediently. "Yes Daddy?"

He didn't look over at her. "Find out if Nathan Petrelli was admitted into the hospital around here." She nodded and took off out of the forest toward her car. He turned again, examining the ashes his daughter had told him about. So far everything she had said had been true, down to the strangely bitter, yet beautiful smell the ashes seemed to exude. And she had said the man had claimed to be a vampire.

He was still unsure on whether or not to believe it, but her description was detailed, and he just didn't think she was creative enough to make that all up, so she must be telling the truth…she had said the man lunged, more like a lion or tiger than a human.

But he couldn't fall for something as stupid as a vampire…could he?

Well, there was only one way to find out, wasn't there?

"What was that name again?" He turned to the Haitian, who wasn't looking at him.

"Ah yes. Isabella Swan."