Once Bitten Twice Shy Chapter 1/?
Pairing: Bella x Peter
Summary: Clinging to Angel ideals, trapped in a vampire body, with very human urges. He was very confused. Peter was an indecisive vampire with an identity crisis. Bella was jaded and self-isolated. In short they were perfect for each other.
Rating: Mature audiences only for Language & Lemons
Word Count: 3,425
Disclaimer: I own nothing
HOT FOR BETA! Give love to my girl Magos186!
A/N Okay, this is my new PeterxBella story, also known to me as Pella. It will not update frequently, just to warn you. Peter is a vampire and Bella is jaded and medicated. I should warn you, Bella is quite non-cannon. She's bitchy, irritable, and lost. Reviews are always welcomed, and often replied. Feel free to ask questions, I love questions. There will be two POV's in this story, so if that bugs you, back away.
I cuss like a sailor. Seriously. I openly admit to my over use of the word Fuck. It's like a balm to me. So, beware of swearing.
And if you happen to be under the age of 18, I bid you farewell, for this story is not for you.
I sat on the ceiling changing light bulbs in my newly purchased house. It was a two story Victorian, much larger than I ever needed, but on a huge hill on the north side of a spacious gated community full of unfriendly neighbors. Just the way I liked them.
Unfortunately, the realtor failed to mention the previous owner, for lack of a better word, collected cats. Not cat figurines or bobble heads; not cat sweaters or calendars, but mass quantities of outside, tree and lawn cats. Some people had gnomes or flamingos. I had cats. I was now the cat lady. A flock, a pack, a pride, what ever you a call cluster fuck of fluffy kittens. If my War brothers could see me now....
Never in my life have I resented the fact I had no scent until the moment I traipsed my sparkly ass up the walkway, parting cats like Moses and the Red sea. Had it been any other Vampire, they would have fled in fucking terror. However, I had no scent, no little boost that sent there flight-or-fight gene into overdrive. Well, I needed friends. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.
Maybe I should just eat them.
After briefly considering my front lawn as a vampire vegetable garden, I hopped down from the ceiling, shrugging my shoulders at my pathetic life. Seattle was supposed to be a fresh start. All I had was a gigantic empty house and living lawn ornaments. Maybe I could eat the IKEA delivery men tomorrow. Fucking cats.
They demanded that I feed them.
I had been intent to leave them to starve, but they wouldn't shut the fuck up. Mass cat murder crossed my mind, but I couldn't help but take into account that they had been here first, had staked the prior claim. Bitching and groaning, I waded through the seventeen overly friendly, under-fed, flea-bitten, outside law and tree cats, to my car.
So it was that I came to stand in an aisle dedicated entirely to cats. Not just cat food, but cat toys and cat litter and cat clothing and bedding and a bunch of fucking bullshit.
Mother fucking decisions.
There's that free will thing again.
Who would have thought there would be twenty different kinds of dry cat food to choose from? I don't even want to acknowledge the notion of wet cat food. We are just not fucking going there. I already look like a mother fucking tool standing in the isle staring at the cat food for twenty minutes. I was a grown ass man. A grown ass vampire. I should just eat the cats and be done with it. Then again, those cats eat this crap, so they can't taste that good. I'll stick to humans.
Shit, what is the fricking difference? Iams, Purina, mother fucking Kitty Bits and Shits? It's all ground up animal bones and corn meal anyways. If this is how it's going to be, my little fucking cats can just eat each other. This could develop into Mad Cat disease. We could create a cat epidemic, seriously reducing the cat population by means of plague. Big guy does it all the time. I could be the Cat God.
These were the things I contemplated when fate changed the page I was reading from the Big Book. Her voice would change everything. A new path had been set, an option. A choice. There was that free will thing again. Fuck my life.
"Mother fucking Vampires. In Wal-Mart of all places."
The words were uttered in a breath, but I heard them. In a knee-jerk reaction my head snapped to the source, a little brown eyed girl holding a box of strawberry pop-tarts. She stared me down, and didn't even blink. Who is this human? How the fuck does she know about vampires. Why isn't she scared? Should I eat her?
What the hell do I do now?
As if she could read my mind, she shrugged, dropped her pop tarts into her cart and strutted off like she didn't just have a five minute staring contest with a dangerous mythological creature. I was momentarily stunned, so much so that I grabbed two bags of the nearest cat food, which might as well have been Kitty Bit's and Shits, and headed for the check out.
She's was in the next line to me, and paid me no fucking mind; nothing, not even a glance or a wink. The way her mouth was moving, I was almost certain she was whistling show tunes…Andy Griffith from the sound of it. All I could do was stare at her with the meanest expression I could muster and try to force some fear into the tiny human.
Fear me. Fear me. Fear me.
Jedi mind trick.
This is not the vampire you are looking for.
This got me no where, she was absolutely fucking absurd. Little human turned to me, smiled, and blew a big pink bubble with her gum before tossing her things on the conveyer belt.
What the fuck?
"Get out of the house," she said. "It will be good for you," she said. "The past is the past," they said. My therapist is an ass hole.
If the past was the past, why have I spent the last five minutes holding a box of pop tarts and watching a vampire stare at cat food? I'm not entirely sure what a vampire would do with cat food. Does he have a cat? Maybe he likes to play with his food before he eats it. Then again, he could be a people-eater. I'm not really sure. Who fucking knows? I know that this vampire looks pretty irritated, looking back and forth between the bags, his mouth moving so rapidly, I know he's talking to himself. Maybe he's crazy, too. I wonder if he hears voices....
Is nothing sacred any more? Is no part of my life untouchable? I can't even go grocery shopping without be assaulted by the past. Wally world should be a Vampire-Free haven. God knows Alice would never shop here. Makes me want to go out and buy white, cotton, high waist panties just to spite her. In bulk.
"Fucking Vampire. In Wal-Mart of all places." I muttered so low I almost didn't hear myself. But Vampire does, and I sigh at the muddy brown corneas looking back at me. Contacts. Fuck. People-eater. Good lord, is he going to want to eat me too? Because he can just get in line for the all you can eat Bella-buffet. Who doesn't want to eat me? I'm fucking tasty.
Catpire is staring at me, frozen in place, and I refused to waver. This went on for all of another five minutes before either his shock wore off, or his resolve faltered. I could almost see his little vampire hamster wheel spinning in his head, cranking out question. Who is the human? How does she know? What do I do next?
Kiss my ass is what you do.
Oh man. Watching him throw daggers at me with his eyes while waiting to buy his cat food, made me want to piss myself silly. It was all I could do to sing show tunes so I wouldn't fucking laugh hysterically. He wanted to growl, I just know it. Well, rawr right back at yah big boy.
I just shrugged and walked away. I had a date with an empty house and a bag of mini marshmallows.
Oh look, gum.
She was in my head with a steering wheel, driving me fucking crazy. Being that I couldn't decide weather to hunt her down and drain her or let her go, she escaped my clutches in a white Kia Sentry. I contemplated following her, but I had yet to make my decision, and quite frankly, I had questions.
Questions without answers.
Seattle is no different then Texas and my days were filled with no less monotony and tedium. You can only read so many books before the stories begin to blend. I don't even own a television, I never have. It wasn't a trend that picked up. Fuck it; I'll just go scope out this month's meal options.
Now, I don't want to consider myself fickle, but over the years I have developed particular menu choices to sooth my burning mind. Given my previous occupation, I am more inclined to feel guilty at the task at hand than the average vampire. I can't justify taking a life not yet ready to go, that's not my business. That's up to the Man in White, the Big Guy, the Boss Man.
The voices that resonated inside my mind lead me where I wanted to go. Angel A.M. I called it, like a radio station in my head. Reaper's on DJ telling me whose time is up. I've always wondered if Mr. Angel of Death himself, Azrael, got shitty when I intercept his jobs.
Of course he had no idea, none of them do, that I can still fucking hear them. God's plan and his happy little minions still rang out strong in my mind. It's ironic. All of it.
My existence was irony in its purest form.
Because my existence shouldn't exist at all.
That doesn't make any fucking sense does it?
Let me rephrase.....
Nope, there is no other way to put it.
One hundred and fifty years ago I was what you could loosely describe as a human, for a brief interlude anyway. It was a temporary situation, strictly business. I got my orders from the Big Guy upstairs. I went to Earth and did the Angel thing. There were many of us, peppering the humans. We had a job to do, and we did it.
I guess I should start at the beginning.
I was, at one point in my exponentially long life, an Angel of Fate; a little minion of God in a human husk. It came with a few perks. In human form I could eat…and I had a dick. Not that it did me any good. I had no free will.
It's that tricky free will shit, gets you ever time.
But I digress.
I was an Angel. An Angel of Fate, in charge of keeping check of destiny, and seeing that the loosely proscribed path set by God Himself was going along smoothly.
Now, most people are under the impression that fate is set in stone. It's not; it's more like a rough idea. Don't get me wrong, the Old Man has final say, but he's a pretty cool guy. He likes to see how things play out on their own, let you live your lives and what not. He can only lead you, not force you to follow. That's where the Divine Plan comes in. That's where I came in. We don't often intervene. Our positions were cautionary, observatory.
In His world, my name was Micha, and my job was to watch over the ever changing Divine Plan. On occasion the big man sent me to deviate when necessary. Unfortunately, I was sent in human form, for in Angel form, I possessed the power to alter fate too much. A death Angel kept his form, and all his perks. His job would not taint the Plan. It was the end of the line.
When I was sent to earth I was stripped of my wings, and what powers that did not pertain to the job at hand. I had to be human, or as close to human as I could come. My mission objective was to reset fate when something inhuman deviated. Change what needed to be changed, and be on my way back to heaven.
There is only one way into heaven without wings. It's the same for you as it was for me.
You have to die.
From the beginning I have died all of four hundred thousand and seventy three times.
I returned to heaven all of four hundred thousand and seventy two.
This left one death unaccounted for.
My last death. My true death. My death as Peter Micha Legion, the human Angel. Approximately one hundred and fifty eight years ago. It's not like I know the exact date I was damned or anything. September thirteenth, 1851.
In Heaven there are very few curve balls that knock the path off course. Very few things are beyond His control. The Devil had it out for us, sure, but he had few weapons. He had agreed to abide to the strict look-but-don't-touch rule. He could not sway the humans himself, just as God couldn't. It was this rule that lead him to the discovery that nearly tipped the balance between Heaven and Hell in his favor, if it hadn't been for warrior Angels like me.
The Devil had created a new kind of soldier. A soul-trapped in a human husk. The Anti-Angel.
And they were good at altering God's plan. It was what they were made for.
I was an exterminator. A hit man. I set fate back on track when a vampire altered it. According to the Big Man upstairs, vampires were black-souls. Oh they had a soul, but it was as dark and marred as they come. They were murders in the deepest sense, living off the essence of others.
And the scary part? Like humans, they had free will.
If an Angel ever were to covet, it would be just that.
But, as I have learned, it's not all it's cracked up to be, actually.
I was dispatched on a mission in Texas, searching out a coven of Vampires, three women to be exact. They were turning humans left and right, and it was a mother fucking butterfly effect. More vampires meant less pure souls, more vampires meant more murder, more vampires meant even more vampires. The cycle was endless. More. More. More.
It should have been simple. Go in as a Confederate Soldier, get caught by Maria, kill her, and die. My hands were weapons enough, all I had to do was set myself up for the intervention, and I was ready. I knew when and where and I waited for the little bitch to come.
As I had said before, the future was not set in stone, because there are many things that can alter Fate. When it came to facts, there were few, I just have an idea, a soft knowledge, if you will. But I knew she would attack to me. However, nothing in the Fates had spoken of him.
Jasper mother fucking Whitlock.
The Devil's little curve ball himself.
And oddly enough, my best fucking friend. Now anyways....
As it was planned, she attacked without hesitation, making to kill me as a pesky human snack, but hesitation was standing at her side, with ruby red eyes and a head of unruly golden curls. He knew something was off about me, his eyes flickering over my human skin. He had a gift that much was sure. And with it he could tell that human though I was at the time, I was more.
He said as much to Maria.
Then he turned me.
This wasn't part of the plan.
I was dead. I was dead, but I wasn't dying. I was trapped in my body, no way to return to my home. I was dead. I was dead. I was dead.
I was a mother fucking vampire.
And I was ravenous.
The Devil was a smart man, creating Vampires with one thing in mind. Murder, chaos, destruction. But that tricky free will, it was a fickle thing. I spent my new born years massacring small cities, but when it was found out I did indeed have a gift, a lingering remnant of my Angel Past, which I failed to mention, Maria kept me as a pet.
She kept me because I knew shit. Simple as that. I. Knew. Shit.
I could still hear things. My Angel White Noise, picking up snippets. Orders, radio Gospel of things to come. It was as if I wasn't mean to hear it at all, but I did. Little things came through the static that permeated my brain every fucking single day. And it drove me fucking nuts.
It wasn't like I could see the future. I didn't see anything. I just knew.
I spent years fighting within myself as I did Maria's bidding. I had once been a pure essence; I had been good in all senses. I needn't be damned. I needed to fight for my soul. Free will, I reminded myself. It's my choice to murder, to kill endlessly. I fought tooth and nail to preserve myself, to reserve myself from the temptations of blood, and fuck it was hard.
It was Jasper, the man who turned me, who saved me in the end. They were coming for him...my own kind. But he was a good man, and I knew that. I had seen it in his faltering hand. He was a good man with no direction, but the glimmering hints of doubt and hope lingered in his eyes. His blood red eyes. Quickly I discerned his particular gift. He could feel emotions. I imagine my emotions were felt on a different plane, and that was what set off his...radar or whatever about me. I wanted to save him. But first, I had to save myself.
Jasper was so deeply embedded into his mind he was beginning to lose himself. He had been with Maria, battling this Vampire war for a long time now. I watched him waste vampire after vampire, killing, changing, and then killing again. I had no doubt that if I were still Micha, Angel of Fate, I would have been dispatched to take him out quickly. I wondered when his Angel would come for him. I knew it would be a while till.
This is where free will came in.
I wasn't Micha anymore.
And I didn't want to kill Jasper. I wanted to save him. It was a new concept to me, as before there had been little choice. It was not my place to save. But...I had the choice I chose to save him. I just needed to get the fuck out of here first.
So, irony being my life, it shouldn't have came to a surprise that Jasper saved me first. I smiled as he let me walk away, knowing he had altered his fate doing so. His soul seemed cleaner, less tainted. That hopeful feeling needed to fester inside him until he was ready to break ties with Maria. I would come back for him, I would know when.
The day he let me run was the first day I spread my wings as a vampire. I knew they were there, embedded beneath my skin. I had died, and they had returned to me. They were mine. Death could not deliver me to Heaven as a mortal, but it had returned my wings.
My black, marred wings, a vision of my soul. Flightless wings, they could not carry me home. But they were mine, none the less, and I stretched them out wide, tearing through the steel that was my skin. It hurt, and I growled cold and deadly. But I had my wings back, and I couldn't help but smile a little.
Fifty years later, Jasper found a mate, a little sparky thing. I had returned and helped him escape, and he stayed with me for some time, but it was not his path. No, he found his path by way of a woman, sitting in a diner of all places.
I was left alone once again.
Where did that leave me? I was an Angel in a demons body, with all the amenities and none of the perks. I had wings that couldn't fly. I could walk on water, or stand on the ceiling, but I couldn't go home and I had to drink blood. The only perk was Free Will, and a dick. Quite frankly, they both baffled me at times. I had always been an indecisive little fucker.
At least I still knew shit.
I knew which souls were up, ripe for the picking.
And I knew I would find my meal ticket at the Seattle Cancer Institute located on 1100 9th Avenue, Seattle Washington in the form of one Sophia Ebbings, with three months left to live and suffer.
A/N So that's the opening of the plot. Peter is an Angel bitten. I like the idea. He's very confused because he resents his free will, for it is a blatant reminder that he is no longer an angel. But he wants to live, wants to start over. Wants to start making choices. Hope you like it. More Bella next chapter!