CHAPTER 4: CULLEN CONFRONTATION
POV: Peter
The morning came gray and cold, exactly like the one before it. Peter woke to find his breath misting in the tent and his fingers numb from the chill. Three days in Forks, and he was already developing a deep, personal hatred for the Pacific Northwest's weather.
His phone—the one he'd compelled from a electronics store yesterday, a detail he was trying very hard not to think about—showed 7:43 AM and zero messages. Not that he'd expected any. Who would text him? The System didn't need a phone to communicate, and everyone else who knew he existed was either a vampire or someone he'd mind-controlled.
Great social life you've built here, Peter.
He crawled out of the tent and stretched, joints popping in protest. The forest was quiet except for the drip-drip-drip of water from the trees. Somewhere nearby, a bird called—sharp and lonely.
Peter's land was a half-acre of mud and ferns, separated from the Cullen property by maybe a hundred yards of dense forest. He'd spent yesterday afternoon pacing the perimeter, memorizing sight lines and escape routes. Not because he expected trouble, but because the System's clinical voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him that [THREAT ASSESSMENT: CONTINUOUS. RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN VIGILANCE.]
Now, standing in the cold drizzle, Peter made a decision.
Time to go introduce myself properly.
He'd been avoiding it—this official first meeting with the Cullens as a human, not a panicked newborn vampire. But hiding felt cowardly, and Peter had died once already trying to be brave. Might as well keep the tradition alive.
The walk through the forest should've been peaceful. Moss-covered logs, ferns dripping with dew, the kind of pristine wilderness that belonged on a postcard. Instead, Peter felt like prey walking into a predator's den. Every snap of a twig made him flinch. Every shadow held the potential for golden eyes and inhuman speed.
They could kill me before I even knew they were there, he thought, and forced himself to keep walking.
The Cullen house materialized through the trees like something from a dream—all glass and pale wood, impossibly modern against the ancient forest. Peter had sketched it in his notebook last night, but the drawing hadn't captured the way it seemed to float, supported by pillars that looked too slender to hold up three stories of architecture.
He stood at the edge of the tree line, suddenly uncertain. Just walk up and knock? Announce himself? Hope they didn't tear him apart for trespassing?
A voice cut through his hesitation, warm and amused.
"You know, most people use the driveway."
Peter spun, his human reflexes embarrassingly slow, and found Emmett leaning against a tree maybe twenty feet away. The vampire was grinning, his posture relaxed, but Peter could see the way his weight stayed balanced—ready to move if Peter turned out to be a threat.
"I didn't want to assume I was welcome," Peter said, keeping his hands visible and non-threatening.
"Yeah, well, you're not." Rosalie appeared on Emmett's left, her expression carved from ice. "But Carlisle wants to talk to you anyway, so lucky you."
"Rose," Emmett said quietly.
"Don't 'Rose' me. This kid shows up out of nowhere, claims to have magical powers, and now he's camping in our backyard. Forgive me for being suspicious."
Peter kept his expression neutral, but inside his thoughts were racing. Magical powers. She said magical, not supernatural. Does that mean—
[CLARIFICATION: Lo"I don't blame you for being suspicious," Peter said acal terminology varies. Recommendation: Adapt speech patterns to match population expectations.]
"I don't blame you for being suspicious," Peter said aloud. "I'd be suspicious too. But I meant what I said before—I'm not here to cause trouble. I just... I need to understand what I am. What this power is. And you're the only supernatural beings I know."
Rosalie's eyes narrowed. "You say 'supernatural beings' like you're not one."
"I'm human twenty-three hours a day. The other hour, I'm whatever I copy. Right now?" Peter spread his hands. "Right now I'm just a scared kid who's in way over his head."
Something in Rosalie's expression softened, just a fraction. But before she could respond, Alice materialized on the porch, her appearance so sudden Peter actually jumped.
"He's telling the truth," Alice said, her voice bright but strained. "Or at least, he believes he is. I still can't see him properly—everything's all fuzzy and headache-inducing—but the emotional resonance is genuine."
"Emotional resonance?" Peter asked.
"Jasper's trick." Alice tapped her temple. "He can feel what people are feeling. You're scared, curious, and lonely. Very, very lonely."
The words hit harder than Peter expected. He swallowed, throat suddenly tight, and forced himself to hold Alice's gaze.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I guess I am."
Emmett pushed off from the tree, his grin fading into something more genuine. "Come on, kid. Let's go talk to Carlisle before Rose decides to throw you off the property."
"I wouldn't throw him," Rosalie muttered. "I'd compel him to leave. Oh wait, that doesn't work on him, does it?"
Peter followed them toward the house, hyperaware of the vampires flanking him—Emmett on his right, Rosalie on his left, Alice behind. A formation that looked casual but would let them react instantly if he tried anything stupid.
Like I could do anything to them as a human. They could snap me like a twig.
The interior of the house was exactly as Peter remembered from yesterday's visit—open, airy, filled with natural light that filtered through the massive windows. But seeing it as a human was different. The distances felt larger. The vampires moved with a grace that made his clumsy human body feel inadequate by comparison.
Carlisle was waiting in the living room, standing near the windows with Esme at his side. The blonde vampire smiled as Peter entered, and it was warm enough to make Peter's chest ache.
"Peter," Carlisle said. "Thank you for coming. I know this must be difficult."
"Difficult is one word for it," Peter admitted. "Terrifying is another."
"You're safe here," Esme said softly. "We won't hurt you."
"But we will have questions," Edward added from the stairs. Peter hadn't heard him approach—vampire silent-foot was apparently a thing—and now the mind-reader stood at the edge of the living room, arms crossed. "Starting with what you're really doing here."
Peter's jaw tightened. "I already told you—"
"You told us you can copy powers. That you have some kind of system in your head managing the process. What you didn't explain is why you're here. In Forks specifically. Near us specifically. That seems like a hell of a coincidence."
Because I died and transmigrated into Twilight, Peter thought, and I know your entire story from a series of books that won't be published for another two years.
Out loud, he said: "I don't know why I'm here. I woke up in the forest three days ago with no memory of how I got there. The System activated, told me I could copy supernatural powers, and then... I just knew. I knew there were vampires in Forks. I knew you were vegetarians. I knew you'd be the safest ones to approach."
"Knew how?" Edward's eyes narrowed. "That's not just luck. That's specific information."
"The System gave me a briefing," Peter lied. "Basic supernatural survival info. Vampires exist, werewolves exist, there's a coven of vegetarians in the Olympic Peninsula that might not kill me on sight. That's all I had to work with."
Edward stared at him, and Peter could see the frustration building. The mind-reader was used to having answers, to plucking thoughts out of people's heads like picking apples from a tree. Being shut out of Peter's mind was clearly driving him insane.
"He's lying," Edward said flatly. "I can't read what he's thinking, but his body language is all wrong. He knows more than he's saying."
"Everyone has secrets," Carlisle said mildly. "The question is whether Peter's secrets pose a danger to this family."
"I don't," Peter said quickly. "I swear, I'm not a threat. I just want to learn how to control these powers. How to survive in a world where things like you exist. That's all."
Jasper, who'd been silent until now, moved from his position near the far wall. Peter tracked him with his eyes, noting the scarred vampire's careful movements.
"Let me test him," Jasper said.
Carlisle frowned. "Test him how?"
"His power. He says he can copy supernatural abilities. Let's see it in action." Jasper's eyes met Peter's, and there was something sharp in them—a predator evaluating prey. "If he's telling the truth, he should be able to mimic my empathy manipulation. If he's lying..." The unspoken threat hung in the air.
Peter's pulse kicked up. This was dangerous. Mimicking Jasper meant transforming into a vampire again, meant feeling that addictive rush of power, meant—
[NOTIFICATION: Supernatural entity within range. Available abilities: Empathy Manipulation - Vampire - Jasper Hale. Warning: Transformation will trigger vampire physiology and associated thirst. Recommendation: Feed immediately post-transformation to minimize attack risk.]
"There's no one to feed on," Peter muttered.
Jasper's expression sharpened. "What?"
"Nothing. Just..." Peter took a breath. "If I do this, if I mimic your power, I'll turn into a vampire again. That means bloodlust. You'll need to keep me from attacking anyone."
"We can handle that," Carlisle said. "Jasper's emotional control is exceptionally strong. He'll be able to dampen your thirst."
"And if he can't?"
"Then Emmett will restrain you," Carlisle said simply. "Physically, if necessary."
Emmett cracked his knuckles. "It's been a while since I've had a good workout."
Peter looked around the room at the six vampires watching him with varying degrees of suspicion, curiosity, and concern. This was the moment. The test that would prove his claims or expose him as a fraud.
Do it, he told himself. Show them what you are. What you can become.
"Alright," Peter said. "Let's do this. System, I want to mimic Jasper's empathy manipulation."
[SELECTION CONFIRMED: Empathy Manipulation. Race transformation: Vampire. Duration: 24:00:00. Status: ACTIVE. Initiating physiological restructuring.]
The world broke.
Pain wasn't the right word. Pain implied damage, injury, something temporary that would heal. This was restructuring—every cell in Peter's body dying and being reborn as something other. His heart stuttered, racing and then slowing, and then stopping entirely. His lungs seized. His senses exploded outward, and suddenly he could hear seven heartbeats—no, six, none of the vampires had pulses—and smell—
Oh god, the smell.
Blood. Life. Warm mammalian existence pulsing through the forest animals nearby. His throat ignited with hunger so intense it was agonizing.
Peter's knees hit the hardwood floor, and distantly he registered that he'd moved faster than his human brain could process. The Cullens were frozen statues around him, their marble faces showing various degrees of alarm.
But underneath the alarm, Peter could feel them.
Edward's suspicion, sharp as broken glass. Alice's curiosity, bright and fizzing like champagne. Emmett's excitement, a low thrumming bass note. Rosalie's hostility, cold and bitter. Esme's concern, warm and encompassing. Carlisle's analytical focus, steady as a heartbeat.
And Jasper—Jasper was a symphony of controlled calm, projecting tranquility like a weapon.
"Holy shit," Peter gasped, and his voice came out wrong again—deeper, smoother, inhuman. "I can feel all of you. Every emotion, every—"
He reached out instinctively, not with his hands but with something else, something new and foreign and powerful. The emotional landscape of the room was suddenly his to manipulate. He could touch their feelings, could twist and reshape them like clay.
Rosalie's hostility was the easiest target—sharp-edged and aggressive. Peter grabbed it without thinking and squeezed, replacing the cold anger with warmth.
The effect was immediate.
Rosalie's eyes widened. Her lips parted in shock. "You're..." She shook her head, confused. "You're actually not awful. You're kind of... nice? What the hell?"
Peter released the manipulation, and Rosalie's hostility snapped back into place like a rubber band.
"What did you DO?!" she snarled.
"Proved my point," Peter managed, fighting against the thirst that was trying to drown his consciousness. "I can copy powers. I can—" He doubled over, arms wrapping around his stomach. "Oh god, I need to feed. Jasper, please, I can't—"
A wave of artificial calm slammed into him, so strong it was almost physical. The burning in Peter's throat dimmed to something almost manageable, and his racing thoughts slowed.
Jasper's hand landed on his shoulder, firm and grounding. "Breathe," the scarred vampire said quietly. "I've got you. The thirst is there, but you're in control. You can resist it."
"Barely," Peter gritted out.
"Barely is enough."
Carlisle moved closer, his expression fascinated rather than afraid. "Remarkable. You transformed completely—heartbeat stopped, temperature dropped, even your eyes changed. You're a full vampire, not a hybrid."
"For twenty-four hours," Peter said, still struggling against the hunger. "Then I'm human again. Weak. Useless. Mortal."
"But you felt our emotions?" Alice asked, wonder in her voice. "You actually felt what Jasper feels?"
"Everything." Peter looked up at her, his vampire vision sharp enough to catch the microscopic movements of her expression. "Your curiosity feels like electricity. Edward's suspicion is knives. Esme's concern is like being wrapped in a warm blanket. I can feel all of it."
Edward's expression had shifted from suspicion to something more complex. "You're telling the truth," he said slowly. "This isn't a trick. You really can copy supernatural abilities."
"Why would I lie?" Peter asked. "What would I gain?"
"Trust," Rosalie said flatly. "Access to our family. Information about vampires that you could use against us."
"Or use to survive," Peter countered. "Look, I get why you don't trust me. I wouldn't trust me either. But I'm not your enemy. I'm just..." He trailed off, searching for words that wouldn't sound pathetic. "I'm just trying not to die. Again."
The last word slipped out before he could stop it. Carlisle's eyes sharpened.
"Again?" the doctor repeated.
Shit.
Peter's mind raced, trying to figure out how to backtrack, but Jasper's emotional read was too strong. The scarred vampire's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly.
"You're not lying about that either," Jasper said quietly. "You died. Somehow, some way, you died and came back. That's why you're so afraid. Why you're so desperate to get stronger."
Peter wanted to deny it, to deflect with sarcasm, but the truth was a weight in his chest that wouldn't budge.
"Car accident," he said finally. "I pushed a kid out of the way. The car hit me instead. And I remember... I remember dying. The pain, the fear, the feeling of everything just stopping. Then I woke up here. In Forks. In this world. With the System in my head and no idea why."
Silence filled the living room. Even Emmett's usual grin had faded.
Esme moved first, crossing the distance between them and kneeling beside Peter. Her hand touched his cheek—cold marble against his equally cold skin—and her expression was heartbreakingly gentle.
"You're not alone anymore," she said softly. "You understand that, right? Whatever brought you here, whatever you're going through, you don't have to face it alone."
Peter's throat tightened. The vampire body didn't cry, but the emotion was there—overwhelming and raw.
"I don't know how to do this," he admitted. "How to be... whatever I am. Human and vampire and something else entirely. The System won't tell me why I'm here. Won't tell me what I'm supposed to do. I'm just stumbling through each day trying not to break anything."
"Then let us help you," Carlisle said. "Stay close. We'll teach you what we know about vampires, about control, about surviving in this world. You can build your cabin on your land, maintain your independence, but you'll have support. A family, if you want it."
"A family," Peter repeated, the word foreign and precious.
"On one condition," Carlisle continued. "You tell us the truth. Maybe not all of it, not right away, but no more lies. If you're going to be near us, near my family, I need to trust that you'll be honest about the things that matter."
Peter looked around the room—at six immortal beings who had no reason to help him and every reason to view him as a threat. But Esme's hand was still on his cheek, and Jasper's emotional dampening was keeping him sane, and even Rosalie's hostility had edges of reluctant acceptance.
"Deal," Peter said. "I'll be honest. As honest as I can be without..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain the System's existence without sounding completely insane.
"Without revealing everything," Carlisle finished. "I understand. Everyone's entitled to their secrets, as long as those secrets don't endanger others."
**[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Social integration progressing within acceptable parameters. Cullen family alliance: Tentative but viable. Recommendation: Maintain current
Continue
diplomatic approach. Warning: Emotional attachment may complicate future operational decisions.]**
Too late for that, Peter thought, looking at Esme's gentle expression. Way too late.
"So," Emmett said, breaking the heavy silence with forced cheer. "Now that we've established the kid's legit, can we talk about the elephant in the room?"
"Which elephant?" Alice asked.
"The fact that he's currently a vampire with a raging thirst, and we're keeping him indoors like that's not a ticking time bomb." Emmett gestured at Peter. "No offense, man, but you look like you're about three seconds from gnawing on the furniture."
Peter laughed, the sound coming out strained. "None taken. And you're not wrong. Jasper's emotional control is the only thing keeping me from..." He didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.
"Then we hunt," Carlisle said decisively. "Same as before. Jasper, Emmett, you'll accompany Peter. The rest of us will stay here."
"I want to come," Alice said immediately.
"Alice—"
"I want to see how his power works in action. Plus, my visions are completely useless around him. That's... that's really frustrating, actually. I need to understand why."
Edward frowned. "If Alice goes, I should go too."
"No," Rosalie cut in. "You and your brooding will just make things tense. Let Alice go if she wants. Emmett and Jasper can handle one newborn."
"I'm not technically a newborn," Peter pointed out. "I've got perfect control over my actions. It's just the thirst that's the problem."
"Which is literally the defining characteristic of newborns," Rosalie said flatly. "So yes, you're a newborn."
Peter opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. She had a point.
"Fine," Edward said, though he didn't look happy about it. "But if anything goes wrong—"
"We'll handle it," Jasper said calmly. "Come on, Peter. Let's get you fed before you start eyeing Esme like lunch."
"I would never—" Peter started, then caught the scent of something warm drifting from deeper in the house and felt his fangs ache. "Okay, yeah, we should probably go now."
The forest at night was a different world. Without the rain muting everything, Peter's vampire senses picked up a symphony of life—heartbeats layering over each other, the rustle of prey through undergrowth, the rich smell of blood and fear and food.
They'd run for maybe ten minutes, Jasper setting a pace that was fast but not overwhelming. Peter kept up easily, his vampire body moving with a grace his human form would never possess. Alice ran beside him, her movements liquid and effortless.
"You're doing really well," she said, not even slightly out of breath. "Most newborns would've attacked something by now."
"Most newborns don't have an empathy manipulator dampening their every impulse," Peter replied.
"True. But you're also fighting it yourself. I can tell. There's this... tension in how you move. Like you're constantly pulling back."
Peter didn't respond. What could he say? That yes, every second was a battle between his human consciousness and his vampire instincts? That he could hear rabbits hiding twenty feet away and wanted desperately to hunt them down? That the only thing keeping him from becoming a monster was sheer force of will and Jasper's supernatural intervention?
They stopped in a clearing, and Emmett immediately began scouting for prey. Peter stood still, trying to center himself, and felt Alice studying him with that unfocused gaze that meant she was trying—and failing—to see his future.
"It's like looking at fog," she said quietly. "Usually I see paths branching out, decisions creating different outcomes. With you, there's just... nothing. A blank space where your future should be."
"The System blocks precognition," Peter said. "Part of its mental protection suite."
"But why? What's it protecting you from?"
"I don't know. I'd ask, but it tends to respond with cryptic non-answers and complaint notifications."
Alice laughed, the sound like wind chimes. "It sounds almost alive. Like it has a personality."
"Sometimes I think it does." Peter caught himself before he could say more. The System had warned him about revealing too much, and he was already dancing close to the line.
Jasper appeared at his elbow, silent as death. "There's a deer herd about half a mile northeast. Young buck separated from the group. Perfect target."
"How do you know it's separated?" Peter asked.
"Experience. And I can feel its anxiety. It knows it's vulnerable."
The three of them moved together, and Peter let his instincts guide him. The deer's scent hit him first—musky and warm, underlaid with the copper tang of blood. His body coiled, ready to spring, and this time when he moved, he didn't hold back.
The hunt was over in seconds. The deer had no chance. Peter's fangs sank into its throat, and hot blood flooded his mouth, extinguishing the burn in his chest like water on fire.
He drank until the deer's heartbeat stopped, then released it and stepped back, breathing hard despite not needing air.
"Better?" Jasper asked.
"Better," Peter confirmed. The thirst was still there—would always be there as a vampire—but it was manageable now. Background noise instead of a screaming demand.
Alice was watching him with that same analytical curiosity. "You hunt differently than newborns usually do. More controlled. Less frenzy."
"I don't want to be a monster," Peter said quietly. "Even if I am one, I don't want to act like one."
"You're not a monster," Alice said firmly. "You're a vampire. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes." She moved closer, her pixie features serious. "Monsters kill without thought, without care. Vampires can choose to be better than their nature. We do it every day."
"By hunting animals instead of humans."
"By choosing compassion over convenience. By building families instead of hunting alone. By trying to be good despite what we are." Alice's hand found his, cold and hard. "You're choosing that too. I can see it in how you move, how you hold yourself back. You're trying. That matters."
Peter wanted to believe her. Wanted to think that choosing to hunt animals made him somehow noble. But he could still taste the deer's fear on his tongue, could still remember the satisfaction of the kill.
"Come on," Emmett called from deeper in the forest. "Let's get him one more before we head back. Kid needs all the help he can get maintaining control."
The second hunt was easier. The third was almost routine. By the time they returned to the Cullen house, Peter felt steadier—still vampire, still dangerous, but more himself.
Carlisle was waiting on the porch, and his expression shifted to relief when he saw them emerge from the trees.
"Successful hunt?" he asked.
"Three deer," Jasper confirmed. "He's got good control for a newborn. Better than most."
"Because I'm not really a newborn," Peter said, climbing the porch steps. "I'm a human who's borrowed a vampire's body for a day. There's a difference."
"Perhaps." Carlisle gestured toward the door. "Come inside. I'd like to continue our conversation from earlier, if you're willing."
Peter followed him into the house, hyperaware of the space, the vampires moving through it like dancers in a familiar routine. Esme was in the kitchen—not cooking, since vampires didn't eat, but arranging flowers in a vase with meticulous care. Rosalie sat on the couch, pointedly ignoring his entrance. Edward stood by the windows, his posture rigid.
"Peter," Carlisle said, settling into a chair and gesturing for Peter to sit across from him. "You mentioned you're building a cabin on your land. How's that progressing?"
Peter sat, his vampire body unnaturally still. "Slowly. I'm human most of the time, which means I'm working with human strength and human tools. But..." He hesitated, then decided honesty was the best policy. "I used vampire strength yesterday to lay the foundation. Got a lot done in a few hours. Probably raised some eyebrows with the locals."
"That could be problematic," Carlisle said mildly. "We try to maintain a low profile. Unexplained construction appearing overnight tends to attract attention."
"I know. I'm sorry. I just..." Peter looked down at his hands—pale, hard, perfectly formed. "I hate being human. I hate being weak. When I have the power, I want to use it. I want to do everything I can't do when I'm breakable."
"That's understandable," Carlisle said. "But it's also dangerous. The more you rely on your vampire form, the more difficult it will be to accept your human limitations."
"My human limitations are going to get me killed."
"Or they'll keep you humble." Carlisle leaned forward. "Power is seductive, Peter. I've seen it corrupt vampires who've lived for centuries. You're barely three days into this existence, and you're already struggling with addiction. That concerns me."
The word stung. "I'm not addicted—"
"Aren't you?" Carlisle's golden eyes were kind but unyielding. "You said yourself, you hate being human. You resent your baseline state. You're counting down the hours until you can transform again. If that's not addiction, what would you call it?"
Peter's jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, but the truth was too obvious to deny.
"I don't know how to be okay with being weak," he said finally. "In my old life, I was just... ordinary. Forgettable. I died, and probably nobody even noticed. Here, I have a chance to be something more. To matter. How am I supposed to give that up?"
"I'm not asking you to give it up," Carlisle said gently. "I'm asking you to find balance. To accept that your human form isn't weakness—it's your foundation. Without it, you're just a parasite borrowing power that isn't yours."
The words hit like a physical blow. Peter flinched, and Jasper—still nearby, still monitoring—sent another wave of calm.
"That's harsh," Peter said.
"It's true," Carlisle replied. "Your power lets you mimic abilities, but those abilities aren't yours. They're borrowed. Temporary. The only thing that's truly yours is your human self—your choices, your morality, your will. Lose sight of that, and you'll become exactly what you fear."
"A monster."
"A tool. An empty vessel that copies power without understanding it." Carlisle stood, moving to the windows. "I've lived for over three hundred years, Peter. I've seen vampires lose themselves to bloodlust, to power, to the simple seduction of being more than human. The ones who survive, who build lives worth living, are the ones who remember what they were before. Who hold onto their humanity even after their hearts stop beating."
Peter sat in silence, processing. The vampire body didn't fidget, didn't shift, but inside his mind was racing.
He's right. I'm already losing myself. Already prioritizing the power over everything else. And I've only been doing this for three days.
[OBSERVATION: Host demonstrates concerning pattern of power dependency. Recommendation: Establish psychological anchors to human identity. Warning: Continued prioritization of transformed states may result in baseline identity erosion.]
"You too?" Peter muttered.
Carlisle turned, eyebrow raised. "The System?"
"It's agreeing with you. Says I'm at risk of 'baseline identity erosion.'" Peter laughed bitterly. "Even my supernatural guide thinks I'm screwing this up."
"Not screwing up," Esme said softly from the kitchen doorway. "Learning. You're three days old in this world, Peter. Nobody expects you to have everything figured out."
"I expect it," Peter said. "I died. I got a second chance. I should be better at this."
"Why?" Esme moved closer, her caramel eyes warm with compassion. "You were human for your entire life. Then you died—traumatically, saving a child—and woke up in a world with supernatural powers and creatures that want to kill you. That's not a recipe for immediate mastery. That's a recipe for confusion and fear and desperate scrambling."
"I hate feeling desperate."
"We all do, sweetheart." Esme sat beside him, and Peter was struck again by how maternal she was—how easily she'd adopted this role of comforter, nurturer, protector. "But desperation passes. What matters is what you build after."
Peter looked at her—really looked at her. Saw the lines of grief in her expression, the weight of lost children and a life ended too soon. She'd been human once too. Had suffered. Had died, in her own way.
"How do you do it?" Peter asked. "How do you stay... human, I guess. When you're not."
"I remember what I loved about being human," Esme said simply. "The warmth of sunlight. The taste of my mother's cooking. The feeling of holding my son, even if it was only for a few days." Her voice caught slightly. "I hold onto those memories like lifelines. They remind me that being human wasn't weakness. It was everything beautiful about existence."
Peter's throat tightened. "I don't have good memories of being human. My parents gave me up for adoption when I was six. Foster care was... not great. I was alone most of my life. Being human just meant being powerless."
"Then make new memories," Esme said firmly. "Here. Now. Build a life that's worth remembering, human or vampire. Let us help you."
The offer hung in the air, precious and terrifying.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Emotional support network identified. Recommendation: Accept assistance. Probability of survival increases 34% with established social bonds.]
"Thirty-four percent," Peter said aloud. "That's specific."
"The System?" Carlisle asked.
"It says my survival odds increase if I accept your help."
"Then accept it," Carlisle said. "Build your cabin. We'll provide materials—proper materials, not whatever you've been scrounging. Esme will help you design something livable. Emmett will provide muscle when you're human. And in exchange, you'll train with us. Learn control. Learn to navigate this world without dying again."
"And when I need to collect more abilities?" Peter asked. "When I need to mimic other supernatural beings?"
"We'll help with that too," Carlisle said. "Safely. Ethically. No attacking innocent vampires or putting yourself in unnecessary danger."
Peter wanted to ask how they'd manage that, but the exhaustion was catching up to him. Even vampire bodies needed rest eventually—or at least, his mimicked vampire body did.
"Okay," he said finally. "Okay. I'll accept your help. But I need to go back to my tent now. Sleep. Process all of this."
"You could stay here," Esme offered. "We have plenty of room."
"I know. But I need... I need my own space. Even if it's just a shitty tent on muddy ground. I need something that's mine."
Esme's expression showed understanding. "Alright, sweetheart. But the offer stands. Anytime you need shelter, this door is open."
Peter stood, and the movement was too graceful, too perfect. In twenty-three hours, he'd be clumsy and slow again. The thought should've been comforting—a return to baseline—but instead it felt like loss.
That's the addiction, Peter realized. That's exactly what Carlisle was warning me about.
He said his goodbyes and left through the back door, running through the forest toward his land with vampire speed he wouldn't have tomorrow. The tent looked even more pathetic in the darkness, but it was shelter, and it was his.
Peter crawled inside and lay in his sleeping bag, staring at the canvas ceiling.
[NOTIFICATION: Duration remaining: 23:14:37. Recommendation: Rest cycle initiated. Note: Tomorrow's reversion will be psychologically challenging. Prepare accordingly.]
"How do I prepare for losing everything?" Peter whispered.
[RESPONSE: By remembering it's not loss. It's return to baseline. Human form is not weakness. It is foundation. System recommends Host internalize this concept.]
"You're getting philosophical on me now?"
[CLARIFICATION: System adapts communication style to Host psychological needs. Current need: Perspective correction. Complaint: Pre-logged.]
Despite everything, Peter smiled. Even the System—cold, mechanical, possibly sentient—was trying to help in its own weird way.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring weakness, vulnerability, and the crushing weight of being merely human.
But it would also bring Esme's kindness, Carlisle's guidance, and the tentative promise of family.
That had to be enough.
It had to be.