Thank you all readers and reviewers :) This story isn't as much of a hit, but your support is just as appreciated. This is the final chapter, so enjoy and thank you for reading and sticking with me through my hiatus :)

SPOV

We were almost at Andrew's; we had just passed the sign that designated the town limits and his house was only about a mile away now.

I shared this information with Tori, who simply ignored me—the only indication of what I had said registering in her mind was that her stride seemed to be restored with purpose. I sighed quietly and continued walking.

I didn't mean to be an asshole. I didn't mean for what I said to come off as a verbal attack. But Tori was defensive and she seemed to bring out the worst in me—whenever we got into it, I just couldn't seem to stop. In retrospect, I always regretted what I said. I didn't want to hurt her; I didn't want us to fight all the time. But with that in mind, I couldn't help but regard the other side of things. I wasn't always the one who started out fights; she played a part too, even paved the way for one sometimes, what with her constant stream of insults and snide remarks. Not to mention that she needed to be put in her place. We all had to be on the same page, we were all playing for the same team—our team—and her attitude hindered that. She wasn't a princess; she needed to take responsibility when she screwed up just like the rest of us.

On one hand, I wanted to apologize again and explain myself, to make what I had originally been trying to say clear. On the other hand though, I didn't think I needed to apologize. She was just as guilty as I was and as the saying goes, if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. But just thinking that made me feel like an ass, so I resigned myself to let Tori brood for a bit longer before once again trying to make amends.

TPOV

Honestly, whoever this Andrew was, he had the longest driveway ever. I mean, it was smart if you didn't want anyone disturbing you. I'd bet that girl guides took one look at it before turning away to find an easier target to harass.

Simon had said it was about a ten minute walk before we'd get to the house and I could tell that he didn't expect any type of response.

While I hoped he felt bad, I couldn't push away the nagging voice in the back of my head that said he was right, that he had a point. Sure, I didn't particularly want to be with them, to participate in another string of misadventures, but what choice did I have? Who else did I have? No one and I realized that I had to stop acting like I did—have someone that is.

The house—small stone cottage is more like it—came into view and I blew out a breath of relief. I had never known that the possibility of a bed or running water or even a bathroom that wasn't public could ever seem so amazing, so appealing.

When we reached the door, my mind barely registered that it was slightly ajar and I reached to push it open, eager to get inside. But Simon noticed, and he stepped in front of me, completely blocking my path.

"What the he—"

"Shh," he snapped in a whisper. The line of his shoulders was tense and I could hear poorly concealed panic, which kept me from responding.

Turning slowly to face me, he said, "Tori, I have a bad feeling about this. We'll go in, but we have to stay together." His eyes were sober, gone was the amusement that always seemed to be there, even in times of stress.

I nodded and he held my gaze for a moment longer before opening the door gradually. We were welcomed by darkness and I immediately understood Simon's feeling of apprehension. It was too quiet—things felt oddly undisturbed.

He stepped through silently and I followed. When I tried to pass him, he grabbed me by the back of my jacket, glaring, and pulled me back behind him. I wrenched myself free from his grasp and stood firmly beside him, tacitly daring him to challenge me. He rolled his eyes and we continued on, side by side.

"Andrew," he called tentatively, as if hoping for something—for what, I didn't know.

As we walked through the house, turning on lights as we went, Simon called out a few more times before quieting. When we got into the kitchen, a half eaten piece of toast sitting on the table and the last room we had to look through, Simon leaned against the door framed and ran his hands over his face, as if he was trying to readjust his vision, like, if he tried hard enough, when he opened his eyes, the scene in front of him would be changed.

Finally, he muttered a curse.

"What," I asked, no longer able to hold my tongue, wondering what had provoked such a reaction from him. I mean, the state of the house was unusual, but I didn't know Andrew—who knew what kind of person he was.

"This is exactly what happened when our dad disappeared. Everything's the same. It's as if one moment he was here, going about his business, and the next, he was gone without a trace, almost as vanishing into thin air."

"Are you saying he was taken," I asked, point blank.

He looked uncertain, as if he didn't want to give me a definitive answer, but his lack of responsiveness spoke volumes.

"If he was taken, then we're not safe. We can't stay here," I reasoned.

"We can't go on without Derek and Chloe—it's not like we have any way to contact them and tell them about the sudden change of plans," he countered.

On any other day, I would have rolled my eyes. But today, he had a valid point and I couldn't argue.

He furrowed his brow for a moment before his eyes seemed to clear, however briefly.

"Andrew has a pool house out in the back. We'll check the fridge for food and bring it out there. You do that, I'll leave a note for Chloe and Derek."

We had retreated to the pool house, a lovely small, dim and damp place. We ate in silence—I was too tired to speak and Simon seemed preoccupied. As soon as he was done, he jumped to his feet, which had previously been engaged in tapping an irregular rhythm.

"I'm going to look around the house. Check the surrounding area and stuff like that. Do—" he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Are you coming? Or do you want to stay here?"

"Do you not have any worries about leaving me alone, defenseless," I demanded. He sounded like he wanted some alone time—he wasn't the only one—but this was another example of how he made me feel unwelcome, like a nuisance. Five minutes ago, he didn't want me walking into a room alone and now he's willing to leave me in a pool house surrounded by thick woods and belonging to a man that was recently kidnapped?

He snorted, "From what I've seen, you're not defenseless."

"It's the principle."

"I asked if you were coming," he said, thoroughly exasperated.

I said nothing, only gazed at him with narrowed eyes, and he sighed. "Well," he prompted.

"I'm staying here. I don't want to go traipsing around the forest in the dark. I doubt Derek will be running around out there, so have fun."

His eyes sparked and he opened his mouth before he used his little brain, thought better of it, closed it and turned without a word, stalking out the door.

I watched it as it swung shut solidly before turning around and lying down on the inflatable raft that had, conveniently, never been deflated, willing sleep to overcome me, praying my slumber would be dreamless and deep, erasing everything if only for a little while.

SPOV

I walked once around the house, then once around the edge of the property before finally taking the familiar beaten path to the clearing we all used to camp out at when we were younger.

Thinking about that made me think of Derek, and everything that came with thinking of Derek was unavoidable, like a domino effect.

I was worried about them, about him and Chloe. Tori was right—I'd give her that—Derek could take care of anybody and he'd make sure to take care of himself with Chloe in the mix. Regardless, I was still worried. But I wasn't just worried about them, I was worried about them.

Chloe and Derek had an odd relationship, like a constant push and pull. He was always on her about something—half the time I didn't even know why he was upset at her—but she never missed a beat. She wouldn't take it—whatever he dished out, she reciprocated. She did not let him get away with his bullshit, and that had been hardest to swallow at first. I mean, no one—besides dad and me—stood up to Derek, challenged him or questioned him. And even for us, there was never any real need to because for one, we didn't have anything to argue about, and for another, when we did, it was mostly about Derek being Derek. But those times had passed and dad and I had grown resigned to the fact that he was who he was. Chloe didn't know that, though. She was new to Derek, hadn't even trusted him in the beginning, and she didn't want to be pushed around, used or manipulated. So she stood up to him. Seeing them argue was even stranger, if only because the sheer difference in physical build.

But they had soon come to an unspoken agreement—they both needed something from the other; Chloe wanted to get out and Derek wanted to get me out—so they dealt with each other. Then Tori locked Chloe in the crawl space and things started to change, so minutely, almost so insignificantly, that at times, I thought I was imagining it. If they didn't realize it—which I was completely certain they hadn't—then how could I? I wasn't completely oblivious though. I saw that after the incident, Derek's eyes would quickly search for Chloe when she was in the room, resting on her for a split second as if to reassure himself that she was okay. And Derek had become Chloe's confidant—she trusted him and it was he she went to when affronted with a problem, not me. I was kept in the loop, I always found out afterwards, but it was an odd feeling. I felt like an outsider looking in, like I was always one step behind them. Forgotten. Replaced.

After we got separated and then reunited though, things, I felt, had gone back to normal. They were either fighting or not talking. and I had once again become Chloe's comfort and friend to turn to. And things felt right that way, like they were as they should be. It was even kind of relieving. But I didn't know what to expect when they got back—their time together would either further distance them or bring them back together. And while the latter was the favorable alternative—if we were a team, we needed to get along—it was also the one I puzzlingly shied away from.

Sighing in frustration, I got up from the log I had sat down on and began to trek back to the pool house, hoping that when they did show up, they brought some clarity along with them.

Final thoughts? Comments? R&R please :)