A/N: As always, you guys are unbelievably lovely in your reviews and I have no words for how grateful I am for it. Thank you! And also for your continued patience for these updates. I honestly don't intend to disappear for as long as I have been lately, my life is just a bit of a mess right now, to put it mildly, and taking up all of my energy right now - being in my final semester of my final year of uni and working on a novel (which I'll include an update about in an A/N at the end for the people who want to know). I'm also around ⅔ through writing the "alternative ending" for The Good, the Bad, and the Undead, which is being posted under Eternal.

Cat was exhausted. Pressing her face against Paul's lap, she pulled her shawl tighter around herself and sighed softly.

"Don't tell me you're hungover," David snorted, tone laced with disappointment.

"Drained," she corrected, making no effort to open her eyes.

"Ironic, coming from a vampire."

Unwilling to muster the energy to respond, she settled for making a series of tired noses and snuggled further against Paul who absent-mindedly pulled her more tightly to him. In truth, her sudden change in attitude was a surprise to none of them and she knew it. It was like clockwork. With Halloween already having been a few weeks past, Santa Carla was now transitioning into "Christmas mode", and with Christmas came New Year, and with New Year came the sixth anniversary of her arrival in Santa Carla. Or was it the seventh? She was beginning to see how the boys had such a dire sense of time.

It wasn't so much regret she felt, as it was a sense of being torn. What happened was awful - horrific, even - but what and where it had gotten her meant she couldn't outright regret it, only feel an overwhelming sense of weary sadness over what had happened in general. She missed her family, but she adored her new one. She'd lost her home, but she knew that if she'd returned, she'd have missed Santa Carla for the rest of her life. The entire thing had just been...unfortunate. To say the least. It certainly didn't help that the anniversary coincided with the time of year most associated with family. Sure, it wasn't like she didn't have family in Santa Carla, but it would never be the same.

And so each winter, she'd gradually go through a period where she'd get a little quieter, and a little more tired - the emotional hangover never failing to return. The first time it happened the boys had been concerned, probably secretly worried that she was regressing or something, but after she'd reassured them that there was no secretly harboured resentment festering, they seemed to come to a silent consensus to leave her to it. There was nothing that could be said to fix it, and above all else Cat simply needed to think. If she wanted to talk, she would.

What made it worse this year was the news about her mum. Sure, at least Cat knew this meant her mum wouldn't be back home, upset over the absence of her daughter, but the idea of this being her first ever Christmas without her at all was inevitably going to be painful. And now Jamie would be alone. Not that they didn't have extended family, but the three of them had always been tight-knit. Now that didn't exist anymore, in any form other than letters and in boxes.

"Whose turn is it to go on a food run?" Paul spoke up, the hand on her hip squeezing for a moment.

"Sleeping beauty over there," Marko snorted.

"Fuck no," she mumbled simply.

"On account of what?"

"On account of the fact that I don't bloody well want to," she shot back, eyes remaining firmly shut.

"Meow," Marko grinned, unbothered by her grumpiness.

Cat stretched out languidly with a sigh, allowing the cool air of the cave to run through the gaps in her plaid and wake up a little.

"Someone needs to come with me," she conceded "With the amount you greedy bastards eat, I'll crash the damn bike if I try to carry it all myself."

"As long as you save the food, I don't mind," Marko teased.

Cat snorted at that, but didn't budge.

"I'll take that deal," Dwayne shrugged casually, grabbing his jacket as he rose.

"Dwayne, you're my favourite," she sighed sweetly, finally opening her eyes to bat her eyelashes at her brother.

As revenge, Paul gave her a playful shove, but underestimated both his strength and how precarious her balance was, lying on the edge of the sofa as she was. Completely gracelessly, she tumbled to the ground in a bundle of plaid and flailing limbs. The laughter in the cave was instantaneous. Even Cat couldn't help but join in, making no attempt to get up despite the way Paul's boots awkwardly dug into her ribs where she'd landed.

"You're all assholes," she groaned through grudging laughter, accepting the hand Paul offered to drag her back up onto the sofa.

This time she sat up, dragging a hand through her hair "Give Dwayne your orders while I go find some shoes."

"Might wanna find a hairbrush while you're at it," Paul tugged at her hair.

"Hi pot, meet kettle," she shot a pointed look towards his own unruly mane, ruffling it and shooting up before he could retaliate, beginning her search for her boots.

Within five minutes she was climbing onto her bike, side-by-side with Dwayne. When she didn't start her engine, he turned his head and gave her a curious look, only to be met with a knowing one in return.

"What's that look?" he tilted his head back with a sigh.

"I know why you agreed to help," she shrugged, zipping up her jacket.

"Because I'm a great brother to have?"

"Because you know exactly where I plan to get my food from."

"Didn't realise I was psychic," he replied simply.

"Knowing you, it wouldn't bloody surprise me," she snorted.

He allowed a half-grin at that, starting up his bike before she could give him any more of a hard time.

Clutching her sketchpad to her chest, Tara meandered down the boardwalk, her sweater tied around her waist, leaving her in a loose-fitting black spaghetti strapped dress over a pair of ripped fishnets . By California standards it was probably cold, but after living in New York she enjoyed the temperature here - although she wasn't sure she'd be able to say the same in mid-summer. Then again, who knew if she'd still be in Santa Carla by that time. There was a cool breeze wrapping itself around her and running through her hair. For a moment she paused, eyes fluttering shut as she tried to let it comfort her and calm her mind.

It had been a few weeks since she'd spent any significant amount of time with the Lost Boys - and longer since she'd shared any interaction more than eye contact with Dwayne - and they'd been a gruelling few weeks at that. The one thing she was grateful for was that her time at the tattoo studio had begun. If not for that she'd have crawled out of her skin long ago, but it kept both her mind and her hands occupied. Mostly. Tara suspected that the apocalypse itself wouldn't be able to keep her mind off of...well...whatever the fuck was going on with the Lost Boys, and Cat in particular. She still hadn't come to any kind of conclusion that didn't leave more questions than it answered. At least if she was thinking about the Lost Boys and whatever familial drama they might be enduring, she wasn't thinking of her own. The thought of her father still stirred unbelievable anger within her, only rivalled by the sadness that thinking of her sister brought on.

Ever since she'd found that missing persons page with Cat's face plastered on the front, her mind had been brimming with questions. Then the girl herself had shown up the next night with not a scratch or bruise on her, and the questions went from brimming to overflowing. All Tara could do was hope that at least one of those questions would be answered by the end of the night. If only for the sake of her goddamn sanity. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and began walking again. The sooner she got home and opened her mail, the sooner she might have her answers.

Santa Carla truly came to life at night. It made her walks home one of her favourite parts of the day. In daylight, the town was the domain of the real "grown-ups" and their kids - the ones young enough to still enjoy the company of her parents. But then the sun would set and the teens and young adults took over. The outcasts, potheads, party animals and eccentrics. She loved it.

"Look at that," a male voice spoke from somewhere behind her.

Of course, she could do without the Surf Nazis, but nothing was ever quite perfect. At first she paid the voice no mind but then it continued, louder this time and still very much right behind her.

"She's that one who was sniffin' around the Lost Boy," a second male voice.

Trying not to visibly react, she listened a little more closely now.

"What one?" the first replied.

"The ugly one," a third joined in now.

"Again, what one?"

They all laughed obnoxiously, and Tara hoped that it would be left at that - but again, nothing was ever quite perfect.

"Excuse me!" the first voice spoke up again, louder now.

Picking up her pace a little, she wished that she was closer to the cafe. But at least the boardwalk was crowded. She had to take her silver linings where she could.

"Hey, excuse me!" he sounded a little more impatient, and worse - closer.

Tara was used to catcalls and harassment. It came with the territory of living in New York. That, however, didn't mean she liked it, or that it ever failed to make her panic just a little. At least back home, they'd usually give up after being ignored the first or second time.

"Ugh, jeez," the voice muttered again before rough fingertips grabbed at her arm "Hey."

Spinning around impatiently, Tara jerked the entire side of her body away, pulling her arm from his grasp before grinding out a "What?"

The guy was a little older than her, and just as ugly as his two friends. What bothered her more than his face was the sleazy grin on it, though.

"Don't be like that, beautiful. Just sayin' hello," he made no attempt to disguise the way he eyed the neckline of her dress.

"Hello," she said simply, moving to walk away.

He wouldn't let her off that easy, it seemed, taking a step forward. Tara took one back to compensate, tensing as his friends chuckled. Was this how people who ended up on the wrong side of the Lost Boys felt? Somehow she couldn't picture the boys doing something like this, though. Not to an unwilling girl, at least.

"I just wanna talk," he raised his hands in a show of innocence and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes "The Lost Boys turned ya down, huh? Guess the girl they got is more than enough for them to share."

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Tara glared at the three before giving an annoyed sigh "Leave me alone."

Usually that was the most it took back home - if ignoring them didn't work. The harasser would act all offended, probably call her a bitch, and flounce off to nurse his ego. Good riddance. It seemed Santa Carla had a more stubborn breed of asshole. Once again he reached out for her arm, but this time he anticipated her pulling away and moved faster than she did, gripping tight.

"Fuck off, man," she tried to sound angry but instead sounded nervous, trying to yank herself from his grasp.

In doing so, the sketchpad slipped from her grasp and the loose sheets of paper that had been tucked inside scattered out around their feet. Perfect. Just. Fucking. Perfect. The assholes, being the assholes they were, began to laugh. A few heads around them turned a little, but the passers-by looked more interested in watching a potential scene unfold than they did in stepping in to help.

Jaw clenched, Tara sank to her knees and began to try to collect the papers as quickly as she could, shoving them into the sketchpad. That was, until a grimy black boot stood directly on the face of one of the portraits she'd recently finished. Looking up, Tara belatedly realised her face was perfect crotch level with Asshole #1.

"You look good like that," he smirked and she was torn between headbutting him directly in the balls, and bursting into a fit of angry, exhausted tears.

"What's going on, Tee?" a new voice joined the group.

After their last conversation, Tara never imagined she'd be quite so happy to hear Dwayne's voice. Turning her head, she was met with the sight of the Lost Boy, who hear heart raced at the sight of, as well as Cat. Dwayne appeared livid, his eyes darker than she'd ever seen them, not even glancing at her as he spoke, but instead keeping his eyes trained on the Surf Nazi ringleader. Cat, however, was looking at her, a small sad frown on her face. Asshole #1 gave Dwayne an amused look before focusing his attention on Cat, who returned his gaze with an impassive look.

"Y'know, I never thought any of these bastards would love to ride anything more than their bikes before you came along, babe," he grinned at her and her lips thinned "I mean that's how you got in, right? All for one and one for all? Never took your boys for communists but lookin' at you, I can see why the idea of equal distribution might be appealing."

His eyes roamed over Cat much in the same way they had roamed over Tara earlier, with Cat's nose wrinkling much in the same way. It was all said with the explicit intention of getting a rise, and when Dwayne's fingers twitched, Tara thought it had worked. What she didn't want was to be around to see the results. As he spoke, she continued collecting up the papers that weren't under his boot, wanting nothing more to get out of there.

"You should go," Dwayne said simply, seeming almost bored despite the look in his eyes.

If the other three Lost Boys had been there, she didn't doubt that things would have already gotten bloody. Or maybe Dwayne was just feeling generous that night. The Surf Nazis didn't seem eager to take the out they'd been offered, though.

"Hey," one of the other two spoke up for the first time now, his snickers giving away the fact that whatever was about to come out of his mouth couldn't be good as he addressed Cat "Do they pass you around or do you just let 'em at you all at once?"

At this point she wasn't sure what had the leader stepping back when the two Lost Boys reacted to this - the very decisive step that Dwayne took forward, or the knife that Cat began to pull from her jacket. That was, until a yell sounded from behind them.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Cat quickly pocketed the knife again, going from scowling to wide-eyed and innocent in the blink of an eye, while Dwayne just looked disappointed that their little encounter had finally drawn the attention of the law. A red faced security guard plodded over, looking furious.

"These men were harassing my friend, officer," Cat's voice sounded as innocent as her expression looked, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving the Surf Nazis a wary look that would've been convincing if Tara didn't know the girl better.

At first the boardwalk security guard looked sceptical - clearly he knew who the Lost Boys were, but when he took in Tara kneeling on the ground, dirtied papers in hand, he sighed. If she'd been relieved when the Lost Boys turned up, she was even more relieved now. The last thing she wanted to do was get caught up in some kind of gang bullshit. Especially now that she was more unsure than ever that she really knew who her supposed friends were. Lost in thought as she was, it took her a moment to realise she was too busy considering Dwayne to notice that the security guard was waiting for her input.

"I, uh," her voice sounded shakier than she wanted and she hated it "I was trying to walk home. They started to harass me."

After a split second she pointed to the Surf Nazis for good measure. The ringleader glared down at her but said nothing.

"You three. Off the boardwalk. Go. Now," the guard sighed like a harried schoolteacher.

Tara didn't go back to collecting her papers back together until the Surf Nazis had taken a few steps back, levelling the Lost Boys, and then herself, with glares before reluctantly turning and walking away. The guard then turned to Dwayne, and for a moment looked like he was going to kick them off too, until he glanced at Cat, who was a picture of shaken relief.

"You two are on your last warning - and that goes for your buddies too," he settled for, before giving Tara a nod and departing, dispersing any half-interested bystanders as he did so.

"I think that's our twentieth final warning since I got here," Cat sighed to Dwayne, dropping to her knees beside Tara to help her.

Dwayne stayed where he was, clearly unsure of how close he should get since their last encounter. Tearing her gaze from him, Tara reached out to accept the papers that Cat was holding and noticed how her hands shook just a little. Adrenaline? Or was it possible that the girl didn't relish in violence quite as much as she put on?

"Thanks," she breathed, rising with Cat.

"Any time," Dwayne spoke directly to her for the first time "Just try not to make it a common thing, yeah?"

"There goes my new hobby," she joked begrudgingly in an effort to relieve the tension.

In all honesty, she'd missed the company of the Lost Boys. They were incredibly easy to get along with - if they were in the mood to be so, of course. That small fact was easy to forget amidst all the suspicion, when their presence wasn't there to remind her.

"We'll walk you back," Cat said after looking between them for a few moments "We were headed to The Hideout anyway for some take-out."

There wasn't much further left to walk, and they made somewhat stilted small-talk about her new job as they did so, the way she'd been avoiding them very much the elephant in the room (or on the boardwalk, in this case). The relief she felt when they walked through the doors of the cafe was palpable, and she shot a smile at Carolina as she rounded the counter.

Cat made her order but Dwayne kept his gaze fixed on her, brow twitching in the threat of a frown.

"A package arrived for you this morning - it's on the counter upstairs," Carolina informed her as she passed on her way to the kitchen, and it took all of her acting prowess to hide her excitement.

That package would, hopefully, be the answer to all of her questions. Opening her mouth to wish a half-hearted farewell, Dwayne spoke before she could.

"You wanna hang out tonight - all of us, I mean. It's been a while," he sounded borderline accusatory.

Could she blame him? Probably not. After all, he didn't know that she'd found the page. As far as he was concerned, the entirety of her odd behaviour was down to that kiss. The kiss she refused to think about. And Cat? Well, it seemed that Cat knew nothing at all, if the mix of confusion and hurt on her face was anything to go by. From her perspective it probably seemed that she'd gotten a new job and promptly forgotten all about their friendship. On the bright side, this must've meant that Dwayne hadn't shared the story of what had happened with his "sister".

"I can't," she said simply, and then a begrudging kind of guilt struck her so she sighed, visibly relaxing a little "How about tomorrow? You guys free then?"

Dwayne looked surprised but relieved, while Cat looked delighted "Perfect. We'll swing by tomorrow night."

Giving Dwayne a soft look somewhere between forgiveness and surrender, Tara then turned and gave Cat the closest thing to a real smile she could muster. Of her many theories about what was going on, a lot involved the Brit being put in a difficult position by her boyfriend - if not all of the boys - and if any of those were true (no matter how much she hoped they weren't), Cat was the last person who deserved her ire.

With a parting nod, Tara turned towards the stairs to the apartment, hoping she didn't seem too eager to leave. At first she'd been nervous that maybe the package that had arrived would just be junkmail, or maybe a gift from a friend back in New York. That was doubtful, though, from how little she'd heard from most of them since royally pissing off her ex. In any case, when her eyes landed on the package - and the amount of stamps on the package - she didn't doubt what it was, and she quickly grabbed it before practically running to her bedroom.

Dropping her sketchpad and kicking her boots off, she immediately slumped onto her bed with the padded envelope, tearing at the seal. When she finally managed, pages upon pages of photocopied newspaper pages entitled The Guardian spilled out. Jackpot. Grabbing the page dated most recently, a couple of years prior to be exact, Tara's eyes roamed over the headline in disbelief.

"Local Police Abandon Search For Missing Girls" with the headline reading "Authorities announced on Monday that they will no longer be looking into the disappearances of Catriona McKenzie (19), Sophie Wight (20), and Bryana Lieth (19), following a lack of viable information".

It was amazing what information she could get her hands on from the press offices if she simply pretended to be a student, really. A sociology student, to be exact. All it had taken was an overseas phone-call and a promise to pay the postage herself.

When she'd found the page with Cat's face, she'd thought perhaps there'd been a mistake. Maybe it had gone out before she'd called her family to explain that she'd be staying in the States from now on? But this...This told her that wasn't the case. And where had she heard the name Sophie Wight before? Settling back, she turned the stack upside down, so that the earliest article would be on top, and prepared herself for a long night of reading.

A/N: I didn't mean to leave off on another cliffhanger, but I wanted to update as soon as possible, given my absence, and to keep going until I could find another natural place to stop would mean to add at least another few thousand words, which means a longer wait.

Regarding the novel - so my writing mentor is thrilled with my work so far, and seemed completely unsurprised when I said I plan to try and make a thing of my writing after graduating in summer (apparently I'm a "first rate writer and thinker" - I literally cried when I got that feedback from him) so everything is going well on the novel front, and I'm finally working through my creative blocks and making good progress with the prose writing.

I've also started a "serious" writing blog (mostly creative non-fiction so far) this year on tumblr to document my progress, because it looks good to having something else to show agents when you submit your stuff to them (along with a submission I plan to make to the literature department's creative writing magazine), so if anybody is interested in the writing blog let me know and I'll PM you the username, seeing as how this site is iffy when it comes to links :) it's a sideblog, though, so I wouldn't be able to follow back via that blog.