It was a quiet, sunny spring morning in the small town of South Park.

Pete sat quietly with the other Goths in their usual place behind the school; the same brand of cigarettes lit in their hand and the same black clothing on their backs as they sat back and watched poser after poser, which consisted of some that had actually moved back to town in news of the kidnappings finally stopping, go about their lives mere feet away.

"Seems the season of allergies is once again upon us." Michael states blandly.

"Yeah." Henrietta adds. "Maybe this year we'll get lucky, and the high pollen count will have all those preppy little cheerleaders at home coughing their lungs out during recruiting season."

Pete nodded in agreement, but deep down, he knew something wasn't right.

He knew that, while things seemed to have fallen back into normalcy in the months of having rid the world of Mike's twisted brand of evil, the two still resented him. That, no matter how many packs of cigarettes he could possibly offer them as a sign of friendship, they would never forget what he did. In fact, the Goth wouldn't be surprised if the two blamed him personally for poor young Firkle's demise. He blamed himself for it, after all.

Pete felt an anxiety rise in him at the thought, and shook his head to rid himself of it.

Ever since that night where he had drowned the head vampire in the tub of blood, two things had never happened: He never talked about the events that took place while under Mike's dominating hand, and never once spoke of the murdered victims he personally watched die before him. This means he never told Henrietta and Michael the truth of what happened.

Maybe one day he would, but for now he'd spare them the pain of the truth. He only saw himself fit to carry it on his shoulders.

He also had inklings of fear for their safety.

Ever since his snap in the fight with Mike, he had more or less regained control over the powerful rage inside him; as well as popped his arm back into place to avoid any suspicious seeming hospital visits. Of course...it didn't stop him from having vivid, gorey images about what could happen to the two if he lost control like that again.

Anxiety rose once again in Pete as his thoughts began to deepen, and he snaps himself out of it before anything too horrific could drag him down.

And although, while it seemed shitty on the surface...there was some hidden silver lining.

With Mike gone, Pete was finally able to visit all the graves of his fallen friends - including Firkle's. He visited the younger's most often, and every time he went, he was sure to bring a red rose for the fallen kindergarten; tears in his eyes as he'd sputter out apology after apology to the carved stone.

It wasn't completely necessary, but it made his heart feel less heavy over the loss.

It also must have unloaded quite a bit of mental strain as well, because the goth now seldom had nightmares. Sure, there were still a few here and there, but nowhere near as gruesome as they had been before. Plus, as an added bonus, the South Park Vampire Society practically disbanded after the brutal murdering of their leader. Only a few brave souls continue to wear the clothes, but none had the moxie to officially rally the society back together; lest they challenge Pete's newfound authority.

Pete was thankful for this fact, but..at the same time still remained vigilant.

This is mostly because of Vladimir, the only vamp to miss Pete's uprising, had fled town. The last he heard via note from Mysterion (who had actually escaped Fang's grasp and took off after Vladimir once he discovered he had Karen while him and Mike were having their fight as he later learned), the vamp had ditched a still unconscious Karen on the side of the road before hopping a train that lead to who-knows-where. SInce then, no one has heard nor seen the purple-highlighted vamp-kid; including even his parents.

Him returning was actually one of the things that haunted Pete's new nightmares….but after all the hell the Goth was put through, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Pete then took a long, casual drag on of his cigarette, and blew the resulting plume of smoke into the breeze; watching it swirl and rise before disappearing completely as he continued to wonder about the uncertain future ahead. He was hopeful. Things were starting to look up. A new day was dawning, despite the darkness on the horizon. He knew things wouldn't ever be the same, but...they would get better.

They had to.

~Fin~

A/N: Alright everyone, this is the official last chapter of the "Darkest' series. Please leave your opinion in the comments, and let me know if I should do a quick two-to-three chapter follow-up on this. :)