This chapter's song is: White Horse by Taylor Swift

After we dropped the little kids off with my mom and Ella, Dylan and I searched the skies and the trees in vain, for any clue that the figure we'd seen was Fang, to no prevail. Iggy wanted desperately to help, but honestly, he was no use. The wind in the trees was too loud for him to hear a thing. I felt really bad—he did too. But long ago, I think, he accepted that sometimes, he couldn't do a thing.

After a fruitless hour of searching, we loaded back up in the truck and headed out onto the highway. The ride was silent. None of us had anything to say; I, to be honest, was still stunned silent from the maybe-sighting of maybe-Fang. At least I knew I wasn't hallucinating. Dylan had seen it too. And the feather. Oh, the feather…

It was still in my purse, because I'd put it back when we were done looking. Other than the sweatshirt, the letter, the ring, and the frightening image of maybe-Fang, it was all I had left of him. I had to treasure it… I planned on burning it one day.

Really, I do.

We arrived at the baseball field where Dylan's practice and game was to be held, and once again climbed out of the truck. Dylan, bat-bag and equipment in tow, jogged off to warm up with his team.

Iggy and I, habitually, walked to the bleachers, and sat down in the top row. We were wrapped in sweatshirts tightly, leaning against each other comfortably as we talked about anything and everything at all. We were all avoiding the bigger question, by dancing around it in idle conversation; was Fang really coming back? Or was he just trying to lash below the belt by teasing me?

After the game, bright and happy with all thoughts of Fang forgotten, we got in the car, and headed down the street to get ice cream. As we pulled into the parking lot, and all-black car with tinted windows was hauling out. The window had been down, and was being rolled up as we passed. I glanced over, and found myself, for a fleeting moment, mesmerized with gold-misted obsidian eyes. One eye winked, and then disappeared behind the window.

I froze, recognizing the eyes for a split second, and then reminded my self that it was impossible…

I pulled into a spot and climbed out, acting like nothing had happened. That was my job; be strong, and pretend like nothing's wrong.

Boy, was it hard.

I sat alone in a silent house. My mind was blank; I didn't move. I couldn't. It was like I was frozen in the moment. Images of Fang and his eyes were resurfacing over and over again, swimming mercilessly just beyond my reach. They were far too be reached, too close to forget. No matter what, they didn't go away.

As I sat there, I could feel the room closing in on me, suffocating me, stretching my already heated thoughts to an extreme. I launched myself off the couch and flung open the nearest window. With a nimble jump, I was through the window and falling freely.

My wings snapped out and I shot up ten feet. I landed lightly on the roof. I sat down again, and focused on the distant mountains that made the horizon. After a few minutes, I could feel my mind clearing, and I breathed easy again.

And just as I was about to settle down, a whoosh of wings wounded in the trees, and a few moments later, footsteps beside me.

I knew exactly who it was, without a second's thought. Black-clad legs appeared beside me.

"Yo," Fang's plaintive voice made me senses sharpen, and the whole situation snapped into perspective. Fang was back, and if I wanted him to be, he could be mine again… Not that I wanted him back..

"You're thirteen years early, Fang," I said roughly, trying to push back the tears that gathered. "Yeah." He said. "Why?" I replied. He didn't answer, just shrugged. "Why don't you just leave then? Go back to where you came from?" I shot, not bothering to keep the sting from my voice. He drew back slightly.

"So you don't want me back?" he whispered, running his fingers through his hair. "No. Not now, not in twenty years, not ever."

"Why?"

"Because." I whispered, and didn't bother forcing the tears back. "I can't love you like I used to; I can't let myself be that weak ever again."

"So that's it? You think love is a weakness." He said, his voice strengthening. "I know so."

"If that's how you feel…" he mumbled. I finally risked a glance up at him, and found his glittering black eyes sharp on mine.

He was exactly how I pictured him. His sharp face, red puffy lips, and dark overlong hair. And not to mention his eyes—those eyes…

I decked him. Right across the face. My fist collided with his face with a satisfying crack, and I knew I'd only bruised his nose, not broken it. Still, it was bleeding heavily. "I guess I deserved that," he huffed, pressing the collar of his shirt to his nose.

"Yeah," I agreed starkly, "you really did." I slid down off the roof, snapped out my wings, and flew away. I couldn't be anywhere near him; no, because if I did, I know I'd fall for him just like I had all those years ago.