Ok, I know most of you are either a) cursing my name, or b) waiting for an update because you're in the first stage of grief (denial) and don't believe Derek is in fact dead. I applaud you for being so optimistic, really, but at this point… well, let's just say I can't put your minds at ease. For everyone doing option a (especially those who left me reviews that threatened my life if I didn't make it better): I'm really sorry, guys! If you read my last author's note, you know I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did, and we're all gunna have to deal, okay? :(

Shoutouts (and hugs, and giant "I'm reeeeally sorry!" cookies) go out to everyone who reviewed. I wanted to answer each of your reviews like I normally do, but you guys flooded my mailbox (over 50 since I posted chapter 18!) and I simply cannot answer all of em. Thank you all so much, though – I'm so thankful for all of you guys and your awesomeness! :)

CONTEST UPDATES: I'm still sorting through the entries and trying to narrow down the entries, but I'll keep you guys posted! I'm kinda hoping to create a soundtrack for this story once it's all done, so even if I don't use your song for the song fic, I might use it there… I'll let you know, though, and I'll make sure you get some sort of thank-you prize :)

Way too many smiles in this A/N, but that's okay. You all hate me anyway, right? :'(

Note: I write in red ink in a notebook before typing the chapters and posting them.

Disclaimer: Christina finds Steph sulking after she posted The Chapter.

Christina: Hey! What's wrong with you?

Steph: *Head in hands*
I just killed Derek.

Christina: *Eye twitch*
WHAT?

Steph: *Crying hysterically, reveals ink explosion on her hands that looks a lot like blood*
I KILLED HIM, OKAY? I KILLED HIM!

Christina: *Angry*
WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? NOW EVERYONE'S GUNNA HATE YOU FOREVER!

STEPH: *Covers her face with a pillow as she cries*
I KNOW, OKAY? I KNOW!

Christina: *Eyes narrow*
And you know what the worst part is? YOU DON'T EVEN OWN DARKEST POWERS! YOU JUST KILLED OFF SOMEONE ELSE'S CHARACTER!

Steph: *Lifts pillow off face*
Is that supposed to make me feel better or something? Cuz it isn't.

Christina: You don't deserve to feel better!
*Slams door behind her and leaves Steph alone with her thoughts*

Alone: Part I

"In the end, everyone ends up alone…"

-The Fray, You Found Me

Gone.

The word echoed endlessly inside my mind, inside the desolate cell they'd forced me into yet again. It rebounded off the white brick walls, hitting me over and over and over. I couldn't escape the sound – couldn't run from the scene that accompanied that word every time. I was forced to watch him die – again and again inside my mind like some endless film loop. He was there, and then… he wasn't.

Gone. He's never coming back.

I could still smell him. His scent – a mix of the woods and something that was just him – clung to my sweater, reminding me of him no matter how hard I tried to forget. I refused to take it off, though, and soon his scent was gone – replaced by the harsh stench of industrial-strength sanitizers and cleaning products.

I'd woken up in the same cell they'd been holding me in before, groggy and disoriented. It had taken me a minute to realize what had happened – realize why I was back again. It didn't take long for everything to come flooding back, though, and with the memories came the inescapable grief.

It felt like I'd been sleeping for days, but I had no way of knowing for sure. I was unaware of how much time had passed – they were keeping me isolated, letting the silence drag me down into the realm of submission. I forced myself to stay awake. Sleep was an unwarranted, unnecessary, dangerous thing, and if I allowed myself to think about him too long – dream about him – the consequences would be disastrous.

Thinking about him was an unbearable form of torture. Remembering was ripping my soul apart, but forgetting… There could be nothing more painful than forgetting.

Not that I ever would.

Nobody came to visit me – to disturb the quiet. One of the guards – the one who'd seemed sorry for his actions that night – told me they'd bring me dinner when I was ready, and that he was stationed outside my door if I ever needed anything.

After that, no one came.

I had no idea how long I'd been alone; didn't know. Didn't care. There was only one person in the world whose company I craved.

Davidoff came to check on me once. He told me I was perfectly entitled to a period of mourning – that it was normal to experience denial, anger, sadness, and frustration, but that I shouldn't forget to take care of myself and my health. "You shouldn't forget to live," he said. "Life goes on, Chloe. You're young! There are other fish in the sea!"

I'd flipped him off and locked myself in the bathroom until I was sure he was gone. When I re-entered the room, there was a plate on my bed, piled high with all of my favourites. I didn't eat any of it – the thought never actually crossed my mind; I did, however, pick up the plate and fling it across the room. It hit the wall with an earsplitting crack! and shattered, shards of glass flying in every direction imaginable. A stray shard hit my face, grazing the skin directly below my left eye. I wiped at the blood – too numb to care – and bent to retrieve the shard from where it'd landed on the ground. I turned it over in my palm, examining the razor-sharp edges in fascination. It shone menacingly in my hand, beckoning me...

I contemplated how long it would take – how easy it would be. Just pull it from one end to the other. Let it dig into the soft skin of your wrist. One quick little slice – that's all it takes! Simple, really—

I pressed a jagged edge of the glass into the skin at the base of my left hand, and a single drop of blood trickled out, trailing down my forearm and pooling at the crease at my elbow. I stared at it – watched the progression of the blood as it travelled down my arm, fascinated by the lack of pain I'd felt. I looked at the shard in my hand and stopped, transfixed by the sight of the blood on the tip of the glass. I lifted my wrist again, wanting to see if it would hurt the second time-

"No, Chloe!" I felt the glass being ripped from my grasp as I stumbled backwards, jumping at the voice.

Could it have been…?

I shook my head. No. It couldn't have been - the voice was female.

I looked around the room, searching for the source of the noise. When I didn't find one, I cleared my throat and utilized my previously idle vocal chords. "Who-who's there?" I called, not sure which direction I should be looking in. After a few seconds of silence, I added hopefully: "M-mom?"

She'd told me she would be leaving me alone – that she was done allowing me to relive the tragic events of my past by appearing whenever I called – but I still had hope that she would come if she knew I was in trouble…

"Not…pull me… through… can't…" I nodded, acknowledging that I understood. I closed my eyes and focused, picturing my mother's form clearly in my mind. I closed my eyes and imagined myself pulling her through a thin veil of white silk that separated our two worlds, her ghost appearing on the other side. I opened my eyes, expecting to see her waiting for me in my cell, looking angry or disappointed or—

"Wh-who are you?" I asked, realizing it wasn't my mother I'd just pulled through. It was a girl around my age, dressed in a faded pair of jeans and a sweater. She had long blond hair that'd been carelessly pulled back into a messy ponytail, still somehow managing to look like she'd done it that way purposely. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and her wide blue eyes looked angry.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" she shouted, throwing her arms up. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT WOULD'VE HAPPENED IF I HADN'T PULLED THAT PIECE OF GLASS OUT OF YOUR HAND?" she demanded. When I didn't respond, she rolled her eyes. "YOU'DE BE DEAD, THAT'S WHAT! D – E – A – D, DEAD!"

I didn't acknowledge what she was saying, just crossed my arms and stared at her. "I asked you who you were, and you still haven't answered my question," I reminded her, my voice a flat, emotionless monotone.

She crossed her arms and glared at me. "I'm the idiot who promised your mother that I'd look after you," she clarified.

I was taken aback for a moment. "What's your name?" I asked, wondering what reason she could possibly have for spending her afterlife looking after a random teenager.

"Liz," she grumbled, tucking her hands into her pockets.

I remembered what my mother had said the night she left for good: I'll send someone – a friend of mine, she's a poltergeist – to help you.

"My mother sent you to look after me?" I repeated.

"Yeah." The girl crinkled her nose and looked away. "She said you needed help, but I gotta say, I never thought she'd meant that kind of help…"

"She sent you to help me, and you decide to show up now?" I said, feeling my blood boil in my veins. Who was this self-righteous girl, anyway? Where had this girl been the day I'd been taken prisoner by the Edison Group? Where had she been while I stood in that abandoned living room watching my whole life end?

"Don't shout at me!" she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. "I've been doing the best I can! Do you have any idea how powerful the spell around you is? It's nearly impossible to break through that stupid thing without a wall shooting up!"

"What do you want?" I snapped, still angry. "A medal? A trophy? Because you can either make a request or get the hell out of my cell."

"Listen, girlie," she growled, stepping forward until she was only inches away. She poked me with her index finger, pushing me backwards and knocking me off balance. "I'm doing this as a favour to your mom, okay? So get this straight: I don't want to be here any more than you seem to want me here. I'm here because I have to be - because you need protection – so when you feel like talkin' again, let me know."

She disappeared then, not waiting for a reply.

And what would you have said if she had? 'Well… thanks fo stoppin' my attempted suicide, but get out ma house, bitch!'?

I sank down onto my bed and hugged my knees to my chest, remembering what I'd been doing before Liz came in. What had come over me moments ago?

Had I really been that close to—what was I thinking? Derek would've never— I ran a hand through my hair and rested my forehead on the lower half of my palm. Derek would be ashamed of me if he was here right now… I shook my head and sat up, knowing it wasn't a good idea to think about him being with me – that would only lead to a summoning, which was the last thing I wanted.

No. I'd made a promise with myself in those first few moments – no summoning (or even attempting to summon) Derek. Ever. That was why I forced myself to stay awake even though the call of sleep was like a siren's song enticing a weary sailor; I couldn't trust my subconscious to keep that promise.

I wiped at the ever-present tears and looked around. Glass shard lay everywhere – on every surface in the room, spread out like someone had haphazardly dumped them from the sky.

I got off the bed carefully and began to pick them up one by one, trying hard not to think about how close I'd been in that one moment – how for one fleeting instant, I'd been only a handful of seconds away from joining him on the other side.

I fought my heavy eyelids, praying that my willpower alone would be enough to keep me awake.

They'd sent someone to retrieve the plate when I'd been in the bathroom. I'd returned moments later to find the room spotless, every square inch of the space gleaming and shiny. They hadn't left me any sort of instructions or messages, but I knew what they were trying to convey to me: nothing you do makes a difference; you're not going anywhere.

My only way of judging how much time had passed was to count the meals they brought me. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. I'd been keeping track on my headboard, gouging out one little tick mark for every three meals they deposited into my room. The guard who brought in the meals – the same one who was stationed outside my door every day – always handed me the plates with remorse-filled eyes, as if he was trying to say, 'hey kid, sorry about this... I know it sucks, but how 'bout some creamed corn?' The look in his eyes was what kept me from eating; I'd hardly touched my food, already finding that I was full of anger, sadness, and guilt.

When they'd brought Tori in to see me, all I could think was: wow. She looks almost as bad as I feel.

She d been screaming at the guards as they forced her through the door, demanding they tell her what was going on – where they were taking her. She didn't notice me until after she'd given up and turned around.

"Chloe!" Her eyes went wide and she rushed over to hug me, pulling me into her embrace and squeezing me tightly against her. I returned her hug awkwardly, not used to human contact after what felt like years of solitude. She let me go after a few minutes, stepping back to examine my horrid appearance.

"Thank God," she mumbled.

"What?" I asked.

"Its just... I thought you were dead," she admitted. "When they were wheeling us out, I thought I heard one of the guards saying they'd only need 3 stretchers, and I- I-"

"Assumed it was me?" I finished.

She let out a huff of air. "Well, yes. You were feverish and alone in the basement, but I guess I heard wrong, because if you're okay, then…" she saw the look on my face and stopped. "Chloe?"

I tried to blink away the tears, but my efforts achieved the opposite effect: the tears spilled over, carving wet trails into my cheeks. "I was alone, but then Derek came downstairs to help me, and-" I choked back a sob, unable to continue.

It didn't matter. Her eyes widened as it all clicked into place, her hand covering her mouth. "N-no! You mean wolf-boy-?" She spun around and collapsed onto my bed, sitting with her legs pulled up to her chest. She ran a hand through her hair and looked up at me. "What happened, Chloe? I thought a werewolf could handle a couple of guys with guns… they weren't even using them, for God sakes! They were just trying to freeze us with binding spells and stuff, and then they sedated us..."

"You were wanted alive, Tori," I explained. "Derek-"

"Wasn't," she said bitterly. "Yeah, I remember what that bitch told us," she said, referring to Rae."I was just hoping she was wrong, you know?" She paused, staring at her legs while she thought about something.

I don't know what made me say it. "I watched it happen," I told her in my signature monotone, dropping my gaze to my feet.

She stared at me in horror. "God, Chloe... No wonder you look like shit," she observed, shaking her head sadly.

"Watching your best friend die in front of you will do that to a person."

She raked her eyes over my face – trying to decide whether to tell me something, I now know. "They killed my best friend, too," she said finally. "A few months ago, when they were trying to figure out where I'd gone… They picked her up on the way home from school, and then they tortured her, thinking she knew where I was..." Tori was far away then, eyes shrouded in layers of grief I'd never seen there on her face before.

"Was she a supernatural?" I asked, thinking that Tori would probably never risk exposing us to a regular human. Maybe, if we ever manage to get out of here, we can go to her family for help...

"Yeah," Tori said quietly, biting her lip. "She was a half-demon; name was Liz."

Tori stayed with me for hours, wanting to know everything. After I'd told her about Liz the poltergeist, she'd demanded I'd describe her, leaving nothing out. I told her what I'd seen: blond hair, freckles, a little taller than Tori… She was convinced - after a few hours - that we were talking about the same person.

"Can you summon her?" She asked finally, eyes almost feral looking. "I want to tell her that I'm sorry…"

I nodded, then stopped, considering. "She might not answer me right away," I said. "I was pretty bitchy when she- when we talked last time," I confessed, correcting myself at the last minute. Tori doesn't need to worry about me while all this is going on…

Tori laughed. "Knowing Liz, that won't matter. She's probably already forgiven you," she assured me. I nodded, hoping she was right.

Tori yawned, then stood and stretched, rubbing her eyes. "I'm gunna get those assholes to take me back," she said. "But I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Hopefully by then I'll have managed to get Davidoff to move me back here."

I didn't say anything. On the one hand, I wanted Tori around - I was sick of being so alone, feeling so empty - but on the other hand...

"Do you think Simon knows?" She asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. "They haven't let me in to see him since we got here, but I can hear him in the room next to mine…"

"No... I don't think so," I said, feeling my heart sink. I hadn't even thought of Simon - I'd been so absorbed in my own grief, forgetting that there were other people outside of these four white walls I'd come to abhor.

"I'll tell him, if you-"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I should be the one to tell him…" I bit my lip. "It's my fault, after all," I mumbled.

Tori looked shocked. "Don't say that! This had nothing-"

"Why not?" I demanded, feeling the tears returning. "It's the truth, isn't it? If it wasn't for me-"

She crossed the room in one angry stride. "If it wasn't for you, what? What, Chloe? If it wasn't for you having a fever? If it wasn't for you being totally out of it? None of that was your fault! None of it!" She ran her hand over her face and lowered her voice. "Chloe, you can't just decide it was your fault because he was protecting you! I hardly knew Derek, but I know he would've done anything to protect you, no matter what it may have cost him."

She hugged me then, and I hugged her back… I didn't agree with what she was saying, but I knew the only way to get Tori to drop it was for me to look like I agreed with her.

"I know it hurts right now, and I know you're scared," she said knowledgably, "-but you're gunna have to sleep sometime, Chloe. You can't go on like this-" She pulled away and went to knock on the door, the echo of it reverberating off the walls. The door opened, but before she stepped out, she turned around.

"-Derek wouldn't have wanted that..."

The door slammed behind her, and I curled up on my bed, alone with my thoughts once again.

Awe, looks like Chloe's got some survivors guilt (and some suicidal tendencies? Lemme know what you thought of that part)!

ANYWAYS, I know what I wanna write about for a song fic, but I still need to go through all the songs and see what fits (as I said before). I'll let you know when it's ready!

Also, does anyone wanna read on outtake from this story? 'Cause I really wanna write Derek and Tori's walk to the city (you'll see why). Lemme know! :)

Review please! I wanna get started on the next chapter soon, but I need some encouragement, ya know?

REVIEW! :)