fireicegirl16 – Tell me about it. It was a long time coming, that's for sure.

Inujuju712 – Ooh, I love intense fight scenes. And yeah, Watson's dead. Or is he? Muahaha!

Lucky Ariana Wolf – Honestly, I debated with it, but decided that the ending was what felt right. I'm ecstatic that you feel that way, and know exactly what you mean: sometimes, things don't end the way you expected or the way you wanted to, but it's still satisfying. I'm pleased that my story is one of those. I'm not best at summaries, as you can tell, but thank you so much for giving this a chance. And of course, I'll try to get everything explained in this epilogue. I hate loose endings has much as the next person!

The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.

Epilogue

Three Weeks Later

Whitney

"Here, Whit," dad said, taking my backpack out of my hands. Apparently, getting shot meant that I wasn't able to hold anything anymore, not even if it was with my good hand. I'd liked it for the first week or so, but now it was awful. The sling I had to wear cut into my neck, and everybody thought that I was weak. I tried to jerk the bag away from him, but that didn't do much. He just gave me a look and took it from me anyway. "Zander," he said, turning towards the front door, "get your sister's things."

Zander came around the back of our brand new used van. A van. Once we got away from Watson, dad decided that the crazy scientist found us way too easily, and that meant that all our fake IDs were void, our last name had to be illegally changed (Whitney Shaw didn't have the same ring to it as Whitney Souza, in my opinion) and our cars had to be traded in. He'd even traded in my car for cash, and had promised me that he'd replace it soon. Not that I could currently drive in my state. He wouldn't allow it.

"Come on," Zander complained, only half joking. His black eye had faded weeks ago, but he still had his ribs wrapped every day. Sometimes I'd catch him wincing whenever he went to pick something up, but then he'd wipe the emotion away, and continue on with his task. If anyone was hardened by our ordeal, it was definitely my little brother. "When are you going to be able to do things on your own again?"

I ignored him and brushed my hair out of my eyes, staring up at our new house. It was bigger than the one we'd had in Florida, it looked like. Simple, but nice, with a cottagey sort of feel that Uncle Simon's house had. I didn't know if it was the Georgia standard, or if it was because mom and dad bought this house literally three blocks away from Uncle Simon's. My parents, aunt, and uncle decided that the distance thing hadn't worked for us as well as we'd hoped, because it took us so long to reach our destinations in the first place. So instead my parents uprooted us and moved us to Georgia, hoping that our closeness to Uncle Simon would only reap rewards. Aunt Tori still refused to leave New York, but promised that we'd see each other more often.

"What do you think?" Mom asked. She stood by my side as close as she could, invading my personal space. Dad had tried to get everything back to normal as soon as possible, but mom started clinging on to the rest of us, like she was scared that we would get separated again. The last few weeks, she checked on me several times a night. She had a hard time sleeping, now, but refused to take any sleep aids. Dad always shrugged whenever I said something about it, but I could tell that he was worried. Mom's insomnia wasn't anything new, but she progressively got a little more irritable the longer she went without sleep. Once, she even threatened dad with a zombie squirrel, so I'd heard.

"It's nice," I forced out. And it was. A part of me was thrilled at the idea of a fresh start, but another part longed for what I was familiar with. There honestly wasn't much for me in Florida, except for my friendship with Jaime. She'd been beyond mad when I called her a day after our arrival back home. I'd just made up with her after being AWOL for a few weeks, and returning home with my arm in a sling. She wasn't happy when I informed her that we were moving, and said that we had to keep in touch. Dad was still deciding if that would be allowed, since Jaime knew me as Whitney Souza, and we all went by different names now. He'd vetoed it at first, but mom had used that super calming voice on him, and he'd conceded to reconsider.

Mom gave me a look. She could see through all of my crap, and she knew that I was mostly upset about losing the camaraderie of my best, and only, friend. "Hon, I know you're not happy about your father saying that you can't talk to Jaime anymore. He's thinking it over, but he might not change his mind. You know it's for the better. And besides, there's lots waiting for us here." She cocked an eyebrow, a tiny smile spreading over her lips.

I didn't smile back. Two weeks ago, we drove home in my car, while Uncle Simon and Coe stayed in New York for another few days. I knew that a goodbye with him would be coming, but I hadn't expected it to hurt the way it did, especially since our goodbye was more of a nod and a "see you on the other side." I always figured that we would continue talking, maybe over the phone. It hadn't taken me long to figure out that it wasn't going to be that smooth. When we woke up in the midst of rubble, we'd immediately booked it out of there. Dad knew who Coe was, and he'd seen the younger werewolf fight beside me. But by the look my father gave Coe, I would've thought that Coe had fought against us.

Coe and I hadn't talked, not much. Uncle Simon voted for us to spend the night in a hotel, because there wasn't any room for all of us in Aunt Tori's apartment. Dad had gone out of his way to keep Coe and I separated, and I didn't see him again until I slipped out of our hotel room in the middle of the night. Dad hadn't even come into the room. I'd figured that he'd still been with Uncle Simon. But when I stepped out into the hallway and headed towards the ice machine, I discovered that my father was having tense words with Coe. I had no idea what he was saying, but from the shadowed look on his face, I knew it wasn't good.

Coe didn't do much more than glance at me at breakfast. Whatever dad had said to him had worked. In the long run, I guess it had been a good thing, because that meant that we didn't have to talk about the way he shot Watson. I didn't exactly have clean hands myself, but what I had done had been more accidental, not so personal. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I still saw Watson's shocked face.

Mom still thought that a friendship with a werewolf would be good for us; he was a friend that I didn't have, and he'd be a big brother to Zander, so she thought. But dad had different ideas. He had warned me, again and again, that he was different from other werewolves, and next to none would be as calm and centered as him. Dad told me that werewolves were dangerous. He'd told me that for the millionth time as I poured milk into my cereal one breakfast, and that morning, I could tell that he meant Coe.

So no, I hadn't talked to him a long time, though I thought about him a lot. I wasn't sure what I felt towards him. I'd trusted him, I'd kissed him on the cheek. But I'd seen the fury in his eyes, and the way he shot Watson. He'd looked a little regretful for it, sure, but there was the confident way he did it that made me wonder if he'd done it before. And if he hadn't, what did his psyche look like, if he could do that without suffering from nightmares or bone-crushing emotion? To be honest, it sort of scared me. Sometimes I thought that it couldn't be right, because it was Coe, but other times I wondered if I should've heeded my father's warning earlier on.

"Come on, then. Let's go inside. You can see your room, and if you want, we can go to Home Depot and pick out some paint colors." Mom said. We only had a vague idea of what the inside looked like, from pictures we'd printed out. My parents had bought it online without having seen it, because our disappearance from Florida was urgent. The previous owners had had earlier deals fall through, and they were already moved into a new place, but were so eager to get rid of the house that they accepted my parents' low offer.

I looked at the house for a moment longer, at its faded adobe rock and maroon brick, the cobbled driveway, the half-alive garden in the front. Mom started up without me, and I eventually scrambled to catch up. It was roomy and pretty fancy, with a large fireplace, ample kitchen, and spacious living room. "Your room is back this way," mom said. She would know, because she'd spent hours looking at the floor plans she'd printed out online. She led me to a back bedroom, which shared a Jack-and-Jill bath with Zander's. That would become a problem in the future, I was sure, but I didn't focus on that.

Instead, I stared into the room. Someone had come in before we'd got here, and had put a huge display of flowers in the very center of the room. Mom didn't look shocked. She'd probably had a hand in planning it. "I've got to go grab some other stuff. I'll be back," she said, before slipping back down the hallway. Zander was already heading back outside to bring in another round of boxes, and I could hear my dad shuffling around in the kitchen.

I nearly tripped over my bags, which Zander had haphazardly dropped by my doorway. Kicking them aside, I knelt down by the bouquet. It was huge, and must've cost a fortune. And it was made of flowers that I'd never seen before, bright oranges and deep reds and soft yellows. Pink buds and vibrant purple petals mixed in with a hundred different shades of green. They shot out of the wide vase, to the point where they were nearly eye level. Nestled in the center was one of those little sticks that usually held a single index card. This one had a card that said Get Well Soon, but in the from space, it simply said, "Call me." I stared at it for a long moment. I knew immediately that it was from Coe. I hadn't seen much of his handwriting, but it was familiar enough. And who else would demand that I call him, softening the command with a bunch of flowers?

I could do one step better than calling him. I could go to Uncle Simon's house. Coe had said, on our drive up to New York, that he was planning on staying with Uncle Simon, working, and taking a few classes at the local community college. I was hoping that was true, because I had been worrying, for no real reason, that he was going to pack up his stuff and disappear without a trace.

I tucked the card into my pocket and headed down the hallway, narrowly avoiding colliding with Zander. I wrenched my shoulder a bit, too, sending a fiery bolt of pain up and down my arm. "Where are you going?" Zander called after me as I lumbered past. I couldn't move too quickly, else I'd move my arm around when I shouldn't, but I could at least try to speed walk.

"To run an errand," I answered as I dipped around the corner and out the front door. Mom was standing in the back of the van, pushing boxes towards dad. They both stopped to look at me as I darted past them, hesitating on the sidewalk before deciding which way to go. Dad started to call out after me, but I heard mom shush him. It sounded like they were starting a quiet disagreement, which gave me enough time to slip away.

I wasn't sure what I looked like, wearing the clothes that were usually hidden in the back of my closet, my arm hanging in a sling, and my hair a little crazy, since I'd already packed my brush before I woke up this morning, and hadn't bothered to search for it. Instead, I just scooped my hair in a ponytail, because I'd already decided that I wasn't going to see anybody who hadn't seen me looking like a monster before.

Even Coe had seen me at my worst. He'd already seen me in the morning, and he'd seen me bloodied and broken and freaking out. So it wasn't like my condition would be anything new to him. But I still managed to feel a little self-conscious as I took a left, then a right. I walked past a few streets, past a cul-de-sac, and took another left. In the distance, I could see Uncle Simon's house.

Anxiety curled up in my chest, but I pushed forward anyway. A few pieces of loose hair stuck to the back of my neck, and sweat trickled down my back. My arm stung, but it would quit hurting when I stopped moving around. I continued down the sidewalk and finally reached Uncle Simon's driveway.

Unlike before, I had to steel myself for a second. When I got the note from Coe, the only thing I could think was that I needed to come and see him for myself. But now that I'd had some time to think about it, was it really the right thing to do? There were so many things I didn't know about Coe, and our history wasn't exactly peachy. But the fact that I'd come here immediately, without a second thought, had to mean something, right?

Sucking in a breath, I stepped up to the front door and politely pressed the button once. It didn't take long for someone to answer the door. It flung open, and standing on the other side was Sophia, the source of my brother's thoughtful silence for the past few weeks. Her skin glowed brighter, and her hair was shinier. She didn't look so hopelessly young after a good scrubbing and some real relaxation. She was still incredibly thin, but she didn't look as malnourished. "Oh," she said, her smile fading a bit, but not all the way. "I thought you were Zander."

I couldn't help but smile. It seemed like Sophia was obsessed with my brother, just like he was with her. I hoped that they could work through their awkwardness, because they'd be cute together. And I liked Sophia. She reminded me a bit of me. "I'm sure he'll be around soon," I said. "Dad has him unpacking. You know, man power and all that."

Her eyes looked a little dreamy; she was probably thinking about Zander's biceps, if he had any. I barely refrained from rolling my eyes, and instead forced myself to give her an overly bright smile. "Can I come in?"

"Oh yeah, sorry," she said, stepping aside. "Coe's in his room." She added, punctuating the words with a sly smile. "I'll go tell Simon you're here."

"Thanks," I said as she hurried away. I watched her go for a little while. She was one of the prisoners Zander had freed. The others dispersed after they got Aunt Tori's throw-away cell phone number, just in case they had an emergency, but Sofia stayed. She said that she had been living on the streets when she was picked up, as had most of the others. Apparently, Watson had taken to kidnapping those whose disappearances would go unnoticed. She said that she didn't have anywhere else to stay, and no money to spend. Uncle Simon had taken her in immediately. I think it was because he liked having a family, even if it was one that he hadn't created himself.

I headed towards the hallway. Sophia had taken the bedroom that Zander and I used to use when we came down for a visit. She had left her door open. I could see that she'd left the two beds there, though one of them had been moved to the center of the room while the other had been pushed against the wall. She'd even painted the walls, laid down a rug, and moved in a few knick-knacks.

I paused outside Coe's door, wondering if he could hear me breathing, or smell me standing there. If he did, he didn't acknowledge it by opening the door. I took a deep breath and knocked, the sound hollow and loud. I waited for a few moments, shifting from one foot to the other.

Coe opened the door. He hesitated when he saw me standing there, but then he smiled. I pulled the card out of my pocket. "Call me?" I asked, thrusting the card towards him. "Really? I mean, we live three blocks away from each other, now."

"Yeah," Coe said. He sounded nervous, but he was still smiling at me. "Come on, let's go outside to talk." He shot a glance towards Sophia's open room, and I got the gist of what he was saying. I liked Sophia more and more. I could become friends with a girl that had no problem blowing things up to help strangers escape, and she was a little eavesdropper just like me.

Coe led me through the kitchen and out into the backyard. Uncle Simon had a small covered patio, which held an ancient bench and a half-dead plant. I sat down on the edge of the patio, staring down at the pebbles Uncle Simon had put in instead of grass – xeriscaping, he called it. The plants, which would be big and bright in the spring, but were sort of dull this time of year, took up the rest of the backyard.

"So," I said after he sat down next to me. His knee knocked into mine for a second, but then he pulled away. A part of me ached at that. I wanted him to want to sit next to me. "What did you want to talk about?"

Coe gave a heavy sigh. "This was going to be easier over the phone. That's why I wanted you to call me."

I couldn't help but wrap my one good arm around myself. That didn't sound so good. Dad always said that things were better said in person. Anything that Coe wanted to say over the phone meant that he didn't want to see my expression when he said them. My mind only provided negative thoughts. "Well, too bad." I answered a little more gruffly than I meant to, but it was supposed to hide the hurt that sat thick in my throat. "You'll have to tell it to my face."

Coe glanced at me, then at the plant next to him. "I just… I don't know what you want to do, or what you think, or what you expect of me."

I blinked a few times, because I hadn't really expected that. "What?" I blurted. "What's that supposed to mean? I thought you were going to tell me that you didn't even want to acknowledge me anymore." I admitted in a rush. "So what are you saying?"

"What are you saying?" He asked, his eyebrows drawn together. We stared at each other, then burst into peals of nervous laughter. Coe cleared his throat. "Okay, well, I didn't know what you wanted to do about… us. I mean, I don't want to assume anything. And I didn't know what your dad said to you."

"To me?" I echoed. "He tells me that werewolves are dangerous all the time. But he seems to forget that he's a superpowered werewolf, and he turned out fine." I told him. "Why? What did he say to you?" Coe didn't answer. I snorted to myself. "He told you to stay away, didn't he?" I cursed at my father under my breath. He was so overprotective that he smothered me. I'd clearly done okay without him around to micromanage my life.

"He has a point," Coe offered. "You don't know what to expect from me."

"Whatever," I replied. I nudged him hard in the shoulder, which jostled my arm, but I didn't care. "He can't tell me who I'm allowed to be… friends with." I hesitated on the word friends, because I had the feeling that I wanted to maybe be more than friends with Coe. "In case he can't remember," I added with bravado, "I pretty much saved his life."

Coe cracked a grin at that. "I owe your dad." He said. "He helped me get away from the Pack, helped me find a place here at Simon's. I can't betray him like that."

"So you're just going to betray me?" I asked, my voice going an octave higher. I didn't have to feign hurt for that one. I didn't want someone I cared about to choose my father over me.

"I don't want to," Coe said quickly, "but I might have to."

"We don't have to do anything." I told him, focusing on the ground, away from him. I felt like the past few weeks were decided for me, and I hated it. "We don't. I could've just said that my parents' disappearance didn't bother me. I didn't have to drive up here, and I didn't have to drive up to New York. I didn't have to jump into an exploding building, and I didn't have to get shot. But I did because I wanted to. Not the shot part, I mean," I faltered, "but it was a consequence. I chose to follow Uncle Simon up to New York, and I chose to take part in getting my parents out of there. If I'm old enough to risk my life, I'm old enough to make these types of decisions."

"Whitney," Coe said, his voice low, a bit pained. I didn't look up, because my eyes were watering, and I wasn't about to cry in front of him. This whole thing felt like a breakup, even though we'd never been dating. This was our first time to even talk about this. "Whitney, look up at me."

When I didn't, he reached over and rested his hand on my knee. Then he moved, and his fingers softly brushed over my cheek, gently taking a hold of my chin. He turned me to face him, and his eyes, a million brilliant shades of blue, were bright. "Whitney Souza," he murmured, "I think I might love you."

I was still smiling when he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against mine. They were soft and warm, and it felt like they fit together just right. We fit together just right. I wasn't really sure if what I felt for him was love, but it was strong. It didn't take long for me to trust him, to want him nearby. And I would feel it even if my father didn't approve.

I decided in that moment, as his hand slid from my chin to my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, that this was my life. And it wasn't just made up of have-to's, like I always thought it was, but it was also made up of want-to's. And I wanted nothing more than to stay here, with Coe. Because he was a part of home, a place where I finally felt safe.

Isn't this exciting? Yet another fanfiction finished. I feel so accomplished. As always, please excuse grammatical or spelling errors in any of the chapters. I usually try to skim them over, but I don't always catch them all. Don't let them ruin your reading experience.

I wanted to thank you all for taking the time to read and review this. I really wouldn't continue if it wasn't for you guys cheering me on. So thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. Please leave me a review, because you know how much I love them. If you have any answers that you would like answered, please PM me. I'll PM you if you make a review that I would like to reply to.

I have several other Darkest Powers Fanfictions that I would absolutely love for you to read:

After the End: This fanfic is about Chloe and the gang, just weeks after the end of The Reckoning. The group finds themselves at a safe house in Texas, which is full of mysteries – not only of the people that work there, but also of the girl that died there.

The Hidden Truth: This is a planned novella-length fanfic, featuring a girl named Emma (who was previously named Mina, before I found out there was a Mina in the series. Whoops.) who has telekinetic abilities. When a strange group of teenagers show up asking for her, she discovers that they have secrets about her, and she has to decide what she's going to do in the face of danger.

The Happiest Day: This is a one-shot for Chlerek friends, featuring Chloe and Derek's wedding day.

Thank you all so much. Peace (: