AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for still reading! I'm totally hoping that means you're enjoying this and not laughing at me behind my back. But either way, I'm enjoying writing it! As always, please read, please enjoy, please review. I need the little reviews! I need them or I will explode! That happens to me sometimes. I still don't own any of this. That hasn't changed and probably won't. Either way, much love from me to you! ~ Billie

EVE

I was standing in the kitchen, staring at the sink. I couldn't remember what I'd come in here for, or even when I'd come in here. All I knew is I was here now. I didn't even know what time it was. Damn. I was so sick of this stupid haze I was in all the time. It was stupid, jackass Oliver's fault. How could he even think about firing me? I was the only one who always showed up on time, I was the only one who never needed repeat customers to tell me their orders. I knew the name of every one of the regulars and what time they came in. I usually had their damn drink finished the minute they walked in the door!

I slammed my fists down on the counter, then realized that wasn't the best of ideas as they began to ache. But whatevs. I was totes tired of feeling second class just because I was married to Michael. It's not even like he was a different species than me! If anything, it was like he had some kind of a disease, only instead of being fatal, it was... some big word that meant made him live forever. Claire would know what I meant. And besides, it didn't matter even if Michael was a different species. We loved each other, and true love conquered all. Hah. Not in Morganville, it didn't.

Still, it wasn't like I was some kind of different person now that Michael and I were married. I mean, I guess I kind of was, but not so much that people could suddenly turn around and hate me. I was still me - happy, bubble gum goth Eve. But apparently, that only mattered to my friends, and, like everything else good in life, friends were hard to come by here in Morganville. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes again, which just made me even madder. I was a newly married woman. I wasn't supposed to spend every day crying my eyes out! I was supposed to spend every day making out with my super-hot new husband!

"Eve?" A quiet, child-like voice came from behind me. I spun, startled, and saw Miranda standing nervously in the middle of the kitchen floor. At least now I knew it was the middle of the night.

"Oh, 'Randa. Hey. You scared me."

"Sorry," she replied. "It's just, well, I was sitting in the parlor trying not to bother you, but you've been in here for almost an hour, and there's just not that much to keep me entertained in the parlor."

My heart broke, just a little. Miranda was totally a creepazoid, but it wasn't really her fault. Being able to see the future when she was alive had definitely stunted her social growth, and now that she was dead and trapped in the house for the rest of eternity, it wasn't helping her learn how to hang with people any better. "It's cool, chicky," I replied with a grin. "Have a seat. I was just in here doing some serious self-analyzation, and you know that's never very fun for very long."

Miranda smiled shyly and pulled out a chair. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"About what?" I asked, taking the seat across from her.

"About.. well, all the stuff you've been going through. I mean, it's not like I've ever gone through the stuff you have, but... you know. I know what it's like to feel like you're not good enough, or like no one likes you." My heart broke a little bit more. Dammit, of course she knew what it was like. The poor kid had been much worse off than me in almost every way possible. At least I had Michael, and Shane and Claire. Sure, she had us, too, but never like we did. We were like family. And she was like, the neighbor we only invited over to our parties so she wouldn't call the cops on us if the music was too loud. "Anyway," she continued, using her small finger to trace invisible shapes on the table in front of her, "I just wanted to let you know. If you ever need to talk, I'm here."

"Oh Miranda!" I said, louder than I probably should have with people sleeping in the house. "Thank you," I lowered my voice. "I mean, it's just that now that Michael and I are married, we should be happy, you know? And, with everything going on, it feels like maybe we're going to have to give up on... us." There were the damn tears again. I stood and grabbed a paper towel off the counter before sitting back down. "And I don't want to give up on us, Miranda. I just... I just want us to be able to be happy. Is that so much to ask?"

Miranda watched me with sad eyes far too old for her years. "No, Eve. Happiness isn't too much to ask. It's never too much to ask. It's just, that sometimes, even though we ask for things, we can't have them. No matter how hard we try."

"Yeah. I know. That's what I'm scared of."

Miranda's lower lip trembled. "That's what I'm scared of, too, Eve. That you guys won't be happy, and then you'll leave, and I'll be all alone. I know that's really selfish, Eve, but I just couldn't stand it if I was left all alone, walking around this old, empty house. Forever."

And now, suddenly, my problems seemed a lot less big. I reached out and took her cool, small hand in mine. "Never, Miranda. We will never leave you here alone." But even as I said it, I wasn't so certain I could keep my promise. Chances were, one day she would be left here, alone forever. Eventually Claire would leave for MIT, and Shane, if he survived the time up to that, would leave with her come hell or high water. That would leave Michael and I. And, well, I would eventually grow old and die, if I didn't meet my end at some stranger's fangs in a dark alley first. And that would end our family line. It wasn't like we could have kids or anything.

And that would leave Michael. My beautiful Michael. Forever frozen at 18, forever beautiful, with swift, nimble fingers that could make a guitar sing like no one I had ever heard. Here, alone, in this old, run down house that had held his family for decades. I wondered if, when everything around him was gone, he would still sing the songs he wrote for me. God, I hoped he would.

Damn, thinking about the future had never been so depressing. And that's saying a lot.

Across from me, Miranda had fallen silent, too, staring at the wooden table in front of her. "Hey," I said, and she looked up at me. "Have you ever seen The Princess Bride before?"

"Um... no, I don't think so," she replied carefully.

"Girl. You do not know what you're missing. Cary Elwes in his prime? Totally droolworthy. And totally one of the most quotable movies ever. Tell you what. I'll make some popcorn. You grab a couple of sodas, and we'll have an impromptu movie night, just the two of us."

Miranda's face lit up. "Okay, Eve. That sounds like a great idea." She jumped into action and as I grabbed a bag of popcorn out of the cabinet and tossed it in the microwave, I hoped that maybe, just like Westley and Buttercup, Michael and I would one day have a happy ending.