DISCLAIMER: Um, did I tell you that I do not own any of the characters of the film "Shaun of the Dead"? Good. Did I tell you that those characters belong to Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright? Cool. Are we done? Can we go now? It's getting late, and I've got an early-morning meeting...

Sara walked as quickly as possible along the street, returning to her usual nightly patrol route. How could she have become so careless? Standing right next to him at the bar, practically shouting "Here I am, look at me!"—not a smart move. True, she had been told to keep close watch on Shaun, to make sure there had been no adverse effects on his health or mental stability.

It had gotten to the point where she actually looked forward to her new surveillance mission. There was something charming and humble about his lack of direction. He seemed low-maintenance, even sweet, and she admired that. Maybe her subconscious desire to talk to him had finally won the battle and made her stand next to him at the club.

No, no, no. This wasn't intentional, she assured herself. She was out on her usual patrol. She had just happened to bump into him at the club after escaping from that drunk creep.

"Are you following me?" a male voice at her side demanded. Shaun had suddenly materialized at her side, making her leap sideways smack into a brick wall.

"Jesus, don't scare me like that!" Sara rubbed her sore shoulder, trying to keep calm. This was not supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to have any contact with him. None, zip, zero. Now here she was standing on the street alone with him.

"Why are you following me?"

"I'm not following you," she protested.

"Please, I didn't lose all powers of observation after being attacked" he said. "I have seen you everyday this week. At my work, on the bus, at the pub, and now tonight. I barely saw my ex-girlfriend that much. What is the idea?"

She hesitated, knowing she would be in huge trouble if this ever got back to Will and Michael. She inhaled deeply and faced him. "I wanted to make sure you were okay." Nonchalant concern, that was good. Believable.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"To make sure I was okay."

"Yes, and clearly you are. You're perfectly fine. I mean, you look good. You look really, really good. In fact, I think green is definitely your color. Brings out your eyes."

She felt suddenly uncomfortable. Her heartbeat had increased, her palms were sweaty, her mouth felt as dry as the Sahara. Might as well confirm his suspicions that she was a homicidal lunatic, she berated herself.

She started walking again, but to her dismay, he continued to walk alongside. "Shouldn't you go back to the club? Your friends will be missing you," she offered.

"No, they won't," he countered. "Besides, they were playing Paul Oakenfold. I mean, could you be any more predictable?" he asked indignantly, struggling to keep up with her quick pace. "So this vampire-killing thing, is it a hobby of yours?"

"No, more of a calling, sacred duty, all that jazz."

"Oh, like Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

"Nooo, it's nothing like Buffy. Well, apart from the fact that I'm a woman, chosen to fight demons, and that I report to a Council of sorts. It's completely and totally different. And I don't even know why I'm talking to you when I have work to do."

"And this work includes checking up on me," he stated slowly, "in a completely and totally official capacity?"

"Exactly," she asserted.

"And not at all because you fancy me."

"I don't—what?"

"I think you fancy me."

"I do not. That is completely absurd."

"Absurd? Well, yeah, it is pretty absurd that you get nervous around cute guys, even comatose ones."

She stopped abruptly and turned bright red. "I thought you couldn't hear me."

"Surprise. I could."

"You heard everything?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Oh, what you must think of me..." She started walking again, not really paying attention to the direction. Just somewhere far away from imminent embarrassment.

"What I think of you?!" Shaun repeated. "I think that you're probably sad and confused and a bit overwhelmed by all this sacred duty stuff. I also think we have that in common. Look, nobody expected me to be the hero on Z-Day. Nobody was counting on me to save their lives, it just kind of happened. But they expect it from you. I mean, that has to be an enormous amount of pressure."

"Yeah, it is."

"And believe me when I say that I understand. I've been there. You can't connect with people, you can't get involved with them, because you'd be putting them in danger. It's the classic superhero dilemma. And frankly, I'm flattered to be the one giving you this dilemma."

She stopped and looked at him in disbelief. "You are not giving me a dilemma," she declared. She briskly walked away again.

"I think I am. I think I am the Mary Jane Watson to your Peter Parker."

"No, you're not."

"Because you don't fancy me."

"No, because you'd look stupid with red hair."

"Ah, so you do fancy me then?" he laughed triumphantly.

"No! Look, maybe you're the Doctor Octopus to my Peter Parker. Did that ever occur to you? Maybe you're trying to insert your steel tentacles into the life that I am quite content with, and rip it apart piece by piece."

"So how long have you had these fantasies about me and my steel tentacle? Tell me exactly, in very vivid detail."

She stopped again, this time to look at their surroundings. How had they veered off course into a warehouse? A warehouse with makeshift beds and boarded-up windows and sewer access. Something was dripping. She noticed a red stain on Shaun's shirt. "You've got red on you." He looked down at the stain, looked at her, and they both looked slowly upwards.

"Oh my God, is that a body?" Shaun cried at the sight of the shape hanging overhead.

"Yeah, it's a fresh kill. We are in a vamp nest, and they must be close by." She rummaged through her backpack. She loaded a crossbow and handed him a cross and a very sharp stake. "Okay, vampire killing 101. Sunlight is unavailable, so it's stakes, beheading, fire. Got it?'

"Got it."

"Stay close to me, and don't do anything stupid."

"Like turning around?"

"Why?"

"Because there are several, menacing-looking people behind you. They could be vampires, I leave it to your professional opinion."

Sara readied her crossbow and turned to face them slowly, keeping her weapon concealed. Shaun followed her lead and kept the cross and stake behind his back. "Sweetie, I told you this wasn't the way to the Tube," she said in an exasperated, fairly convincing Irish accent. "We are so sorry to barge in on you like this. I mean, it's really very rude of us. But you know men. Never asking for directions."

"Nope, never," Shaun joined in, unsure what she was playing at.

"I swear if I left things up to him, we would have never even found our way to London. Remember when you got us lost in Manchester? That was a harrowing experience."

"Definitely harrowing," he agreed. Why was she babbling on like this?

The lead vampire in the middle was baring his teeth. He'd smelled fresh blood. What if he had a particular penchant for Irish blood? Was there really a difference?

The lead vampire finally spoke, his patience tried. "Do you know what they call a couple of lost micks like you around here?" he growled.

"No, what's that?"

"Lunch."

Sara looked at Shaun with a smile. "Oh, isn't that quaint, dear? The things the young people say here. Do you know what they call people like you in my part of town?" She dropped the Irish accent. "Dust."

In one swift movement, she raised the crossbow and fired it, piercing his heart and turning him to ashes.

The other vampires' momentary shocked paralysis gave her time to reload, and Shaun threw a punch at the nearest vamp. Thrown off balance, Shaun managed to push the vamp to the ground and drive the stake through his heart. Well, that was easy, he thought. Then he was tackled violently from behind.

Meanwhile, Sara had fired another arrow but missed. As the vamp lunged at her, she hit him squarely across the jaw with the butt of the now-empty crossbow. That only stopped his momentum briefly. He grabbed her and flung her against a steel column.

She slammed against it, but recovered quickly. Noticing a chain above her head, she pulled herself up as the vamp charged at her. She landed behind him and wound the chain around his neck, pulling hard enough to behead him. Another pile of ashes hit the floor. She looked around for Shaun, but was met with a punch that sent her reeling.

Shaun struggled against the grasp of a female vamp. He was finally able to get an arm free and hold the cross against her cheek. Recoiling from the burning pain, she released him and he was able to turn around. He pushed her backward, as luck would have it, onto a jagged plank of wood.

That was pretty easy, too, he thought as she disintegrated. I mean, if you were a vampire, why would you have stray pieces of wood lying around your home? It's like a death wish. He turned to see his new comrade locked in battle with another vamp.

"Oy, you toothy git!" he called. "Pick on someone your own blood type." He distracted the vamp long enough for Sara to stake him.

"Thanks," she said quickly, fetching her backpack.

"No problem." Was she looking at something behind him? Was there someone behind him? Why was she now aiming an axe at his head?

"Shaun, duck!" He hit the floor as the axe went spinning overhead. He turned to see another pile of ashes as the board the vamp had been carrying clattered to the ground. A piece of wood again!

She ran over to help him up. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Oh, a few cuts and bruises. Nothing I can't handle." They looked around the room to survey the damage. "By the way, I'm Sara," she said with an outstretched hand.

"Oh, hi, I'm Shaun," he replied, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here. Buy you a pint?" she offered.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

They made their way out of the warehouse, Shaun trying to avoid any ash piles. Well, you could never be too careful.