A long kiss goodnight, a promise to see one another again, breathless goodbyes and an evening far too soon come to an end was what Zoey was left with when she and her mother headed home for the evening. The car ride was quiet, Cheryl smiling the whole time while Zoey peered out the passenger side window with a guarded look on her face.

"You look like I did at your age, when I was planning on running away from home." Cheryl murmured, Zoey looking over at her in surprise. "If you want to see him again, why don't you just tell your father you do? He can't rightly kick you out of the house, and he can't stop you from seeing Francis. He might be able to stop Francis coming over, but there are other places the two of you can meet."

"Are you sure you should be saying stuff like this? Dad would be pissed." Zoey said softly, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

"Let him be, then." Cheryl grinned. "Zoey, after all you've been through in your short life, I feel you deserve a break from the one person who should put more faith in you and honestly know better than to behave like such a child. You deserve to be with him… with Francis."

Staring at her mother for another long moment, Zoey smiled gently and nodded, sitting back in her seat and looking out the windshield.

"What will we do about-" Zoey began, Cheryl holding up one hand and shaking her head.

"I'll deal with your father… We lied to him about where we were going tonight, so I figure I'll be upfront about what we actually did. He will appreciate the honesty, and he'll have no choice but to accept what I say as truth." Cheryl smiled. "Either that or he'll think I've lost it too."

Zoey's stomach was fluttering, her heart was pounding… she couldn't help but think of what her mother was saying implicated, and a part of her was terrified that Francis would find her overbearing, would find the whole thing too much.

What if she scared him off by asking for a relationship? What if he wasn't scared off and wanted her to move in with him right away? What if he turned out to be someone different once they WERE living together? What if-

"Don't look so scared, hun." Cheryl laughed. "I know, being in a relationship is a lot to handle, especially when you haven't really had a steady one in the past. Unless you have and you didn't tell me."

"Nah. There were boys, of course, but none of them were… none of them were really special. Just boys." Zoey's cheeks flushed and she shrugged, shrinking down in her seat a little. "Francis and I really have a connection, y'know?"

Cheryl made a soft noise and laughed under her breath. "I remember how that feels." She murmured, sighing. "It was a long time ago, and when it's real and true, that connection never really dies. It lingers… No matter what happens, it lingers."

They pulled into the driveway, seeing that the living room light was still on and Zoey's father was still awake, the excitement that had been gnawing at Zoey's stomach turning anxious and making her feel a bit sick.

"You can go up to your room if you'd like." Cheryl murmured as they got out of the car, Zoey regarding the figure of her father in the living room window before shaking her head.

"That would be running away. I've gotta face this, right? I can't let you do all the work for me." She replied with a smile, Cheryl grinning at her.

"My little girl is all grown up." She sighed, Zoey blushing again.

…

…

…

Francis was cold when he woke up the next morning, the arm that had been draped over Zoey's body laying against the floor. There was a feeling in the air that was almost tangible, a sound he couldn't quite identify in his half asleep state, but as soon as he realized what it was, he sat up with wide eyes, fully awake.

Zoey had moved across the room and was crouched by the door with her knees hugged to her chest, still naked and looking more fragile than ever. Her brown hair was limp with filth and sweat, her eyes were closed and her wounds stood in stark contrast to her pale skin, limbs trembling.

"Zoey?" Francis murmured, shifting around to get to his feet. He crouched down beside her quietly, hands reaching out but not quite touching her, fearing that it would have a negative effect. "Hey doll… what's the matter?"

Zoey sort of lunged at him after a few seconds, pressing herself close and burying her face in his shoulder without a word, her breath heavy in her chest. Francis dragged his fingers through her tangled hair with one hand as the other wrapped around her and kept her close, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm glad you're here." Zoey whispered in a thick voice. She had obviously been crying, and Francis figured that was the sound he had heard in the first place. "I was scared to wake up and find it was just a bad dream."

"A bad dream, huh? Careful there, Zoey, you might injure my pride." He said with a smirk, the girl pulling back to look at him in disbelief, a laugh escaping her throat.

"The parts with you aren't really the bad parts." She explained. "Well, they are and they aren't. They're not bad because of you, but… they sort of are. If I had woken up and you were gone and all that happened was just a dream, that would be bad. If I woke up and I was alone, I think I might have broken."

"You're not broken, though. And you're not alone." Francis said firmly, putting one hand on the back of her neck. Zoey nodded slowly, lowering her eyes again. "You've got me, alright? And if you need to, you can cry on my shoulder for now… Get it all out before we head back out into Hell."

…

…

…

Zoey remembered she had cried a lot that day, but when she had finished, she felt a lot better. That was the day they came across Louis and Bill, both of them half starved, out of bullets and facing off against a Tank. Zoey remembered she had cried after that fight too, but only after everyone else had gone to sleep.

Part of her hated crying because it reminded her so much of what almost broke her in the first place.

Even now, the anguished sobbing filled her dreams… even now she could still hear it almost as if there was a Witch right outside her window.

Blue eyes fluttering open in the darkness, Zoey strained her ears in the ringing silence for some sign that she had simply been imagining it.

She had gone to bed early tonight, earlier than she usually did, the discussion and subsequent screaming match with her father making her more tired than she had wished for it to. In the end, she wasn't even sure where she stood in the whole situation with Francis, and wasn't sure what would be waiting when she got up the next morning.

A soft whimpering came from outside, from down on the street, and Zoey's entire body tensed, her skin feeling cold. Her heart began to pound hard, the fear so gripping she didn't dare sit up to see what it might have been.

Then the sobbing started once more.

"Oh God." Zoey whispered, gripping her pillow in one hand so hard her knuckles turned white. "This can't be happening."

Slowly and carefully, Zoey pushed herself into a sitting position and slid around to the window, pressing herself up against the wall beside it while she mustered the strength and courage to look out, to see if it was indeed what she thought it was.

The infection was gone, it was gone… it had to be.

But there it was, the eerie red glow from the eyes of a Witch, the infected woman crouching under at street light below, rocking back and forth while her claws dragged at the pavement, sobbing as if she had just lost everything she ever cherished in the world.

Zoey recoiled, moving to curl up in the corner of her bed for a moment with her hand over her eyes.

No one else was awake. No one else was going to deal with it. She wasn't sure anyone around here even knew how. Empty houses on all sides, with only a few people still living on this street, a few people still alive.

Looking out again, Zoey studied the features of the girl in the pool of light, her eyes widening.

Melinda, who lived across the street. Her parents told everyone Mel had died in the riots that spread after the infection broke out.

"Idiots. This is what happens when you try to keep them, try to save them." Zoey hissed, slipping out of bed and hurrying down the hall in her tank top and underwear. She opened the door to her parents room, both of them still sleeping, and hurried to her father's gun safe. He had to have something in there she could use, something that wouldn't make too much noise, something that would allow Zoey to deal with this quickly before anyone got hurt.

Bill had always told her she was a hell of a shot, after all.

Hunting rifle… it would do. Pulling it from the gun safe, Zoey heard her mother speak from behind her.

"Zoey, sweetie, what are you doing?" There was a hint of panic in Cheryl's voice, Zoey turning to meet her gaze levelly. "Why are you taking your father's gun?"

"Because there's something outside mom, something that shouldn't be alive. And from the look of her claws and the blood on the street, I'm not sure Mrs. Wilson will be coming over for tea tomorrow." Zoey spoke as she fit ammo into the gun, taking off the safety and heading for the door of the room again while Cheryl slipped out of bed and put her feet in her slippers with the intent of following.

Zoey's father stirred, looking around in confusion, but he sat bolt upright when he saw Zoey with the gun, letting out a yell with his face pale almost as if he expected her to shoot him with it.

"Come on." Zoey growled. "I've got to get rid of her before someone stumbles by or someone's dumb enough to drive their car down the street."

"Get rid of who?!" Her father cried in alarm. "What are you doing with that, you don't know how to use it!"

"Watch me!" Zoey shouted, hurrying down the hall and into her room again. With her mother's help, she opened the window as quietly as she could, hiding around the side of it out of view when Melinda turned to look at the source of the noise with a soft gasp.

Cheryl was trembling, and when her husband entered the room, he ducked out of the way of the window with a soft curse as well, even more pale than before.

"What the hell? I thought those things were all dead! I thought we dealt with the problem!" He hissed in a stage whisper, Zoey shooting him a dirty look before rounding the window frame ever so slightly and propping the gun up on it. She peered through the scope, waiting for Melinda to stop rocking in place.

Across the street, the house next to Melinda's lit up as someone rose to get ready for work, the sudden light drawing Melinda's gaze.

It was the perfect opportunity…

Zoey wet her lips, blew a strand of hair from her face and squeezed the trigger.

Once, twice, three times in rapid succession, the first bullet making Melinda scream in rage and pain, the second knocking her forward onto the pavement and the third accompanied by the signature death wail that all Witches made when they met their end.

The pale, scrawny body of the girl Zoey had grown up living across the street from fell to the pavement as windows lit up and people began to exit their homes to see what in the world was going on, Zoey's father staring at his daughter in disbelief as she straightened with the gun in her hand.

Cheryl was breathless for a moment, still, then she moved to wrap her arms around Zoey as she breathed her name, hugging her in a protective fashion. Zoey clung to her mother, both of them silent and oblivious to the fact that Zoey's father was still staring.

Down the streets, sirens began to scream as the police hurried to investigate…

...

...

Author's Note!!

And now for some action! Wanted to heat things up a little more in this story... Now Zoey's dad knows she's not some helpless little girl! Should make the days to come a lot more interesting...