A/N: Bloodlines. I was a Malkavian, and I'm too tired to get my insight on. Plus, I liked my wacky ghoul. I haven't decided which clan the protagonist belongs to...so, yeah. I've played this game too much.

I woke up, knowing there was something wrong. People. No, a person. Proximity. I kept my eyes closed, thought carefully. the forty-four was under my pillow, three inches from my hand. I remembered my dad putting a thirty-eight snubby right near the cash register, the memories flowing free and clear. My family owned a convenience store in a rough part of town. Dad bought it after being robbed at gunpoint, keep us all safe. I asked why he didn't get a fancy nine, and he looked at me funny. Son, if you need more than six bullets, you're fucked anyways, so you might as well let them take what they want.

Six rounds of forty-four magnum. If that didn't do the trick, well, I was fucked anyways, right? Adrenaline flooded into my cold, still blood. I tensed.

"Morning, master. Or should I say evening?"

Heather.

"Morning. I almost shot you."

"Sorry."

I opened my eyes, saw her sitting there on one of my computer chairs. A slash of lamplight bisected her face, streaming in from the barely open door. Straight red hair framed her face...it was pale. Bags under her eyes.

"How long...?"

"I've been up all night watching you sleep, making sure no one came in an' hurt you."

"Thank you, Ms. Poe."

"Heather. Call me Heather, master."

"Don't call me 'master'. It smacks of... well, never you mind. How long were you up?"

"I haven't slept since before we met. I felt...exalted. I feel like I'm someone better than I was before around you."

Her movements betrayed her weariness. Slow, steady motions, winces. My blood was doing some good, I guess. Her wounds were healing pretty quick, and she didn't need her glasses anymore. Hell, she had stayed up forty-eight straight hours without any help from coffee, which was pretty impressive. She smiled, a glowing thing. She seemed happy and excited all the time. Hell, the first time I saw her after ghouling her, she had given me a ring and begged to stay with me. Not something I would usually do...but I couldn't resist, ya know?

"Jeez. C'mon, let's get some food into you, and I want you to get some sleep."

Sniffsniff. Something reeked.

"And a shower and change of clothes."

"Sorry, Mas...sir."

"No formal titles."

"Okay...doesn't seem right, though."

I shook my head. She's young, she'd learn. The door opened, and I saw that my kitchen lights were on. The radio was playing in the background. I ran a hand through my hair, pulled up my worn sweatpants a little. Hell, I needed a shower, too. Heather first, though. I checked my mail - a poem from VV, some spam. I quit out of email app. VV was interesting, though I questioned how sincere she was about me being her favorite kindred.

I walked down the steps, listening to the splash of water. Turned on the TV, news. Death, death, death. I chuckled at a private joke.

Everyone lives, but not everyone TRULY dies!

I would have killed for a bowl of cereal like a normal person, but...well, Lucky Charms are no longer on the menu, I guess. So, I go to the fridge, jack up the volume on the radio a bit. LaCroix might be a right bastard, but at least he knows how to treat his goons well. Not only is there an open carton of two percent in there, but three of Vandal's finest blood bags beside it. The shower stopped.

The slap of bare feet on tile approached. I could hear Heather singing along to the radio. I turned to her.

"Andd I...I could have diiiiiiiieeed last night...but, oh ohhh, I found a smaller gawwwd..."

She was smiling, towel over her head as she rubbed her hair furiously to dry it. She wore nothing but a pale blue tank top and her panties, but she seemed happy enough. I set the bag on the table along side the milk and a bowl.

"I'm sorry, Heather, but all we have is milk and cereal. My kind isn't exactly...fond of solid food."

"S'okay, I'll shop in the morning."

She hummed along to the song as she went to the cupboard, looking over the selection.

"I love this song," she called out to me over her shoulder as I sat down, wondering how polite society drinks out a bag. I might be just another punk out of the barrio, but even I have manners. I decided to pour some into a cup, try to be normal. I got up, and we passed each other in transit. She leaned into me, deliberately brushed up against me. Affectionate, sort of catlike. I grab a mug, sit down with her as she pours herself breakfast. There's a dim realization that if I was alive, I'd have a huge hard on right now. Well, that's the price you pay for life everlasting, right?

Awkwardly, I empty some of the bag into the mug, and hope she doesn't mind. She doesn't, just crunches away happily and listens to the radio. I sip from the mug. It's cold...which is unsettling and gives the blood a funny taste. Heather pipes up, suddenly serious.

"Why did you help me, back in the clinic?"

"What do you mean, why did I help you?"

"Dunno, master. Why?"

"You were suffering. I don't like to see people suffer. Well, good people."

Taking apart that shovelhead sure had been fun, though. Twisted, sadistic, but amusing. Anyways, he was Sabbat, making him by default a murderer and a rapist. Fucking shovelheads.

"Th-thank you, I guess. I thought I was going to die."

What exactly am I supposed to say to that?

"I'm glad I could help."

She reached across the table, took my hand, looked me in the eye.

"I would do anything for you, master."

The sexual tension ratcheted up a notch. I smiled, squeezed her palm gently.

"It's okay, Heather. It's not necessary. I felt bad for you, and I'm happy you're alive. I don't hold you in debt for what I did. You can leave anytime."

"I don't want to leave, master. I was lying there, after being stabbed so many times by that ugly guy-"

Fucking shovelheads.

"And you came, and you saved me. Now, I just want to help you."

I smiled, and she ate. Nothing more needed to be said. I was touched, to the bottom of my dead heart. In the entire world, I didn't think I had anyone left. I was wrong.

I made sure she got to bed, hell I even tucked her in. As soon as she was asleep, I left for another night of LaCroix's bullshit. Well, at least I know that when I get home, I can have dinner with my ghoul.