A/N: Gone, but not forgotten...this fic or me, I'm not sure. Also, riotously drunk and listening to country music. Forgive the Faith Hill lyrics.

We walked down the streets of Hollywood, and she sighed. I grumbled.

"I don't like this."

Ever since this whole thing started, I was always worried about Heather. Anyone could figure out that I'm just a sucker, and hurting her would hurt me. Still, she interlaced her fingers in mine. I didn't stop her as she pulled close to me.

"I know. And I appreciated the dinner."

We walked awhile, just her and me. A couple of pale youths jutted chins at me respectfully from across the street- probably ghouls. I grunted a little, felt the heavy weight of my .44 in the crossdraw on my left hip. She glanced at them, drew a little closer.

"Ignore them," she told me. I relaxed fractionally, and she squeezed my hand. I didn't know why I let her go on. Maybe I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I just wanted her to be okay.

"So...where are you from?" I asked, trying to make small talk. She squinted, sorted. Her voice dropped an octave and she had a drawl.

"Wess' Kentuuuuuucky."

I was startled, and she snorted as she laughed.

"I grew up in Lexington. Moved away, worked on my accent. Got away from all of that," she said in her normal register, looking at the cracked pavement. "Came west, started over. 'Cause this is the place where everyone starts over, isn't it?" she asked me. She looked up at me, green eyes trembling.

"Sorry, chica," I said. "I'm a born and bred Angelino."

"Oh," she mumbled, glancing away. Her hand unentangled from mine. I just grinned, slung my arm over her shoulders.

"Not a problem. You've got a fresh start, you've basically immortal, you're in college and you're not aging...what more could you want, Heather?"

She blushed. She blushed furiously, pulled away from me. Three in the morning, in Hollywood, she walks ahead a couple of paces.

"It's the way you love me

It's a feeling like this

It's centrifugal motion

It's perpetual bliss..."

She sung in her accent, twirling. I just stood and watched. She took a breath, stopped, looked at me.

"That's how I feel, master. I don't need to think about anything but you," she whispered me. People were watching, and she didn't seem to care as she slung my arm around her shoulder.

"So, how about some Carl's Junior and an O neg bag to round out the night, master?"