Author's note: Well, I'm not really sure where this idea came from, but, here it is. Rather dark and twisted, but my muse has a tendency to write dark and twisted every so often. Anyway, please review, hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own, please don't sue. Savvy?


Mommy was dead. Zoë knew that. She had known that for a while know. She had known it would happen since Mommy had told her to hide, to be quiet, to be a good, little girl and not let herself get scared or hurt.

Mommy couldn't save her from the Gnome King as he chased after her. Mommy couldn't even save herself now. The Gnome King was worse than the vampires that had killed Daddy and strung him up like garland, and so he had been able to kill Mommy.

Zoë's young mind could reason it out so simply it might frighten an adult. Perhaps something was wrong with her, like the psych, the, the shrink - that was the easiest name to call him that she had heard from Mommy that wasn't a bad word - had said. But then the shrink had also denied the existence of the vampires. He would also deny the existence of the Gnome King if Zoë ever got to tell the shrink about him.

If the Gnome King didn't kill her, too.

But Zoë had a head start. A good one. Her short, little legs were carrying her faster than they had ever carried her before. She knew the way to town. She knew the way too help. People wouldn't let the Gnome King get her, the Gnome King wouldn't expose himself to all those people walking by, hearing her cry for help.

She knew she could reach the people. She knew it. She could get away, and she could escape the Gnome King. She just didn't know for how long.

That was the part that scared her.

I'm a good, little girl. I'm a good little girl. I'm a good little girl.

She repeated those words like a mantra. She kept saying them, over and over in her head, reminding herself that even if she was wrong, even if the Gnome King caught her, when she died she would go to Heaven and be with Mommy and Daddy. Even if she escaped him tonight yet was caught later on, she would go to Heaven, be with Mommy and Daddy.

I'm a good, little girl. I'm a good, little girl.

She heard footsteps behind her, she heard him coming after her, gaining on her, the loud, thundering boom of his feet hitting the ground making her flinch even as she tried to run faster. Her legs were burning, she was barely able to breath now, but the town was still a ways away.

And the Gnome King was so close.

I'm a good, little girl. I'm a good, little girl. I'm a good little girl. I am a good, little girl and will go to Heaven, because there is a Heaven, no matter what the Gnome King says!

"You know that's not true."

It was the Gnome King. He was speaking, even as he was running after her. He didn't sound out of breath, he didn't even sound like he was moving. It almost sounded like it was being whispered in her ear, but she knew he couldn't be that close yet.

"I can't?"

Zoë clenched her eyes shut, trying to run faster but all of a sudden she wasn't moving at all, and strong arms held her tight. She opened her eyes, finding herself lying in a bed, black sheets surrounding her, arms strong enough to break steel holding her to a body she was certain was tougher than any metal she had ever touched. She wasn't a good, little girl anymore.

"Of course you aren't. You're a bad girl. A dirty girl. You're not even a girl anymore, are you?"

That voice kept taunting her. Deep, rough, frightening, commanding, sinister. But it was different from the last time she had heard it. It was lower, softer, crueler. It still frightened her but it made shivers of another sort race down her spine as well.

No. I'm a good, little girl. I'm a good little girl.

"No you aren't. You know you aren't, you know there's no Heaven for you to be good for."

"Yes there is," she stated firmly, defiantly.

"I have lived thousands of years. You haven't even lived a quarter of a century. Which of us would know better on such matters?"

"I'm a good, little girl!"

Zoë jerked away, hastily sitting up and looking around. She was in her bed, with nice, white sheets - a wonderful cotton that breathed during hot, summers nights yet could keep her warm during winter - and in her nice, white gown, and completely alone.

There was no Gnome King.

There was no Drake.

Except in your head. Some good, little girl you turned out to be. Maybe he was right. Maybe you won't have to worry about a Hell to head to when you die, because you can't stop dreaming about, him.

Zoë ignored that part of her mind. The dark, wicked part of her that had wanted to take up Drake's offer of immortality. That weak, frightened part. She was better than that.

Then why do you keep dreaming about him in such a manner?

Lying back down, Zoë rolled onto her side and curled up into a fetal position. She closed her eyes, saw his eyes staring into her. He always stared at her beneath the lids as she slept. He was always watching her, just like he had always watched her when he had captured her. It was like a part of him that hadn't died, that was still around, still offering her the immortality that hadn't saved him in the end.

Good, little girls don't end up with Gnome Kings. Good, little girls don't wish they could be bad, don't fear death. Good, little girls don't cry for Gnome Kings.

"I'm a good, little girl," Zoë stated softly, even as her eyes burned with tears beneath the closed lids. That part of her mercifully quieted down as Zoë fell back asleep, his eyes, his inhuman eyes, still watching her.