Um..yeah...I'm not sure where this came from...I sat down to start writing the next bit of Crossing The Line and this came out...So now I have three stories I'm working on...

Suze's POV:

Run. Don't walk. Don't think about the blinding pain in your left arm- which, now happens to be broken, thanks to a certain asshole of a ghost. Don't think about how you'll explain coming home at three in the morning with a gash in your head. Don't think.

I had meant to go home. I had wanted to go home. I had wanted to climb- somehow- up into my room and fall into a very peaceful sleep after what had just happened. I'm sure you'd like to know what just happened as well.

All in good time, all in good time...

While I meant to go home, I know I couldn't have faced it. Couldn't have faced sitting in my bed, occasionally looking out the window, at the window seat where HE would never again sit. Couldn't have faced being in my house when Dopey would say something the next morning, either about being out so late or about Je- HIM- in general.

Nope.

Couldn't do it.

I can go to amusement parks with CeeCee and Adam and "fly" on Dragon's Wing, where they harness you up and then lift you waaaaaaaaay up and then let loose. Yeah, that I can do.

Face my empty room because it houses memories of what Jesse and I will never be, of what Jesse was pretending to be? Yeah, that I couldn't do.

And so I ran. I ran far out, letting my inner navigation system take me away. I heard cars whizzing past me, some offering rides, but I declined. Even when the people offering were fairly attractive seniors at RLS. I kept running.

I ran to the edge of a cliff, a cliff I'd passed before but hadn't noticed because I'd been in the passenger seat of a convertible. I stood, shaking and sobbing, at the edge of the cliff, very aware of a presence coming up to me. I took a step closer to the edge.

"Suze?" My name was like a question, the asker confused, unsure if it was really me. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts don't give a shit generally. They just want help passing on.

Lousy, lying, evil bastard ghosts! I took another step. I was at the edge, looking down at the spiked rocks and the pulsing ocean waves.

"Suze? Are you alright?"

Am I alright? Am I alright? For a moment, this seemed laughable. Did I look alright? Does the blood gushing from my head and my limp arm give me the aura that I'm alright? A giggle escaped my lips, and then another followed it. Before I knew it, I was laughing hysterically in Paul Slater's arms.

Paul just kind of stood there, holding me while I laughed until I cried, and then while i just cried. I tried to explain after awhile that I was, indeed, alright, but he had seen my head wound and arm. Carefully leading me away from the edge of the cliff, Paul took me to his house where he fixed me up.

I sat numbly on the edge of his bed, not worried about what happened the last time I was on his bed. I couldn't really remember anything that had happened prior to this afternoon.

I'd kissed Jesse in the graveyard. It had been GOOD, let me tell you. We'd broken away, well, I'd broken away desparately in need of air, and Jesse had slipped and said, "I'm so close now..."

For a minute, I thought the gentleman in him had gone away, and he was talking close to...you know. But as usual, I was wrong.

As was apparent when he took a small knife, pricked my hand- we aren't talking fingers here. We're talking the palm of my hand- and let the blood drip onto his. Jesse said some funny words, and then BAM! no more ghosthood for dear old De Silva.

This is good, right? Means we can be together, right? WRONG! I thought you'd have picked up that this wasn't a good thing, since I've got a broken arm and a busted head.

What happened was this: Jesse became alive, and a second later, Father Dom comes running down the path, yelling for me to run, and for Jesse to stop, before it was too late. Father Dom looked at me, then looked at Jesse before saying, "I'm too late." in this very sad voice.

"Too late for what?" I asked confusedly.

"Too late to stop me." Jesse said evilly. "But not too late to see this." And then bastard waved his hand at me and tossed me against a monument! I fell to the ground, and then stood up to face him, but he did it AGAIN!

"You prick! Jesse, are you friggin' possessed or something?" Only I didn't yell friggin'.

"No, Susannah, I'm not." Jesse said darkly, walking over to me and pulling me up- with the flick of his hand! Seriously, it's like in the first Harry Potter movie, where the kids were trying to make their brooms raise. His hand was out, and he lifts it up so I'm standing.

Then decides it's time for a little lip lock.

Of which I just wasn't into. I mean, he'd thrown me against a damn monument. Would you wanna make out right then? I tried to shove him off, but Jesse pinned me there with his body. "Querida, thank you."

What the bloody hell? "Thank you for not killing you yet? Jesus, Jesse, you have thrown me against a monument, and pricked my hand, and are holding me against this damn thing, and you're thanking me? What the hell?"

"Thank you for loving me. It's what brought me back." Jesse said, ignoring my outburst for the most part. "Without the blood of someone who truly loved me, I could not be brought back to life."

Great. So I just invited an old-time psycho to modern-day Carmel. Great. Just frickin' great. Another slam to the monument and my arm was broken.

"Jesse, why the hell are you hurting me now? I mean, I just freaking brought you back to freaking life!" Except I didn't say freaking. Do I ever?

"Frankly, Susannah, you are of little use to me now." Bastard! "Right now, you serve only one purpose..." Jesse gave me the once over, a hungry look in his eyes. "It has, after all, been a hundred and fifty years since I was last with a woman..."

Oh shit!

And so I ran. Only to be caught around the waist by Jesse, who dragged me to a small room in the rectory- the room that he was supposed to move into, I later found out. A locked door and a couple shoves later, I was squirming under Jesse, screaming for him to get off of me. Fiery unpassionate kisses were being left on my neck, and I started sobbing when I realized he wouldn't get off of me.

But see, a hundred and fifty years doesn't mean you get smarter. Jesse had forgotten about a vase on the table next to his bed. Why it was there, I don't know, but it was. I grabbed it with a free hand, that I didn't know I had, and smashed it against Jesse's head. A bit of glass hit me, hence the head wound I had, and I got out from under Jesse's unconscious form. Then I started running.

To end up at Paul's house several hours later with a broken arm and a gash.

"Suze...if you wanna, you know, talk about it, you can. I mean, I'm here and all." Paul said, somewhat sleepily. In the middle of everything, I could tell he wanted to go back to sleep, but the nice guy in him wouldn't let him.

"Paul, it's fine." I said, getting up. I'm such a damned liar! "You go to sleep, I can tell, you're mega-tired, and I'll just-"

"You'll just what, Suze?" Paul said, slight anger flashing in his eyes. "You'll just walk home, and get smacked around again by whoever did this? You'll just go crawling back to that cowboy- don't even deny it, Suze! I know he did this. I can see it in your eyes. So what are you just going to do?"

I didn't even get a warning before the tears just started flowing. Seriously. Usually, my eyes get prickling and the back of my throat itches, but not this time. I just collapsed back onto Paul's bed and started crying. In an instant, Paul was next to me, arms wrapped around me, going, "It's OK...shhh....Suze, I didn't mean to sound so harsh...It's just...I really care about you, I hate to see you hurt...Shhh...it's OK." in this way gentle voice.

After a few minutes of heavy shaking and crying until my face hurt, I calmed down. I let Paul hold me for a few more minutes, and was about to suggest I high-tail it home, since Sleepy was in charge and would freak if I wasn't there, when I saw a twinkling of blue lights in the corner.