It was that hallway. I was stuck in the Shadowlands again. The fog still clung to my legs and rolled around, thick and cold. And he was here, too. Paul Slater, I mean. The boy just can't take a gentle hint. He was standing there, just laughing at me. So what could I do? Let him stand there and have his own private giggle-fest as if I was some cosmic joke-and I very well might be considering how much fun I have at this whole mediating business-? I slugged him. Well, I tried to anyways.

 Don't take me for a weakling or anything like that. Plainly, I can make ghosts go flying with a punch, super-natural powers or no; it's not my fault he grabbed my wrist.

"Let go of me, Slater." Just after I said that, he moved so fast I thought he was dancing or something. Which was an odd thought, actually, wanting to dance with me after I had just tried to punch him. I had no such luck, with the dancing part I mean, because Paul had just decided to literally twist my arm.

He pulled my body close to his and put his head beside mine, "Come on, Suze, admit it to me, admit it to yourself that you like me at least a little bit." What is it with him and his whole huge crush on me? Does he not understand the whole point of, 'Let go of me' or 'I don't like you'? He breathed on me seductively and lightly kissed my neck as I struggled in his grasp, trying to free myself from him. Who did this guy think he was, anyways, some kind of Casanova?

Well, I have to say, I gasped. But not because I liked it or anything! It was just an odd combo of being kissed up and down my neck while having my arm pushed even farther in a way it wasn't even supposed to go. "What can Jesse give you anyway, Suze?" As he said this, he managed to pull me even closer so that our hips were pressing together. "What does he have that I don't?"

Way to a girl's heart, Paul. Real nice, physically and mentally harass at the same time. She's sure going to love you forever!            Not.

I said as much to him. He didn't take it so well. "Wrong answer." he sneered, steering me towards one of the hallway's many doors. The fog seemed to part for him as he pushed me closer to the wooden death trap. He stopped in front of one. "Last chance, Suze, me or the door." He spun me to face him while grabbing both of my wrists. He looked so confident that I would choose him over death.

Even if I had tried to keep my voice in check, I don't think it would've worked. I was scared to die. That struck me like a ton of bricks and my eyes watered over. All this time before I've said that I didn't care how hurt I could get or if I died at all, but here I was, staring into Paul's unforgiving blue eyes (A/N-even though when Paul was first introduced, he had brown eyes...) and scared as hell. "Let go of me, Paul!"

Jesse watched as Susannah tossed and turned in her bed. He had been reading but quickly put down his book when she cried out for the first time. He crossed the room and stood over her bed.

"Susannah..."

Jesse reached out and held her wrist. She was unnaturally warm but was shivering at the same time. She couldn't have become this cold from her window being open. She tossed again, wrenching her arm out of his grasp, and cried, "Let go of me, Paul!"

Realization struck Jesse-Slater. Paul Slater was haunting her. Slater was haunting his Susannah's dreams and hurting her-or possibly doing worse. She wasn't sleeping well. She hadn't, in fact, since the night of the party. Susannah had taken to being feverish at night and calling out in her sleep.

But Jesse also knew that Paul was still being detained at the hospital from the injuries at the party. He was being monitored by hospital staff so he couldn't pull anything like this right under their noses, could he?

Quickly, Jesse gathered her in his arms, sitting up on her bed and cradling her head against his chest. This didn't seem to calm her, and Jesse still worried. She was too warm and her chills were not cooling her.

He stroked a hand over her matted hair and hugged her tightly. "Please Susannah...Te despiertas, querida, wake up." Jesse whispered.

"Please, Suze, don't make me do this...Just say that you'll give me a chance, that's all I'm asking."

Honestly, his plea didn't even reach my ears, I was too far gone. I was struggling and trying not to scream and I'm sure there were tears running down my face. I must've kicked him a few times and was struggling with all my might against him. For all the good it did I might as well have been throwing marshmallows at him. All I did manage to do was piss him off some more.

Paul's face darkened, "Fine, Suze." was all he said. He let go of one of my wrists only to reach for the knob.

That was his mistake.

I slammed my shoulder against him and he stumbled back. He freed my other wrist to brace himself from falling backwards and I pushed him down with my newly liberated hand.

Before he even hit the ground I was running. Paul was yelling at me to come back, but did he really think I would stop? That wasn't his first attempt to murder a human, or me for that matter. So was I going to stop?

Of course not.

However, that didn't mean I had a clue to where I was going. I had been running for what seemed like hours when I tripped-and you wouldn't believe what on. Rope. The same rope I had brought there when I came to...well, bring a ghost back to earth.

And yes, I know that as a mediator it is my job to transport lost souls up here and all, but is it really my fault that an eight year old got duped by my boyfriend's pissed-off ex-fianceé? Not in the least. I mean, I didn't tell him to listen to the 150 year old, psychopathic ghost; I didn't tell him to exorcise my only love. So, yeah. I had to come up here, while using no feminine charms, and ask him to come back to earth. What can you expect? I mean, I was only sixteen.

I turned over and opened my eyes slowly. Instead of seeing the pearly mists of the Shadowland, I was incredibly relieved to find that I was back in my room. One thing left to puzzle over-the pair of arms that were wrapped around me.

Can you blame me for freaking out a little? I mean, I thought it was Paul or something. You know, controlling my dream and actually being in my room, in my bed, too? Totally a Slater move. So you can bet I pushed him away as quickly as I could and tried to roll out of bed and put as much space between us as possible.

Have you noticed the recurring theme here? The whole Suze-tries-to-do-something-and-is-stopped-by-someone-she-doesn't-like-too-much thing. My point: the 'tried.' I did push him away, but all he did was tighten his hold on me.

"Shh, querida, calm down. I'll keep you safe." I recognized the deep rumbling voice and the Spanish lilt. It was Jesse. I breathed about the hugest sigh of relief possible. Then I realized something. I was in Jesse's arms, in my bed, and he was whispering to me in Spanish and English while running a hand through my hair.

Was this Jesse finally realizing I'm the girl of his dreams and the only person he'll ever love? Or was this Jesse just playing the over protective older brother? I found that I didn't care all that much-these circumstances were quite comfortable. "Susannah?" he finally said. "Are you alright? What happened in your dreams?"

I sighed. There were more appropriate times to talk about mediating and hellish dreams, especially considering how I had been pulled into a hug against Jesse's body and how his arms were still wrapped around me really tightly. I settled on mumbling, "Nothing, Jesse." into his shirt.

That obviously wasn't the answer he was looking for, because he pulled away with his hands on my shoulders and stared me in the eye. "Susannah, you're lying to me." he said quietly.

Jesse didn't understand why I was lying to him. Should I tell him? No, because if I do, he's going to end up going after Paul or doing something worse... But if I don't, he'll get it out of me somehow and then be even angrier at me because he had to coax it out. Why can't I win against him? He looked at me and seemed to notice the cosmic struggle going on inside my mind. I glanced away from Jesse's eyes when one side of the battle prevailed

"Just..." the words seemed hard to break out and thick on my tongue, "Just nightmares of that place, you know...that place where you were exorcised to." I conveniently left out the whole Paul-trying-to-kill-me. "It's just that I'm there and I'm worried that you're there and that you'll be gone and-"

"Oh, querida," Jesse hugged me again, he turned his head towards my ear, "Querida, you shouldn't worry about these thing anymore," he whispered. "I'll be here to keep you safe."

I don't know why that set me off. Seriously, my mom says that to me a lot, but for some reason when Jesse said it I was just annoyed. "I can't help it, Jesse, it's not like I asked for any of this. I didn't want to know Heather, I didn't especially want to know Tad, I never wanted to deal with the RLS angels, or deal with Michael Medduci, and most of all I never asked Paul Slater to come and haunt my dreams!" Oh, snap. I covered my mouth with my hand before I could even grimace at my slip of tongue.

"Paul?" thankfully, instead of Jesse letting me go and materializing to wherever Paul was to murder him brutally, he only grabbed me even tighter. I mean, Jesse and Paul weren't the best of friends, in fact, the last time Jesse had seen Paul, he was pummeling Paul's face in. A pleasing experience for me, I might add. "Susannah, what happened in your dream?"

I sighed; watching Paul being smacked around was entertaining, but it was only dreams. Nothing more than stupid nightmares. I couldn't exactly turn to Jesse and sob out every tiny little detail. It wasn't as though Paul really wanted me dead.

--It was more like he wanted me to be his zombie-shifter queen or own my soul or something like any fan-boy would want... Geez, did I just call Paul my fan-boy? He's more like a stalker or a cockroach. Yes, a cockroach. No matter how many times you nuke it, it comes back for another round.

But then again, what if Paul managed to open one of the doors on me? Was it really me up there or my soul? Would I have had my soul sucked out of my body and be in a coma until they took me off life support? What is behind those doors anyways? Heaven? Hell? Limbo? Tartarus? Elysian Fields?

I shook my head to rid it of those thoughts. I was safe, Paul was gone, and I was in Jesse's arms. All is perfect in the life of Suze Simon, ladies and gentlemen!

I chose my words carefully, "Well, I was in the Shadowlands..."

"Yes?" Jesse was patient, but his voice was coaxing me on. He was lightly stroking my hair and watching me with his large brown eyes.

I wasn't fooled by that. I scrunched up my face like I was trying to think, "Well...I don't know if I remember the rest."

Jesse made a low noise, something like a growl, deep in his chest. I pretty much freaked out some more. I realized that he knew I was lying again. Crap.

I had to make something up, so he wouldn't kill Paul. Not that I'd mind particularly, but because I kind of wanted to kill Paul myself.

Besides, was the dream even real? Would I have died? Did Paul want me dead? Was he over his little crush and out for vengeance for breaking his heart or something?

Yeah, right. Me? Break Paul's heart? He doesn't have one.

Jesse gave me a stern look. I slipped on a face that looked a little lost and (hopefully) irresistible. Finally Jesse sighed, "Please, Susannah, tell me all you remember." Dang, not even 'querida.'

"If I told you, you'd only go after him, Jesse." I crossed my arms, "You'd probably kill him for something my subconscious made up."

"I wouldn't kill him. But don't you want him out of your life as well?"

"Yes! But not if it makes you a murderer."

"Susannah, por el amor de Dios, just tell me!" Jesse pleaded.

I got up and rolled out of bed, then started pacing. Apparently my mouth was not listening to my brain. Seriously, I was going to open my mouth and have a completely fabricated tale drop off my lips, but nooo. No sooner do I open my mouth does all the truth come tumbling out. Great. Just peachy. And Jesse looks mad, so either he's mad at me or going to kill Paul. Wonderful.

"Fine. When the dream started, I was in the Shadowland and all of a sudden Paul comes out of nowhere and he was standing there, smiling evilly at me, as if I was something of him or I belonged to him. I tried to punch him, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted it up behind my back.

"He kept talking and going on about him being the only guy for me and kept asking if you could protect me forever." I spared Jesse a glance and he seemed none-too-pleased, so I plowed on quickly, "I told him to knock it off and to leave me alone. He should know that I don't like him, don't you think? I mean he's tried to kill me, sexually molested me, tried to hurt you, and he's just generally the spawn of Satan."

"Anyways, after that, he said something like, 'wrong answer' and dragged me towards one of the doors. Then he spun me around and said, 'Last chance, Suze, me or the door.' I kicked him and he said, 'Fine, Suze.' He put both of my wrists in one hand and reached for the knob. The thing was, he really needed both hands to hold me. I kicked him again and he fell over. Obviously I ran. I kept running until I tripped and fell, you wouldn't believe what on either. It was the rope I had tied around my waist when you had been exorcised. And that's it, Jesse. I swear that all that happened in my dream."

I was pretty sure that he couldn't have caught half of what I said, but I took a breath and looked up to see how angry he was. Let me tell you, if can be pretty startling to look up and have a hot guy, or actually anyone, about three inches away fro your face. Jesse was staring deep into my eyes as if he were peering into my soul. I jumped a little but didn't move back.

I was just about to open my mouth to say something-I don't know what exactly, probably something about his invading my personal space by materializing in front of my nose-when, (I had about a second to see a concerned look on Jesse's face) I was suddenly crushed in his arms again.

This is good.

Not complaining at all. The one bad thing is, Jesse doesn't need to breathe, and while I was glad that he was holding me tighter than normal, I was really going to need some air soon. I think he got the picture when I began to gasp.

He let me go pretty quickly and took a step back like I caught the plague. I mean, not that he could get it or anything with his being dead and all, but he backed off pretty fast.

I examined his shirt; there was a large wet spot on his shoulder when my head had rested. I thought it was kind of funny that I didn't feel it. I am such an idiot. Comprehension dawned. I reached and touched my face. Great. Just great. I was crying.

Did Paul really scare me that much? I didn't cry at his first attempt on my life. True, I was involved in beating up a hoop-skirt wearing chick who ganged up on us and had to exorcise her and her crazy slave-driving husband, but was I that scared?

I sniffed wetly, "Sorry for getting you shirt wet, Jesse." He pulled me back into his grip and hugged me gently, rocking me to and fro.

"It's fine, querida, I'm just glad you're safe."

After a while, Jesse slowly tilted his head back to look at me. I must've been a sight, messed up hair, bedraggled pajamas, and tear streaks probably lit up by the moonlight. He didn't seem to mind though, judging by the way he was smiling softly at me and stroking his thumbs down my cheeks to wipe away the tears.

Now here I was, getting ready for a romantic moment and all when Jesse suddenly steers me towards my bed. Even though I was upset that he didn't kiss me, I was tired. My eyelids felt about three times as heavy as normal. He pulled back the covers and tucked me in, making sure I was nice and cozy before he turned to sit next to me. He rested on top of the comforters and quietly said, "I'll be here to watch over you, Susannah. I'll keep you safe."

This time when he said it I didn't get angry or yell. I smiled and whispered. "Thanks, Jesse." Then reached to hold his hand. I was really tired and just looking for something to hold onto. He seemed a little shocked at my sudden touchy-feely gesture, but gripped my hand in a comforting way.

Now, I don't know if what happened next was real or somewhere in my dreamy-delusional state, but then Jesse leaned over, kissed my lips softly, and said, "Good night, querida." in the most loving voice I have ever heard him use.