All I can say is: I'm sorry for the 2 month wait. :( But finally, here's chapter eight.

Oh yeah, and here is a little exerp from chapter seven, in case you forgot what happened:

Finally, I was able to string a sentence together. "Who are you?"

His lips curled into a smile, and I held my breath, waiting for the answer I was longing to hear. He opened his mouth, licked his lips, and then—

"Paul. Paul Slater."

A Neverending Story

Chapter Eight-The Paul Slater Invasion

The seconds ticked by as I stared at him, not knowing which to ask of the many questions I had. Now that this man—Paul Slater, I suppose, was his name—was actually here, standing right there in front of me with his arms folded across his chest, I was having a rather hard time remembering any of the questions I had thought up for him before, much less actually speaking them aloud.

He waited patiently, obviously expecting some sort of a response. I knotted Jesse's shirt in my hands, nervousness taking over. Finally, after what seemed like much more than just an awkward silence, I spoke.

"How…how'd you do that?" I asked unintelligently, digging up the first question I could think of. Probably the stupidest one, too.

Paul looked just a little surprised at my choice of inquiries, like he didn't expect that sort of question, but quickly recovered. He looked confused, but not as though I had caught him off guard. No, I don't think I could ever accomplish such a thing. Catching Paul off guard, I mean.

"How did I do what?" he said, his eyes blinking blankly.

"You know…just showing up like that. You did it before, too, when you were leaving this morning. It was like dematerializing, but…you're not a ghost, so that wouldn't be possible. Unless…" I trailed off when I heard him chuckling. He had an un-humorous laugh, almost as though he found nothing funny but chose to laugh just for the sake of intimidation.

"That's the only question you have for me? How I dematerialized?" he said incredulously, voicing what I had been thinking just seconds before, "And to think, I thought you had maybe a little but more--"

"Listen, Paul, I don't want to hear it. Just answer my question: how did you do that?" This guy was, once again, making me very angry. I do not like to be made fun of, as I have probably made very clear by now, and I especially do not like being made fun of by people such as Paul Slater, people who I'm pretty sure I hate.

Hearing the dislike and annoyance in my voice made Paul back of a little. "No, I am not a ghost and never have been, if that's what you're asking. I'm a shifter. And as for the whole thing with the dematerialization—"

"Wait a second, Paul," I said, standing up. I didn't bother to smooth out my skirts because I was so curious about what he was saying. "Back up a few words. You said…you said you're not a ghost and never had been. What was that supposed to mean? Were you implying that it's possible to be a ghost and suddenly…not be, anymore?" By this point, we were standing just a foot or so apart, but I didn't even mind. Did he mean what I thought he did? So maybe my imagination was running more than a little wild, but still, I wondered.

An unreadable expression crossed his face as he took a menacing step towards me. "What for, little Suzie? Why would you wanna know a thing like that?" His breath was even and calm, whereas mine was ragged and frightened. But I would never let Paul know that I was even the tiniest bit scared of him. I would rather die.

But hey, that doesn't count for much, since I'm already dead.

He kept walking towards me unhurriedly. I was paralyzed with fear. I did the only thing I could think of. I put out my leg, hoping for the old "trip-and-fall-flat-on-your-back" scenario. But he was ready for that one, too. He grabbed my leg, though hidden by excessive amounts of fabric from my skirt, and spun me around, knocking me over and pinning me on the bed, facedown. I was actually kind of happy that the bed had been there, because if it hadn't, then I would be knocked down to the floor, which would put me in an even more awkward position and cause much more pain. My arm was pinned behind my back quite painfully, and I gritted my teeth to prevent myself from screaming.

I felt the mattress groan under something, or someone's weight. I could only suspect that to be Paul. I felt him walk over, on his knees, to where I was lying on the bed, all the while holding down my arm. He quickly turned me over, still holding my arms, though above my head. I thought I had pretty good reflexes, but clearly I was no match for Paul Slater. No matter how much I squirmed around, I couldn't get out of the death grip he had on my wrists.

Much to my surprise, I felt him put one leg on either sides of my waist, sort of strattling me. My mouth gaped open in horror. What did he think he was doing?

"Now, that wasn't very nice," he said, putting on an expression of mock disappointment.

I made a motion to spit in his eye, but my mouth was too dry. Instead, I settled for, "You slimy bastard, get off of me right now! If you don't, I swear I'll—" I was cut off when suddenly Paul put a finger to my lips.

"Shhh," he said, dragging his finger down my chin and across my neck, stopping to rest right where the fabric of my shirt began. He still had my arms pinned above my head, though only with one hand now. Still, his grip could not be loosened.

His finger was cold, and I shivered. I felt different, confusion laced with another emotion I could not place, as if I wanted him to do that again. At the same time, I knew that he was dangerous and unpredictable, and in that case, I really wanted him to get off of me.

He leaned down, closer to my face, which was frozen in shock, and said in a whisper, "You know, Suze, you could easily be mine. Nothing's stopping you."

I didn't reply, but rather just blinked. I opened my mouth, but as soon as I was about to say something, he closed the rest of the distance between us and gave me a light kiss on my frozen lips.

"Just think about it," he said, and dematerialized.

I laid on the bed on my back, my arms still above my head, breathing heavily. There was no denying it; I was scared of this guy. He seemed to have power, power I could only dream of, and power that could most definitely be used for evil instead of good. And, knowing Paul, evil was just what he had in mind. I wasn't scared for myself; no, I didn't have much to be scared for; but I was scared for Jesse. I was sure that Paul had some sort of a grudge against Jesse, and the grudge could easily turn into hatred. I vowed that I would protect Jesse against him no matter what—it would be my new purpose. If Jesse couldn't love a ghost, then I could at least protect him with everything I had.

Weeks went by, with no sign of Paul again, but most definitely signs of Jesse. I had resolved that I would not talk to him, or make any contact with him, for the better of the both of us. He went to school, came home, hung out with his friends, slept. I watched him all the time, growing more and more fond of him, yearning for him, wishing that he could be mine. But I was just an obstacle in his path, just another problem for him, so I chose to watch him from afar. I dutifully kept watch for Paul, but he never seemed to appear. I thought that maybe he had all just made it up, or that he wasn't actually going to do anything to Jesse. Still, I didn't let my guard down.

Then one rainy in October, the day of Halloween, something seemed to go wrong. It was late in the night, around ten o'clock, and kids were dressed up in costumes, roaming the neighborhood and asking for treats, a tradition that I had never fully understood. Usually Jesse was home by now, but occasionally he stayed out late, so I wasn't too worried about that. But as the hour dragged on, I got a worse and worse feeling in my stomach, and I knew something had to be wrong. I thought to where Jesse could possibly be, but no places jumped out in my mind. I briefly wondered if he was with that girl Kelly again, but banished the thought from my mind a second later. I would not think of that.

Suddenly I remembered a conversation I had heard when I was spying… I mean, keeping an eye on Jesse. He had been talking to his friend, Adam somebody, about some sort of party at a fellow classmate's house. He hadn't been sure of whether to go or not, but an unsure hint was better than none, so I decided to search for him there. I looked at few houses I had seen him go into with his friends in the afternoons, and finally came across a driveway filled with many cars parked crookedly in every direction. Cars continued down the street and onto the neighbor's driveways, beer cans and trash littered the front yard. People milled around in the grass, wobbling slightly on their feet or even completely passed out. I wondered if this place was really fit for someone like Jesse.

I checked inside the house, everywhere from the basement to the upstairs, where I saw some things I'd rather not have seen. Couples were what they called "making out," dancing to the loudest music I have ever heard, and drinking alcohol from small plastic cups. I wondered if these children's parents knew what was going on here.

I was just about to give up when I noticed something particular going on around the back porch area. The glass door was shattered, and bits of glass were everywhere, glittering dangerously in the dim light of the room. The funny thing was, not many people seemed to be fazed by it.

However, when I stepped outside, people were standing, wide-eyed, in a small semi-circle around something that looked remotely like a hot tub.

"…just started being each other up up. Broke the door, too."

"Think he's gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, they both look ok I'm more worried about the hot tub."

"Dude…"

I heard snatches of conversation. Curious, I stepped forward, right through the crowd of people. What I saw was unbelievable, but somehow expected.

Jesse, of course.

And boy, did he look bad. He was out cold, and he looked like he had been beaten unconscious. Scratches and bruises dotted his hairline; he had two black eyes and a nose that looked like it was broken. His shirt was torn, dirty, and somehow wet, which I suspected had something to do with the hot tub. Worst of all was a giant gash slashed on his left cheek that faintly resembled an X. Blood trickled down his chin and splattered onto the floor where he was lying.

My first thought was that I hoped he was alright. My second was that I hope this hadn't ruined his perfect features.

Angry at the people for not helping him, I lifted my skirts to prevent tripping and ran towards him in concern. With no other thoughts, I held on to his arm and shifted to the shadowland.

For some reason, I knew his spirit would be there. Sure, his wounds were terrible, but I thought that it would take even more to knock him out. I suspected that he had shifted to shadowland right before he had been knocked out, but the reason behind it I wasn't sure of. All I knew was that I was going to be very angry at the person who had done this to him, and I had a good idea of who a possible suspect would be: Paul Slater, of course.

Sure enough, when I caught sight of the familiar gray, cloudy hallways, I immediately pushed away any fearful thoughts threatening to sneak in and began hurriedly searching for Jesse and, most likely, Paul. My "breath" seemed loud and disrupting compared to the silence of the place, so I stopped breathing, knowing that it wouldn't make a difference anyway.

Doors lined the eerie halls and fog prevented me from seeing past more than 20 feet in front of me. I picked up my pace, calling out Jesse's name, but saw no sign of anyone being there. I broke into a run, panicking now, and hoping that Jesse was alright. It had been my job to protect him, and I had failed. I had to save him now, before it was too late! Before he was lost forever…lost like I was.

Abruptly, I stopped. In the distance somewhere, I heard muffled voices.

All I could see was fog, but I could distinctly hear two male voices shouting at each other, clearly not trying to keep the noise level down at all. I approached them slowly, careful not to make any noise, though I doubt that it mattered. They sounded like they were too into their argument to pay any attention to me.

I crouched down, waiting, when I was near enough to make their words out.

"…but why did you come back, Paul? You were gone for four years. Four whole years! Do you think you can just walk back into everyone's life, make them forget what you did?" It was Jesse. And judging from his tone of voice, he wasn't going to calm down any time soon.

"I told you why. And I also apologized for whatever I did. Happy?" Paul snapped.

"No, I'm not happy. You think an apology will do it for you? You frickin' left your mother to die! From what it looked like, you were the one who killed her. You ran, Paul. And that's why I'll never forgive you. She would have had the chance to live, and you didn't give her that chance. You didn't give it to her!" At the end of this sentence, Jesse's voice got considerably louder and more filled with pent up emotion.

Silence followed his speech. I shifted my position of crouching on the floor. My leg was starting to cramp up.

Jesse cleared his throat. It seemed as though Paul wasn't going to give him an answer anytime soon. He started back on his original question.

"I'm going to ask you again," he said quietly, almost in a whisper, "What are you doing in Carmel?"

It heard footsteps, but if they belonged to Jesse or Paul I could only wonder at. Paul started in on his sentence in almost as quiet of a voice as Jesse's, but no where near as angry.

"I came for the girl," he said menacingly.

"Girl?" Jesse asked, confused, "what girl?"

Paul's voice was a little louder this time. "The ghost. She is quite fond of you, I believe." My heart rate sped up, and I craned my neck to hear more.

"Susannah?" Jesse asked incredulously, "what does she have to do with anything? You…you haven't hurt her, have you?"

Paul laughed. "Naw, I haven't. Not yet, at least. But judging by your response just now…it seems as though…you appear to be worried about her! Well, well, well, look what we have here. Ghost and mediator. Not the ideal relationship, I suppose. But I guess you could do it with her any time of day, without anyone notic--"

Suddenly, I heard a loud thud echoing through the halls. It sounded like someone had been thrown across the floor, and I could only suspect it was Mr. Slater over there.

"DON'T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT SUSANNAH IN THAT WAY!" I heard Jesse roar. Not being able to hold back anymore, I stepped out of the fog and ran towards Jesse and Paul. Paul was knocked to the floor and had blood running down the side of his mouth while Jesse, hardly being able to restrain himself, looked like he was about to finish Paul off.

"Jesse!" I shouted. He turned to look at me, alarmed.

"Querida. We must go now. It is dangerous for you to be up here, not when you are a ghost. You have a chance of never being able to get back." His voice had softened considerably, seeing as he had just been shouting at Paul a few seconds ago.

"But what about him?" I said, pointing towards Paul Slater.

"He can get back down on his own. He deserves what he got," Jesse added, looking like he very much wanted to spit on Paul right then.

"Looks like you did a pretty good job on him," I commented, looking down at Paul's groaning body. His nose was bent oddly out of shape, but I knew that since we were in shadowland, his injuries wouldn't last.

Jesse held out his hand and led me to the end of the hall, where we both shifted back to the present time.

Jesse looked just as badly beaten up as before. His eyelids fluttered open, and the people standing around him looked visibly relieved to see him conscious. He sat up slowly and let out a groan of pain.

"You alright, man?" said one of the guys standing around the hot tub.

"Yeah, you need an ambulance or something? 'Cause we can't do that here, man, sorry. No cops, you know?" said another teenager, looking somewhat concerned.

Jesse nodded and slowly got to his feet. "I'm okay," he said, "just a little banged up."

"Ok, well…you mind leaving then?" said the first guy, "Cause you're seriously crashing this party."

Jesse nodded once again and slowly walked away, one hand clenched tightly in a fist the other holding his head up. I walked alongside him, and once we were out of eyesight, I offered him my support, which he gladly took. He smiled down at me knowingly, and I smiled back.

Somehow Jesse managed to drive his car home, sneak up the stairs, and collapse into bed, all undetected, but of course with my help. He didn't say a word the whole way but held onto my arm so tightly that I felt like it was going to fall off. Still, I felt pride in that he could trust me to help him.

I spent the night, like always, watching him from my seat at the windowsill. The dark bruises under his eyes cast eerie shadows on his face, and it wasn't the handsome face I remembered. Still, it was the face that I loved. I didn't care what Jesse looked like, as long as I was with him.

Love it? Hate it?

I finally got this chapter up. I had absolutley no ideas for this story for awhile, but now I've got the ending all planned out, so expect regular updates from now on:) Please review, as always.