a/n: I don't own Mediator…. Need I say more?

ReadingLuver: Thanks! I'm glad you gave "Eterno" a chance. I know the idea is terribly overused but rereading "Shadowland" I was bothered by all of the gaps. We might not see Jesse for a hundred pages. What is he doing then? Why is he at times omniscient and at other times completely clueless?

Bbblfl: Well, here it is….

Celuna Cirrus: Thanks! Isn't Jesse just fascinating?

Trisisabel: Thanks

Lono: Don't worry. I plan to be here for the long run. As for my Spanish, I've been studying it for the past four years. I'm still not fluent but I'm getting there.

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Un Tiròn

Ghosts don't sleep. Why should we? We never get tired. We never feel fatigue. Sleep is unnecessary, just like eating and even breathing.

But as I watched Susannah sleep I couldn't help but to envy her. She looked so peaceful. Her eyes were flickering behind their lids and I wondered what she dreamt of.

I hadn't had a dream in over one-hundred and fifty years. There had been… waking dreams, where I'd find myself reliving my death, but even those disappeared after a short while. I was left with nothing, just a hollow feeling as I watched the world pass me by.

At the time the hollow feeling had been welcomed. At least, it seemed much friendlier than the waking dreams. In the waking dreams I watched my sisters cry, accept and then… forget. I saw Maria marry Diego. I saw the ranch fall into disrepair. Slowly they all changed. They changed from the young to the old, and I watched them whither away with excruciating inevitability. The line of De Silva's died out. It had been replaced by smatterings of the Diego clan.

But as I watched Susannah I realized that even those waking dreams would be welcomed now. The feel of Susannah's touch had instilled something into me, a longing to feel, a longing to sleep and to breathe. I wanted to eat some of my abuela's flan. I'd even go for a taste of Mercedes's horribly lopsided pasteles tres leche.

Yes, even the waking dreams would be welcomed.

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As I heard Susannah leave for school I wondered when I should confront her again. I could not go on like this, watching when she wasn't looking. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel honorable.

When she gets home, I decided. She might not like it but I was here to stay.

Running my hands through my hair I decided that I had to read. After finding something suitable ("The Count of Monte Christo") in David's room, I settled down on the window seat.

I had been reading for several hours when it happened.

It was gentle at first, a mild tug behind my navel. I ignored it. I wish I hadn't.

Suddenly it seemed as though somebody had punched my stomach. Foreign noises reached my ears. There was an enormous explosion followed by a dull thud and then the pattering of tiny falling objects.

"Excuse me. Excuse- Good God in Heaven. Are you children hurt? Susannah are you all right?"

The pain and the noise stopped as suddenly as it had started.

I shook my head. What had just happened? What was going on? Was Susannah hurt? I don't know why I suddenly felt so protective of her. Maybe it was because I had been unable to watch over my sisters as I should have. I had seen them hurt. I don't like seeing women, especially ones I knew in harm's way. I really I don't know why I was so concerned. All I do know is that I materialized to the Mission on the spot.

By the time I reached the school the courtyard was almost empty. On the ground under the awning was a huge block of wood. It had to have been at least ten inches thick and two feet long.

Had it fallen on Susannah's head?

No, I saw an elderly Father leading her away. She looked pale but alive. Chips of wood hung feebly from her sweater.

She was okay. Feeling relieved I wandered over to inspect the wood.

It was dry.

How had it fallen then? It clearly wasn't rotted. That wood had been there for over a hundred years. Why would it fall now?

And then I noticed a girl. She was tall, blonde and…

She was glowing.

The girl was staring intently at the block of wood as well, disgust etched clearly on her face. Muttering under her breath she turned and saw me. She stood frozen.

"Who the hell are you?"

God, those words were starting to sound familiar.

Clearing my throat I said, "Hector. Hector de Silva."

I was still unsure whether or not this girl was a friend or not. Had she been responsible for the falling wood? If she was then why was she angry at Susannah? Susannah had been here for less than a week. What could she have possibly done in that time frame to warrant such… hatred? If this girl had been really trying to kill Susannah then I didn't want her to know my… real name.

The girl smirked, looking down her nose. "Hector? Hmm, I'm Heather. Are you some kind of cowboy or something?"

I chose to ignore the cowboy crack for the time being. Instead I gestured towards the piece of wood.

"Your work?"

The girl looked really smug. She nodded, "You should have seen the looks on their faces. Especially that witch, Suze Simon. She looked like she wanted to strangle me. And the priest, he can see me too. Well, they can both go to…."

I made a face.

"What? You don't mean to tell me you know that­"

"I do in fact know Miss Simon and I'd be glad if you weren't trying to kill her."

Heather scowled. "I wasn't really after her you know. I wanted to get Bryce; only your little girlfriend saw me and knocked him out of the way."

I looked back at the piece of wood. So Susannah spoke quickly, spoke to the dead and was quite undeniably brave. I must tell you, I had only spoken to her once but she was growing on me nonetheless.

"Why do want to kill er… Bryce?"

Heather opened her mouth and shut it. She rolled her eyes.

"Do I really have to explain myself to you?"

And with that she dematerialized, leaving me alone in the abandoned corridor.

a/n: Read and Review. Chapter Four: "El Fuego de Infierno" should be up Thursday or Friday.