A/N: Hi! Finally, the moment you've all been pestering me for! And, I'm sorry to say, it's another dark one.

I don't know what's happening, but the darkness just keeps on spilling. SOMEBODY SAVE ME!

SweetestReject: Winne the Pooh IS evil, I've seen his P-90 and his machete. And I've seen his hit list... Pooh, Pooh, Pooh, whatcha gonna do?

gatorchick007: For a speechless gal, you sure use a lot of "lols", lol. ;-P

NiceHayley: Are you saying dead peeps can't cry? How prejudice of you, how completely...death-ist of you? And 20 year olds cry! How age-ist of you. And GUYS cry. How sexist of you. And Jesse's cry! How...Jesse-ist of you. I should stop now. You did 60 push-ups? You had to chase bees? Dude, has anyone ever asked you if they could make your life into a movie starring Jim Carey?

DancinSweethart: Many peeps have asked me why Suze is willing to commit suicide for Paul. Many peeps have told me I'm a moron and have got the characters completely screwy. I like to ignore those peeps and tell them - Anyhoo. Suze is not 'willing', per se, to kill herself for Paul. It's more like her duty, an obligation. I mean, come on. If she killed Paul, just to save her life, don't you agree she would never get over it? It would tear her apart and ruin her life. Suze truly believes Paul has a better future than her, and she's not a selfish person. She understands that her family would miss her; but think about it. If she died, she could be with Jesse, finally. Given the choice, Suze would pick life, any day. But she's not given a choice, she's given a very harsh, and seemingly choice-less ultimatem. Would you be able to commit murder just to save your puny ass? (No offence to your ass)

When I think about Suze's character, I don't see her as a selfish person, or a particularly cold and heartless person. All her life she's been giving and giving and helping others, and I don't think she's suddenly going to change. She's lived a life of kindness, and that's how she's learned to live, she doesn't really know how to be intentionally cruel and if she thinks it's the better solution for her to die and Paul to live, than I honestly believe she would do just that and let Paul live. Wow this is long. To round off, though, how I picture Suze may be different to how you guys picture her, if so then I can understand how my plot so far may seem incomprehensible. But seeing as it's my story, I thought it would be easier - and wiser - to write it how I view things, rather than getting it completely wrong by trying to please EVERYONE.

SmiLEe Blob: Awww! You are such a doll! I love being in peeps' faves! Makes me feel a warm glow inside... like swallowing a light bulb.

Pens in potatoes: Hehehe, thank you! Sorry it's been so long since I updated!!!

libidinous: You know, it's AWFULLY confuzzling when everyone goes round changing their names!!!!! Lol. Suze can't give Paul Jesse's life because Jesse is dead and he has no life to give. Plus, you will find out later on why it has to be Suze... or someone LIKE Suze...

Oenone: Your friend is a he and he loves me story??? Now it's MY eyes that are filling with tears! No seriously. Or was that just a typo on your part and you just missed off the 's'? Och well. Glad I seem to be welling lotsa peeps' eyes with tears, I can't explain how happy that makes me feel! (Would you be shocked if I told you there was NO sarcasm in my voice WHATSOEVER? Cos there isn't. Your tears are like gold nuggets to me...or at least, candy bars.)

emes: Oooh, coolio name. Thank you! Hope you carry on reading!

RayHaisa: See DancinSweethart's acknowledgement for answers on your question: "...but I do wonder, why is Suze giving up her life so easily. Committing suicide, that's just an ugly option." You may be a bit disappointed at the lack of Jesse v. Paul action, though... But I am trying to conjure up some scenes where there is some of that kinda stuff! Preferably with their shirts in a large vat of purple Jell-O...

Mystique Angelique: I'm still wondering whether this is going to be a J-S or P-S story too. As soon as you find out, mail me? Lol. Nah, I do know ever-so-slightly where this is heading. I hope. All of the questions about how Paul got to how he is will be explained I swear; but at the mo, none of them know what is happening at all. So you guys will hafta wait until they discover just what the devil is going on until you can also learn... Lol, I'm quite glad you had your 'typing' fingers on when you reviewed, it's so hilarious and entertaining to read all your thoughts. And just a little bit scary.

UnangelicHalo: Moomins do indeed rule, Kat. They do indeed. SOON THEY WILL TAKE OVER THE WORLD. Again; sorry about the long update-wait!

Naomi: Lol, totally know what you mean about too many cliffhangers....BUT I CAN'T STOP MYSELF! When I come up with the idea for the chappie, I honestly think I'm gonna have a regular ending...but my fingers have otehr ideas and suddenly this scenario pops up and it's just calling to me saying, "Del, Del...cliffie...cliffie is waiting for you, Del..." And out pops a cliffie at the end of my chappie. It's haunting, ain't it? Moowahahaha

tt: Hulloooooooooooo!! (I'm gonna put up my other story soon, by the way, once I get a few more chappies done - can you beta it pour moi? PLEASE. Ta mooch, love) And I don't believe you when you say you don't want anyone to die. You ALWAYS wish death on someone. And can I say just how nice it is to have my reviewers tell me they aren't actually my fans, and regret ever reviewing my story? Honest to God, it touches my heart, it really does. Warms me to my core, you could say. OR YOU COULD NOT.

AmethystHannah: Course I'm going to mention you in my acknowledgements: I mention ALL my reviewers. Unless you tell me you don't want to be acknowledged. BECAUSE I LUB MY REVIEWERS! Even when you criticise, because I know you're helping me and for that I am ETERNALLY grateful, constructive critisicm is sooooo welcome. But not critisicm such as, "She's got the whole darn plot wrong, what a moron" because frankly, that just ticks me off. AND YOU DON'T WANNA SEE ME WHEN I'M TICKED OFF. ;-D

xxreixx: Jesse? Do something rash? Well, maybe. Heh heh heh...

Ellen: Hehe, I have never been called a cutie pie. Lol. How odd. Not because I'm hideously disfigured...more like, I'm just more of a...hmm...what exactly am I? Tian? Naomi? Anna? A little help here? WHAT am I? Apart from a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtl, because we all know that.

Alenor: Hahahaha!!! I ALWAYS call people cheeky boys. It just makes sense. When they are girls. When they are boys they are obviously cheeky girls. Glad you liked my previous chappie, hope you enjoy this!

dreamingducky: You scare me. throws cookie crumbs at you and runs

mecookiemonster: See above DancinSweethart reply for the whole "don't think Suze would die for Paul"

Princess Alexiel: Sorry sorry! You are NOT deadly-terrors - je apologise. Lol. Thanks for the belated Happy Birthday, too! Hehhee.

Thanks for the reviews for all my one-shots (and those still coming in for my VPL story - sheesh, seriously. I thought you'd guys would have stopped reviewing already, obviously NOT!)

I have already begun a parody of sorts (or more just a humour piece with a little character exaggeration involved. Heh heh heh) and that is well in the works. It's another short one-shot, but it's a space-filler that I hope you guys don't mind me making. Anyhoo, hope this chappie isn't too dark and drab and dreary and ANNOYING.

I haven't read it through (I never read my chappies through; I just CAN'T) so please forgive and poo-iness or spelling badness. Or grammar badness.

Yeah. ENJOY! If you can. :-)


Crap, I thought. Why did I always manage to screw these things up? I sat hectically pondering what I should do next. Should I call Jesse? Chances were he's probably just ignore me. Should I call Paul? Yeah. That would be good. Although, Jesse would probably follow him...

Whatever. I'd take that risk.

Standing up, I cupped my hands round my mouth and called. Pointless, I know, but it added effect.

Paul shimmered into view looking curiously amused. He leaned against my dresser with one eyebrow raised. "You called, darling?" He inquired in a sit-com husband tone.

Cute. Real cute. I resisted an eye roll. Now was not the time for joking around.

"Paul," I said as seriously as I could. Which is pretty serious. I get that tone of voice from my mom – being a news reporter she has her own catalogue of vocal tones for different occasions. "Jesse is out to kill you," I informed him, all in my serious voice. I was even frowning to keep up the flow of seriousness that I wanted – I kept on frowning even though I knew I could be at serious risk of worry lines.

So you can tell I was pleased when all the color drained from Paul's face – my serious tone had worked!

Paul didn't appear too pleased. In fact, he appeared quite petrified. "What?"

I fiddled nervously with my hands. Maybe I had over-done the seriousness? "I told Jesse about our predicament..." Paul thunked his head against my dresser.

"My predicament, my predicament," he muttered. He looked up at me through wide eyes. "I'm a dead man, aren't I?"

"Let's just say that if you don't die from getting stuck where you are, Jesse will do just an effective job." The scary thing was, I was telling the truth. Jesse had actually been something of a ruffian, a rebellion in his early days. Of course, that was a few years before he'd kicked the bucket, but still.

Paul looked at me funny. "I'm not going to let you sacrifice your life for me. We don't even know if you need to. My grandpops is on so many pills he could start his own pharmacy.

I gave him a sceptical look. One that said, "I wish I could believe you, I really do. But..." Seeing this, Paul opened his mouth – no doubt to berate my pessimism – when someone new joined the party. Someone dead.

Paul lost his color again and I pretty much froze up. We were both expecting Jesse to barge in at any moment and we weren't looking forward to it.

It wasn't Jesse. It was Beth. She had her back to me and was staring avidly up at Paul. Paul was staring back.

"Hello," Beth said.

"Hello," Paul said back.

There was a pregnant pause and I knew Beth was assessing him. "I don't want Susie to die," she said definitively. Paul looked incredibly uncomfortable. He shifted his weight and shot me a look.

"Neither do I," he said. I could feel Bethany scowling and it obviously spurred Paul into some kind of action. The scowling, that is. "I'm going to make sure nothing happens to her," he reassured. A wicked glint came into his eyes and he leered cheekily at me. "That is, as long as I get something in return." His eyes travelled at a leisurely pace up and down my body before finally meeting my slit eyes.

I was not amused.

I turned to Beth. "I'm not going to die," I said. "You, however, have to move on. Beth, you can't worry about me and care about me...honey." Usually, I'm not one for pet names, but I had to soften the blow somehow. Right?

Bethany looked confused. I don't blame her. I never say things like 'honey'. Ever.

"But I want to care about you. You look just like my mommy and I loved my mommy. I want you to be my new mommy."

Aw, crap. I was just about to reply – or at least stutter some – when someone materialising into my room caught our attention.

Paul was just about to dematerialise (or as I like to say, get the hell out of here) when a just-forming arm reached out and grabbed Paul by the scruff of his neck. Literally.

It was like something from Ghostbusters. Who was I gonna call?

No one. Because I was the only one who could see them. The dead, I mean. Which kinda spoils it all.

"You," growled the embodied voice, "are not going anywhere."

Jesse popped into view but his aura had given him away before he had even appeared. It was as dark and thunderous and cloudy as his face. Intimidation was his game. And he was winning.

Paul paled but stood his ground.

"Jesse, I know you're –"

"If you know what's good for you, you will shut up," Jesse said. Paul knew what was good for him.

I was so startled at Jesse's anger I barely heard what he was saying. I had never seen him this...seething and, frankly, pissed off.

"You have been trouble the moment you came to Carmel, more directly, you have been trouble for Susannah the moment you came to Carmel. But you would not leave her alone. And for that, she is now paying." Jesse eyes flashed and his lip twitched at the corner. "I will not let her suffer for your satisfaction, power, or life."

"Jesse; I swear I –"

"You are selfish and you are stupid. You're a liar, a cheat, un hijo de puta, and the Devil's son." Jesse looked like he could spit nails he was so angry, and I was stood shocked and in awe, paralysed. "Susannah is none of these. She is an angel and she is willing to do good and make sacrifices for good." His eyes flashed again and Paul visibly cowered. "You are not good. Therefore you are not a cause for sacrifice. Do you understand?"

Paul numbly nodded his head.

"You will leave Carmel by the end of the week. You will leave Susannah's life and you will never come back. Understand?"

Paul's eyes slashed to mine.

"Jesse, look. I know your angry but you have to listen. I don't want – "

"What you want and don't want is irrelevant to me and anyone else, Slater. You will – "

"It's not irrelevant, de Silve, when what I want is for Susannah to live a long and healthy life and what I don't want is her to kill herself for me!"

I figured now would be a good time to step in. Now would be a safer time to step in.

"Jesse. Jesse." He didn't turn around. I walked up to him and placed both hands on either side of his face, turning it to mine. "Jesse, I'm not going to die, okay? Paul and I are totally going to find a way out of this. We'll probably only need some chicken blood, candles, and Basilisk fang. And maybe a magic sorting hat and couple of wands. But that's probably it."

Jesse looked unconvinced and baffled. I didn't blame him. He's not a Harry Potter fan. Geek.

"Look; it's cool. Paul and I are gonna research this near-death experience crap on the internet, library, and Paul's grandpa's head and we're gonna come up with a harmless, death-free solution. Seriously."

Jesse gave a disgruntled growl and flung Paul's arm away.

I felt my body relax. Jesse was calming down. But then guess what? He turned on me! Jesse fully turned on me and he was not a happy bunny!

My mouth dropped open. What was he angry at me for?

"And what if you can't find a simpler, safer method, querida? Then what? Are you still going to perform the ever-angelic martyr and sacrifice your life for a boy you barely know and don't care for?" He took a step toward me and his eyes narrowed. "What I don't understand is why you are so willing to do this. Why you are so upset about the idea of Mr Slater not being around. This boy has been a nuisance ever since he arrived, or so you told me. Now, however, it seems you are constantly jumping to his defense, willing to help him any way necessary. Are you certain he's not getting anything in return? Or are you simply acting out your Sister Simon nature?"

Jesse's tone of voice was scathing and his words were scoffing and it took me a while to progress everyth5ng he had said to me.

'Are you certain he's not getting anything in return?' What the heck was that supposed to mean? And why had he been so sarcastic when he'd said, 'Are you still going to perform the ever-angelic martyr...' and, 'Or are you simply acting out your Sister Simon nature?' I admit; I'm not always the cleanest of people, and I do go against the occasional commandment. But I never instigated that I was "angelic" or "Sisterly". Come on!

Suddenly, I was very pissed off at my so-called boyfriend. "Getting anything in return? What the hell is that supposed to imply, Jesse? Do you not trust me enough to have any male friends? Do you honestly think I'm cheating on you?"

At Jesse's silence, I gave a laugh that didn't sound amused at all. "Oh, right. Of course. I mean, because I'm not from your time, because I'm a modern kinda gal, it's to be expected, isn't it? Because I don't wander round in a hoop-skirt and act like the lady I'm supposed to be, that naturally means I hop into bed with the nearest guy I see, doesn't it? Even though I loved you form the minute I saw you, and even though I've done so many countless things to protect you, and given up so many things to keep you, I'm still not trustworthy? Even though I feel like you own my heart and soul, I'm still going to go round sleeping with enemy?"

I stared at Jesse in disgust. And you know what? He didn't look in the slightest bit remorseful. He just stared right on back with these unfathomable black eyes, and his straight-set features.

"God. It doesn't matter how much I'm hurting at the moment, at the thought of either losing you and everyone else I love – like my family – or staking claim to that fancy, celebrated title of murderer, you just want to assume the worst of me, don't you? Well, fine. Then you can just go. You can leave and never come back. Ignore any pain I've gone through in trying to keep you here on earth and just move on to a better life. Or go to heaven where you can be a gentleman with all the hoop-skirt nancies that you want."

When Jesse made no move to do anything of that kind, I felt my anger bubble up a notch. "Go!" I spat. And he did.

The minute he disappeared, I could feel my heart being torn. Like he was holding onto it and tearing it out of me as he left. It hurt and it hurt and I wanted it to stop but I didn't know how.

I wanted to throw something at him. And at the same time I wanted to fall onto my knees and throw myself at him, beg him to come back and hold me and forgive me and love me and never ever leave me.

I wanted to say I was sorry. I wanted him to know how much I loved him...I needed him to know.

It was stupid. I was stupid. Why the hell had I done that? Blown up at him? Over-reacted? Threatened our relationship like that? What was I, malfunctioning? I mean, God. We had something...and I had chucked it in the garbage.

Goddamn me! And here were Paul and Bethany, staring at me as I stared at the spot Jesse had just vacated. Bethany's lip was trembling and I couldn't look at her because I knew that if I saw her collecting tears...if I saw her sorrow and pain, then I would just collapse. I would lose my strong demeanour and I would break. Into a million tiny, fragile pieces. And I couldn't have that.

Already, though, against my will and against my brain, I was losing. I was growing weak. My eyes were burning, my throat was constricting painfully, and my breath was growing shorter, turning into pitiful gasps.

And I couldn't look at Paul. Look at the pity that would be there, stark naked, in his eyes. He would be sneering, coming out with some sarcastic comment, teasing me like he always did. My pain was his pleasure, after all. And I still wanted to save him.

"Go, please," I whispered. I was pretty sure I kept the tremor from my voice, and I was pretty sure my voice didn't sound too weak, too much like I'd just been kicked in the stomach, strangled around the throat, and slapped across the face.

I heard Bethany give a sniffle, and I hated her for it.

But she went. And amidst the fury something cool trickled in. I was thankful. She wouldn't see me fall apart.

There was a hand on shoulder and it felt like a punch in the sternum.

"Go," I said in a colder voice. I didn't look at Paul's face; couldn't, really. The hand didn't lift but Paul disappeared too.

Disappeared like Jesse had done, and Beth had done.

Dumb ghosts. Cowards, that what they are. Sticking around because they were too cowardly in their past life, and they're too cowardly in death. If they had taken control when they were alive, they wouldn't be forced to hang about after it. But they were weak, they were contemptible.

I hated them. I mean, honestly. What had they ever done for me?

I wanted to be one. Maybe I could go find some pleasure in haunting some old bag. Or trying to push CeeCee and Adam together, using my mystical powers. I'd be able to keep an eye on Gina, and watch Doc growing up.

Watch Doc as his smile lit up at some passing comment from a girl he liked. Watch Doc as he baffled everyone into silence by some casual speech he'd made. Watch Doc as he found the girl of his dreams, as he kept her, comforted her, told her he loved her, and held his first child in his arms after marrying her.

I wanted to do all that. But the images of Doc's face as he watched me. As he watched me being lowered into the ground by some burly men, six-feet down into the ground, to be precise. The picture of Doc's eyes as he watched my mom and Andy, and maybe even Dopey and Sleepy clearing out my room of all my junk and stuff.

Did I really want to do that to Doc? And not just Doc. There was Gina, Adam, CeeCee, mom, dad. Who knows; maybe even Father Dom!

Did I really want to do that to all of them?

Man, ultimatums stank.

Hurt everyone I loved by killing myself; hurt everyone who loved Paul (inclusive of Paul) by killing him?

I know that I'd kept on trying to reassure Jesse, and Paul, and Bethany, and sometimes even myself, that maybe, just maybe, there was another way out of this. Telling everyone that Grandpa Slaski had lost his marbles and was just trying to scare us.

But somehow, deep down, I sorta knew that there wasn't another way. I knew that I trusted Dr Slaski a lot more than I trusted Paul, or even myself.

His eyes were clear and sharp, and spoke the truth even though his lips were slow and his speech was slurred.

I was only sixteen, for Chrissakes! Why was I being forced upon stupid deep things like this? It was like giving a driver's licence to a four year old.

And suddenly I felt very tired. I crawled meticulously onto my bed, snuggling deep as if I could burrow my way out of this life and into a better alternative. When, exactly, did it not matter what I wanted anymore? When had that choice of happiness being stolen away from me in the dead of night? Had the gods rolled a die and my name had come top-up, glaring at them in luminescent blood-red font, taunting them and willing them on to all turn against me?

Or had I made one too many mistakes, and this was my price?

Either decision would destroy me; one mentally, emotionally; the other physically. Either decision would result in my own little Chaos theory, spiralling out of control and playing the Fates like harpsichords until the strings twanged and snapped, whipping and flaying out in all directions.

The doorbell rang.

Loud and clear. Rrrrrrring.

Even though my legs felt like sacks of sand, I heaved myself off my bed and walked placidly to the door. No one else appeared from inside the house.

I peeled open the door neutrally, all the while feeling as though I was having an out-of-body experience.

At first I didn't recognise who was standing in the doorway. The man who had saved my life was visiting me just as I was contemplating the idea of having to end it. What a wasted good deed, I thought bitterly. Oh well, at least someone's got a seat reserved for them at the five-star restaurant 'Heaven'.

It was Jim.

I would have acted more uplifted at his sudden appearance if I had only known that he would be the one who made my choice a lot easier.

That he would, ultimately, lead me to my final destination, the one that I was meant to arrive at.

The man who saved me once, would save me again. In more ways than one.