A/N: Yoyo, my fairly lovely chickens. Been fairly busy what with my virus and catching up on schoolwork as well as normal schoolwork (who invented GCSEs anyway?). But, after much whining (I'm joking. There was only a little bit of whining. Okay. There was a lot. ;) ) I managed to give birth to this 7lb baby. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't tidy, but someone had to do it.

Shame there wasn't any of the procreation pre-stages, if ya know what I mean. ;-P Sorry. My hormones have been playing up recently.

xxreixx: HAHAHA. Nutjob. I wish I could disappear in a poof of sparkles and smoke. Bit bad for those asthmatics around me. But at least they'd get a darn good show before they started...having...breathing difficulties...ah hem. Maybe I wouldn't make a good doctor... I lub Star Wars. That's no moon, that's a space station!

Gets me every time...

Oenone: Hehe, I know it was a bit of an odd chappie. I never intended to have a Guardian Angel. I usually hate stories with that kinda thing added in. But I was in a funny mood... Blame it on the hormones, people. Blame it on the hormones.

Alenor: You're an Aussie! Cool. The sandwich was a bit...loaded. Don't really know where it came from. I could just picture it. Scary... Jim doesn't really like Jesse because Jimmyboy thinks that Jesse is bad for Suze. She always seems to get hurt/into trouble because of him, ya know? So I thought I'd put Jim in as a sort of...surrogate big, over-protective brother. Cos it's not like Suze's step-brothers can be over-protective of her when it comes to her moonlighting. Guardian angels are just...angels, really. They're people who died, but who can come back on earth and inplant themselves and their pseudo-lives into people's minds to make it appear as if they are real. For example, if Jim appeared to Suze, and Suze started researching Jim on the net or something, a load of information would appear on him such as college pictures, or family trees, etc. When really, Jim would not be real. He would just make that info appear to those who search for it. Part of his disguise... If you understood any of that, I doff my cap at you. doff doff. So basically G.As can be any age, any gender. They usually don't appear in human form to help their charges unless it's absolument vital. Mostly they just...mentally guide the subconscious. Sorta. Hmm...

Mystique Angelique: Hahahaha, Jesse, sweet? Yeah he is, isn't he? Bless his cutie-wutie face. -slowly pulls self together and walks off. Then begins to run as a remote control car chases her. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!-

tt: It's hard making people funny! I'm pretty good at the witty banter when I'm physically bantering with people...but when I'm writing a witty banter? It's like all those wittisms just drain away... So I'll stick to big sandwiches.

UnangelicHalo: Nifty. I lub that. Nifty. Hehehehe. Nif-ty. Nift-y. Ni-fty. Semantic satiation shall not claim THIS word from me! Moowahhahaaaa!!! -runs off clutching 'nifty'between her hands, glancing in every direction. Trips over on remote control car-

Anna: ANNA!!! My saviour. My Messiah. Grow a beard, and you could be my Jesus. Would you stop putting '(S, you moron)' at the end of your review?? I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!!! And stop with the 'morons'. It's like the stupid dwarf; it's not big, and it's not clever.

DancinSweethart: Zorro is muy coolio. I like his cape. I have one just like it.

dreamingducky: I kept on writing...

moovalous3: Hahaha. It's so funny. Some of you lub Jim, some of you lub Jesse, some of you want to burn Jesse at a stake, some of you want Spike to run away and marry the dog from Frasier and have freakish mutant Frasike kit-pup babies.

Naomi: I have never simpered or made daisy chains, but I do kick box. That constitutes me as an anti-cutie pie. SO WHAT AM I???? A moo-cow. So simple we never saw it coming.

Azure Autumn: Hehehe, reactions are coming up soon... just not in this chappie. HAHAHA.

Squintz009: Aaaaaw. Have a pygmy monkey. -throws pygmy monkey- I'm glad tu aime mon story!

Nice Hayley: I had that same problem! I didn't get any Author Alerts! I almost died. Then I suddenly got 98 in one day and my computer exploded and the table caught on fire and the curtains caught on fire and then the house burned down and some robbers came and robbed us and me and my mummy had to sell our...hot chocolate to build a new house and now we have a big new house and a shiny new computer and we all lived happily ever after the end. :)

RayHaisa: You said 'I have one gripe' and in Spanish 'gripe' means flu. DOES THAT NOT SEEM ODD? Jim was different than he was lsat time. Mainly because he wasn't saving Suze's butt from a vicious ghost so he didn't hafta worry about getting into trouble if said pesky ghost decided to tail him and castrate him or do other unmentionable things to him or his charge. You could say he was a little more relaxed this time so he was more comfortable with being the real him - sarcastic, and whatever else. Paul-like, if you so think.

SwEeT-sHoRtEy: GLAD YOU LUBBED IT!!! Hahaha. Aw. You make me smile. Got my friend to beta it, so hopefully not so many spelling/grammar mistakes (sorrrrrrryyyyyyy! lol)

AmethystHannah: Merci beaucoup! Hehehe. I have too many ideas. Like jumping off buildings and wandering round in a pair of jeans....with boxers over the top. Those kind of ideas get me into trouble... Lucky I have my super powers, eh? ;)

Ta much to all those STILL reviewing "Where is Jesse's VPL?" - glad you're still enjoying it! Hehehe. We're all so immature and cruuuuude. The way God wanted us. Or not.

Hope vous aimez the following piece of writing:

Boo.

The end.

Just kidding. :)


I was still leaning against Jesse when I remembered something.

"Hey! I'm still annoyed with you, mister!" I leapt up from my admittedly comfy position and thrust my finger at his chest.

"About that, Susannah..." He took a deep breath and looked at me. As in, really looked at me. Like he was weighing up how to tell me whatever he wanted to tell me. It looked like it was causing him pain. "I'm sorry."

Both my eyebrows shot up to meet my hairline. There was silence. Was that it? It seemed all Jesse seemed to do was love me then leave me then love me then leave me. It was not only hurtful, but a little tiresome, too. How was I supposed to concentrate during school with Jesse plucking at the ropes of my mind? Speaking of school...

"I have homework." I turned on my heel, and strode up the stairs. Of course, when I actually got into my room, Jesse was there and waiting. Darn his ghostly powers. He didn't look too impressed. He was tapping his jingling-spurred boot, arms folded eloquently over his chest, and an unamused-but-secretly-I-am-amused-I-just-want-to-look-mad-so-as-to-intimidate-you eyebrow quirked. I breezed past him to my book bag and began riffling - a tad unnecessarily seeing as I had already done all my homework - through it.

"Susannah," he crooned into my ear after bending down behind me. I tilted my ear away so I was now searching through my book bag...without actually looking at what I was searching through. "Querida..."

"No." I said. Rather simple, no? Well, obviously not for Jesse.

"Susannah," he said. I gritted my teeth. I had never realised how infuriating he was. Emphatic, really.

Actually, that was a lie. I had realised how infuriating he was the day I met him. And look how that turned out! I ended up falling in love with him.

"What, Jesse? I'm very busy, you know. I'm a very busy lady."

"No you're not, you're just trying to think up excuses to ignore me," he said calmly.

I spluttered attractively. Then I stood up. Jesse stood with me, his dark, dark eyes never leaving me, they were like leaden weights on me.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

I stared at Jesse. Why was he acting as childishly as I was? He was meant to be the mature one. And was he smirking? "Am not."

"Are too."

Okay, he was smirking. The ! "Am not." I said obstinately.

"Susannah," Jesse said.

"Hey! You broke the chain."

"Susannah, I think we need to talk."

"Yeah, you're right. We do." I took a deep breath, "You're a jerk." I folded my arms and waited for Jesse to talk. "You go," I said, motioning for him to continue.

"The only time I've heard you say use this term 'jerk', was when you were angry at Brad..."

"Oh?" I said, feigning innocence.

Jesse gave a sigh. Although what he had to be exasperated about, I don't know. I mean, he's the infuriating one. Right? "I can understand you're angry at me, querida," Lord I wish he wouldn't use that word. "But I need you to understand; I was upset and angry. I am so sorry, querida, if I hurt you."

"You should be. Because you did. Hurt me, I mean. I'm going through a real tough time and I do not need you to be on back 24/7, okay? I'm trying to do the right thing and you're just nagging at me!" I felt like I was on a roll, I was even pacing. And I wasn't going to stop for anything. Unless someone who couldn't see the dead walked in on me. Then I'd stop. I don't want to seem entirely nutso. "Well I'm sick of it! Okay? You should be nice to me. You love me? Then show me. Don't just worry and don't just get angry with me. I never yell at you when you do stupid things!"

We both raised our eyebrows at that. Me because Jesse never did anything stupid, and Jesse because, well... he never does anything stupid.

I shook my head. Stupid, stupid me.

"Querida. If ever I do a stupid thing, I give you permission to get angry at me."

Were his lips twitching?

"And I hereby allow you to worry about me."

They were definitely twitching. The cheeky...!

"If you're not going to take me seriously; then fine. I've warned you, Jesse. I don't have to put up with this or you anymore," I said. To be honest, I was being entirely truthful. I would never have dumped Jesse, but if he wanted to think that I would dump him, then fine. God obviously willed it, and who was I to argue with God? Except the girl He made do his dirty work. God is obviously not a democratic...thing. Being. God is a being. Not a thing.

No wonder God's punishing me.

I turned slowly to walk toward the door. Jesse caught my arm. "Susannah," he said dolefully. "I know...I know I haven't always seemed to most reliable of persons, but you must know I care for you, and I love you." His eyes were so sincere I felt guilt bowl me over in the stomach like a loose cannonball.

"Jesse, I didn't mean-"

"And I know, querida, that someone like..." he swallowed as if it hurt him to say this, "Paul could offer you so much more, but I love you, Susannah." He said in almost a plea, "I love you, Susannah."

And right then was when I melted. Seriously, if it was physical possible, I would have melted. Into a big puddle of Jesse-loves-Susannah goo.

"Oh, Jesse. I love you too. And I would never leave you." He smiled as if I'd just told him hoop skirts and bonnets were back in fashion. "It's just that sometimes you piss me off, is all."

Now, I said that with a smile on my face, but by the way Jesse's own face sort of...fell, well. You'd think I'd growled it at him. Some people are just so touchy.

"I'm sorry, querida, if I...piss you off."

"That's okay," I said graciously. I even bowed my head slightly. I would make a great First Lady.

Jesse took a step forward and stopped. He looked pensive as he took another half step toward me. Now was no time for dancing, Jesse, I thought. His arms lifted halfway up, then dropped back to his sides. "Jesse," I said. "What the heck are you doing?"

And then he rushed me.

Seriously.

I was rushed by Jesse.

I didn't even have time to get my hands scrunched into fists before he had tackled me onto the bed.

"Jesse!" I screamed. I was about to yell even more when his lips fell on mine. It was a bruising, desperate kiss and I almost didn't respond. But I had to. I mean, come on. This was Jesse. No one can resist Jesse. A fact I was obscenely proud of, at the same time as being immensely wary and jealous of.

He ripped his lips from me and rested his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry, querida," he said, although he didn't sound very sorry.

"Why did you do that?" I asked. Even though it was kind of hard, what with all the air in my lungs having disappeared.

For the first time in quite a while, Jesse grinned. A big, wolfish grin that made my heart stutter and warm tingling feelings to whoosh down my body.

He shrugged. "Because I felt like it." I felt my eyebrow rise. Jesse never did what he felt like doing. Unless what he felt like doing was running away from me. "And I wanted to show you how sorry I was."

"So you thought you'd kill me with a kiss?" Was it so wrong that my eyes kept on drifting to those delectable lips? Or that I could feel myself involuntarily leaning towards said parts of his anatomy?

And then we were kissing again. Making up is the best bit of a fight. I could totally get used to it.

Goodness knows how long we were like that. Kissing, I mean. But you know in movies and books, when the world seems to fizzle away from the hero and heroine making out in the middle of the street (who does that, anyway? Talk about inappropriate PDA)? It was honestly like that. Both of our concentration was on kissing. And other stuff. You know how it is...

So it only seemed like a few minutes had passed when Andy called up the stairs that it was time for dinner, and my stomach was obviously pleased as it gave out a loud rumble of appreciation.

Great. Way to kill the romance. I looked down at it and felt my face heat up as Jesse chuckled. Just because he was physically incapable of stomach rumbling didn't mean he could mock those who could.

His large, tan hand drifted down to my stomach and traced patterns lightly on the bare skin (what? We had gotten a little excited and my shirt had somehow...slid up), I sucked in a sharp breath (not to mention my stomach muscles) and felt a big goofy grin unzip itself across my face.

"Dinner time," Jesse whispered in a very feral manner. I nodded numbly and pried my eyes open (when had they closed themselves?). I figured Jesse's face was a mirror of mine, judging by his hugely dilated pupils, passion-induced weight to his eyelids, and unyielding, very male, very satisfied grin.

Oh yeah, I thought. I could definitely get used to the making up.

I was indolently washing the dishes after dinner, humming God-knows-what tune, with my eyes half-closed and that grin still on my face when an ice cold wind trailed across my back.

I whipped round, hands sudsy and current half-cleansed dish held out ever so slightly, as if it were a shield.

I waited a few moments in silence then turned back to the dishes, all the while keeping an ear turned subtly toward my back.

If that is even possible.

When another ice trail found its way up my bare arm, I whirled round and growled. "Alright. Whoever that is, show your face now or I will get angry."

Nothing happened, but I got the distinct feeling that whatever was there was laughing at me. Don't ask me how. There was just a subtle shift in the air...Like suddenly it was lighter with tiny electric bubbles fizzing about in it.

Odd, huh?

"Jesse...?" I eyed the seemingly empty kitchen with a practised eye. "Okay, not Jesse," I muttered as something tugged at the hem of my pant trousers. Jesse would never do something like that.

"Look, whoever's there, just come out and behave like an adult." Unless... "Unless you're not an adult and you are, in fact, Bethany...?"

When nothing happened, something cold trickled down my spine. Some feeling of pure dread that froze all my nerve endings. "Stiff?" I ventured in a sickeningly timid voice. "Stiff?" All the while in my head I was wishing fervently that it was Jim playing a stupid Guardian Angel trick.

"Peekaboo."

I admit it. I screamed. Not so much screamed as... okay, I screamed. Screamed and dropped the plate I was holding. It fell solidly toward the floor – then stopped. Mid-twirl, mid-fall, it stopped.

And, as if being slowly flooded with colour, a hand appeared. Then an arm, then a shoulder...then Paul's head.

Paul's head, Paul's body, Paul's smug, self-satisfied smirk. He rose from his crouching position slowly and handed my me plate smoothly and arrogantly. "You oughtta be careful, Suze. Not sure Andy would be too pleased if you randomly smashed one of his good plates."

"He would when I told him my very good reason."

"Which is what? That a big bad ghost spooked you?"

"No. That a big jerk Paul needed some sense knocking into him and the nearest object for that was this plate," I retorted through gritted teeth. "He'd understand perfectly then."

Paul gulped discreetly, though whether it was from seeing the anger flash in my eyes or the way I could barely control my shaking hand I didn't know. But what I did know was that the hand clutching the dish (knuckles long since paled to a deathly white) was just twitching to reach out and club Paul round the head. I had to consciously restrain it.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

I made an apathetic noise from the back of my throat and turned back to my dishes. The water was getting cold. As I considered my position with Paul and his life (or lack thereof), I noticed there was a dent in the frying pan I was scrubbing.

"Guess what I found out today," I said, viciously rubbing at a particularly stubborn food remains on the frying pan.

"Hmm? What did you find out?" Paul was juggling – without the use of any limbs – various pieces of fruit.

"I have a Guardian Angel," I said.

"Pull the other one, it's got Santa on," Paul replied dryly without missing a beat.

"No seriously. His name's Jim. He's the one who rescued me from Stiff. Turns out he's my Guardian Angel, only most of the time he's not allowed to do much guarding, more watching."

Paul turned to me but the fruit carried on its lazy looping through the air. "You're serious," he said blandly.

"Mm-hmm. And he told me to go talk to Father Dom about our predicament."

"My predicament," Paul muttered. "But that sounds like an idea, I guess."

"Yep. Maybe Father Dom could give up his life for you?"

The fruit bashed forcefully into each other as Paul's eyes went wide. "Father Dom?" He choked. "He's practically dead already!"

"Paul! Don't be so crude. Father Dom's surprisingly fitful, for someone of his age."

"I knew there was a reason he kept all-female nuns around him..."

"Paul. We'll go see Father D tomorrow after school. Or during. Whatever."

"Sure, sure," he shrugged indifferently. "But I should warn you."

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"Turns out there's a time limit to this thing," he said ambiguously.

"What thing?" There was a teeny squeak in my voice as my body began to fill with an oh-so-familiar feeling of panic and doom.

"My...predicament. Yeah, seems I only have two more days until I'm stuck like this. I only have a week in total. Five days have already passed."

"Two days?" Oh yeah, definite squeakage there.

Paul nodded. "Forty-eight hours. Ain't that a kick in the teeth, huh?" The fruit resumed their juggling although Paul kept his eyes stuck firmly on me.

I turned back to the frying pan in my hand.

Huh. There was another dent in it.

"Suze?"

"Mm-hmm?" I pursed my lips and fixed my eyes resolutely on the ever-cooling bowl of utensils. The bubbles were slowly diminishing. The number of dishes steadily deteriorating. The number of wrinkles on my hands gradually increasing. And still I washed.

Paul stood there silently, watching me as I watched nothing, blinking my eyes at the blank canvas in front of me while all the while my mind was anything but. It was racing with thoughts of me, thoughts of Paul, thoughts of everything.

Heck, even a few thoughts of my long-lost dad.

It was no wonder I didn't notice when the number of items in the bowl had waned until there was nothing but dirty, relentlessly cold water left.

And still I stared at it.

Gently, Paul leaned over and plucked the wash-cloth from my hands. Softly, Paul lifted my hands out of the water, and pulled me over to one of the kitchen chairs. Delicately, Paul tugged me down onto his lap as he seated himself. Deftly, Paul patted, rubbed, dried, warmed my pruney hands.

And numbly, I stared.

Surreal didn't even begin to cover it.

Paul often reminded me of a modern-day Jekyll-and-Hyde. It was no wonder I was confused out of my skull when it came to my feelings on this International Man of Mystery.

As the warmth from Paul's thighs penetrated my own, relaxing somewhat my tense and suddenly ice-cold limbs, I lethargically let my gaze wander around the neat kitchen. On the wall was a shelf that contained a variety of cookbooks (from Mexican to Scottish to Chinese). There was a particularly large, black one on the end that Andy's own mother had given to him.

I stared at it thoughtfully.

I was pretty sure I had seen a book like that somewhere else...

"Father Dom's office!"

Paul jerked as my overly-loud voice pierced the heavy, sacred silence that had befallen us. "What about it?"

"There's a big black book in there."

"There are plenty of big black books in his office. He's a priest. He reads bibles."

I shot Paul an exasperated look. "I know that. But...I dunno. I've just got this feeling about it, that's all. Like when I first met you, I had a real bad feeling about you, and that turned out to be completely right, didn't it? Call it woman's instinct."

"Suze, I thought we'd gotten past that whole –"

"Shh, I'm trying to think." I sat for a while, quite comfortable, on Paul's lap, nibbling delicately on my nail. "Tonight. We'll do it tonight." I said quietly. A slightly impatient movement of Paul's legs alerted me to something. "Is this painful for you? I mean, I know I'm not the lightest of people. But are you comfortable?"

Paul grunted. "I'm trying not to think of anything below my waist at the moment. But to answer your question: I'm so comfortable it's painful." He said in a strained voice.

"'You're so comfortable it's painful'? How does that work?"

"I could show you firsthand how it works, if you want. Learn a bit of Biology while we're at it."

The full meaning of his statements – and terse voice – alerted me to just what exactly he was implying.

I leapt off his lap like the damsel I am.

Paul turned his body away from me subtly on the chair and took a few deep breaths, hands braced on his thighs.

I gave a small cough. "Um. Meet me tonight... at...at...oh, at the Mission. Meet me tonight at the Mission at about...um, midnight. Yeah." I was looking everywhere but Paul, lest my gaze should involuntarily drop...

Paul nodded brusquely and shimmered out of view.

I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. And promptly burst into hysterical fits of giggles.

Seriously. Giggles. I hadn't giggled since kindergarten when Gina blew a raspberry at the playground bully who then burst into fits of huge snorting tears. It was kind of sad, when I thought about it.

Not the whole raspberry thing. The fact I haven't giggled in twelve years.

"Suze?" A tentative voice called out. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yeah, mom. I'm good." Suppressing an unfeminine snort, I began heading up the stairs to my room. I bumped into Brad in the hallway.

"Suze, when the hell is Slater getting back? He was supposed to set me up with some hot chicks from Seattle with these killer sets..."

He noticed my look of disdain and stopped. you just tell me when he's coming back?"

"Soon," I answered, "real soon." I hoped.

"Great. Cos I really need to get lai...ah. I gotta go...homework, you know..."

I glowered and turned elegantly into my room. Jesse was sat petting Spike on the window seat.

Home sweet home, I thought. He looked up when I entered and a big warm smile lit up his face. Even Spike looked up at me and managed not to roll his eyes when he looked away again.

Believe me, cats can roll their eyes.

With gentle but uncompromising force, Jesse nudged Spike off his lap. Spike, a rather petulant animal, decided that if he couldn't have Jesse, then he didn't want to even look at Jesse, and he jumped onto the porch roof and into the dark night. He was way too proud for someone with who licks his bum.

I took up my place next to Jesse and smiled at him. "Have a nice chat with Paul?"

I pursed my lips to withhold the frustrated cry that was begging to come out. "Yes, yes I did," I said enigmatically.

Jesse gave me an inscrutable look and turned to gaze out of my window, his eyes as dark as the night outside.

"Learn anything new?" He asked flatly.

"Yes."

This time Jesse's face did emit some emotion. Annoyance, mainly. Well, I wasn't expecting love, but...

"And?" He asked somewhat aggravated. Was it a gift I had, that I could provoke this certain emotion at the drop of a hat in Jesse? I liked to think so. Unless it resulted in him storming out of the room like the drama queen he likes to be.

Then again, someone from his era had to make some sort of entertainment without Cable.

"And he only has two days left before he's a permanent fixture in the land of ghouls." I said on a breath.

Jesse straightened almost imperceptibly and cut me a look. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" I stared at my reflection in the window. I was getting a spot from all the stress. Guys are even worse for your complexion than working at MacDonald's.

"I know you don't particularly want Paul to die," he said with a deceitfully toneless voice.

"He's not going to die, Jesse! I'm going to figure out a way to prevent that from happening. Have a little faith. I've stopped mass murderers before, I can save Paul."

Okay, so maybe I sounded a little more confident than I felt. But Jesse's lack of confidence in me wasn't doing anything to boost my self-esteem.

"Of course, querida. And I do have faith in you." So why wasn't he looking at me when he said that? And why was his voice still so toneless? God, talk about unsupportive boyfriend. We seriously need a visit to Oprah.

Before long I started my act. After a couple of big yawns and over-exaggerated stretches, Jesse suggested I rest for the night. Finally. I had only been hinting for the past ten minutes.

I grumbled a bit (all the while cheering inside) and grudgingly (yeah, right) got ready for bed, and crawled in.

After a soft 'goodnight' from Jesse (not to mention a goodnight kiss), I turned off the lights and snuggled down deep. When his ethereal glow dwindled from my room – and I waited a few more minutes, just to be safe – I reached out and set my alarm. I figured I could get at least an hour's rest before I had to sneak out into the cold night.

The things I did to save innocent lives. Not that I'd call Paul innocent. Heck no. He's the antichrist of innocent.

It seemed only a few minutes later that my alarm was screeching at me. I punched it across the room and 'shh-ed' it. I even went so far as to put a finger to my lips.

I crept across my room and changed into my night time clothes, black, black, and more black. I packed my night time bag – weapons, weapons, and lip gloss (it came in handy whenever the cops got called). One advantage to being female. Any guy tried the lip gloss trick with the feds and he'd be banged up before he could say 'Soap bar'.

I opened the window, and climbed onto the porch roof. Leaping onto the ground (ouch, much?), I spared the dark house one last look before grabbing the bike (really need my license) I left behind the bush, and pedalling away into what could either be my death, Paul's death, or a happy ending.

And we all know I'm no Snow White.