A/N: I should call this a warning, but I doubt you guys will see it as a warning...more of, a teaser. Or a confrimation that Yes, you should indeed read this. Because: THERE WILL BE SOME CHEEKINESS!!! By cheekiness, I'm talking of the lip-locking, tonsil-tickling variety.

But I don't think there's enough of it to be R-rated. Although, if I carried on writing it further into Suze's night, I may have had to make it R-rated...

By the way, Lolly. I'm gonna put up my Kissing Paul Slater thing as a one-shot. Actually, I'm gonna put both up. You think that's a wise decision? Get back to me on that. (That sounds so professional doesn't it? Stop laughing!)

I hope you enjoy! I had a severe case of writer's vomit (like writer's diarrohea but less icky) so I wrote a loada one-shots and my Adam-and-CeeCee-locked-in-Suze's-closet-watching-her-make-out-with-Jesse-who-of-course-they-can't-actually-see comedy thingy. Which I will put up!!!!!! Moowahahahaaaa.

I couldn't believe how beautiful she was. Even fast asleep with her mouth open just a tiny bit and her hair all mussed up. She was just always perfect. When she was black and blue and swollen and in pain after being beaten up, her eyes still sparkled and smiled, and she was still beautiful.

And it tore my heart apart.

If I was alive, it would have killed me that I loved her this much. It would have destroyed me. But, then again, if I was alive it would be a completely different story.

If I was alive, I would be able to stay.

I was lying on the other side of Susannah's bed, watching her sleep. She was turned to me, her cover not doing its job but instead lying interweaved between her legs and only covering one of them. She gave a swift kick, and it fell onto the floor. I couldn't help but smile. When Susannah didn't want something, she plain didn't want something.

An adorable divot was creased between her smooth brows as she frowned in her sleep. I reached out to touch it gently, and it instantly smoothed away, accompanied by a small sigh from Susannah.

I wished I could lie down beside her and sleep with her, dream with her forever. I wished a lot of things, most of which never came true. Except the one wish I never knew I was wishing.

That one came true. And now I wished it had never happened and would go away.

Another impossible wish.

I love her so much. And it was all fine before she told me she loved me too. My heart all but burst with joy. Fireworks crackled and exploded deep inside me.

But now...

Now I know it was a mistake. And I have to leave. For her own good. We can never be! I'm dead and Susannah is the opposite: she's full of life. I cannot hurt her like this. I cannot make her regret her life, which she will when she grows old, all alone with only a ghost to love. I do not want her to be lonely. I want Susannah to love and be loved, to have her own family.

My querida gave a quiet giggle and scooted over closer. I remained still and silent. I wish I knew what she was dreaming of.

I felt a devilish smile cross my face. I know what I would be dreaming about if I could sleep. I daydream about it most of the day, when I'm not busy looking out for Susannah, or talking to my querida.

I brushed a lock of her of her face and was about to settle it with the rest of her hair, when I brought it down and rubbed it slowly up and down her cheek. She frowned at first, and swatted her hand at it like Spike when he bats his paw at a passing moth. I brushed the lock over her nose once, twice, three times. The frown disappeared and another giggles escaped from between her lips. I pushed the hair away and gazed over at her.

Her features had smoothed over once again, except for a playful smile tugging at her lips as she dreamed of...whatever she was dreaming of. Her glossy hair was fanned out across the pillow, reflecting rays of moonlight that streamed onto her.

Her hair, to my knowledge, was never out of place or anything but soft and shiny, a chestnut sheen that swept over her shoulders and upper back. She was always so beautiful. She didn't need all that make-up she insisted on wearing. Not that she wore much, thank Dios. Unlike the occasional whores that showed themselves in the town, adorned with rouge so red their cheeks were like inescapable beacons.

My Susannah only wore subtle make-up. Subtle, but effective. She would paint her eyelashes and make them into dusky crescents, widening her eyes until they were unavoidable. Then she would add some more paint-dust to her eyelids, and her eyes would shine even brighter. And then her lips... She would add color to her lips, making them glisten and pout.

It is no wonder that all the boys look at her. Look at mi querida. She doesn't notice. But I do. I notice whenever I follow her round school. The only ones that make obvious moves is her friend Adam and, unfortunately, Slater. Slater makes her blush with his comments and body, leaning close into her until she pushes him off. How dare he? How dare he touch my Susannah, make such lewd comments and innuendos?

Every time I see him touch her it's like getting hit by lightning. White hot bolts shoot through me, daggering (A/N: That is a word!) into me painfully. I can't stand the thought of anyone but me touching her.

I am a hypocrite. I don't want anyone but me to love her, touch her, hold her, and kiss her. And yet, all I want is someone else to take Susannah's love away from me and onto them. So she can have her happy ending with a person who owns a pulse. I'm running away tonight because I know it's the right thing to do – for both of us – but I know I will be torn up with rage and hurt knowing that someone else will be loving my Susannah, and she will be loving them back. (A/N: By "loving" I am not thinking of the horizontal Macarena – I am thinking of the pure Biblical sense of love, you dirty minded wenches)

My mind and heart were both in turmoil but were instantly soothed when Susannah murmured something in her sleep and edged even nearer to the centre of the bed, closer to me. I found my own self sliding over, until I was but an inch away from her. Her breath fluttered over my face and one of legs flopped over so it was touching mine. I moved even closer.

Susannah mumbled something again in her sleep and her lips brushed mine as they moved. "Jesse..." she whispered. Her hand reached out – eyes still closed – and I caught it as it started to fall toward the bed. Interlacing our fingers, I brought her hand to my chest and held it there.

Susannah smiled and whispered my name on a sigh of ecstasy. A grin split my face and I captured her lips with mine.

For a moment, she stilled.

Then, she responded. I leaned into her and our entire bodies touched as I pushed her back into the pillows. Her other hand reached up and smoothed over my cheek. Her eyes flickered open and widened in shock. I pressed harder into her lips, and her eyelids drifted back down heavily. She reciprocated my added pressure.

And suddenly I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to run away or try to move on. As long as I was here, I would stay here. Susannah was my querida, mi amora. I was not about to leave her. I was going to stay with her forever. Even if she didn't want me, I would still remain at her side, watching over her without her knowing. I couldn't leave her even if I wanted to. Which, luckily for me, I didn't.

Susannah pulled apart slowly and looked at me through glazed eyes. "Jesse, what happened to all your..." she caught her breath, "principles and beliefs? You used to have a hard enough time just kissing me. Now you're in bed with me and your hand is on my butt!" I looked down and, indeed, my hand was on her behind. I hadn't noticed it before and I wasn't about to change anything about it. Focus had found its way through the haze of desire and passion, and now her eyes showed her confusion and curiosity.

"We're living in your world now, Susannah. My time has come and gone," I said softly.

"And yet you still call me Susannah..." she grumbled, although with no real conviction. I grinned and had to kiss that mischievous mouth. Susannah's hand had crept into my hair, and was holding my head down to hers. Her other hand had escaped mine and was slowly running itself around my upper body, tracing patterns and leaving scorching trails. It was heaven. It was hell. Her touch was a delight, but I wanted more and it was leaving me frustrated.

I moved my mouth from her mouth, never leaving contact, though. I dragged it over her smooth chin, across her delicate cheek, and down to the sensitive spot where her jawbone met her neck. To feel my querida wriggle and squirm beneath me was heaven. To feel her body, brushing against mine, causing reactions to mine was hell. I drifted my mouth to her ear after playing with the jaw spot for a while. Susannah's hand was underneath my shirt.

A thought stabbed at my heart suddenly. What was I doing? I was supposed to be leaving her, saving her from making the biggest mistake of her life! Nevertheless here I was, keeping Susannah with me and not letting her, or myself, go.

Her thigh brushed between mine and the panic flew from my mind. I attacked her earlobe and neck my mouth and returned to her frantic lips. The hell was receding, being replaced by irrevocable heaven. Pleasure was cascading all over me and, judging by the sounds Susannah was murmuring, it was cascading over her, too. I grinned into her lips.

Why would I want to run away from something so delicious?

"I love you, Susannah," I whispered.

She smiled. "I love you, Jesse."