From the Journal of Dawson Leery, June 7, 2002.

It was only a game. I don't know how many times I repeated that line to myself during the days...weeks... months after that horrible night. It was only a game. Nothing like this was supposed to happen. No one was supposed to get hurt. No one was supposed to die.

I guess that doesn't change much in the long run. It doesn't matter what our intentions were. The only thing that matters is what happened. The only thing that matters is that someone paid the ultimate price for our stupidity.

I paid the most...No, I take that back. There were two others who paid far, far more, but of the four of us who concocted the scheme, I was the one who shouldered most of the blame...I was the one who deserved it. It was my idea after all. Me, who convinced them...And they needed convincing, let me tell you.

That doesn't lessen the guilt any they've told me. They were a part of it and that's enough to eat them alive. I'm glad that they don't know the feeling of having instigated it. Of having gone into it planning to scare two people and ending up killing one of them and destroying the other. Of having those two people be your best friends...

We lost more than just those two friends that night. We lost each other. We lost the connection that had meant so much to us. We lost our sanity. We lost our futures. We lost everything. All for a game.

Now we're primed to lose even more. Someone out there feels that we didn't pay enough. That we too should pay the ultimate price. I can't say I blame them, but that doesn't help the fear any. I can feel everything spinning more and more out of control every second. My friends are losing it, but then, so am I. It's funny how what once tore us apart has now reunited us...in fear.

It's like we're in the middle of some horror movie. An unknown menace is stalking us from somewhere in the shadows. Watching. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike...Only this isn't a movie. This is life. A life that seems more precious with each passing moment...and more tenuous.

Sometimes I feel like welcoming whoever it is. Come on! Kill me! Please! But then I'm ashamed, as if throwing away my life would be adding insult to all the things I've already inflicted on him...and her...

A Few Months Earlier

May 2, 2002
An Apartment Near the BU Campus

Dawson tossed and turned in his bed, meaningless sounds slipping from his mouth. Horror filled sounds. Horrifying sounds. He hated these dreams and he had thought that they were over. That he had stopped having them for good. But they were back now and they were getting worse every night.

"No, oh no," Pacey cried, running to Joey's motionless form and kneeling beside her. "Jo! Joey!!" He touched her chest gently and pulled back his hand at the wet, sticky feeling. His eyes widened as he looked down at his hand, red with blood. "Joey," He whispered, touching her face gently.

Joey's eyes fluttered open, and met Pacey's tear filled gaze. She reached out her hand slowly and lovingly ran it down his face. "Love you," she whispered softly.

"I love you too, Joey," Pacey said, tears streaming down his face as he pulled off his shirt and held it to the wound on her chest. "You're going to be fine, Jo. Just fine."

Joey's eyes fluttered shut and she sighed. "Love you."

"Joey," Pacey cried, shaking her gently. "Don't you do that! Don't you dare die on me!" There was no response. "Joey! Josephine Potter! Wake the hell up!" Still no response. Pacey cupped her face lovingly and felt for her pulse, praying that he would find it. Praying that she would be okay. There was nothing there. Nothing at all. "No!" He whispered brokenly, sobs shaking his body. "Oh no, Joey. No." Pacey lifted Joey's lifeless body off the dock, cradling her to him, running his hands over her face, her arms, trying to find some sign of life. "Joey," He whispered. She was gone. There was nothing there. No sign of life. Joey was dead. Dead. Pain flowed through Pacey and he threw back his head, an anguished, guttural scream tearing from his body.

Dawson sat up straight in bed, Pacey's scream echoing through his head. Sweat dripped from his body and he was shaking all over. He got out of bed slowly and padded silently into the kitchen. He went to the sink and filled the teakettle, then placed it on the stove, turning on the heat under it.

"So, you gonna tell me what the dreams are about?" A voice questioned from the dark.

"Shit!" Dawson exclaimed, jumping a foot in the air. He reached out and turned on the light, his eyes searching the room before coming to rest on his room mate blinking sleepily in the doorway. "Jesus Angie! You scared the hell out of me!"

"I did? Or the nightmare did?"

"Both," Dawson said, turning his back on his friend as he tried to pull himself together.

"Look Dawson, they're getting worse. I can tell. You need to talk about this, or it�s going to eat you alive."

"I deserve that," Dawson said softly.

Angie shook her head slightly and sighed. "Look Dawson, I've minded my own business for a long time. I mean, this is the first time I've ever asked you about this, right?" Dawson nodded slightly. "You keep to yourself. You're doing horrible in school and I think that I'm your only friend...And that's really sad Dawson, 'cause I don't know a thing about you. Why don't you do something? Join a club, or...or play a game of pick-up basketball every once in a while?"

Dawson laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "Basketball!?" He said with disbelief. The last time he had played basketball was with...

"It's just a game Dawson," Angie said. Dawson laughed again, this time it was a strange, choking sound. "What?" Angie asked.

"Nothing," Dawson said, shaking his head. "You just struck a nerve is all. I can't tell you how many times I've repeated those very words to myself. It was just a game. Just a game." There was a far off look in his eyes, his expression filled with pain and guilt.

Angie shook her head, concern shining in her eyes. "What is it that haunts you at night Dawson? What is it that did this to you?"

"I can't tell you Angie. You were right in saying that you're my only friend here. I...I can't lose that. Everyone who knows that story hates me."

"Surely not everyone," Angie said.

"Everyone," Dawson said, resolutely.

"Your parents?" Angie asked in disbelief. She had met Dawson parents and while they looked at him with sadness, there was never anything even remotely like hate in their eyes. Only love.

"No," Dawson said. "I don't think my parents could ever hate me. They hate what I did. What I did to myself, to the people around me...to them, but they don't hate me."

"Your friend Jen. The one who always calls you."

"Mutual guilt," Dawson said softly with a shrug. "Did you even wonder why I always make you leave when she calls?"

Angie shrugged. "I thought you had a thing for her."

Dawson laughed bitterly. "In another lifetime, centuries ago. No, I make you leave so you won't have to hear me try to talk her out of killing herself. So you won't have to hear me shout and curse and cry. So you won't see me hold a razor blade to my wrist after we hang up and try to work up the courage to die in body as well as soul. To decide not to for right now. To wait until I can be sure that Pacey won't take his life before I take that final step."

"Pacey?" Angie asked, puzzled. She had never heard him mention that name before. Angie stared at Dawson, concern and fear for him racing through her.

Dawson looked Angie in the eyes. "I'm already going to hell," he said, his voice dead. "I...I just have to make sure that he doesn't. He deserves to be with her, after all we did to him."

"What did you do Dawson? What was so horrible that it can never be forgiven?"

"I killed my two best friends," Dawson said softly, something dark, and unreadable in his eyes. "One in body, the other in spirit. I killed them. With my own two hands."

Angie stared at Dawson in disbelief for a minute before sighing. "I have a feeling I'm going to need to sit down for this," Angie said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

Dawson started in surprise as the tea kettle began to whistle. He walked over and got a mug down and placed a tea bag in it. "You want?" He asked. She shook her head. He sighed as he poured the hot water into his mug. He walked over and sat down across from Angie. "Where should I start?"

"The beginning," Angie said softly. "That's usually the best place."

"The beginning," Dawson said, with a sign. "I guess that would be with Pacey, Joey and I. The best of friends. We grew up together. Joey was such a tomboy, she liked to do all the same things we did, it was great. And then things started to change."

"You were growing up," Angie said.

Dawson nodded. "Joey and Pacey noticed first. I was always the oblivious one. Pacey noticed Joey and Joey noticed me and finally after a long time, I noticed her."

"You got together?"

"For a little while, then we broke up and got back together and then broke up."

"And Pacey was...?" Angie prodded.

"Having his own love problems," Dawson said. "Andie...Andrea McPhee. They were really close and then some things happened. He was heartbroken, Joey was heart broken, I was heartbroken and then the two of them turned to each other..."

"And fell in love.."

Dawson nodded again. "Only problem was, I still loved her. They tried to fight it...Tried...They ended up spending the summer after our Junior year on the ocean together. Some things were said...friendships broken...When they got back, everything was different. The group dynamic...it had changed. There had been six of us. Two left and four became closer." Angie nodded. That made sense. "Halloween came along and...it was just a prank...only a game...We...we set up this scary movie thing. Costumes, scares, the whole deal. The finale was the part where the joke was supposed to be revealed. I was going to 'shoot' them, and then when they realized that the gun was shooting blanks..." Dawson paused, images flashing before his eyes. He closed his eyes and tried to block them from his mind, but they were there.

"What do you want?" Pacey demanded of the figure before him. "What the hell is your problem man?"

Dawson raised the gun, smiling slightly behind the mask. This was going to be funny. He couldn't wait to see the expressions on their faces...

"NO!" Joey screamed, jumping in front of Pacey as Dawson fired the gun.

"Only...?" Angie prompted.

"Only something went wrong...So wrong. It was dark, confused. I don't really know what happened," Dawson said softly. "All I know is that the bullets that were supposed to be blanks were real, and that the girl who was supposed to yell at me for scaring her was instead fighting for her life. When I saw her fall..." He stopped, unable to say the words. "I couldn't believe it. She fell, I stepped back, dropped the gun. I just stared down at it. I couldn't believe..." He looked up, his anguished gaze meeting Angie's. "It wasn't supposed to be real. It wasn't!"

"What happened then?" Angie asked softly.

"Pacey, Pacey was there...and the others, they came. He..." Dawson stopped, the lump in his throat almost choking him. "That's where the dream starts," he said softly. "Nothing I had ever seen..."

The shot rang through the night and Joey fell to the ground, blood seeping from the wound on her chest. Dawson dropped the gun, disbelief running through him. "No," he whispered softly.

"No, oh no," Pacey cried, running to Joey's motionless form and kneeling beside her. "Jo! Joey!!" He touched her chest gently and pulled back his hand at the wet, sticky feeling. His eyes widened as he looked down at his hand, red with blood. "Joey," He whispered, touching her face gently.

Joey's eyes fluttered open, and met Pacey's tear filled gaze. She reached out her hand slowly and lovingly ran it down his face. "Love you," she whispered softly.

"I love you too, Joey," Pacey said, tears streaming down his face as he pulled off his shirt and held it to the wound on her chest. "You're going to be fine, Jo. Just fine."

Joey's eyes fluttered shut and she sighed. "Love you."

"Joey," Pacey cried, shaking her gently. "Don't you do that! Don't you dare die on me!" There was no response. "Joey! Josephine Potter! Wake the hell up!" Still no response. Pacey cupped her face lovingly and felt for her pulse, praying that he would find it. Praying that she would be okay. There was nothing there. Nothing at all. "No!" He whispered brokenly, sobs shaking his body. "Oh no, Joey. No." Pacey lifted Joey's lifeless body off the dock, cradling her to him, running his hands over her face, her arms, trying to find some sign of life. "Joey," He whispered. She was gone. There was nothing there. No sign of life. Joey was dead. Dead. Pain flowed through Pacey and he threw back his head, an anguished, guttural scream tearing from his body.

Dawson, Andie, Jen and Jack watched from a short distance away, their eyes filled with horror at what had happened. What they had done. "Oh God!" Dawson exclaimed, pulling the mask slowly from his face, his heart breaking at the sight of Joey's lifeless body.

Pacey looked up, taking in the group before him. The costumes, the props and a realization dawned on him. "Why?" He asked, his voice breaking. His anguished gaze met Dawson's. "Why Dawson?"

"I...I..." Dawson stuttered, a guilt stricken expression crossing his face. "No one was supposed to get hurt," he whispered. "It was only..."

"It was only a game," Dawson said. "We were supposed to scare them and laugh about it with them the next day."

"But she died."

"And Pacey, Pacey died the moment the last breath left her body. I could see it, looking in his eyes. There was a knife...We had used it when we were setting up...Pacey grabbed it..." Dawson pulled back his shirt, showing a jagged scar. "I didn't even try...Jack grabbed him off of me..."

Pacey stumbled back, away from Dawson, from the rest of them. He collapsed onto his knees, sobs tearing through his body. He looked at Joey's still form and then at the knife still clutched tightly in his hands. He brought it upwards slowly towards his throat, but before he could make the fatal cut Jack was there, grabbing his arm. The knife grazed across his chest, but didn't strike anything vital. Pacey looked up at Jack, an accusing look in his eyes. "Why, Jack? I just want..."

"All he wanted was to be with her," Dawson said softly. "That's all he wanted in the world, but we couldn't let him. We couldn't..." Dawson took a deep breath. "Andie helped me to the car. Jack and Jen had to drag Pacey away from Joey's body. We had to leave her...We got to the hospital. They fixed us up. The police came. Pacey's dad. He arrested me. Can't say I blame him. His son had just tried to kill himself and...and I had just killed my best friend. I should have been taken out and shot..." Dawson shook his head, knowing that he had gone off subject. "They went back to the dock...but she wasn't there. They never found..."

"But she was dead...?"

"Yeah," Dawson said softly, with certainty. "She was."

"What happened to Pacey?"

"Shadybrook," Dawson said softly. "There were more attempts...His dad's gun. His brother barely got there in time. I...Do you have any idea what it's like to look in to the eyes of your best friend's sister and try to explain to her why her only immediate relative is dead? Or into the eyes of your other best friend's sister as she explains to you how your best friend has tried to kill himself on numerous occasions? And that, while he knows that it was an accident and he's working through his anger, and he doesn't blame you anymore, or hate you...That...that he is having a much harder time dealing with the anger he holds towards the person who saved his life. He hates Jack more than he hates me Angie, because Jack stopped him when he tried to kill himself."

"Where is he now?"

"School. Out West. California. He needed to get as far away from us as possible and I don't blame him. I don't think he'll ever come back to Capeside again."

"But you will?"

"Why do you think the nightmares are worse now?" Dawson asked. "They ruled it an accident, but the people in that town, they made up their own minds. One of us had to have changed the bullets. It wasn't an accident. We were trying to kill her. Or that we were trying to kill Pacey and something went wrong..." Dawson shook his head, unable to even think that they might have been right... "I hate it there and that's..." Dawson paused.

"And that's why you go back?"

Dawson nodded. "Yeah. Retribution? Their accusing glances are less then I deserve. I could live for a thousand years and never make up for the pain I've caused...Or die tomorrow, and make the world a better place."

"Dawson..." Angie started.

"So there it is," Dawson said, ignoring the fact that she had spoken. "My life history in a nutshell. I hope you understand now why I don't want to get close to anyone. Of the two people in the world that I was closest to, one is dead and the other...the other is living only because the people around him won't let him die. I..." Dawson hid his face in his hands for a minute and then got to his feet. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Dawson," Angie said softly. She watched him go, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Of all the stories she had expected to hear, one like that had never come to mind. How horrible it must be for him, and his friends...and Pacey. "He must have loved her a lot," Angie whispered softly to the empty room. What was his life like now? And the others. The guilt that they must live with, like Dawson. A horrible existence. A shiver ran through her as a thought came to her out of nowhere. What began as an inkling became a certainty. It was going to become even more horrible soon...and there was nothing that anyone could do to stop it.

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws