Resolving Old Demons
Author's note: This is my first DC fic. There may be more.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Dawson's Creek, they are owned by Kevin Williamson, and Sony pictures and who ever else owns them.
Rating: PG-13
Brief Summary: This takes place after Joey Potter and the Capeside Redemption. It is told from Doug's pov, and I am using some of the information from the season finale, but this might be a little different because I haven't decided if I want all the things to happen, to happen.

Part 1: Breaking Down
A fleeting thought of drowning myself enters my head again as I take the badge off my chest, and set it on my nightstand. I don't like this feeling, this feeling of depression, and these suicidal thoughts that seem to be creeping more and more into my head lately. I begin to unbutton my shirt as I walk past the mirror. I stare into the mirror for a second, faking a smile, my eyes look like they are harbouring a deep secret, which to even me at times seem to be unknown. I wonder if anyone in my family notices, probably not. The Witters never seemed to be one to be very perceptive on the things that matter, just the things that can be used to hurt each other. Not like I have room to talk since I have said a lot of harmful things to push my family's buttons as well.

I sigh deeply, and sit on the bed carefully. Not that it matters if I mess up the sheets on the bed, I just have this feeling I don't need to. I hate this feeling that I have to keep everything nice and clean, like someone is going to walk in and judge me, because I don't have something exactly where it should be. I put my head in my hands. I feel miserable, and the thoughts of if I did die no one would care are pushing there way into my head again. They are coming more and more lately, and I am forgetting some of the tricks I used before to suppress them, or they aren't working.

There is a knock on the door, and I lift my head to see a head mop of brown hair peeks into the room. "Hey Doug." Pacey, my younger brother, comes into the room, dressed in his pajamas. His hair in disarray and I wonder if he was waiting for me. He leans in the door way as if he owned the room. It almost made me regret that I said he could stay at my apartment a couple weeks, why his apartment is being renovated.

"What is it little brother?" It sounds more angry than I intended, and I frown.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing? Can't I do that?" He gives me one of his famous Pacey Witter con man smiles.

"What do you want?"

"Who said I wanted anything?"

"Because you never just come to talk to me, you always seem to want something." I slump a little, and lay myself across the bed staring at the ceiling. I think the next place that I live in I am going to get a place with out a popcorn ceiling, I hate them. They seem to fall down on people too easily.

"Are you okay?" There is a shift in his voice, one that almost seems like concern, which I am not sure is true or not. I feel the vibrations on the floor as he walks into the room farther, padding his way on the beige carpet, when close to the bed, I feel him sit on the floor.

"You almost sound concerned, Pacey." I shouldn't be so harsh with him. I just don't really want to talk to anyone right now. Especially with him, I always feel like there is this conflict between us that neither of us knows what it quite is, or if we do we refuse to acknowledge it. I guess I could remedy that some by being nicer, and I try sometimes. I know I am being cruel, because I feel like lashing out at people for my feelings like this, and I shouldn't take it out on him.

"I am concerned. You have been acting strange for a couple weeks. I wanted to see if there was something you want to talk about. You are starting to scare me, Doug, you have been moody, and then, when you aren't moody you have these strange surges of anger that seem to be coming from nothing…"

"It's probably my repressed, homosexuality." I cut him off angrily.

"I wasn't going to go there, this time…"

I sit up on the bed, and watch him. "What if it is though?" I turn my voice serious, watching him intently.

"I thought you weren't gay?" He says this with seriousness, as if all mentions of my sexuality were a joke before, even though at times they hadn't seemed.

"I'm not…I'm …" I stop myself, watching him. I can't tell him what I have known all along, he won't accept it well. I don't want it to seem like he won. Not that there was anything to win per say, I just don't like the thought that someone else controlled my destiny. I already let my dad do it far too much. I look down at the floor, and run my fingers nervously through my hair. I sigh, and lower my voice, "I think I am bisexual, Pacey…which must make you thrilled, since you were partially right all the time." I put my head in my hands again. I feel even worse now that I have said it than I did before when I was keeping it locked up inside of me. That is where I should just leave it.

I feel him get off the floor, and sit on the bed beside me. "I want you to be happy, Doug, I don't want you to feel guilty for who you are." I turn slightly and look at him, wondering when my little brother grew up, how did I miss that. Was I too caught up in our banter and bickering to actually realize that he might actually understand where I am going through. He puts his arm around me cautiously. "Look, it may seem like I don't see it, but I know you have had it tough, and I never was one to help. But we become a lot closer than we once were especially recently…" He stops watching me.

I frown deeper, turning my gaze away from him…I don't know what to say to him. Okay, that is a lie, I have an idea of what to say to him, but I don't want him to see me cry. I don't want him to worry about me. I don't need that, he had more important problems. He just re-opened the ice house, and he is trying to keep it afloat, and I am sure he has other problems that are more important than worrying about me.

"You know you never answered my question. Are you okay, Doug?"

"No." I move slightly where his arm moves from around me. I appreciate the comfort, but it seriously is going to make me cry. I am starting to get the urge where I want to curl up in someone's arm and cry myself to sleep. I move off the bed, and walk towards the closet, facing the door.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What do you want me to say Pacey, that all the years I yelled at you that you were a failure, it was because I was, that I am a disappointment that I am not important that I shouldn't even be here!" My rage slips in my voice, as I say this, and I pull myself on the floor, feeling the tears forming in my eye. Damn it, I don't want him to see me cry.

"Doug?"

"Just leave me alone, will you Pace…please.."

"Are you sure, I am not sure if you should be alone right now."

"Just leave me alone."

There is a pause for a few seconds. "Okay."