Disclaimers, ratings, name, etc can be found in prologue.

Author's Notes: Second chapter just as promised! Also wanted to let you all know I'm glad you enjoyed the video game playing and I wanted to thank you all again a bunch for reviewing - it makes my days bearable and worth getting up for!

More warnings…

WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE

WARNING: DISTURBING IMAGERY

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Chapter 19

Paul Disher always had to toke up before a performance. Smoking a thick fatty always helped to settle his nerves; it even helped him to play better. His fingers moved more smoothly over the strings.

It especially would help tonight. It wasn't that he was nervous about playing the Foxglove, no, it was much more than that. He was on edge because of the sleep he'd been missing. Ever since those nightmares had began he hadn't been able to get much shuteye.

He had been having the worst fucking dreams. Always the same, always with that old, burnt up child killing bastard. He shuddered, what was that fucker's name again? Freddy? He was just supposed to be an urban legend, not real…right?

Of course not, it was just nightmares was all, silly little dreams. After this performance tonight he would go home and he would get some much-needed rest. He'd relax and come to his senses. There was no dream stalking boogieman coming to get him in the sack, that job was all ready taken by lots of pretty girls.

He chuckled at that thought, rising to his feet. He was currently alone backstage, his band mates off preparing their equipment. He walked up to the curtain and eased it back just enough to take a peek into the interior of the club.

He could all ready tell tonight was going to be rocking. Over a hundred people were out there, a good chunk of whom were dancing and he knew these were the one's who'd be screaming and jamming the hardest when they played.

He vaguely considered the possibility of crowd surfing tonight. If he thought it was possible, he'd sure as hell do it. He'd just have to make sure they put on a show that got them riled enough. But then, that was always his goal, to give people something they would never forget.

He could see Paige dancing to one side and he grinned. Poor girl, she was crazy about him. Too bad he wasn't the commitment type. Too bad she wasn't banging enough to bag either.

His vision moved onwards to see Will talking to Ms. Walsh. He kept his eye on Walsh. Or should he call her Angela? He didn't care if she was faculty, she looked like a cover girl and he wanted nothing more than to get a handful of that. Look at the way she dressed! She was just asking for it.

He shook his head and took another deep drag of his weed. It floated through his system, giving him that soft, heavy feeling that made him want to sleep, his eyelids drooping slightly. His gaze landed on the entrance, allowing him to see Samara enter.

God, and he thought Angela was a dream. Sam topped her and Paige combined with that new look of hers. But then, when didn't she look hot? She may be a complete whack job but she was still a betty.

Just like Will, he had noticed her when she had first entered their Art class. He had told Will to stay away but he was never one to heed his own advice. When he'd seen her asleep under the tree he had just wanted to touch her so bad. Hell, he had touched her but then that shit with the sketch had happened.

Her drawings of Freddy were responsible for his nightmares and while he knew he should be pissed at her, he found he couldn't bring himself to. And why? 'Cause he wanted her pale, skinny little ass bad.

Probably more so than Will, who had been following her around puppy-dog eyed. But frankly, Disher felt he had the advantage and what's more, he deserved a shot at the girl first.

Disher had dated Lori and he knew that that girl had not been sufficiently satisfied by Will, and as much as he wanted to be friends with the guy, Disher had to say the boy was lacking skills. Sam deserved a real man taking a knock at her. And who knew how long she'd been in Westin? Girl was probably dying for it.

He chuckled again when suddenly Samara looked up, as if hearing him. He froze as her eyes locked with his. Suddenly ice water filled his veins and he let the curtain drop, cutting off his view. He shook himself; he must have just imagined that.

Too much pot had to be in his system, there was no way she could have seen him from that far away. But the look in her eyes, that cold, dark look…it was like…

He rubbed his arms, still feeling the chill. How could someone so hot make you feel so cold? He could still see Sam's eyes in his mind and he edged towards the curtain, debating whether to take another peak. This was ridiculous! He'd draw the material back and see nothing there. Sam had probably joined up with Will, there was no way she could have known Disher was looking at her.

With a sigh he pulled back the curtain once more and Samara was standing right there, inches from him, dark hair parted just enough to reveal one side of her face, skin covered in horrible bulging veins, a cold white blue eye greeting him.

Crying out, he backed away as her eye continued to stare at him with such burning intensity, such utter contempt. He fell onto his ass, crawling backwards, knocking into several pieces of equipment, he kept moving until he couldn't anymore, his back meeting with the resistance of a large, heavy amp.

He felt like his skin was on fire and he looked down, seeing his hands turn a sickly gray-green, skin bubbling, veins pulsing and twisting beneath his flesh. He screamed, squeezing his eyes tight.

Then it was gone. He opened his eyes, startled. Panting he checked his hands over again and again. They were fine, normal. He looked up, Samara was no where to be seen. He let out a shaky laugh. Holy shit, this weed he was smoking was either bad or seriously too good. He'd never tripped like that before.

He leaned his head back, taking in a deep breath. He needed to stop smoking and get some sleep. Maybe he could take a little nap before the show, he let his eyes drift shut again.

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Will jumped up and down, eyes tossing about eagerly for some sight of Angela. He hated getting separated from her. He was very curious as to why she had asked him about his dreams, that particular line of questioning could prove to be important.

And a small part of him had to admit she intrigued him in general. Jesus, was he turning into a Disher wannabe? Checking out a member of the school faculty? Her face flashed in his mind again and he cursed under his breath. Her eyes had looked like the sea after a storm, just…perfect.

But then his gaze landed on someone whose eyes were equally enthralling but for entirely different reasons. Samara moved through the whole scene like a ghost, which was appropriate considering her dress.

Instead of the normal dark Goth gown, she had on a long, lacy white dress and old-fashioned patent leather white shoes, similar to the kind a young child would wear. Her dark hair now carried red streaks that caused Will to automatically recall Kia. The look had been attractive on Lori's friend but on Samara it was breathtaking. As if her eyes didn't do that job good enough.

Said eyes landed on him, as dark and deep as ever and she made her way over, face neutral. He walked over to her, almost in a daze as he whispered, "I've been waiting for you….you look amazing."

Her own eyes flickered over him and for a moment he grew self-conscious. He was his normal casual self – brown jacket, big sweater, blue jeans. She looked delicate but stylish. Maybe he should have dressed up a bit more for the occasion. Wait a minute, what occasion? This was not a date, he reminded himself when he noticed the look he was receiving.

Samara's features were as passive as usual but he thought somewhere in her face he saw approval. Her own way of complimenting him back. He gave her a white toothed grin, "Do you want to dance?"

Her eyes widened slightly and she looked at the dance floor, her arms folding. No, dancing was obviously out. His grin stayed in place, "How about we get a seat then? We can talk until the band starts playing, they should be on soon."

She gave him one short nod and he grinned, holding out his hand. She looked at it a moment, then took it with her own. Her fingers were cold and damp but he found he was beginning to like that feeling.

They took a seat at a nearby table close to the bar. Jacob and Alice passed their table, Jacob speaking into his mother's ear, "Mom, no one here knows anything."

"I know, but we have to keep trying."

"No, what we need to do is take a breather. Let's sit, the band should start playing soon and once their performance is over everyone will be worn out and more willing to talk."

Alice sighed but gave a shrug of defeat, "All right, but after the concert, we question some more kids."

Jacob nodded and as they moved to their own table Maggie and Doc edged their way by, "Do you see Angela anywhere?"

"I can't see much of anything in this mess. How many kids are here anyway?"

"I don't know, Doc, but I can tell you one thing, this concert is going to be nuts. Maybe we should sit it out for a while, let Angela find us."

"Sounds good, especially to my aching feet," Doc muttered and he flopped into a chair nearby. Maggie taking her own seat across from him.

The unsuspecting duos all sat only a few tables away from one another. All around them were swarming, exciting teens and young adults. Some of whom had obviously had either too much to drink or smoke, maybe even a few on drugs. A select few had also sat down, drifting in and out of slumber.

Those awake and well were still on the dance floor, bopping about madly to the techno music, ready to have a fun time, completely unaware of what was lurking around in their midst, waiting for just the right moment to strike.