Billy was dying. Or, rather, he felt like he was dying.

He was holed up in Sidney's room, tremors endlessly assaulting him as he endured the pain and coldness of his fever. He rarely got sick, but when he did, he got hit hard. The fact that it was a viral infection didn't help, either; at least with bacterial infections he could get some antibiotics. With viruses, he just had to suffer.

When Sidney found him two days ago after visiting him because he hadn't gone to school that day, she immediately brought him home to care for him once she realized how sick he was and how he had nobody at home to nurse him back to health. So there she was, waiting on him hand and foot as she helped him heal.

She was a saint. Truly an angel on Earth.

"And to think you wanted to kill that angel."

Billy's eyebrows furrowed as a voice cut in, sounding as real as if it were in the room with him.

"What…?" He croaked, confused. He looked around the room to try to find the voice, but the haze he was trapped in made it difficult.

"Over here."

When Billy located the source of the voice, his eyes widened. It was Ghostface.

"What…?" He trailed off questioningly.

"Finally you notice me. Been here for a long time and it took you just now to see me."

"Who the fuck are you?" Billy demanded, though the stuffiness of his nose made his tone less intimidating. He cursed his body for being too weak right now to defend himself and Sidney if this Ghostface figure made a move.

"I'm hurt, Billy," Ghostface pretended to sound hurt but Billy could still clearly hear the sinister gleefulness that he remembered coming out of the voice changer whenever he used it; he gave up on his murderous alter ego after rediscovering his love for Sidney.

"Quit fucking with me," Billy snapped.

"Oooh, scary," Ghostface taunted him. Billy just knew that whoever this bastard was that snuck into his girlfriend's home was smirking behind that eerie white mask.

"Is that you, Stu?" Billy asked. "If it is, stop playing. I told you I was done after we killed Casey and Steve."

"I'm not Stu."

"Then who the fuck are you?"

"It's not who I am, but what I just did…"

Something about that cryptic answer made Billy's heart skip a beat and his anxiety increase. "What do you mean…what you just did?" He almost didn't want to ask, but he felt like he had to in order to understand what this psychopath wanted.

Ghostface silently removed a knife from his robes, but it wasn't a normal knife. It was the same knife he used to murder Maureen Prescott one year ago, only it wasn't covered in dried blood like he expected it to be. Instead, fresh blood dripped steadily from the blade and down the handle, staining Sidney's carpet in the red liquid.

Billy's heart stopped and he could feel chills settle in his spine, chills that had absolutely nothing to do with his illness. "What the fuck did you do?" He breathed. He knew how afraid he sounded, but he didn't care. Only three sources could have provided the fresh blood and he and Ghostface were both unharmed. That only left…

"I took care of what you were too blind and weak to do."

Billy's fears were realized with that statement. That blood was Sidney's…Ghostface, whoever this fucker was, killed her while he was too bedridden to save her.

"No," he cried, tears falling down his cheeks as a pain he never felt before—the pain of losing his one and only true love—ripped through him. "No!"

"You could have prevented this."

Equal parts shock and anger coursed through him, mixing with the grief, as suddenly Maureen Prescott stood in Ghostface's place. She still wore her white nightgown and her hair was still rumpled from her romp with Cotton Weary the night he and Stu gutted her, but she was clean. Not a speck of blood was on her.

"What the fuck do you want, you slut?" He growled, glaring hatefully at her through bleary eyes. He may have rediscovered his love for her daughter, but he still despised this cheating bitch.

Maureen walked towards him, his body tensing but still frustratingly immobile as she did, until she was gripping one of the bedposts with one white manicured hand. She was less than a foot away from him, staring at him with cold eyes as if she had a right to judge anyone for their actions.

"You killed me. If you hadn't done that, my daughter would still be alive."

The reminder that Ghostface had just murdered his girlfriend sent fresh tears to his eyes. "You deserved what happened to you," he choked out.

Maureen's eyes flashed with anger and she lunged towards him. He flinched back despite himself as she leaned over him, now digging her nails into the mattress instead of in the wooden post. "Did my daughter deserve it?" She shouted in rage. "Did she deserve being brutally gutted in her own home like I did, you deranged bastard?!"

Horror washed over him. Sidney suffered like Maureen did? He felt sick at the thought, but he still managed to muster up enough strength to spit back at her: "You ruined my parents' marriage. You made my mom leave, you whore. Of course Sidney didn't deserve to die, but you did!"

An evil smile stretched Maureen's lips and he was struck with the urge to cut her face off so he didn't have to see her anymore. "I didn't make your mom leave, Billy…" She began only to suddenly morph into his mother.

"You did," Debbie Loomis hissed, glaring down at her son with a cruel expression instead of the kindness he was accustomed to.

"Mom?" Billy whispered, overjoyed at finally having his mother back only for devastation to follow upon her accusation. "What are you talking about? I didn't…I didn't make you leave."

"Yes, you did," his mother snapped. "Hank and I never wanted children, but then one night we got drunk and we weren't careful. Next thing I know, I'm pregnant and Hank and I weren't a happy couple anymore because we were tied down by a screaming baby sucking the life out of both of us!"

It hurt when his mom left, but even then he felt reassured that she loved him, she just didn't want to be with his father anymore. But this…this just shattered him. Did his mother really not want him? Did she really not love him?

Taking advantage of his silence, this heartless version of the woman he adored and admired his entire life continued, "If you had never been born, Billy, Hank and I would be satisfied with each other. He never would have fallen under Maureen Prescott's spell and I never would have left. Everything was all. Your. Fault."

"No," Billy groaned miserably, his heart breaking. "No!"

Debbie just laughed as she, too, disappeared.

"No! Mom, come back! Please!"

"Billy!"

Billy suddenly jerked up in Sidney's bed, his eyes wild and his heart pounding wildly. He was soaked with sweat and his head burned as if it had been through a furnace.

Sitting by his side with an ice pack, a glass of water, and a bottle of medicine was Sidney. His girlfriend was staring at him with wide, concerned eyes.

"Sidney?" Billy asked. "You're okay?"

"Of course I'm okay," Sidney replied, moving closer to him, her eyes still filled with worry. "Billy, you were hallucinating because of how high your fever is. I took your temperature and it alarmed me, so I went downstairs to get an ice pack and some medicine and I came back to see you sitting up in bed, screaming."

Panting, Billy reached forward and gently touched his girlfriend's cheek, her neck, her shoulder, her arm, her hand…every piece of skin that his own made contact with was warm. Warm and healthy and alive.

"You're alive," Billy felt tears sliding down his face from joy now. "You're alive…"

Sidney reached forward and brought him into an embrace that, though he was too weak to truly reciprocate, he was relieved to be in. He could feel her warmth and the way she breathed and listen to her heartbeat. If she was alive, then that meant everything else was a lie, too. Ghostface was never there, her mom was still dead, and his mom never told him that he was responsible for her leaving.

Everything was okay.

"I'm here, Billy," Sidney whispered into his ear, rubbing his back.

Closing his eyes, Billy breathed in the sweet smell of her and was instantly comforted, all of the bad thoughts that those awful delusions conjured falling away the longer she held him.

She had to pull away after a while so she could help him take his water and medicine. When he safely had that down, she gently laid him back to press the ice pack against his head and he smiled at the relief that the coldness brought to his burning forehead.

He caught her wrist before she could move away. "Will you stay with me, please? I don't want to be alone." He asked, staring up at her with pleading, almost afraid, eyes.

Her eyes softened and she smiled at him. "Of course I will, Billy," she said and then crawled into bed with him, bringing him close to her chest again as they found a comfortable position.

Billy closed his eyes as his head rested against her chest. This virus was still hitting him hard and he still felt like he was dying, but having his angel by his side to keep away the frightening specters from earlier made it all bearable.