New York City, 2020
Christmas Eve

 HONK!

 "Drive faster Mario," the man in the backseat of the car instructed as the Benz cut in front of a taxi.

 "I am," Mario, the driver, responded.  "But, sir, are you sure it's such a good idea for you to go to the office this morning?"

 A hand reached for the nose of the pair of shades and pulled them down until blue eyes met Mario's in the rearview mirror.  "Just shut up and drive or you'll find yourself out of a job."

 "Yes sir," Mario said stiffly as he rounded a corner and came to a halt in front of a large, ornate building.  "Here we are."

 The backdoor was opened and Mario's passenger exited the car.  He watched as the figure walked across the sidewalk and disappeared inside the building.  Shaking his head, Mario restarted the engine.  "What a sad little man."

 Thirty-eight-year old Pacey Witter rode the elevator to the top floor and got off, looking around his bustling office with disdain.  Witter Enterprises had really taken off over the last decade to become one of the largest and most productive advertising agencies in the world.  The company had originally been named True Love Advertising but that name had ceased to be uttered long ago.  All there was room for now was money.

 "Good morning Mr. Witter," Deana, his secretary chirped.  "Happy Christmas Eve."

 Pacey stopped in front of her desk as she handed him a stack of messages.  "Screw the holidays," he retorted, going inside his office and slamming the door behind him.

 Deana sighed heavily and went back to work.

 Pacey dropped the stack of messages on his desk and went straight for the mini-bar, fixing himself a shot of scotch.  Downing it quickly, he fixed a second and brought it over to his desk.  Pacey plopped onto his swivel chair, yanked the shades off and threw them on to the cluttered desktop.  Wearily, he rubbed his red, bloodshot eyes.  Picking up the top message, he scanned Deana's neat script.

 "Smuck," he commented, crumbling up the paper and moving onto the next one.  This one made him laugh.  "Idiot."  He continued going through the stack of messages, making comments about the senders.  "Deadbeat.  Homosexual.  Politician.  Psycho."  Then he came to the last message and he paused.  "Oh shit."  It was from his brother Doug.

Pace,

Please call me.

 Doug

 Sighing, Pacey picked up the phone and started to dial the number.  Then he remembered that he didn't know it.  Groaning, Pacey reached over and flipped his Rolodex to the number and punched it in.  After two rings it was picked up.

 "Hello?"

 "Doug."

 "Pacey.  Thanks for calling."

 "What do you want?"

 "Andie and I are having everyone over for Christmas dinner tomorrow and we would like you to come."

 "More like you were hoping," Pacey corrected.  "I don't want to see Andie and Andie does not want to see me."

 Doug sighed.  "Pacey, you don't know what you're saying."

 "I sure as hell do."

 "Pace-"

 "Look, I appreciate the effort but no.  I 'm not going to come to Capeside just to cut the ham and open cheap presents."

 "Joey's going to be here."

 There was a second of silence.  "So what?  I don't care.  I haven't thought about Joey Potter in years."

 "Actually, it's Forster now."

 Pacey's cold heart actually stopped for a moment before beginning to beat frantically.  "What?"

 "Nothing Pacey.  If you change your mind, you know where we are."

 "I won't."

 "Bye Pacey.  Merry-"

 Pacey hung up before Doug could finish his sentence.  Wadding up the stack of messages he threw them into the wastebasket and leaned back in his chair.  Joey was married?  No, you can't think about that.  You said that you would never think about her again, remember?  She betrayed you.  You're better off without her.  Pacey couldn't think about Joey.  He'd go insane.  Besides, she wasn't his problem anymore.  Let this Forster guy deal with her.

 "DEANA," he roared, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a receipt book.

 Deana rushed into Pacey's office, a "please don't kill me" look on her face.  "Y-yes Mr. Witter?"

 "Make sure that memo goes out to all the staff about returning to work on the 26th."

 "I've already dispatched it sir."

 Pacey stared at his secretary.  She kind of reminded him of his sister Gretchen; someone he had not spoken to in years.  "You can go back to work," he said curtly, swiveling his chair around in an abrupt dismissal.

 Deana stared at the leather-backed chair for a moment, a slight frown on her face.  "Yes sir," she said softly, turning around to leave.

 "Deana, " Pacey called.

 Deana turned around.  "Sir?"

 "Don't let me catch you passing out Christmas cards before lunchtime."

 "Yes sir," Deana agreed, leaving the office.

 Pacey sat back in his chair, staring out the window at the city.  The sky was gray and full of clouds.  "Just what we need," he grumbled.  "More snow-a blizzard.  That'll give everyone a reason not to come to work.  How can you expect to make money when you're never at work?"  Or course everyone would say it was a miracle having snow on Christmas Day but he'd seen snow before.  It was white, cold, mushy and got your pants legs wet when it melted.  Nothing good would come out of it.  The only people that would benefit from it would be the snow shovelers and that was no way to live.  You'd be sure to catch a cold and god knew what else and be forced to stay at home in front of the fire, wrapped in blankets, sipping hot peppermint tea and blowing your nose.

"Do know Bacey Widder…I dink do might just surprise dourself yet."

"Whad makes do say dat Podder?"

"Well…dou're de only guy I know who would dand outside in da freezing cold just do build a snowman wid his girlfriend and her liddle nephew."

 Pacey banged his fist on the arm of the desk chair.  Why were all these memories resurfacing today?  He hadn't thought about them in years.  Joey…Joey Potter…Forster?  When the hell had Joey gotten married?

 "DEANA!"

 Deana stuck her head inside the office.  "Yes Mr. Witter?"

  "Get me everything you can find on-" Pacey stopped mid-sentence.  What the hell are you doing?

 "Yes?"

 "Never mind."

 Deana rose an eyebrow.  "You sure?"

 "Yes," Pacey snapped.  "Get back to work and leave me alone!"

 Deana's head retreated and she shut the door.

 Pacey rubbed his eyes.  He was loosing it.  Resolved, he pushed everything out of his mind, as he'd become so accustomed to doing over the years.

 "Mr. Witter?"

 Pacey punched the intercom button.  "What?"

 "Representatives from the Ronald McDonald House are here."

 Pacey groaned.  "Show them in."

 A young man and a middle aged woman stepped inside Pacey's office.  "Good morning Mr. Witter," the man said.  "I'm Don Mullins and this is Helda Stamps.  We're from-"

 "I know where you're from," Pacey interrupted.

 The man stared for a moment, almost as if Pacey's interruption had thrown him off balance.  Finally, he began speaking again.  "We're here because-"

 "I know why you're here too," Pacey interjected.  "You want money to help families with sick children that are in need, right?"

 "Yes sir," Mrs. Stamps said.

 "Let me get this straight.  Every year a huge cut of my hard-earned money is taken out in taxes.  And these taxes are used for god only knows what.  And you want me to give you money to help those in need who can't fend for themselves?"

 "Yes," Helda said, standing a little taller.

 Pacey nodded, looking them both in the face.  "Screw the holidays.  Tell them I said get off their asses and work.  I've got enough bills to pay without having to pay theirs as well."

 Helda and Don stared at one another, shocked.

 "Helda, let's go," Don said, shaking his head.  "We should have known better than to come here."

 Helda and Don were at the office door when Helda turned around.  "Mr. Witter."

 "What?"

 "Men like you always get their comeuppance," she said in a firm, yet almost sympathetic voice.  Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the office without a backward glance.

 Pacey sighed.  "Vultures."

Everyone was packing up to leave when there was a knock on Pacey's door.  "What?"

 Deana timidly stepped inside the office, holding a red envelope.  Coming up to the desk, she sat it down on top of the mahogany wood.  "Merry Christmas Mr. Witter."

 Pacey stared at her, looked down at the bright red envelope, looked back up at Deana and burst into laughter.

 Deana colored slightly.  What's so funny?"

 "Deana, Deana, Deana.  You and your 'holiday spirit'.  Do you really think that you're going to get that raise by giving me a Christmas card?"

 Deana stared at her boss, beyond upset.

 "Cause I can tell you that the way to my safe does not lie in paper cards, tinfoil stars and peppermint sticks," Pacey continued, oblivious to the look on his secretary's face.

 Deana's eyes narrowed, her face got redder and it looked like she might actually cry.  "I got you a card because I figured it would be the only one you'd receive," she stated, in a quiet voice, her chin held up proudly and again Pacey caught a glimpse of Gretchen.  Before he could think of a good retort, Deana pivoted and strolled out of the office.  Pacey watched her as she picked her purse up off her desk and walked over to the elevator bank where the stragglers were holding the elevator for her and disappeared behind the metal doors.

 Letting out a groan of frustration Pacey dropped his head to the desk.  "Screw the holidays," he mumbled.

Capeside, Massachusetts

 The yard and house were decorated with pretty lights that could be seen a mile away.  A black Civic pulled up the winding drive and stopped next to a blue pickup truck.  Thirty-seven-year old Joey Forster got out and stretched.  Home sweet home.

 The front door opened and her nephew Alex ran out to greet her.  "Aunt Joey!"

 Joey smiled as her foot taller nephew wrapped her up in a bear hug.  She could remember when he couldn't even stand up.  Now he was twenty-two and Joey felt old…very old.  "How are you Alex," she asked him, putting on a huge smile for his benefit.

 Alex's eyes twinkled.  "I'm wonderful.  It's so great that you came.  I've missed you.  We've all missed you."

 Joey pinched his cheek in an aunt-like fashion.  "I missed you too.  Where's your mom?  Dragging Bodie down the isles for last minute shopping?"

 Alex laughed.  "Actually, they did that this morning.  Now they're in the living room with Alana tangled up in a bunch of Christmas lights."

 Joey rolled her eyes.  "Bessie still waiting to put up the inside lights until the last minute?"

 "Good old mom."

 Joey chuckled as Alex and she walked up the front steps, across the porch and went inside the house.

 Bessie dropped her strand of lights on top of Bodie's head as soon as she saw Joey.  "JO!"  She ran over to her sister and hugged her tightly.  Joey hugged her back, feeling tears prick her eyes.  Bessie pulled back and looked into her sister's troubled eyes.  "I'm glad you're home."

 "Me too, Bessie," Joey said softly.  "Me too."

 "JOEY!"

 Joey was engulfed in a pair of arms as soon as she stepped inside the Leery house.  "Jack!"

 Jack pulled back and looked at her closely.  "You haven't been sleeping," he observed.

 Joey shrugged.  "Yeah.  Well, what's new, right?  I never got much sleep."

 Jack was about to say something more when Andie bounced in from the kitchen and pounced on Joey, hugging her fiercely.  "JOEY!  I missed you soo much!"

 Joey smiled and hugged Andie.  "Hey.  I missed you too."

 Andie took Joey's hand.  "Come on."

 Joey shook her head.  She's still the same old Andie.  Always trying to be positive and bright.

 "OH MY GOD!  JOEY!"

 This voice belonged to Gretchen.  Joey froze where she was, her eyes frantically scanning the room.  Doug was standing next to Gretchen, holding she and Dawson's two-year old daughter in his arms, Dawson stood next to Roxanne, his younger sister, Jen was sitting at the table sipping a cup of cocoa and Mitch and Gale Leery were huddled over the stove.  Joey stood where she was, taking in everyone's -except for Doug and Andie-shocked expressions at her arrival.  Joey lifted a limp hand.  "Hey guys.  Gale burned the ham yet?"

 The tension was broken and everyone laughed.  Dawson ran over to Joey and hugged her tightly.  "Glad you could make it."

 "Yeah."

    "Joey?"  Joey turned her eyes to Gretchen.  She looked a bit apprehensive but Dawson knew what Joey was going to do and plucked his daughter out of his wife's arms as Joey sailed into them.  Gretchen looked surprised for a moment then hugged her back.  "How are you?"

 "Okay," Joey told her, her eyes tearing up.  Quickly she pulled back and managed a smile.  "How are you?"

 "Great.  We're great," Gretchen said, looking over at Dawson.

 Joey shook her head.  "Who would have thought?"

 "I heard that," Dawson teased.

 Jen got up from the table and walked over to where Joey and Gretchen were standing.  "Hey ho," she spat, a huge smirk on her face.

 "Hey bimbo," Joey responded, grinning.

 They both laughed, embracing, and the others followed suit.

 "Okay, can we eat now," Jack asked.  "I'm starving."

 Joey was not really in the mood to sing Christmas carols so she stepped out onto the front porch with a steaming cup of coffee.  It was wonderful seeing all of them again…even though just being here brought back painful memories.  Twenty…fifteen years ago Pacey had been here with her, everyone laughing and having a wonderful time.  The world had seemed so perfect.  Everything was as it should be.  Then her world had turned upside down.

 "Joey?"

 Joey looked around and saw Doug standing nervously in front of the door.

 "Doug."
 "Mind if I sit with you for a moment?"

 Joey nodded.  "Fine by me."

 "Thanks."  Doug walked over to the swing and sat down on the other end.  "So…."

 "Doug, you know that I'm not capable of beating around the bush.  So, please, whatever it is that you want to say…just say it, okay?"

 "Yeah."  Doug paused for a moment, gauging his words.  "I called Pacey."

 Joey didn't move or respond.

 "I asked him to come."

 "Ummmhmm."

 "But he wouldn't."

 "Why am I not surprised?  Pacey gave us all up a long time ago."

 Doug sighed.  "I know that Jo.  But I can't help but feel that he needs to come.  He needs Andie and I to keep inviting him every year.  And we both hope that he'll one day accept."

 Joey rested her chin on her knee.  "Doug, for your sake, and Andie's and Gretchen's I hope he will…someday."

 Doug shook his head.  "When I spoke with him on the phone today…something was off.  Now I realize that my mentally challenged brother has been off his aim for a while now but this was different.  And I don't think that he was even conscious of it."

 "Doug, if you're referring to me then you're wasting your time and energy.  Pacey stopped loving me a very long time ago.  Then I stopped loving myself."

 Doug rubbed his chin in the way that was so familiar to Joey and she bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears.  "Joey, I think that what my brother did was the dumbest move he has ever made.  I really do.  But I can't help but hope that somehow he'll redeem himself.  That somehow, someone will show him the err of his actions and the old Pacey will resurface…only a hundred times better than he was before."

 Joey stared at him.  "You've read A Christmas Carol far too many times Dougie."

 "Call me old fashioned…but I believe that it could happen."

 "So you're saying that you think he might come this year?"

 Doug looked at her, a knowing expression on his face.  "You did."

  The small market was crowded when Pacey stopped in to pick up something for dinner.  He was wandering an isle, trying to decide what he wanted when he heard a familiar voice.

 "No Tim, get the bigger can."

 He stepped around the corner to the other isle and stared.  His secretary Deana was taking a can of soup from a small, scrawny boy clutching a cane in his other hand.

 "Thank you baby," Deana said, a weary edge to her voice that Pacey had never noticed before.  "You getting tired?"

 Tim nodded.  "But that's okay.  I can last as long as you need to shop."

 Deana reached down and ruffled the little boy's hair.  "We're almost done."  Then she grinned.  "What do you say we go find some chocolate chip cookie mix and bake some cookies when we get home?"

 Tim laughed.  "That sounds wonderful momma."

 "Good.  Now go pick out another can of soup.  Anything you want.  Just make sure that it's not over two dollars."

 "Okay momma," the boy said, hobbling over to the shelf and studying the cans.

 Pacey turned his attention back to Deana and saw that she looked incredibly sad.  She was looking at the boy as he picked out his can and successfully hobbled back over to her and handed over the can of soup triumphantly.

 "Here you go."

 "Okay.  Now let's go get the cookie mix and go home."

 "Yippee!"

 Pacey quickly stepped back to the other isle as Deana and her son rounded the corner.  He watched them amble along in contemplation.  I never even noticed that Deana had a son he thought.  I wonder if something's wrong with him.  Realizing what he was doing, Pacey pushed the thought away.  It's not your concern.  He quickly picked up a steak and baked potato, paid for his items and left the market.

 Outside, the sidewalk was swarming with pedestrians full of holiday cheer.  Diving into the safety of his car, Pacey leaned back and closed his eyes.  I just want it to be over with.    Opening his eyes once more as the car proceeded down the crowded street he looked out the window as all the greens and reds and whites blurred into one big glob.

 "God I need a drink."

 Pacey walked up the steps to his front door and dug in his pocket for his keys.

 "PAAAACCCCEEEYYY!"

 Pacey's head snapped up and he looked around.  No one was there.  Just the wind he told himself as he stuck his key into the lock and turned the bolt.

 "PAAACCCCEEEEEEEYYYY!"

 Pacey swung open the door, strode inside and slammed the door behind him.  Bolting all the locks he leaned against the wooden frame in relief.

 "PPPPPPAAAAACCCCEEEEEYYYY!"

 Pacey spun around and stared.  A small greenish face popped out from the eyehole and looked at him.  "AAHH!"

 "PPPPPAAAAACCCCEEEYYY!"

 Pacey forgot all about manliness and ran up the stairs to his bedroom and locked the door.  Striding over to the mini-bar he poured himself a glass of scotch and downed it in a gulp.  "Get a grip Witter," he whispered.  "You're just stressed.  You need some booze, a nice juicy steak and some sleep."  Pacey stared at the door for ten minutes and nothing happened.

 "Dipstick," he muttered, going downstairs to fix his dinner.

 Joey slipped outside after the Potter Family Sing-a-long and stared up at the night sky.  Christmas had never been the easiest of holidays for her.  All these feelings and emotions boiled inside of her…making her want to beat the crap out of the first thing she found.  Pulling her coat tighter around her, Joey stepped off the porch and walked out into the yard and down to the creek.  The water was frozen at the top, the moonlight reflecting on the thin surface of the ice.  I could just walk on out there and let the ice break beneath my feet and the cold water suffocate me…let the sluggish current carry me away.  Then I wouldn't have to feel this pain.  I wouldn't have to live every day knowing how badly I've screwed up and how my life is nothing but a shit fest.  But Joey knew that she wouldn't do it.  She refused to go out that easily.  Whoever came to get her when her time came would have to drag Joey kicking and screaming from this world down to the fiery pits below.  Joey knew that was where she was going.  Everything she touched became tainted…evil.  She'd done too many things that she now regretted to get in heaven.  No, Joey Potter-Forster-was going to hell.

 "Jo?"

 Joey whipped around to see Bessie standing behind her, a worried look on her face.

 "I hate it when you look at me like that," Joey muttered.

 "I know," Bessie replied, coming to a halt beside her sister and putting an arm around her thin shoulders.

 Joey smiled a tiny smile, the only one that she could muster.  She was exhausted from the fake bravado she'd exhibited all night.  Now that Alex had gone home and Alana, her niece, was in bed, Joey could drop the act and let her exhaustion show.  "You always know what to do, don't you?"

 "Who?  Me?  Maawwwhhh!  Not on your life.  I just try," Bessie admitted.  "Actually, I screw up as much as most people, practically more.  I usually say the wrong thing and end up embarrassing myself or making the matter worse."

 "Umm…okay, so you're right."

 Bessie cocked an eyebrow.  "Berate me, dear sister, berate me."

 Joey shook her head, amused.  "You're something else Bessie.  You're really special.  You have two kids and a husband and…."

 "I know."  Bessie paused and looked at her sister's profile thoughtfully.  "And so are you."

 Joey stared at her.  "What?  The husband and kid?"

 "No.  The 'special' part."

 "Sure."

 "Jo, I know that a lot has happened and that things are really difficult right now but please don't give up.  You've got too much strength and vitality to quit.  You can show that asshole what you're made of."

"Which one," Joey asked, turning pained eyes to her sister's face.  "The one I was married to or the one that loved money more than me?"

Bessie pulled Joey into her embrace and hugged her tightly.  "Oh Jo.  I wish I knew what to tell you.  I wish that I could crinkle my nose and make everything right.  But I can't.  And neither can you.  But you cannot keep blaming yourself for other people's serious psychological problems."

Joey snorted.  "Are you trying to cheer me up?"

"With the psychological stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Of course.  But I mean it too."

"Thank you."

"You're my sister.  It's on the house."

Joey really did manage a small laugh that time and Bessie sighed with relief.  Joey pulled back and wiped a stray tear off her cheek.

"If it's any consolation, Jo, I know that one of the 'assholes' is no better off in the happiness department than you are."

Joey's eyebrows rose.  "Whom are you referring to?"

"There's a magazine on the living room table.  Take a peek at it before going to bed, okay?"

"Yeah."

Bessie turned to go then looked back at her sister.  "And Jo?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you're here."

Joey nodded.  "So am I."

Bessie went back to the house, leaving Joey standing in the frigid air, staring up at the moon.

 An hour later, Joey settled onto her bed with a copy of People magazine in her lap.  She stared at the small picture on the bottom left side of the cover for so long that she started seeing double.  Blinking Joey opened the magazine to the specified page and began to read.

HOLIDAY MEISER

 New York-Life can surprise you.  Just ask 38-year-old Pacey Witter, owner of Witter Enterprises, a hugely successful international advertising agency.  "I never thought that I would have this much money," he says, waving a hand around his offices on the top floor of the Marco building.  "My company has come a long way."

Witter began his business when he was 22 and it was originally called True Love Advertising.  When asked the significance of the name and why he changed it, he curtly replies.  "That's ancient history that I'd rather not discuss."  Obviously, it's a touchy subject.

Witter, born in Capeside, Massachusetts, has four other siblings, three sisters and a brother.  School was not his thing.  "It's a miracle I graduated," he says softly, an odd look on his face.  Then he grins.  "I was such a wise ass."

Capeside is also the birthplace of Dawson Leery, Hollywood's fresh young director, and Joey Potter, winner of the prestigious Impression Award for Art.  When asked if he knew either of the two he promptly responds: "We went to school together."  Either it's another touchy subject or there is nothing to tell.

The Witter brood was not much for Christmas.  "I would always go over to a friend's house to feel like I was worth something."  When asked how he celebrates Christmas, Witter calmly states: "With a bottle of scotch and my remote control."

All this painfully points out that money does not buy happiness.  Does anyone else feel like this scrooge needs a visit from a few ghosts this Christmas to revive his spirit?  Only time will tell.

Joey put down the magazine and leaned back against the pillows in quiet contemplation.  The last time she'd saw him had been the day she'd walked away from him.  He looked older, but he was, and he seemed almost haggard.  The brightness was gone from his blue eyes, leaving them dull and lifeless.  Where his dimpled smile used to be was a permanent frown.  Oh God…but his lips hadn't changed.  And neither had his hands.  They still looked so soft and strong and gentle…although the man that they now belonged to was not the same man that had once used them to caress her.

Agitated, Joey threw the magazine and it hit the wall with a THUMP and fell to the carpet.  Why couldn't he have loved me more," she whispered tearfully.  "Why couldn't he have believed me?  Why couldn't he have stayed the same man that I fell in love with when I was a teenager?  Why did he have to change into the cruel, sad, and lonely man that exists today?  Why?  Why?  WHY?"

Because you let him down a tiny voice inside her head sneered.

"But I didn't," Joey responded verbally.  "I never betrayed him!"

Sure you didn't.

"I didn't!  I didn't!  I didn't!"

Just like you never betrayed Ben.

Joey closed her eyes as tears streamed down her face.  "I didn't do anything wrong!  I only wanted someone to love me."

And look how you repaid him?

"He never loved me."

How do you know that?

"Because he never would have done what he did if he had."

So you left him.

"Yes.  I had no choice.  It was either that…or die."

 There was a roaring fire in the hearth and Pacey was bundled up in his huge bed…flipping through the stations.  "How the Grinch Stole Christmas…Frosty the Snowman…A Christmas Carol…come on people," Pacey exclaimed.  "Give me a break!  Don't you have any sports or Schwartzernegger movies on tonight?  Or something that at least is live action and not some animated shit?"  Pacey glanced at the screen as old Ebeneezer Scrooge was taken out the window by the ghost of Christmas past.  "Like that would ever happen," he muttered, flipping the station.  It's a Wonderful Life was on this station and it was ending.  "…every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings," the voice from the television stated.  Pacey flipped off the set.  "Screw the holidays."

Suddenly a gust of air from nowhere extinguished the fire and the door to his bedroom swung open.  "PPPPAAACCCEEEYYYY!"

Pacey sat in bed, frozen to the spot.  "Who is it?"

"PPPAAAACCCEEEYYY!"

"Show yourself," he demanded, not wanting to be a chicken.

Pacey's eyes widened as a greenish apparition walked through the doorway.  It was a man…that much he was certain of and it was dressed in rags.  Wrapped around its body was a thick chain that was so long that it dragged on the floor behind him.  It came to a stop next to Pacey's bed and he gasped.  "Dad?"

 "Pacey."

 "W-w-w-w-hat?  H-how?  Holy shit!"

"Pacey, I've come to warn you."

"Warn me?  Of what," Pacey said, leaning back against his pillows.

"Your actions…how you are paving your way towards the fate that I made for myself."

"What are you talking about?"

"DOOM," his father bellowed and Pacey became a little frightened again.

"How could I be doomed?"

John Witter pointed to the chain that confined him.  "This is the chain of my sins…the chain that I made during my lifetime."

"What's it do?"

"It reminds me of the wrongs I committed while I was alive.  I have to live with them all, day after day, until I have repented my sins."

Pacey stared at him for a moment then cracked up.  "Look…Mr…. I don't know who you are but you're a damn good actor.  Sorry but I don't pay people who break into my house."

John Witter's face turned greener and he glared at his son.  "Do you dare deny that I exist," he roared, sending another chilling gust of air through the room.  "Do you dare tell me that you have committed no sins…that you have done no wrong to your fellow man and to yourself?"

Pacey was literally shaking.  "N-no sir."

Mr. Witter relaxed and pointed at his chain again.  "Yours is growing my son."

Pacey looked down at the metal links totally confused.

"I have been given the opportunity to spare you this same fate.  I was a horrible father and definitely not the best man in the world.  I denied my family the love that they desperately needed and chose to linger in the idea of my own personal power over others.  And now that I am dead I am paying for those actions."

John moved closer to Pacey and he saw for the first time that he could actually see through his father's body.  "I don't want the same thing to happen to you."

"So…you just talk to me and that's it?  No more 'doom'?"

John shook his head.  "It's not that simple Pacey.  Tonight three spirits will visit you.  These spirits, one arriving at the stroke of one, the other at the stroke of two and the final whenever the moment is appropriate, will take you on a journey through time…through your life.  Head their warnings and learn from them tonight and you will have the key to your happiness and redemption."

"But-"

"You can't keep living like this son.  You'll end up in a permanent hell of your own making…just like me."

Pacey was unsure of what to say.

"My time is up.  Expect the first at the stroke of one.  Pacey, don't pass this chance up."

Pacey stared at his father.  "Uh…Dad…I don't believe in ghosts."

John Witter smirked, a look that made Pacey's skin crawl.  "You will."

Then, before Pacey could say another word, he vanished.  The room was cold and Pacey tentatively got out of bed and rebuilt the fire, diving back under the covers.  He sat there for thirty minutes at least…trying to come to grips with what he had just seen and heard.  Finally, Pacey shook his head and snorted.  "You've had too much to drink Witter," he told himself.  "That's all it was."  Confident that was the answer because Pacey Witter did not believe in the supernatural, he turned off the lamp and went to sleep.  The digital alarm clock read 11:30 p.m.