Disclaimer: I don't own Until Dawn.

A/N: The next part will be up later this week, hopefully. :) Also, I would have tagged all eight main characters if I could for this story, but wouldn't let me. :(

My Candle Burns at Both Ends (It Will Not Last the Night)

Chapter One: Vengeance or Murder

"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."

– Joseph Conrad

Sam sank into the hot, soapy water and gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. She felt some of the tension lift from her shoulders as the heat soaked in. As much as they'd come here to be together, she had desperately needed some time on her own. The trip was turning out to be every bit as fraught, awkward and irritable as she thought it would be.

I can't relax. Every time we're together, I'm waiting for an argument to kick off.

Plugging in her earphones, she closed her eyes and leaned back, listening to the soothing strains of Bach…

Slam!

Sam blinked, jerking upright. The candles had burned low and the water was lukewarm. Did I fall asleep? And was that the door?

"Guys?" she asked uncertainly. There was no answer. Uneasy now, she climbed from the bath and wrapped herself in a towel. And then discovered her clothes were gone. "Really? Really?"

Leaving the bathroom, she stalked down the landing with wet, bare feet, calling out in irritation. "Guys, this isn't funny! Where are my clothes?"

She came to the top of the stairs and blinked in surprise. Was that…balloons? And candles? Increasingly weirded out, she followed the arrows on the balloons down the stairs. If this was some kind of ill-conceived prank…

Her stomach turned as she remembered the last ill-conceived prank to happen in this house. What are they thinking?! Josh is going to flip!

"Where the hell are you guys?" She padded cautiously into the home cinema, peering about with the torch. The absolute silence and stillness of house was starting to get to her, making her irrationally afraid. "Guys! Come on! I am done with this game, it isn't funny!"

The double doors to the cinema room swung shut with an echoing boom, making her scream and nearly drop the torch. Heart pounding in shock, she backed away from the doors, just as the big screen lit up behind her.

"Hello Samantha."

The unfamiliar voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, deep and distorted with static. She spun on the spot, frantically searching for the owner of the voice and then it spoke again. "Looking for me?" Despite the electronic crackle, it seemed to have an almost amused tone. "You won't find me. In fact, the only thing you're going to see, is what I what want you to see. And I – have quite a lot to show you…"

"What the hell," Sam whispered, backing away. She didn't know where to run to, it was impossible to tell which way was safe, where was this guy –

"See for yourself," the voice spoke again and Sam was horrified at the image that flickered up on screen.

"Oh my God." Her trip tightened on the torch as she watched herself, relaxed and peaceful, lounging in the bath.

"She's…quite beautiful, isn't she." All the little hairs on Sam's arms rose at the admiring tone, obvious even through the distortion. "A beautiful bathing bird. Do you think she has any idea what lies ahead?" The tone changed abruptly, thick with menace. "Do you think these were the last happy moments of this creature's life?"

"Why…why are you showing this to me?" Sam cried, terrified, backing away.

"Why are you watching?" The amusement was back. Then the picture changed again and Sam stared in horror as an image of Josh, bound and tied to a wall, filled the screen.

"JOSH!" she screamed, over the sound of his screams, as an enormous blade sliced through her friend and ended his life. "NO, JOSH, JOSH!"

Electronic laughter rang through the room and Sam shook with terror and disgust. "What is wrong with you?!" she screamed. "How could you – you're fucking sick!"

The laughter died down and that terrible, thoughtful amusement took its place. "So I've heard. But this isn't about me, Samantha. And it isn't really about you either. But this game is for all to enjoy, so I'm going to give you ten seconds. Nine…"

"What?" Sam's eyes widened. "Nonononono –"

"Eight. Seven –" The doors slammed open behind her and Sam stumbled back at the sight of the looming figure in overalls and a demonic clown mask, holding a large metal canister in one hand. "Sa-am," he rumbled mockingly, black eyes glinting in the low light. "Sa-am? Are you going to waste your ten seconds, Sam?"

Sam finally managed to get her legs to work, pushing past the sheer fright, and sprinting for the other door. She slammed it behind her, shaking fingers almost dropping the torch, and jumped over the bed, just as the door burst open again. She could hear the heavy tread of the psycho on the wooden floorboards, boots thumping loudly as he stalked after her.

"Shit, shit, shit –" She fled down the concreate stairs to the basement, nearly falling but catching herself just in time, and still clutching that stupid, fucking towel, oh God, she was going to lose it any second –

Baseball bat! The thought flashed through her mind and she ducked behind the row of shelves where she had found the makeshift weapon earlier.

"Sam? Why are you hiding?"

Shit, shit – She switched off the torch and prayed he hadn't seen the light. She could hear the mechanical breathing, just on the other side of the concreate support pillar she was hiding behind.

"Sa-am." His voice was back to mocking. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. Why prolong the inevitable, Sam? Come out. I'll make it quick. You won't suffer, I promise."

Sam's knuckles whitened on the baseball bat. Yeah, like I fucking believe that, she thought, with more than a hint of hysteria. I haven't given up on living yet, you asshole.

"You can't hide from me, Sam." A rhythmic clanking started up, echoing around the basement, and Sam tensed, every nerve singing with tension. "Don't you know I can smell you? I can smell your fear."

He walked into her line of vision and paused for an agonisingly long second. Sam barely noticed that she had stopped breathing entirely. Then he turned suddenly and looked down the aisle into the shadows where she was hiding. "Gotcha." The single word dripped with satisfaction and a wave of cold fear washed over Sam.

Don't hesitate, go! She leapt out of her crouch, propelling herself forward hard. He seemed surprised that she wasn't frozen in fear, and his split-second delayed reaction gave her the opportunity to swing the bat. It crashed into his shoulder, knocking him off-balance and Sam turned to run, but thick, gloved fingers closed over her wrist. "No," she shouted, in fury and frustration and fear, kicking out hard, desperately trying to free herself.

"Yes," the deep, distorted voice replied, dragging her backwards even as she fought. A rubber mask was shoved over her nose and mouth and she choked on the thick, cloying gas that it emitted, still struggling and fighting even as it stole the strength from her limbs. "Not good enough, Samantha," he taunted, deep and mocking.

Her arms and legs stopped responding and Sam looked up, the hazy, wavering image of that awful clown mask the last thing she saw before her consciousness slid down, down, into the dark…

xxx

"Mmm…what…?" Ashley opened her eyes slowly. Her head hurt massively, particularly the area around her left eye. It felt hot and inflamed, and her cheekbone was throbbing. She looked up, squinting in an effort to see. The room was dark but a single pool of white light fell on the area she was sitting in; it illuminated the table in front of her, the chair Chris was slumped in across from her and the chair she was…tied...to.

Oh God! Ashley tugged frantically at her bonds but they refused to budge. "Chris!" she whispered, fear closing her throat. "Oh God, Chris please wake up, Chris!" Her voice rose to a near-shriek and he stirred in his own bonds.

"Ash?" he raised his head sluggishly, squinting in the dim light. "Ash?" his voice became increasingly concerned as alertness returned to his eyes, "What happened? What did he do to you?"

She was sure she must look terrible to prompt such a reaction; her head was throbbing badly enough that she was pretty sure that half of her face must be one big bruise. "I – I think he hit me," she said shakily, the metallic taste of blood sharp on her tongue.

Chris swore and yanked at the metal cuff securing him to the chair. "I'm going to fucking kill him –"

"Oh God, oh God," Ashley whispered, fear curling around her words as her fingers twisted frantically in around her restraints. There was not the slightest hint of give in the metal. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening –"

"Come out, you murdering piece of shit!" Chris roared, struggling against his own bonds, anger and fear evident in his voice.

"We're going to die." The awful, cold certainty had stolen over her like a death shroud. "He's going to kill us like he killed Josh."

"No one is going to be killed," Chris tried to reassure her, but she ran on, desperate to finish before the psycho decided to step in.

"I wish I'd told you – told you before," she choked, tripping on the words.

"What? Told me what?" Chris' voice trembled.

"It's too late now – we were always talking around it and now we've wasted everything, all the time we had –"

"Ashley. None of it was wasted." Chris' tone was soft and shaky, but sincerity coloured it so strongly that it was impossible to doubt.

"What do you mean?" Her voice broke halfway through the sentence.

"Every second I spent with you, was the only thing I ever wanted to do with my time. I'm sorry," he choked. "I should have told you how I felt about you."

"Chris." She was half-sobbing, joy and grief and fear all saturating his name as she struggled to speak. "Oh, Chris –"

"Ashley, I swear, when we get out of this –"

An ominous grinding came from somewhere above them, followed by the hideously familiar sound of a sawblade whirring into life.

"Oh God –"

"No, no, no, no –" Ashley chanted.

"Hello there, my special little subjects." The psycho's voice echoed through the ruined basement.

"Chris, I'm scared," she cried, yanking her hands against the restraints. Blood welled up as the thin skin of her wrists was broken, the metal cuffs biting deeply. She knew she was being unfair, that Chris had to be just as terrified as she was, but she couldn't make herself calm down, she was like a broken pipe, spilling fear instead of water –

"Don't be scared, Ash –"

"Oh, you should be scared, Ash," the deep voice, filled with awful amusement, came filtering through the speakers. "Because at least one of you isn't going to be leaving this room alive."

"You're a monster," Chris snarled, voice filled with rage and terror.

A distorted chuckle echoed around the room. "You're not the first person to call me that. Not even the first person to call me that tonight. Sweet little Sam…"

"What have you done with her?" Ashley rattled at her restraints, a little current of anger running through her fear now. "Where is she?"

"Oh, don't worry about Sam, Ashley. Worry about yourself. Because Chris has already made one fatal choice today, and now he must make another. Chris, you can take that gun on the table in front of you, and you can shoot yourself – or you can shoot Ashley. Or you can do nothing and the sawblades will kill you both. But, you have my word, if one of you dies, the sawblades will not descend any further. The choice is yours."

Chris snatched the gun and fired at the sawblades, his face twisted in anger. Deep, mocking laughter echoed around the room. "Oh Chris. Don't be so ridiculous. You won't escape my trap that easily. And if you don't make a decision soon, you won't get to make one at all. Choose wisely."

Chris took a deep breath and screwed up his face. And in one swift movement, put the gun to his own head.

"No!" Ashley lurched forward in her bonds, straining desperately. "No, wait Chris, no! Kill me instead, Chris, don't, don't shoot yourself! You saved me before; let me choose to save you, let me die in your place!" Her eyes were wet with tears. "Please…"

Chris' hand trembled on the pistol, but it stayed pointing at his head. "I can't. I'm sorry, Ash. I can't kill you."

"No!" Ashley howled. "No, Chris, no, I love you –!"

Bang!

Ashley's scream of horror was lost in the sound of the gunshot, echoing through the vast basement. "No, no, no, no, no," she repeated, voice hoarse and cheeks wet with tears. She barely even noticed as the sawblades stopped moving, as the shadows shifted and the psycho stepped into the light, mask shining bone-white; she couldn't stop staring in dazed horror at Chris' slumped form in the other chair. The table was flecked with shining scarlet and the shadowed pillar behind him was dark with blood and bone and brain matter.

Then the psycho stepped directly into her line of sight and she raised her head to look into the horrible white mask and the glinting black eyes. "Why?" she said brokenly. "How could you…how could you…?"

"Because you need to pay for what you did. All of you." The deep voice was laced with definite anger, coming clearly through the electronic distortion.

"What?" Ashley whispered. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about, Ashley." He stepped forward until he was towering over her in the chair. "The question is, 'how could you?'"

Cold realisation settled over her. "You mean what happened…what happened with Hannah and Beth…" Of course. He's obsessed with them, we saw that note in the library –

"Yes." The word was an angry hiss. "Cruel. Selfish. You hurt Hannah for your amusement…and killed them both surely as if you'd done it with your own hands."

"No." Ashley was aghast. "I never meant to hurt anyone!" Her voice wavered and broke as her eyes were drawn back to the other side of the table. "You killed Chris!"

"Oh, Ashley. Weren't you paying attention?" he said mockingly. "Chris killed himself."

"Because you forced him to!" Ashley screamed, suddenly furious at the hypocrisy. She struggled against her restraints, yanking hard enough to split the skin further around her wrists. Blood shone on the metal, slick and bright. "You sick bastard!"

"What I offered Chris was kindness. The chance to admit his love and have it returned before he died; is that not a good way to leave this world? To die knowing you are loved? After all, of all of you, he bore the least guilt for that night. For that, he deserved kindness." His voice lowered and became even more dangerous. "If think his death was bad, well, I'm sure Jessica, Michael, Matthew and Emily will shudder to contemplate their fates."

Ashley sat frozen in a horrible mixture of disbelief, anger and fear. "You're not going to let any of us leave this mountain alive, are you?" she whispered.

He chuckled, an awful grating sound. "Well done, Ashley. No, no-one will be leaving this mountain tonight, or ever again."

Ashley raised her chin, trembling. She didn't want to die, oh God she didn't want to die, but she was not going to beg this man, this monster for her life. "Go on then," she said, mustering up her courage. "Kill me. If you're going to do it, just do it."

The psycho laughed. "Oh, don't worry. You'll see Chris again soon enough." She heard the distinctive sound of a pistol cocking and he raised his right hand to reveal the gun, gleaming in the low light. She flinched as he pressed the cold metal barrel to her temple. "For his sake, I'm giving you the privilege of the same quick death. And after all, your offence was minor compared to some of your friends."

Cold rage swelled within Ashley, at what this monster was doing, what he had done, and what he intended to go on to do after she was dead. It gave her the courage to stare him directly in the eyes without flinching. "Fuck. You." She enunciated deliberately.

The ringing laughter of a psychopath and an overwhelmingly loud explosion of noise in her left ear was the last thing Ashley ever heard.

xxx

Jess yawned sleepily and curled closer against Mike's bare chest. The flickering firelight painted their skin a soft gold and filled the small living room with warmth. I knew a fire was a good idea.

"You okay, Jess?" Mike's voice rumbled pleasantly in his chest, vibrating against her ear and unbidden, a warm, contented smile curled Jessica's mouth. She rolled over to look up at him so he could see exactly just how okay she was.

"Peachy," she grinned, knowing the happiness was written all over her face.

Mike grinned back at her, with both pride and happiness. "Well, obviously…"

She snorted and lightly swatted his chest. "Oh, really? Then why did you ask?" The banter was playful but she glowed with quiet joy, knowing that their previous conversation was the reason he was checking to make sure she was okay. He really is a good guy.

"Because it is, of course, my duty to ensure the happiness and wellbeing of the Snowball Queen at all times," Mike said solemnly, his mouth twitching like he wanted to laugh.

Jess really did laugh then. "You're an idiot," she said fondly.

"Well, this idiot is hungry." Mike slid out from under her, leaving Jessica pouting at the loss of her pillow. "Do you want anything?"

"Yeah, you back here, on this couch with me," Jess said, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion.

He grinned at her as he slipped on his jeans and padded into the kitchen, flicking on the lights. "I'll be right back, I promise."

"Fiiiine," she heaved a dramatic sigh as she rolled over. His laughter drifted through the doorway and she smiled again, unable to help the curl of warmth in her chest at the sound. She snuggled down into the intent left by his body in the cushions, drawing the blanket closer around her to help keep the heat in.

She was just starting to doze off to the sound of cutlery clinking and the rustle of packaging, when sudden there was a loud curse, followed almost instantly by a loud crash.

"Shit!"

"Mike?" Jess sat up and peered around, disorientated. She realised the kitchen was in complete darkness; the only light came from the fire, which was starting to die down to red embers.

"I'm fine, Jess," he sounded distracted and annoyed, but not at her. "The lights just went out and accidently I knocked my plate off the worktop." There was the sound of a light switch clicking on and off. "The electricity's not working."

"What?" she frowned. "We turned the generator on though…" An idea came to her. "Maybe it's the fuse box? I think I saw one just outside the front door."

"Good idea," Mike called from the kitchen. "I'll look for a torch, there's gotta be one in here somewhere."

"Cool." Jess slid off the couch and quickly pulled on her bra and panties, followed by her shirt. Where the heck are my jeans…? Never mind, I'll only be outside for a minute. She padded across the room carefully, trying not to bump into anything in the semi-darkness, and grabbed the door handle. It refused to turn. "What the heck?" she frowned. "Mike!" she raised her voice. "Did you lock the door?"

"What? No," he sounded confused. "Are you sure it's not just stiff?"

Normally she would have pounced on the innuendo, but she was really starting to get anxious and not in the mood for joking anymore. "No." Her voice was sharper than she intended, as she rattled the door handle futilely. "It's not budging."

"Hello Jessica, Michael."

Jess nearly jumped out of her skin in fright as a deep, electronically-distorted voice suddenly echoed around the cabin. "What the hell…?!" she heard Mike yelp from the kitchen.

"I hope you've had fun here tonight. Because the rest of the evening isn't going to go nearly so well for you."

"Oh my God, you pervert," Jess hissed in fright and disgust, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. She was suddenly very aware that she was standing in only a shirt and panties and oh my God, we just had sex, what if this freak was filming us? Her thoughts spun chaotically, frantically trying work out what was going on. Had he cut the lights and locked them in? The cabin clearly had some sort of speaker system wired in, it wasn't impossible that other electronics had been remotely rigged –

Just as she had that thought, the television in the corner of the room suddenly came on and she leapt back, unnerved. "Jess!" Mike finally made it past the wreckage of the broken plate in his bare feet and hurried immediately to her side. "Are you okay?"

That very question that had warmed her earlier did nothing to banish the fear crawling around inside her now. "Oh God, Mike," she whispered, horrified and unable to take her eyes from the screen, even as she accepted his embrace. He followed her line of vision and paled in horror.

The screen showed Ashley and Josh tied a wall, an enormous spinning sawblade travelling steadily towards them. Jess screamed as it sliced into Josh's stomach, echoed by Mike's own cry of horror. "Oh Jesus, oh God, fuck –"

The video didn't stop there, relentlessly continuing: Sam, fleeing in nothing but a towel, through the lodge's basement, from a looming figure in a demonic clown mask; Chris and Ashley, bloodstained and stumbling through what looked like a meat locker; Chris and Ashley tied to chairs, with two sawblades descending towards them, Chris putting the gun to his own head, Chris pulling the trigger, Chris' head exploding in a shower of gore –

Jess was dimly aware of Ashley's sobbing and screaming echoing her own, as she clung to Mike and wept in horrified shock and grief, and Mike's own fierce embrace, holding her back so hard that it would probably leave bruises. She could hear him mumbling a litany of curses and denials, in a dazed horrified way. The psycho in the clown mask executed Ashley onscreen and then the TV went dark.

"Well, I hope that's been enlightening," the voice crackled through the speakers again, sounding malevolently amused. "I look forward to commencing the next part of the game with you, Jessica, Michael."

A low hissing suddenly started around them and Jess looked around frantically, blinking past her teary, blurry eyes. A pale mist was filling up the room, barely visible in the dim light of the dying fire. A sweet cloying scent filled the air and Jess instantly clapped her hand over her mouth, trying not to breathe in the gas. Beside her, Mike had snatched up his abandoned shirt to breathe into, and by unspoken agreement they stumbled forward, holding onto each other, searching desperately for an exit.

But to no avail. Every window and door refused to budge, and Jess could feel herself growing weak and lightheaded as more and more of the gas found its way past her makeshift gasmask. "Mike," she gasped, fear and dread clawing at her. "Mike…"

"I don't know, Jess," he whispered desperately into her hair. She could feel the despair and fury and fear radiating off of him.

Deep, mocking laughter rolled through the room. "Goodnight, boys and girls."

The last thing Jess felt before she fell unconscious was Mike's weakening hands desperately trying to hold onto her and him frantically calling her name.

xxx

Emily huffed as she pushed open the big door to the main lodge. "Well, I don't know, Matt, maybe you dropped it somewhere else? Because I sure as hell didn't."

Her boyfriend's tired sigh came from somewhere behind her. "Em, I don't even remember this bag and it wasn't anywhere between here and the cable car. We checked twice."

"Well, maybe…" Emily trailed off as they stepped into the living room. It was dark and absolutely silent. "Hey!" she yelled. "Guys! What the hell have you been doing all this time? Why aren't the lights on?" Her voice echoed and bounced up through the cavernous three-storey room. There was no reply.

"What the hell?" she muttered uneasily. "Matt, do you…" She turned around. He wasn't there. The front door gaped open, a black void. All the little hairs on the back of Emily's arms rose. She backed away, unease blossoming into fear. "Matt?" she called. "Matt, this isn't funny. Where are you?"

There was a tiny noise somewhere behind her. Emily spun on her heel instantly, just in time to see something swinging towards her head but with no time to avoid the blow. The blurred object smacked into her temple and Emily collapsed to the floor, as darkness swallowed her vision.

A/N: I started this because I was curious to see where Until Dawn would go if there were a) no supernatural monsters, b) a more unhinged/off his meds Josh. Answer: a place that makes me very sad.

Obviously you can see that it starts off fairly canon and then slowly diverges at the point where canon!Josh revealed it to be a prank (albeit an extreme one). Part two should be up relatively soon. Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed it, please leave a review. :)

P.S. The title comes from a poem called First Fig by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I don't own that either. xD