Wilderness Survival Camp - Bighorn National Forest, WY 

Will Van de Kamp bolted upright from his bunk. For a moment, he sat shaking from the nightmare before the reality of the cabin and his whereabouts established themselves. The slamming of a screen door just about sent him through the overhead bunk, but he quickly gathered his senses when the lights brightened the room. 

"What're you doing in in here?" Lewis Cobbs asked. 

"I fell asleep." 

"It happened again, didn't it," Lewis stated the obvious, watching Will wipe the sweat from his upper lip and brow. 

"So." 

"So," Lewis mimicked, plopping down on the bunk across from his best friend. "You've had like a million nightmares since we got here. What's up with that?" 

"How should I know?" 

Pulling his duffel bag from beneath his bunk, Lewis began packing. 

Silently and following his friend's lead, Will shoved his clothes into his own blue duffel. Tomorrow would take them home with summer camp behind them for another year. But Will couldn't shake the dreams. They'd haunted him for weeks - dreams about his parents' murder and about people he didn't know. A woman was almost always a part of them. Lewis pointed out that it was probably sexual, but it wasn't like that at all. They were violent and even now he could still feel her fear. He shivered at the thought of them. Somehow, he knew that the real cause of them was drawing nearer. 

He felt for the woman. She was scared, just as he was scared for her. There was a man in the dreams too - a man that was somehow connected to the woman. He was always there, following her but just out of reach. Will hated him, spurred by a jealousy he didn't understand. 

The worst part about his dreams were the shadow men, and the gruesome images of his parents' murder. Although he knew they were just dreams, the nightly repetition of their deaths loomed over him like a constant threat. Had it been merely a single dream, he would have easily forgotten it by now, but that wasn't the case. Nearly every time he slept, the nightmare returned, and he witnessed their murders over and over again. Those responsible for his parents' deaths were relentless and unyielding, forever chasing him. Even in the light of day he couldn't shake the feeling that they were constantly watching him - watching and waiting for just the right moment to kill him too.

Later that night, Will tossed and turned, knowing sleep wouldn't come this night. He decided maybe it was a good thing because if closing his eyes meant the nightmares would return, he'd just as soon stay awake. 

Lucy Vincent Beach, Chilmark, MA 

Scully's face broke her fall as she was slammed against the floor of the helicopter, sending waves of pain outward from the impact point. Blood flowed freely from her nose, but her hands were bound securely behind her back, so there was nothing she could do about it. Already, her arms and fingers were tingling and growing numb. 

Everything was shrouded in a fog-like state as she tried to remain conscious, but the spasms of pain that coursed through her body forced her to push away from herself. She focused on Mulder, calling him in her heart, screaming for him in her mind. She felt him near, but was it just her imagination? No. There was something between them, something spiritual that bonded them in a way that defied all of her scientific logic. 

Afraid for Mulder and afraid for herself, her final thought before she gave in to the pain was that despite their attempts to avoid it, the darkness had returned. 

State Road - Martha's Vineyard, MA 

Peddling south along State Road, Mulder regretted his earlier decision of taking the Trek FX to Vineyard Haven vs. the Mazda. Home was just over ten miles but with the sun having set and with the hilly terrain as he neared Chilmark, it seemed to him that home was a million miles away. 

Passing Nabs Corner, it was not far now. Noepe Road was east of Chilmark Centre. Once there, he'd pass the only other house on the street and at the end of the road, home. He couldn't get there fast enough. 

Mulder's mind raced. Why was his heart pounding and his hands shaking? Why, as he peddled harder, did he keep looking over his shoulder, feeling as if he were back in a south Texas cornfield being pursued by two black helicopters? Why was he feeling the same way he'd felt on that night, scared because he and Scully had become separated, and he couldn't find her? Scully always told him he was paranoid. At times, she still called him by his FBI pseudonym, Spooky. 

As the lights from their home came into view, that's exactly how he felt.