WARNINGS: CANON-TYPICAL STUFF. THERE'S A PRETTY BAD NIGHTMARE AT THE BEGINNING, BUT IF YOU CAN HANDLE SOME OF THE SCENES IN CHILD'S PLAY AND HALLOWEEN, YOU SHOULD BE FINE.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

He was running, the grass crunching under his feet and branches whipping at his face, leaving stinging cuts across his already bruised skin. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, hear the wind roaring in his ears as he sprinted faster and faster. The full moon was high in the sky, but the beams of moonlight did little to push away the darkness that closed in on him from all sides. The scent of blood and death was fresh in his nostrils, and he gagged, forcing himself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the warm red liquid staining his hands.

Eventually, he couldn't run anymore as he fell to his knees in a small clearing. He was exhausted, and he felt like he could die from that alone. A part of him wished he would because he knew that whatever was chasing him would not show mercy. His death would surely be slow and painful.

"Andy…"

The whisper was soft and unfamiliar, almost soothing but it sent a wave of fear crashing over him once again, and he jerked his head up, swiveling his head in search of the source of the voice, but the forest was as dark and vacant as it had been. The wind rustled in the trees, but other than that, it was eerily quiet. Aside from Andy, the forest appeared to be empty.

"It's your fault," the voice spoke again. It was not accusatory. It was flat, like it was stating a fact. "You are the one Chucky is after. You leave a path of death and destruction wherever you go. Chucky will kill anyone to get to you. You put people in danger just by being alive. Your mom, your stepdad… Jamie. They will end up just like the others as long as you're alive."

The silent forest was suddenly filled with footsteps, and Andy bolted to his feet, but before he could run, people emerged from the forest on all sides of him, encircling him, trapping him. But wait. They weren't people. They were corpses.

He didn't recognize any of them, but he recognized Chucky's handiwork. Stab wounds, blue lips and faces from suffocation, bruises around the neck, limbs bent awkwardly like they were shoved off of something high up. Dozens and dozens, all bloody and bruised and broken with glassy eyes, all whispering the same horrifying words over and over again:

"Your fault… your fault…"

Andy fell back to the ground, scrambling backwards, but it was useless. There was no escape. No escape from the corpses, no escape from his past, no escape from his own guilt.

"You know how to end this, Andy," a voice murmured, and Andy looked up to see the love of his life, his beloved Jamie, all cut up and scarred, her warm brown eyes now cold with death as she rested a frigid hand onto of his, pressing something into it, and when Andy forced himself to look, he found it to be…

A dagger. A dagger held in his hands, which were stained with blood from all of the people Chucky had killed to get to him. The clean blade glinted in the moonlight, begging to be painted crimson, just like his hands.

He looked into Jamie's eyes one last time, and her dead eyes allowed a glimmer of betrayal to sneak in.

He had done this. He had gotten her killed, just like all of the others.

He pointed the blade toward his own chest, the sharp point just grazing his shirt, cutting a small spot in the fabric to dig into his skin. A trail of blood trickled down his sternum.

He slowly began to push the blade into his chest, towards his heart…

"Andy!"

He awoke with a start and found himself lying in his bed, staring at the dark ceiling, and his eyes darted from shadowy corner to shadowy corner, searching for the small but terrifying creature (Chucky was not human. He would never be anything but a monster) that still haunted his dreams.

A hand grabbed his, and Andy jumped, pulling away and pressing his back against the wall in terror, but the hand was not the smooth plastic he feared it would be. It was human, and it was warm against his skin, chasing away the cold and the darkness that seemed to have engulfed Andy, infecting him from the inside out.

The lamp on his bedside table flickered on, and Jamie's brown eyes- her warm, alive brown eyes- stared into his, scared but also understanding. It made sense. She didn't have seizures anymore, thankfully, but she still had her own nightmares.

"Flashback?" Jamie wondered.

Andy shook his head. "No. All the people Chucky killed to get to me…"

Jamie smiled, sadly. "I see Rachel in my dreams. It's okay to feel guilty every now and then, as long as you remember that it isn't true. Everything Chucky did… that's on him. Michael and Chucky made their own decisions. We have to make ours, and we have to do better than our demons ever did. Feeling guilty is natural, but we are not monsters. We cannot let ourselves become the monsters of our past."

Andy gave her a watery smile. "When did you become so wise?"

"Wisdom comes with experience," Jamie pointed out.

"I think we've had more than enough experience to last a lifetime," Andy chuckled, on the verge of tears, and Jamie joined him in his laughter.

Jamie nodded. "Definitely. Andy, no amount of reassurances will make you stop feeling guilty. Trust me, I know. But if you're looking for forgiveness, I can give it to you. Love is about… loving someone until they can learn to love themselves and continuing to love them after they do. I love you, Andy Barclay. Nothing will change that."

Andy sniffled, wiping at his eyes. The nightmare still stuck with him, but it was starting to fade a little.

"I love you, too," he murmured.

"Are you ready to go back to sleep?" Jamie questioned.

Andy shook his head. "No… but can you hold me?" he felt awkward and childish asking, but then again, he was a child, and if anyone could understand, it was Jamie.

Jamie nodded, and they shared a soft kiss filled with love, and Andy felt that wonderful warmth thawing the heart that had frozen from guilt and terror. Andy curled into her side, his ear against her chest, as Jamie reached over to the lamp, glancing at Andy for permission, and Andy nodded. Jamie turned off the light, leaving them into darkness.

But Andy wasn't afraid. The shadows seemed to reach for him, but being in Jamie's arms made him feel safe.

Andy soon fell asleep to the sound of Jamie's heartbeat, and he had no nightmares for the rest of the night.