Disclaimer: I do not own Nightmare on Elm Street or any of the characters involved. I only own my original characters. I also do not own any of the songs that I will use in the story.

Title: Fear the Nightmare

Rating: M - for violence, language, sexual themes, possible non-con scenes, dark/disturbing themes.

Genre: Horror, Supernatural, Suspense, Hurt/Comfort and perhaps a little romance : )

Summary: Sequel to I Won't Tell - Katherine has changed. Now, confident, resolute and independent young woman. Free of her psychological abusive childhood. That will all change when she returns home to Springwood. Everyone has a fear. And Freddy knows exactly what his daughter's is. It was and always shall be him.

Author's Note: So, here is the start of the sequel - this is set just after the end of I Won't Tell. It would be beneficial to read that story first to get a feel of what has happened. From chapter 2-4 you will get an insight into Katherine's new life and hopefully see her new personality! I am quite excited to be writing these chapters! Most of the chapters will be quite long as I want to put as much scenes in as I have way too many ideas! I hope you enjoy and any new reviewers are more than welcomed!

"You're made of my rib or baby
You're made of my sin
And I can't tell where
You lust ends
And where your love begins

I didn't want to hurt you baby
I didn't want to hurt you
I didn't want to hurt you
But you're pretty when you cry"

VAST - Pretty When You Cry

Fear the Nightmare

Chapter 1: Prologue - Ashes

Springwood General Hospital - Children's Ward

Thursday 16th March.

12.15am…

The children's ward was deathly quiet. Children slept soundly in their beds, each ward was shrouded in darkness. There were three nurses on duty as they sat their designated desks at the entrance to the three wards, reading over patient's files and drinking their coffee to get through the long tiring night that was in front of them.

The last two side wards were chosen for Katherine and Michael. Both of the children were asleep, having been brought to the hospital a little under an hour before. Their rooms were across the way from each other.

A female figure sat anxiously at Michael's bed, his mother. Sandra Turner. Her right hand was gently clasped over his right hand as he soundly slept. She had administered him a light sedative to help him drift off to sleep, it had been a harrowing night for him.

But not just for him, for her too.

The minute she learnt from his friend's mother that he had gone missing from her street she knew that something must have happened to him, that HE had snatched him. He must have found out that Michael was the one who contacted Sheriff Thompson. It was clear that the bastard had wanted revenge on Michael.

She gazed at her son as he lay on the bed, his face was slightly bruised, and his right eye was a little swollen. It would take a few days for that to settle down. Thankfully, he hadn't lost as much blood as he was lead to believe, though he did require numerous stitches to his lacerations. They weren't that deep but they would definitely leave scars on his chest. As for the psychological scars he would have, she was hoping that he would be strong enough to get over it. But she would help him with each step of the way.

Her eyes knitted in confusion as she looked at her watch, where the hell was he? Her husband Christopher was not answering the house phone, she had rang the house at least five times in the last hour since she arrived here and there was no answer at all. There was no way he was working this late, why would the Mayor need him at such a late an hour at this? She glanced up at her son as he turned onto his side in his sleep, she hushed him and gently reached out to stroke his hair. It still surprised her that during the whole journey to the hospital that he kept asking about Katherine. When he should be worried about himself, it was though he had really grown to like the girl. Despite the young girl constantly shunning his friendly advances. Perhaps in the future they could build some camaraderie.

Though that would be difficult if the plans of moving Katherine to Central City did come to fruition. It was imperative that she was moved there as soon as possible to start her therapy. The longer they left it, the more strenuous it would be to get her to understand what her father did to her was wrong, was evil. That he was abusing her.

"I thought you might need this"

She turned in her seat and smiled at Dr Kelly Moore, and grasped the white plastic cup of coffee that was offered to her, "Thanks"

The woman smiled and then glanced at Michael, "How is he?"

She sipped at her hot beverage, "He's okay. I talked to Dr Martin half an hour ago. I'm hoping to bring him home tomorrow evening" her eyes flickered behind her to the dimly lit room across the way, "What about Katherine? Was there any injuries on her?"

"Well, I did some x-rays when she first was brought in and I got them back a few minutes ago. There was a small hairline fracture on the back of her right hand. One of her metacarpal bones was fractured. As though someone was crushing her hand. Other than that there are no injuries" she replied.

Sandra nodded.

"Have they arrested him again? Her father?"

"Yes, I think so" Sandra pondered for a moment. There were at least fifteen to twenty cars at the power plant, why was there the need for so many people to be there to have him arrested again? Where they planning on doing something to him before they brought back to jail? "Do you know if Sheriff Thompson has arrived at the hospital yet?"

"I'm not sure" her colleague shook her head, "But I'll let him know where you are. I have to go here"

"No problem" she smiled and turned back toward her son. Her body sagged against the seat and after several minutes she soon found herself nearly drifting off to sleep her when a small knock came from the door.

Her body jerked forward and she nearly split her hot coffee over her black trousers. She spun around in her seat to see Sheriff Thompson and his wife Marge in the doorway, they looked a little on edge. "Sandra, you wanted to see us?"

"Yes" she rose to her feet and placed her drink on the tall cabinet to her left, then approached them. Her nose scrunched up slightly at the strong stench of smoke emanating from their clothes. Perhaps they were smoking before they came into the hospital, she knew that they were both avid smokers, that was why their clothes smelt like that. It was a nasty habit that thankfully she never tried. "What happened? Did you arrest him?"

Donald ignored her question and glanced behind her to her son, "How is he?"

"He'll be fine" she replied.

"How is Katherine?" Marge asked.

"She's fast asleep, we had to sedate her. Again she was in hysterics!" she sighed, then again asked Donald, "So, are you going to answer MY question, did you arrest her father? Are you going to be pressing charges against him?"

He gestured for her follow him and his wife, "We need to talk to you in private, is there somewhere we can go?"

"My office is down here" she strode down the quiet corridor to the last door on the left. There was something wrong, Thompson and his wife were acting so shifty. They looked so nervous.

She closed the door behind them and motioned for them to sit in the two seats across from her. Her hands clasped tightly together as she sat at her desk. Her voice was stern, "Would you please tell me what the hell is going on? Is there going to be charges against that bastard after what he did tonight"

He shook his head firmly, "There is no need to press any charges against him"

"No need?" she gawked at them both in incredulity, "Did you not see what he did to my son? That fucker kidnapped him and assaulted him! He was going to kill him! He took his daughter from the Orphanage, he broke the restraining order! What about your officers? Did he attack them?"

Donald gave a grim nod, "Officers Grayson and Stevens were found in the back yard. The Orphanage proprietor Miss Davis was found dead too"

"And so you're saying there is no need to press charges? He murdered three people!" she spat.

"He's dead!" Marge intervened.

Her face went pale and she turned to face the red haired woman, "He's what?"

"Fred Krueger is dead" she said, "We got rid of him for good"

"You can't be serious!" she wasn't hearing this. Her eyes darted from Marge to her husband. Their faces told it all, they were telling the ugly truth. "What happened? What did you do to him?"

"We burnt him. We poured gasoline around the boiler room, we soaked him in it. Then set him alight" he replied. Voice firm and serious. He saw the look of utter revulsion on her face. He had to make her understand why they did this. "Dr Turner, you haven't experienced what this town has been through the last nine years. The town has been in a constant grip of terror, of panic. Not knowing who it was, who was taking the children away and killing them. When the first child was taken we thought it was a one off, a random disappearance. Then three months later another child went missing"

She shivered involuntary and continued to listen.

"Within a year six children had gone missing, two of their bodies were found. But we had no leads, no clues. Nothing! It was though Freddy was a ghost, he was very good at covering his tracks! In mid 1964 I was promoted to Sheriff after Sheriff Atkins had a mental breakdown. He just couldn't cope with the pressure!" he rubbed his weary eyes, "At first I thought I could, but as the years went on more kids went missing, were found mutilated. The stress I was going through nearly ended my marriage with Marge"

She looked over to Marge as she nodded, "It was in 1966, perhaps during the summer when we separate for a month or two. I told him to take a break from the case, to let Lt Garcia take over for a while. After some rather heated arguments he finally took my advice. But when he went back to work during Christmas time he was no closer to finding out who it was"

"Freddy was a devious bastard! He even deceived his own wife Loretta. He put on this façade around everyone, pretending to be a normal family man" Donald shook his head, "But he was never normal. You remember what I told you about his background?"

She nodded worryingly, he was right. His mother was raped by vicious psychopaths. Who knew who his biological father was? A rapist? A paedophile?

"I knew that if we hadn't of went to the boiler room tonight, that he would have killed your son. He would have taken his daughter away from Springwood, to another town where no one would have known about him. He would have carried on a new killing spree there. That's why we had to kill him, we had to stop him! He was never going to stop!"

Her eyes darted from husband to wife and then she realised that it wasn't smoke from cigarettes that were emanating from their clothes, but smoke from a fire. The fire in which that monster was burned alive. "I can't believe this. How many of you was there? I saw at least fifteen to twenty cars following us to the power plant!

"There was at least thirty people there" he coolly replied, "You have to understand why we did it!"

"He nearly killed your son!" Marge reminded her.

She chewed her bottom lip anxiously, "What if people find out? What if the press finds out?"

Donald gave her a reassuring smile, "They won't. Everyone who was there has promised to keep it a secret. It's for the best"

"Who was there?"

He threw his wife a knowing look and then turned back to the woman across from them, "Roger Lane and his wife, the Grays, Lantz's, the Parkers. Look it doesn't matter who was there. All that matters is that it's over now. The children are safe now, the town is now safe from him!"

"What the hell are we meant to tell Katherine?" Sandra nibbled at her thumb in deliberation, "She is going to ask where he is!"

"We'll just say that he's in jail, that he won't be getting out" he responded, "She doesn't need to know. Don't even mention it to your son Michael"

"Of course I won't tell him" she agreed, "Where are the remains?"

"We left them in one of the furnaces in the boiler room after we put out the fire. I even destroyed his glove and placed it inside with his corpse" he trembled at the memory. "No one would dare go near the place, especially after finding out that is where he took the children to. I re-read the books he had and well I must have missed it, but he mentioned bringing them to the power plant"

"Okay"

"Would you let me know if you get talking to Katherine when she wakes up?" he asked, sounding hopeful. "I'd like to know how she is"

"She won't talk to me. Well, to anyone for that matter" she gave a somnolent sigh, "I'm sure of it. I think we should get in contact with Sister Mary Helena? Do you have a contact number for her?"

"Do you really want to go ahead with transferring Katherine to Central City?"

"Yes" she nodded vigorously, "I don't think she should stay here now. Especially what you've told me tonight. The Care Home that was mentioned by Sister Mary Helena is the best place for her, it has the best Child Psychologists in the state and with their help they will eventually get her to talk. To come to terms with what has happened to her. It would take time, perhaps a little longer that we would like. But in the long term it would be beneficial for her. I know Dr Danielle Murray who works there. I could keep in contact with her during the progress of Katherine's treatment, see how the young girl is coping"

He gave a pleased smile, "That sounds like a good idea"

Sandra leaned back in her seat, "How was she when you took her from him?"

His face held a disappointed look. "As before, hysterical. She was very snappy, angry at us. Screamed at us to leave them alone. After everything that fucker did to her, she still wanted to stay with him. As you rightly said, he's manipulated her mind so much over the last four to five years"

"It may take her more or less the same period of time to get over the psychological and emotional abuse" her head shook sadly, "Just get me Sister Mary Helena's number as soon as you can"

"Of course. I'll get it when I get back to the station after leaving here" he eyed her closely. Her face looked jaded, forlorn. "You look exhausted Sandra. You should get home and get some sleep. I'm sure Marge wouldn't mind sitting with your son for a few hours"

His wife concurred and smiled. "Yes, that's perfectly fine with me. Nancy is staying with my sister until tomorrow evening. I don't need to rush home or anything"

"No" Sandra disagreed at this suggestion. She was of course grateful for the offer, but she wanted to wait until Christopher arrived. "Thank you for your kind offer. But I'm waiting on Christopher arriving. I haven't a clue where he is, he's not at home"

"I'm sure he's found out about Michael and is on his way here" Donald reassured.

There was a sudden sharp knock to the office door, then it was flung opened to reveal Christopher. His face looked flustered as though he was out of breath. His wife sprang to her feet and ran to him. "Where the hell were you?"

He wrapped his arms around her slim waist has she hugged him, "I only finished work about an hour ago. I went home and you weren't there, so I phone the Police Station and Lt Garcia told me what happened to Michael" his eyes darted to Donald and his wife momentarily. He held Donald's pensive gaze and then glanced away. "So I came straight over here"

Sandra nodded sheepishly and stepped back from him, "Why were you working so late?"

He shrugged, "The Mayor was being pestered by the press, so we had to arrange interviews and set up meetings with them for the rest of the week. Look, it doesn't matter. How is Michael? Where is he?"

Maybe it was the tiredness, but she felt as though he was keeping something from her. That he wasn't telling the whole truth. He looked a little uneasy. "I'll bring you down to see him. He's asleep"

"Maybe you should go home and get some sleep" he rubbed her shoulders, "I'll stay with Michael"

"We can give you a lift home" Donald rose to his feet.

"Okay" she smiled softly, "When Michael wakes up tell him that I love him and I'll bring some of his comics up in the morning"

He returned her smile and nodded.

As she left her office she saw the fleeting anxious look that her husband gave Donald. Just what the fuck was that about? She glanced at his attire, finally noticing that it had changed from his usual work clothes of suit and tie to jeans and dark navy v-neck jumper. Why had he changed his clothing? Was there something more to him 'supposedly' working late than meets the eye?

x x x

Next morning 9am…

Thin rays of sunlight shone through the silver aluminium Venetian blinds into Katherine's room. Long light brown locks were draped around her flushed face, and soon her eyes fluttered opened as she came to. Her chocolate brown eyes gazed dourly at her surroundings and she frowned in consternation at being back in hospital again.

Separated from her father.

No, not separated.

She was stolen from her father once more.

Her head swung down towards the back of her right hand that was wrapped in a white bandaged. Absently she rubbed the fabric with her left hand, sensing a dull ache from where her father crushed his hand around hers. Just like she suspected he had fractured or broke a bone, but she knew that she deserved it. It was her fault for going against his orders for talking to Michael.

Trickles of tears began to saturate her cheeks as she gently wept, pondering if Sheriff Thompson had arrested her father again? But why was there so many people there? Even though she was fighting against them two women, she could see the crowds of others standing in the boiler room. Were they all there to make absolutely sure that her father couldn't escape? That he was going to be arrested without a hitch? Confusion spread across her face at these questions.

Voices fluttered into the room from the corridor and she sat up a little on the bed as two figures entered the room. Sheriff Thompson and Michal's mother - Sandra.

Her nimble hands gripped the cream blankets and pulled them closer to her frame, and she glanced between them both. Her eyes were narrowed slightly, scepticism and rising anger stirring within them. Donald had shot her father, had hurt him. How dare he? It wasn't right. She turned to face him and glowered viciously at him. Making him know how her feelings were towards him at this present moment in time. He noticed her penetrating stare and shivered involuntary. Those eyes, that spiteful look she was giving him. It reminded him of Freddy the moment he lit the match that would ultimately seal that madman's fate.

The look of utter disdain.

It was Sandra who spoke first, "Hello, Katherine"

The girl slowly moved her face towards hers and studied her slowly. Her fingers tightened on the bed sheets in growing rage. "Where's my daddy?"

They glanced at each other apprehensively.

"We've arrested him again" Donald lied.

She snarled at him, "You shot my daddy! You hurt him! Why?"

"He was going to hurt Michael" he took a small step forward, "He was going to hurt you. I had to do it to protect you both!"

"He wasn't going to hurt me" she disagreed, "My daddy loves me!"

Sandra walked towards the bed and stood at the girl's side, "Sweetheart, your daddy doesn't love you. He was abusing you, he was controlling and manipulating your mind. Don't you understand that?"

"No!" she half shrieked in defiance, "It's you and everyone else that don't understand! Me and my daddy love each other" her eyes darted between them both, "We're special, we're different than everyone! It's all of you who are trying to turn me against my daddy. It won't work!"

Sandra was about to rebuke, but was caught off guard as the young girl tried to pulled herself over the metal bars at the side of the bed, "I want to see my daddy!"

Without being too rough on the girl she placed her two hands on Katherine's shoulders and pushed her backwards onto the mattress, "Please, you need to start listening to us!"

Her anger soon dissipated and she let out a small anguish sob. The pillow slumped beneath her weight as she jadedly pressed against it. She was too tired to fight. Too tired to do anything. The last day or two had been so tiring, so draining on her mind. All she wanted was to go home with her daddy, to snuggle up against him in his bed and drift off to sleep. Why did things have to be this way? "I just w-want to see my daddy, I love him. I belong to him" her eyes pleaded for Sandra to recognize this, "Don't you see that? I belong with my daddy! No one else!"

Moving a step closer Sandra gently brushed her brown locks from her face, surprised that the girl didn't flinch from her touch. "It's okay. Just you rest and I'll get you some breakfast"

Katherine sobbed again and twisted her head away from Sandra to stare at the far wall and then used her right hand to pry the woman's hand from her hair, "Please leave me alone"

Letting her hands fall to her side, Sandra knew that there was no use talking to the girl at the moment. She would let her rest for the time being. Her body twisted around towards Donald and she gesticulated for him to follow her out of the room and down the corridor. They came to a stop outside her office, "I really think we should tell her the truth. About her father. She's going to keep asking about him. You saw it in her eyes, she is so desperate to see him!"

"No, no" his head swung back and forth, "That would be a big mistake. She doesn't trust us at the minute, who knows how she would react if we told her that he's dead?"

"But she's NOT going to stop asking about him!" she sighed.

"I know" he nodded, "The quicker we get her transferred to Central City, the better What kind of treatments would be involved to help her realise that she has been abused?"

"It usually depends on the nature of the abuse and the child" she crossed her arms. "Also, different doctors use different techniques. But normally they range from individual therapy, group therapy, cognitive behavioural therapy"

"What would be best suited for Katherine? In your opinion?"

"Well, as she seems to be nervous in crowds or groups, individual therapy would be the best way to approach it from the start. See if we can get her to talk about what has happened in her early childhood in a one to one therapy session" she pondered for a moment, "Then cognitive behavioural therapy would be useful too. To help her process and understand her feelings and emotions about what he did to her. When she finally comes to understand that what he did to her was wrong"

"Is that all the therapy that she would need?" he asked.

"Not really no" her voice was tight with worry. "She would need behavioural treatments to help her interact with other children, perhaps sessions to assist her social development. You heard what my son Michael said, she has no confidence, no self-esteem. He has destroyed that and we would need to help her build it up again. Make her feel that she can be who she wants to be. A strong, happy and confident young girl. That in time she can lead a normal life, have friends, thrive in school and build relationships with other people. I'll have to ask Michael again if she has any strong interests in art"

"Art? Why?"

She smiled, "There is a technique some therapists used call 'art therapy'. Through the use of drawings and paintings, some children use it as a way to help express what has happened to them. That could help Katherine"

He rose an eyebrow, "I've never heard of that before. I know that I've asked this before, but do you believe she has been sexually abused?"

"That is a possibility" her face grimaced in revulsion at the thought. "But as there are no physical signs, Katherine would need to admit in her therapy sessions that there was sexual abuse. If not, then we may never know"

"Sheriff Thompson. Dr Turner"

They spun to face the source of the voice. Delighted to see Sister Mary Helena approaching them. Tucked under her right arm was a small brown folder. The wrinkles on her cheeks stretched upwards as she smiled warmly at them both. "Here are the details of St Bernadette's Care Home in Central City. I have a list of contacts. Dr Turner, I believe you know Dr Danielle Murray?"

"Yes" she acquiesced. "We were friends at College"

"I phoned her an hour ago. I briefly discussed the situation in regards to Katherine. She said that she will phone you this afternoon about the arrangement of bringing Katherine to Central City"

"That was quick!" shock and mild elation flashed in her eyes.

Mary Helena held out the folder for Sandra, "I told her it was a matter of importance. The Care Home will take good care of Katherine. I promise you that"

"Do you have any idea when she would be sent there?" Donald asked.

"If there are no problems I would say by Sunday evening" she clasped her creased hands together, "If there is anything that the child needs at the Home then do not hesitate to ask me. I will see that she gets what she needs"

"Thank you very much for helping us out Sister" he bestowed her a indebted grin.

"You're welcomed. I've taken a shine to the young girl. I'll say a prayer for the girl tonight at mass. Good day" She may have failed her son. Frederick Charles Krueger. But she was not going to do the same to her grand-daughter Katherine. This was a chance of redemption and she was going to make sure that Katherine was sent away from Springwood. A town where she had suffered so much heartache, such terrible emotional and psychosomatic abuse.

The girl deserved so much better in her life.

And she was going to get it.

x x x

Three days later…

The boiler room was dark, quiet. Black metal pipes were cold. The several large rusty furnaces were dormant. Unlit. A thin layer of faint smoke lingered in the air, scorched marks were on the metal gratings of the floor near the furnace. It was the exact same spot where the Springwood Slasher was torched to death. Hunted and murdered.

Deep rumbling echoed throughout the vast power plant. The foundations of the structure shook and trembled as though an earthquake had hit the area. Chains rattled against each other. Swinging back and forth. The pointers on the valves gauges at each old disused boiler sprang to life, going from a lowly zero to the highest number. The pointer rattling inside the glass gauge as a piercing shriek resonated through each barren deserted corridor. Thick hot steam soared inside the various thin and thick metal pipes. Fissures of scalding steam pierced out of several cracks into the corridor.

The furnaces were no longer cold or latent.

Hot orange and red flames flickered inside. The thick metal walls were now glistened in condensation. Steam sizzled from the scalding metal.

In the main boiler room, vibrant and ferocious flames lapped and devoured the burnt remains of Fred Krueger. His inert body jerked and shook to life, his flamed covered arms slithered forward to the door of the furnace. The rusty door screeched opened and flew off its hinges. Landing with a loud metallic clan in the far side of the room. Searing flames danced on his skin and clothing as he slithered and crawled out of the of the fiery furnace. A torturous deep groan came from his burning corpse as he tumbled onto the ground.

As he rolled onto his back the fire that engulfed him slowly dissipated. Thick smoke seeped from his skin. His clothing remained in tact. No burnt marks whatever so ever. The scarred, burnt skin that now covered eyes were clamped shut. He was unaware at his new disfigurements. He rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself jadedly to his feet. He frowned. His chest seemed to be tight as he tried to take a small deep breath. His breathing felt restricted.

He murmured inherently to himself and then scowled once more. What the fuck? His voice sounded different. Deeper in pitch, rough and gravely. As though his vocal chords were decimated, as though they were burnt. He thought back to what happened, there were people at the boiler room. The Thompson's, Lanes, Lantz, Grays. There were others. Perhaps dozens of them. They had came fro him, they took her away.

He remembered the strong repulsive smell of gasoline.

The sound of a match being struck…

Then came the flames…

"Freddy…"

He snarled and spun around to face the boiler room. "Who the fuck is there?"

"Don't be alarmed Freddy, it's only us"

Another dark, venomous voice sneered. "It's just your friends!"

There was maniacal laughter, from three different set of voices. Each voice sounded grainy, malevolent. It reminded him of them It sounded like them. Those voices he would always hear when he was butchering and raping his children. Sometimes he hear them when he would be having some 'playtime' with Katherine in his bedroom. But now they weren't INSIDE his head, they were speaking to him directly. Like they were in the boiler room with him. How could that be possible?

"You crossed over Freddy" one of the voices snarled.

His hands clenched into tight fists. They felt different. He twisted around to the furnace where the fire was still raging inside. He lifted his hands and inspected his skin. His flesh was no longer unblemished, but his skin was charred away. The layers of the epidermis and dermis were melted away, his hands were blackish brown, uneven and rough There were no longer any fingernails at the tips of his decimated hands. He shook his head slowly and then looked down at his feet and saw a piece of shattered mirror.

The reflection that stared up at him enraged him and he bent down to pick it up in his burnt, charred hands. His face was the exact same, his once clear blue eyes were now bloodshot. His skin was also charred, black and rutted, his muscles showed and they too were burnt, charred black. His lips curled up into a sneer of ire and then he saw his teeth, they were jagged, rotten and black. His fingers curled around the shard of glass, the edges pierced into his burnt hands and in a snap the glass shattered in two. Bloodshot eyes stared blankly at the ground as he let the glass clatter the floor. Thick blackish red blood dribbled from his hands, but for some reason he felt little or no pain. He ran right hand over his bald scalded head.

The sound of that match being struck echoed in his mind.

Flames…

Heat…

The fire engulfing him.

Cheers from the crowd as they watched him burn.

They were relishing watching him burn. The harrowing sensations of his skin catching fire, the unbearable pain, the immense heat quickly flashed over his body once more. He remembered the darkness overpowering him as his life faded away, as the flames grew in intensity…

They had burned him alive.

"Those fuckers!"

He vaguely remembered them taking away Katherine from him, seeing her being carried out of the boiler room. Hearing her screams of protest. Donald had taken his glove from him. The last words he had leered at the bastards was that he would 'make them pay for taking Katherine from him'. They looked at him as though he was fucking insane.

Well, they were right.

He was insane. He always had been.

Even when he was with Loretta and Katherine, he was never normal was he? How could be he when he was kidnapping, molesting, raping and killing his children?

He was just being himself, that was all. In some way Katherine was the only person who would ever understood him and now he would never get to see her, ever again. Those assholes had made sure of that by torching him to death. But he remembered their faces, he knew all of their pathetic fucking brats.

Nancy Thompson.

Tina Gray.

Rod Lane.

Glenn Lantz.

He knew them all.

"We will help you Freddy"

He lifted his charred head towards the flames and glowered with suspicion into the furnace. Three set of glowing red eyes glared aback at him. He could just about see the faint outline of their serpent bodies. Approximately three to four feet in length. Thick, scaly skin. Charred and blistered. Their teeth were sharp as they grinned at him.

"You weren't just crazy fucking voices in my head, were you?" he sneered and took a step towards them.

"No, we're more than that" one of them leered, "We're demons"

The second cackled, "Dream demons"

"Dream demons?" Freddy frowned.

"Yes, dream demons" the second demon hissed, "We saw great potential in you. We've been with you since the day you were born. Your birth, you conception it was all premeditated. Everything that had happened to you was for a purpose. Your death was fate"

"My fate?!" his voice growled.

"Your destiny"

"Now, we're offering you're the chance to get vengeance on those who killed you. On whose who took your daughter away from you" the first demon offered.

Freddy scoffed, his chest feeling tight as he tried to get used to his uneven breathing. "How the fuck am I meant to do that? I'm fucking dead!"

"You're still alive Freddy. In dreams" the demon corrected, "This is your new world. The dream world"

"Dream world?" the skin where his eyebrows would have been arched upwards in surprise, "I can exist in peoples dreams?"

"Yes. We have joined with your body and soul. We have given you all of our powers to cross over to this world. In dreams you are eternal. In time you will be able to manipulate peoples dreams. Turn them into nightmares. You will be able to hurt them, you will be able to kill them"

"Are you serious?" he smirked viciously.

"We're deadly serious"

A loud boisterous insane laugh came from him and his charred black blistered tongue slithered out to lick at his lips in fervour. He couldn't wait now.

Bring on the screams.

Bring on the blood.

Bring on the nightmares…

"But before we can teach you, you need your blades!"

He looked down into the furnace and saw the flames disperse until he saw his bladed claw waiting for him. They looked a though he had just made them. Four long 8 inch blades were attached to the metal plating of the glove. Each blade was clean, gleaming in the light. The tips of each blade was sharp and pointed. Ready to be stained with blood, read to tear through flesh.

To the left was his battered fedora, again untouched. He reached in with his burnt hands and pulled them out. He placed his hat on his charred bald head and titled it forward slightly with a chuckle, and then with a vile smile on his countenance he slowly pulled on his talons.

"So, he leered at the demons within the fire, "How do we begin? Actually, never mind how. When do we begin?"

"Not yet Krueger. You need to get yourself familiar with your new powers, with the dream world"

He sneered and scraped his blades against each other in irritation.

"First, you need to master the skill of getting into people's dreams. Then when you do that, you will have to manipulate their dreams. Read their mind, find out what each person's fears are. Then use it against them. As you know Freddy, fear is a powerful weapon. Everyone has a fear. Fear will give you power. As you make the victim have nightmares, you will make their dreams more out of control until the time is right to kill them and then you can claim their soul"

"Their soul?" this was certainly interesting.

"When you kill your victim, your children. You will claim their soul. The souls will give you strength. The more souls you take, the more you can influence the line between dreams and reality"

He smirked heinously. This was going to be a whole lot of fun. "How do I get into people's dreams? How will I know if a certain person is dreaming?"

"You will sense their presence when they fall asleep and then you can enter their dream. You can show yourself to them at any time you wish. In whatever form you desire"

"Is it that simple? I can pretend to be whoever I want to be as well?" his charred lips grew into an impish grin.

"Yes"

"I want to try it now" he demanded, "I want to go into Katherine's dream"

"Now is not the time Freddy"

He stepped closer to the furnace and pointed sharply at the demons with his index blade, "Screw that shit! I want to see my little baby girl now"

The demons whispered amongst themselves and soon Freddy felt a strange tingling sensation start from the bottom of his toes. Coldness swept over his body and then he felt a presence tugging at his mind, and a elated grin pulled at his lips. He could feel her sleeping. His eyes closed and then he used his mind to move towards her. He smelt the faint stench of disinfectant and he pried opened his eyes. He stood in the corner of a dimly lit room. His daughters hospital room.

His boots tapped gently on the grey tiled floor as he approached her bed and he smiled contentedly at her sleeping frame tucked under the bedclothes. He brought his blade claw to the metal bars that surrounded her mattress and he gently wrapped them around the top bar. His bloodshot blue eye stared at her intently. "My little baby girl"

Scarred, blistered hands smoothly began to stroke her brown locks from her face. As his fingers brushed her smooth skin he frowned, not knowing how rough and scorched they were until now. He would have to get used to his skin being this way.

He saw her eyes flutter beneath her eyelids and then they flickered opened as she came to. But not awake. However, into the little dream world he conjured up for her.

Her body shifted on the bed as she sluggishly sat up and gripped her Crissy Doll to her chest tightly. Fingers rubbed at her blurry eyes as she turned her face to her right and her brows knitted in confusion. It seemed that there was a shadow of some sorts next to bed. A figure standing above her. Her right hand grasped the railing and she sat up straightened and squinted to see more clearly into the dim room. Was there something or someone really there?

Freddy stared down contemplatively at his daughter, and then whispered to the demons. He could feel their presence. "She can sense me. I want to show myself to her, I want her to know I'm here"

"That is not a wise idea Freddy! Do you want her to see yourself like this? Horribly burnt? Do you want her to be in hysterics? She doesn't know you're dead Freddy!"

He growled in dissatisfaction. She hadn't a clue what had happened to him? "She looks so frightened, so lost. I know she misses me, I can see it in her eyes. I know her so well. How could they do that to her? Do that to us?"

"They will pay. You will make them all pay Freddy!"

There was a sharp nod from him. They were right, those fuckers were going to pay. Their little brats were going to die, every single one of them. He let out a long deep gravely breath and then reached down with his charred left hand to stroke her brown locks tenderly. "I love you baby girl" his voice cooed gruffly, "don't you forget about me. Don't let them make you forget about me!"

"She won't Freddy"

Katherine sniffled as she continued to stare at him, but he knew that she was staring at nothing but a blank space. Her skin broke out into goose bumps as she felt a breeze flutter over her forehead as through a presence had brushed over her skin.

Freddy stood up straight as his blistered lips withdrew from the soft tender skin on her forehead. She slowly leaned back onto the mattress, her head hitting the soft pillow and she allowed her eyes to close shut.

Her father smiled as he faded out of her dream. "Sweet dreams Katherine"

19th March

5pm

A set of trembling hands ran through the red hair of a Crissy Doll. The owner of the hands rocked back and forth on their bed as they pretended to hush and cradle their doll against their chest. Katherine was dreading the last several hours. She had thought to herself that maybe they would come in and tell her that it was all a misunderstanding, that she wasn't going to be leaving town. That the would put her in the town Orphanage and she would wait their until her father was set free from jail. To her that was the only logical conclusion to all of this mess.

"Katherine"

She looked up towards the doorway as Dr Turner entered, a small smile played at her lips. "Remember what we told you this morning?"

The girl nodded slowly, "You're taking me away"

"Yes" she stood at the side of her bed and placed down a few items of clothing, "The bus will be here in the next half an hour. You need to get ready"

"No" there was a haggard sob, "I…I-I can't! I have to stay and wait for my daddy!"

"Your father isn't coming to get you"

She looked beyond Dr Turner to the owner of that voice. Sheriff Thompson. "No, he is coming to get me. Then we'll leave Springwood, you won't see us anymore. We'll be a family again and we'll get a nice new house somewhere else. You can forget all about us!" her head bobbed up and down vehemently. As though she was trying to reassure herself that this would happen. "What you're doing is wrong, keeping me and my daddy apart! It's not fair!"

"He's in jail" he fibbed, "He isn't getting out"

There was a soft whimper, "He wouldn't abandon me! My daddy wouldn't leave me! He promised me!"

"You can't stay here sweetheart" Sandra placed a warm hand on the girl's left shoulder, "You're going to get some help"

"I-I don't need help" her body shivered under the woman's touch. Her body flinched away and she pulled her legs up under her arms. What could she do? They were taking her away from her home, from her father? There was no way she could reason with them. What were they going to do to her in that Care Home? Poison her mind? Corrupt her? But she wouldn't succumb to them, they wouldn't break her. She was going to keep all her promises, all her little secrets. Nothing was going to change that.

"I'll let you get changed sweetheart"

She lifted her teary face as they left the room, leaving her alone. Alone and terrified at what was to come. For what the future held for her.

It was near dark. Overcast clouds rolled across the evening sky. A dark blue bus was parked in the front entrance of the Springwood General Hospital. On the side of the mini bus in large white painted letters were the words - St Bernadette's Care Home, Central City.

The doors to the hospital creaked opened as Katherine was led out into the cold evening. Her hands clutched her doll tightly to her chest, the face of the doll rubbing into dark red jumper seeing as her grip on it was so taut. Her knuckles nearly turned white in fear at what was going to happen. Behind her Sandra carried a small black suitcase containing some of the girl's clothes.

Alongside Sandra was a black haired woman in her mid-30s. A light grey skirt suit adorned her frame as she looked down at the young girl. "I'll make sure that you're looked after Katherine. My name is Dr Danielle Murray"

Katherine glanced up at her and then turned away, becoming incredibly uneasy with each passing second. This just couldn't be happening to her. Maybe she was having a bad dream. Yeah, some nightmare and she would wake up at any minute. Her voice quivered as he stared at the side door of the bus, "Can I say goodbye to my daddy? Please? Even on the phone? I want to hear his voice!"

Sandra quickly knelt at the girl's side and shook her head. "You can't Katherine"

She began to wail despondently "He h-hasn't done anything to m-me! I…"

Her breath began to become short and breathless, her chest heaved up and down erratically as a small panic attack took hold of her little body. Sandra pried her left hand from the doll and placed it against her own chest and began to breath in and out slowly. "Breathe with me, nice and easy. Nice deep breaths, okay?"

She obeyed and soon within thirty seconds she had her breathing under control, "I'm scared"

"There's no need to be frightened" she gently brushed her tears away, "They're going to take good care of you. I'll keep in contact with Dr Murray and maybe one day I'll bring Michael to see you"

There was a flash of displeasure in her eyes at the last statement. She jerked away and shook her head, "No!"

A frown graced her features at how dismissive she was at this suggestion. Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned Michael. The girl was bound to have found out from her father that Michael was the one who spotted her scars. She rose to her feet as the girl was brought over towards the bus and watched sadly as she climbed into the back seats. Hopefully in time she would realise that everything that was going to happen to her was for the best.

Katherine sniffled back her tears as she sluggishly placed her head against the cool window, her vacant gaze set upon at nothing in particular. It was thought it was all her fault, if only she didn't look at her scars in the changing room that morning. Then that snoop Michael wouldn't have seen them and told Sheriff Thompson. Then none of this would have happened. How could she be SO stupid?

Her eyes blinked slowly as she noticed that the bus was no longer in the car park of the Hospital. It was now veering through the streets of Springwood, heading towards the boundary of the town. A shiver went down her spine and she gripped her doll close. Would she ever return home again? If so, would she be the same person? Or would she have a new personality? She didn't want to change, there was nothing wrong with her. But the question that she desperately wanted answered was would she ever see her father again?

x x x

A snarl of undeterred rage echoed throughout the boiler room. Ferocious red and yellow flames spiralled out of the furnaces. Thick steam blasted out of the cracked pipes as Freddy's fury consumed the dream world. His burnt nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. The dark red glow that burned in his eyes faded away and he turned back to the furnace where the demons lingered inside. "Why did you not tell me that she was being taken away?"

"We did not know Freddy"

"Bullshit! You fucking knew!"

"Freddy, we're telling you the truth"

He sneered and clenched his charred hand into a tight fist. "Where did they take her to?"

"To Children's Home in Central City"

"Can I enter her dreams? Can I go to her?" he demanded.

"No, you are unable to reach anyone's dreams outside of Springwood"

"Fuck!" he bellowed, "They're just going to turn her against me! Who did this? Was it that whore Dr Turner?"

"It was your mother. Amanda"

This set him off again as his eyes flashed red in vexation, "That fucking bitch sent my daughter away?" Oh, how he wanted that slut dead. He would rip her lungs out, pull her intestines from her dead corpse. Slit her throat until every last drop of blood spilled from her disgusting body.

"We want to test you Freddy" the demons noticed the uncontrollable wrath that soared through his body, "You know exactly what we mean…"

A sick, twisted grin flashed across his scorched face and he thought of all that they taught him in the last few nights. It was time to test out his newfound powers…

x x x

Wrinkled fingers entangled in a set of white rosary beads. Soft pink lips moved silently as Sister Mary Helena finished the last Deckard of the Rosary. She finally blessed herself and placed a hand on the small oak dresser to her right and eased herself up to her feet. Her room in the covenant was small, but pleasant. Tucked in the first drawer was a black bible and old prayer book. Above her small cream bed was a picture of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ.

It had been a long and tiring day, and all she wanted was a good night's sleep. Her reached up to take off her rosary beads, until a small rap at the door halted her movements.

Her jaded legs carried her to the door and she pried opened the door, and peered into the darkened corridor and stepped out of her room. For a few moments she scrutinized the hallway. It was only when she saw a figure at the far end of the corridor that she perceived that the surroundings were different. Her eyes furrowed as she studied the tall gangly man in a doorway. Dressed in white patient's clothing's. It reminded her of something, of some place that she had thought so long to forget. "Hello?"

A blinding white light flashed on above her head and she gradually studied the hallway more closely. The walls were a dirty brown, a strong and repulsive smell of sick and urine lingered in the air. To her left was a large window that overlooked a large courtyard. She now knew where she was.

The tower in Westin Hills.

Her brooding gaze turned back towards the figure at the far end of the corridor and saw whoever it was staring back at her. Then in a flash they disappeared out of view. Her stomach began to churn in knots as she heard faint screaming. Male screams. Loud and crazed. It from in front of her, through that doorway where that man stood.

Her legs were abruptly swept from under her, and a powerful force gripped her ankles. A piercing scream tore from her as she was trailed at a fast velocity towards where THEY, the hundred maniacs were waiting for her. The white tunic scrunched against her body as she was dragged against the hard concrete floor. The sound of those screams, their murmuring and ramblings grew louder.

She clamped her eyes shut and prayed whatever memory or dream she was having would be over sound. Another cry came from her as her body tumbled down a set of metal steps and soon her body collapsed to a heap at the bottom step. Her tunic was creased and dishevelled as she sluggishly rose to her feet, her old body ached from impact of falling on the hard floor. She glanced behind her and frowned seeing that the steps had disappeared.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt eyes on her. Dozens of eyes. It was them, those fiends. Her body twisted around slowly and she saw them. Rapists. Murderers. Child molesters. Child killers. Demented men with brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes. Some of them had black hair, brown hair, blond hair, red hair. All of the men were of different sizes and builds. Each of them held a hungry, perverse look as they allowed their eyes to roam over her slowly. A woman had arrived, a dirty bitch was here for the taking.

For them to play with.

To touch.

To fuck.

Amanda gulped as she glanced at them. Some of them had straight-jackets and they tired to tug at their restraints, desperately wanting to tear it off of their body. Eager to touch her.

The vicious and crazed maniacs murmured amongst themselves as they inched towards her. She defensively backed away, but shrieked as several coarse hands touched and groped at her back and waist. They were all around her. Her body jerked forward and she screamed again as the monsters crowded around her. Vile, rough hands clawed and scarped at her tunic, ripping off her head piece. Fingers trailed down her wrinkled face over her parted lips as she screamed once more.

Her body shuddered as hands gripped the front of her tunic and tried to tear it apart, to reach under to touch her clothed breasts. She gritted her teeth and lashed out with her frail arms, using all the fight and vigour in her body to fend them off.

But it wasn't enough. She wasn't a young woman anymore, she was no longer nineteen years old.

She whimpered as more hands reached around to touch her, groping her ass and breasts. Disgusting salvia smeared lips kissed her neck and face as she was jerked forward. Her mouth went agape to scream, but a pair of rough lips crashed over hers and she gagged in repulsion as a slick tongue ploughed into her mouth. A surge of strength overcame her and she twisted away, and with a savage thrust of her knee hit her attacker hard in the stomach.

Her knees buckled beneath her and she scurried forward on hall fours through the legs of the beasts. Suddenly, a pair of rough hands pulled her forward and to her feet and that was when she saw him. Saw those eyes. That face, she remembered so well.. It was one of the inmates who had constantly raped her, kept her hidden from the other inmates. Kept her for himself. His hair was a dark sandy colour and his face, that jaw. The shape of his cheek bones. He was the double of Fred. This was Fred's biological father.

It was only after escaping that she found out who he was, what he did. His name was Frank. He was a child molester and rapist from the next county over. He had raped more than twenty kids, all of them little girls ranging from the age of three years old to perhaps ten. He had passed his heinous, despicable traits onto Fred. But her son was far worse than him.

She was snapped back to the situation in hand as Frank pressed his lips against her neck and pulled her backwards from the other inmates. Her body thrashed against his and she closed her hands into fists to thump against his chest. Her wide eyes then glanced down at the rosary beads that somehow were still hung around her neck. Her left hand gripped her small crucifix and with a cry she plunged the tip of it into the side of his neck.

He snarled and his grip on her loosened, giving her the window of opportunity to escape. She twisted out of his grasp and staggered backwards and then saw a large thick steel doorway to her right. Then she ran. She shoved other inmates out of her way, ducking out of their reach. She sobbed as he hauled the door opened and darted through it, then pulled the rim of the door backwards and with a loud clang it slammed shut. From behind the steel she could hear their yells, their mad laughter. Hear their fists as they slammed them against the door, wanting to get her. Enraged that their prey had escaped.

Taking a deep breath Amanda turned around to face a dimly lit passageway. Metal walls were to her right, thick pips were aligned along the ceiling above her and stretched straight ahead into the darkness in front of her. A small fire burned inside a furnace to her left about five feet in front. Her weary eyes lifted upwards as she saw a figure enter the corridor, their frame distorted by a thin layer of steam. Their head was lowered, a fedora hat adorning their head. The figure's hands were held behind their back.

"Hello, mother" he growled, his voice deep and gravely.

Her lips went agape. Was it him? But his voice was altered, deeper in pitch. Hoarse. She saw him slowly began to stalk towards her and leisurely brought his right hand into view to reveal his blades. "Frederick?"

He sneered in derision at the use of that name, "I always hated that name. I prefer Freddy"

Her nostrils scrunched in nausea at the smell of burnt flesh.

"You've been naughty, haven't you mother?" his blades flexed quickly.

"What?" she croaked.

"You took her away from Springwood, didn't ya?" bloodshot eyes glared at her with venom, "You sent her away, my little princess! My Katherine!"

"She needs help. She needs to understand what you did to her was wrong, that you were abusing her!" she shot back.

"Abusing her?" he acted surprised, "Oh no, no. I was just showing her how much I loved her. And believe me, I do love my little baby girl. She loves me too" a vile grin crossed his burnt visage. "you should have seen all the times she would make me happy"

She frowned.

He continued and boasted. "You see she hasn't told anyone about this, it was our little secret. And she's really good at keeping secrets. You see mother, Katherine was a good little kisser, always knew how to make me smile. My little girl knew just the right way to touch me with her soft hands" he gave a luscious moan at the memory. "And the way she used her sweet little tongue on me. Fuck it always felt so good"

"You're sick!" she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "How could you do that to her? She's only a child! You never deserved to her father after what you did to her!"

He flashed his rotten teeth in a vicious snarl and lifted his head, "The only think I never deserved was to be abandoned by a whore of a mother like you!"

A distressed gasp tore from her at the sight of his ghastly burns. "W-what happened to you?"

"They came for me" he advanced towards her ever so slowly. "They thought they could stop me. Put an end to me. The fuckers took Katherine from me, my little baby girl" a single blade touched the furnace and he trailed it along the metal.

Screeeccch…

She yelped and jerked back against the door.

"They foolishly thought they could burn me and kill me. But they're wrong" he smiled vindictively, "It's only the beginning you see. They promised me that"

"W-who are they?"

"The voices…my friends. I'm still live. This" his burnt hand waved swiftly at their darkened surroundings, "is my new playground. Dreams. Nightmares"

Her breath caught in her throat as he finally closed the gap between them, giving her a more meticulous look at his horrid charred skin. His rough, uneven fingers tenderly stroked her wrinkled face in a mocking show of affection as he cooed as best as he could in that gruff voice. "I know why you abandoned me as a baby"

She swallowed thickly as he grasped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, "I understand. I really do" his glove brutally plunged into her chest and right through her ribcage. Her body jerked and blood spluttered out of her frail mouth, and dribble down her chin. Rough fingers rubbed the blood away and he gave one last sneer, "You see mother, your heart was never in it!"

There was a sickening squelch as he yanked his talons out of her chest, along with her heart that was pierced by his sharp knives. He stepped away and then laughed callously as her lifeless body fell to the floor with a small thud. In the middle of her chest was a large gaping hole, her ribcage was shattered. Shards of bone splintered and crushed.

His merciless laughter continued as he turned towards the furnace and the doorway creaked opened, then with a snarl he flung her bloodied heart into the flames. There was a small grunt from him as his body double over as a white mist propelled into his chest. His lips curled upwards into a satisfied smile. His first soul.

"The first of many Freddy"

He gave a small nod and then turned around as he transformed the power plant into Katherine's bedroom. His eyes roamed the room, over her single bed and her various toys scattered at the back of the room. If only she was there with him, even if she was still in Springwood. It would ease the anger that was smouldering inside of him.

There was no doubt about it, that they were going to try and corrupt her against him. The sooner she came back to Springwood the better.

"She will return"

"When?" Freddy snapped.

"When the time is right for her, then she will return" the demon hissed. "And when she does, you will be ready for her. Ready to manipulate her once again. Control her. Make her yours once more. You will have full control of her dreams and soon her whole existence"

His lips tugged upwards into a malicious, perverse smile. Those demons were right. Katherine would return and she did, he would make her fear him all over again. He would twist her back into that submissive little girl he loved to control and corrupt.

And this time he would never let her go.

x x x

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