A/N: This story is set in no previously established Friday the 13th timeline, though it borrows more heavily from the 2009 remake than anything. I'll be using elements from all of the flims, so you might catch a nod to those while reading (such as the names of my OCs, Diana and Jessica Kimble, borrowed from "Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday"). Please, enjoy.

Rating: T. This story will contain detailed gore/violence and mild profanity. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Jason Voorhees and Camp Crystal Lake are the property of New Line Cinema. I don't own anything. I really wish I did, but I don't. Damn it. They've foiled my plans again... :P

Chapter 1

"Well, it seemed like a good idea."

Diana Kimble sighed as she scrubbed at her daughter's mud-caked, yet sweetly innocent face. Little Jessica had once again come up with a wonderful playtime scenario. She had decided to go romping about outside in the aftermath of a particularly damaging storm. The tall birch tree that had called the front yard home for as long as Diana could remember had finally succumbed to nature and her lightning, dying with a sickening crack and falling upon Diana's trusty old car, which had served her faithfully since she was eighteen. (Truth be told, the car was even older than that. A dinosaur, as Jessica had affectionately christened it). The tree had also taken down the phone lines, to Diana's dismay. Not only did she have no way to go to town, she couldn't call in her absence to her boss at the Crystal Lake Diner. Of course, she would catch plenty of his frustration when she did return to work. Another stressor to add to her already hectic life.

The rain had been the strongest the small town of Crystal Lake had seen in years. Diana thought that it had sounded like shrapnel and bullets pounding against the rooftop of their home instead of water. Diana recalled fearing such storms when she herself was a little girl. The thunder and the lightining would cause her to run for cover, and she would build blanket forts to hide herself from the impending 'disaster'. Her daughter was rather different, though. Jessica sat in front of the large picture window, clothed in her cute pink nightgown, a blanket draped around her shoulders and a mug of steaming cocoa in her small hands, watching the storm unfold outside with observant, big blue eyes. The unfazed and quietly reflective expression she would have in those moments, even as lightning streaked across the sky, made her look older than her true age of seven years. Yet Diana knew that Jessica's impressive willpower wasn't the cause for her blank face during the frightening storm.

She had probably been thinking about him.

True, it had been several years since Jeff Kimble had packed his things and left his family without any warning. He had been an abusive husband who had become well-accquainted with the bottle. But more importantly to Diana, he was a loving father. He had adored Jessica with every fiber of his being, and even though they had their differences, Diana also knew that he had loved her, too. The week before his departure, he had jealously accused her of flirting with a drifter at the diner. In a fit of anger, he had smacked her across the face, and she had reeled backwards before tumbling down two flights of stairs, breaking her leg and fracturing her skull in the process. Remorse for his action was immediately apparent. He had rushed Diana to the emergency room, waited for her heal, and brought her home safely. And the night following her return, he had gone from their lives, as if they had flipped a page in some storybook only to find an unsavory ending to the short fairytale.

Diana knew that Jessica had been thinking of her father because she hadn't failed to notice the small velvet teddy bear perched on the windowsill, like a silent plush guardian over the contemplative little girl. Diana had inhaled sharply at the sight of it. The teddy bear had been Jessica's last present from her father. She would only bring it out when she was feeling particularly sad or depressed. It seemed to chide Diana with its watchful button eyes and caused guilt to well deep in her chest.

So she had called Jessica away from the window. Supposedly it had been because of the hazard the giant glass window posed in such weather. However, Diana preferred to have a happy little girl rather than one who wallowed in depression that she shouldn't have to bear. In an effort to cheer the child up, she had organized a game of laser tag in the living room. It had lightened both their spirits considerably, so afterwards, they baked cookies, and had a rough-and-tumble tickle session, which never failed to make Jessica smile. A dessert of chocolate chip cookies was shortly followed by the bedtime story, an established time of relaxation and bonding between mother and daughter. Sleep had finally called to the exhausted child, and though she had fought it valiantly, it wasn't long before Jessica had conked out on the leather couch downstairs. Though Diana had wanted to take this time to sort out all of her confusing day and perhaps get a few bills calculated, she hadn't been able to resist curling up beside her daughter and letting the sandman whisk her away to a contented, fuzzy state of being. The crash of the lightning was what woke them both. Diana had groaned as she stared out the foggy window, letting her forehead contact with the glass when she caught sight of the birch laying on the small car that she'd kept for so long. Needless to say, even when they returned to sleep (in their beds this time), the dreams of the mother and her child were unsettling from that point onwards.

Diana pat down Jessica's long brown hair with the towel, staining the fluffy whiteness with dark mud and wet, blotchy spots. The woman shook her head in disapproval and 'tsked' while she continued her ministrations, causing Jessica to fidget uncomfortably. She glanced up at her mother furitively, biting down on her lip.

"Mommy..."

"Hm?" Diana hummed as she set the towel aside, patting the warm clothes that were folded neatly at her side. "Here, take those off and put these on."

Jessica peeled the wet clothes off and slipped into the dry ones, focusing on her mother with a very intent and serious gaze as she tugged at her favorite pink sweater. Diana adjusted the collar of her daughter's sweater before resting her soft hands on her shoulders and looking into her wide eyes, blue on brown.

"What is it, honey?" Diana asked her curiously.

Jessica was quiet for a few seconds before parting her pale lips and issuing the statement that had been on her mind. "...Did Daddy love me?"

Diana paused, keeping her eyes fixed with Jessica's, continuing to delicately fiddle with the sweater's arrangement. Just after she thought they had gotten through all of this, the ever-present question on her daughter's mind had come back to haunt Diana. "Oh sweetie," she murmured as Jessica's bottom lip trembled. She could sense the tears coming. "Of course he did."

Jessica looked down, blinking away the sudden moisture in her eyes. "Then why did he leave us? Why didn't he stay, why didn't he try harder?" She knew it was wrong to accuse her father, but today seemed to be her breaking point. Emotions were swirling within her, boiling in her stomach, making her feel overwhelmed. Diana sighed softly without reply, dropping her tender brown gaze to the floor. Jessica continued, even though she didn't want to hurt her mother's feelings further. She couldn't hold back. "I dreamed about him last night. He said we were going to be a family again. He said it will be really soon." Her voice slowly cracked, and she whispered. "...Mommy, I miss him so much..."

Diana wrapped her thin arms around Jessica and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. "I know baby. I know. I miss him too." She pat the hiccuping child's back gently, making soothing sounds. "It's okay. Just cry it all out. It's alright."

After some time, Jessica had detached herself from the comfort of her mother's arms and regained her composure, trying to smile timidly. At least she had Diana, whom she knew loved her unconditionally, and whom she loved back. Brief thoughts of what life would be like without her mother's support flashed through Jessica's mind, and she was happy to have them interrupted by the loud sound of a truck motor and the crunch of gravel beneath tires.

Diana looked up towards the noise and stood up, crossing the living room to the foyer. Unlike her cherubic daughter, Diana was a very willowy and thin woman, with long brown hair, pale skin and large eyes. Her looks were something that seemed to attract all the wrong sorts of attention from patrons at the diner and other people in town. However fragile she was in appearance, she certainly was not in her other aspects, namely her defiant and strong attitude.

Diana opened the door and peered outside, a little smile gracing her lips when she spotted the man approaching the house. She stepped outside, her tennis shoes squeaking on the soaked wood of the deck. "Hi Phil," she greeted the newcomer, waving in a friendly manner to the older man. Phil Warner was a neighbor who lived several acres away from the Kimble residence, across the creek and closer to the town of Crystal Lake. He owned a large amount of land for himself and had a timber business, a lifelong bachelor. However, he was very kind to the single mother who lived nearby, and never went without making sure she was alright.

He tipped his hat and smiled back. "Good morning, Ms. Kimble. I came to check on you. That storm was awful last night. How are you?"

Diana's smile faltered and she dismissively waved a hand at the wreckage of her car. "Oh, just great. That old tree finally gave in to Mother Nature," she sighed, her eyes drooping with obvious weariness at the sight. "...But, I'll have to say that I'm just grateful that nobody was hurt."

Phil shook his head. "That's a shame, I'm sorry for you. But I'm afraid that we did have a few casualties last night. A group of kids that were camping by the lake got swept away by the storm. Police say they all drowned."

Diana's expression turned to one of sympathy. "Oh my goodness," she murmured. "They should have known better than to tempt fate there... or taken shelter in the cabins at least..."

Phil shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. "It can't be helped. But you and your little girl are all right?" he pressed.

"We're fine," a little voice said. Jessica pressed her face against the screen door, smiling brightly at the two. "Hi Mr. Warner."

"Hello there, Little Miss Sunshine," Phil chuckled. "Did you sleep okay?"

Jessica nodded. "Uh-huh. And did Buster sleep okay?" Of course, she was referring to Phil's bloodhound, whom she had taken a liking to since she was very little.

Phil shook his head. "Howled all night." He glanced back up at Diana, then to the car, and back. "Would you like me to send someone up later and get that all moved for you, Ms. Kimble? It wouldn't be any trouble for my boy Jimmy."

"That would be really great, actually. Thank you so much," Diana smiled.

"Not a problem," Phil said with another tip of his hat. "He should be up here by one o'clock. Have a good day."

Diana waved goodbye to the old man while he started the noisy truck again, taking off with a splutter and a lurch, disappearing into the woods. She stared after the truck several minutes after it had gone, leaning against the rain-splattered banister and quietly breathing in the fresh scent of the storm. Jessica soon joined her, peering up at the soft grey sky and looking for any hint of the sun. After failing to find it, she tugged on the edge of her mother's crimson blouse.

"Come on Mommy. Let's go back inside. I'm hungry," said Jessica. Diana pat her head and nodded to her child. Jessica raced inside while her thirty-something parent leisurely followed her, a light smile playing upon her lips, and the screen door slammed shut behind them.

-S-

It had been all too easy to take care of the three teens who had violated his territory. Of them all, killing the female had been most satisfactory to him. She had the nerve to interrupt his mother's shrine, of all places. However, he supposed that her body made an excellent addition to his growing body count, all sacrifices to appease her.

The storm had been the worst he'd seen in years. The banks of Crystal Lake had overflowed, forcing him onto higher ground, and the frothing, churning, black waters had flooded most of the home which he had fought so valiantly to protect. It had devestated him. He knew that he needed to find another base of operations, preferably close to the area he defended, yet it had still been and emotional hell for him to let go of his childhood home. He had silently watched over the destroyed place all through the night... until an evergreen was struck by lighting and fell onto him, wounding him rather harshly. He inwardly winced as he recalled the dull pain that still throbbed in his right side.

Immediately after suffering the wound, his thoughts had jumped to the little house that was located just outside the camp. It was perfect. Hidden away from most tresspassers, yet close enough to carry out any punishment he saw fit for the men and women who dared interrupt his solitude. A prime place to recuperate. Although there was the issue of the two residents who already occupied it. A woman and a child. They had resided there for several years, and never had they disturbed him, but he supposed that he could easily do away with them out of necessity. He would have felt guilt over the matter if he hadn't numbed himself to such emotion for others. The only ones who were victims, the only ones who deserved any form of sympathy, were his dear mother and he himself. Besides, he reasoned, the wounds he had sustained were hardly enough to keep him from killing two weak and unsuspecting victims. He was toughened from years of living in the woods, a master of stealth, and all seven feet of him was riddled with muscle. Yes, he could handle them simply and efficently.

Still, he felt a nagging tug at his conscience as he planned how he would kill the two female occupants. He had glimpsed them sometimes in the woods, before he had the need to move from his childhood home. And each time he had come across them, he had spared them. Perhaps it was witnessing the innocent relationship between mother and child, so reminiscent of his own memories, that had caused him to back down from murdering them outright. It was a crime against nature, he had told himself then. But now he was faced with a whole new set of circumstances, and now, he forced himself to change his outlook on the matter.

It wasn't as if they could feel a love like the love between he and his own mother, he thought darkly. They weren't worthy of it.

The figure hidden in the shelter of the trees breathed heavily as he watched the mother and daughter disappear from his view. A large hand crept down to the machete that slumbered on his hip. It was always a comfortable and ever-present weight, a wonderful tool for punishing intruders on his territory, yet a constant reminder of her. The tarnished and red-stained blade glinted in the soft morning light as he unsheathed it. The man took one, two steps forward, finally setting one boot-clad foot into the clearing in which the house was nestled away from civilization. Mud squelched beneath his weight, but this didn't seem to phase the imposing man, who looked through the eyeholes in his hockey mask to observe the simple house. The soft breeze that had tousled the barren branches of the trees in the forest and the chitter of woodland creatures seemed to come to a standstill in that instant.

Jason.

He paused as he felt - no, heard - the familiar, comforting and guiding voice in his ear. Even in death, Pamela Voorhees never failed to guide her son.

Go, Jason.

The lumbering figure nodded once to the voice only he could hear and focused once more upon the defenseless house, tightening his grip on the machete. His dark and shadowed eyes sparked with anticipation from the depths of the mask, then settled into a detatched, calm frostiness only a killer could harbor.

They wouldn't have a clue of their fate until it was upon them.