Hi.

Not going to do a cheery entry, like I usually do, because to be honest this fic is a delve into a certain serial killer's childhood. For those of you who don't know, Chucky's mother (yes, he had one) hung herself when he was ten. His father abused him and his mother before her death and Chucky hated him for it. I mean, who wouldn't? He was placed into foster care and gradually turned into the monster we know today.

This fiction may pluck tears from your eyes or make you turn away in disgust. Personally I'm too pissed to care. I know I shouldn't take it out on you guys, because you guys are the reason I do these stories. Without you you wouldn't be reading this right now, and I am seriously grateful for all of you who read my stories, and especially those who review. You know who you are. But I just feel angry all the time now. Teenage mood swings? Probably.

Whatever. I'm going to go now, because I know you don't want to read about some hopeless fangirl's mopings. Okay. Enjoy (or try to) and please review. Laters!

Tiffany already regretted bringing up the idea.

For one, now Chucky wouldn't let it go. As usual. He was being his usual stubborn self. He was pacing the bedroom, hands behind his back, in his familiar I-ain't-gonna-back-down stance. Tiffany was sitting at the end of their double bed, far too big for two 2 foot high dolls. She watched Chucky with her cobra green eyes, biting her beautiful nails down to the quick.

'I'm serious, Tiff. It's been, what? 53 years since I last saw my ma? I want to go. Today.'

'Chucky, I didn't even mention going to see them. I just said it would be nice to see a relative that isn't a freakin' doll for once.' Tiffany said, eyeing Chucky with concern. It was going to take the world and it's mother to get Chucky to back down from this one.

'Please Tiff. This is gonna be my only chance to even come close to her again. The cops are on our case and I'm not gettin' any younger. Please.' Chucky stopped pacing and came to face his wife.

'But what about the twins?'

'Andy? He'll babysit 'em. He owes me for the time I didn't set his cat on fire. And Emily will really want to come play with Glen. They haven't seen each other in weeks. Come on Tiff. It's about time we got some time to ourselves.'

Tiffany considered for a minute. Chucky really wanted to do this, and she'd face the cold shoulder if they didn't. Plus, Andy, no matter how rough a past he and Chucky had had, loved the twins like he was a second father. Emily was a sweet girl too, so polite. She sighed and sagged her shoulders, giving in. 'Okay, Chucky. Let's go.'

Chucky ran to her and embraced her, burying her face into his shoulder. Tiffany loved his hugs. Yes, they'd both lost track of how many people he'd killed but they'd both agreed that he gave the best hugs in Chicago. Tiffany wrapped her arms around him and they swayed for a minute, before pulling away and heading to the closet to get ready. Chucky pulled on his Good Guy Sneakers and jacket, and Tiffany her heeled boots and leather bomber jacket. They both then walked to the door and downstairs, where the twins were watching television. Chucky picked up the hall phone and dialled Andy's number.

'Sweetfaces, Daddy and I are going out for a while, but Uncle Andy and Emily will be around shortly to look after you. At least I hope they will. Chucky,' she called into the hall. ' Is he coming?'

'He'll be around in ten minutes, just gotta pick up Emily from Day care.'

'Okay. So you be good, okay? Glen, no cookies, Glenda, no killing. Got it?'

'Got it,' said the twins in unison, though Glenda looked kind of iffy about her end of the bargain. 'Okay, love you both.' She gave them both a kiss on the head and walked out of the door. Chucky was waiting with an anxious look on his face. 'Ready?' asked Tiffany. Chucky took her hand and ice-blue orbs met grass green. 'I hope so.'

The cemetery gates creaked as the strange sized couple walked through them, the sky a sickly pasty grey above them. It had taken almost an hour to drive here, seeing as Chucky had insisted it would be disrespectful to show up without a bouquet of flowers for his mother. Tiffany was getting a little worried: Chucky was getting obsessed. But still, it was nice to see him with a heart unlike stone for once. Here he had the bunch of lilies-his mother's favourite flower, apparently- tucked in his arms, his other linked with Tiffany's. He was scanning through the headstones, his good eye completely focused. He got a couple of odd looks from others who had come to the same cemetery, but for once he didn't give any of them death threats. It was like he'd been taken over with this sudden urge to see the only woman-apart from Tiffany- who had paid any attention to him at all.

Suddenly, Chucky gave a chuckle. 'Look, Tiff.' He said. He pointed with difficulty to a rather battered up headstone with a fresh pile of flowers on it. The headstone read, 'Here Lies Maggie Peterson, 1934- 88.' Trust Chucky to spot one of his own victims. 'My best kill yet, don't ya think?'

Tiffany didn't smile but made an impressed noise. She just wanted to pay her respects to Mrs Ray and leave. This whole situation was making her uneasy and slightly sick. But Chucky kept going, reeling off old targets with glee.

'Grace Poole, beloved sister, caretaker and aunt. Pah, yeah right! Got what she deserved, like all of 'em did. Oh, look, it's my old bastard Eddie. I'd dance on his grave but I know he wouldn't do the same for me-'

'Chucky-'

'Johnny boy! How's your leg?' He burst into peals of laughter, causing some other grief ridden people to look up. 'Never gets old...'

'Chucky-'

'Oh, the piece de resistance; Damien! How's it goin'? Something tells me you won're be kissing any wannabe Goths like yourself in heaven. Hey, why'd they bury him here, anyway? Wasn't there a cemetery near your old trailer, Tiff?' Chucky turned to nudge his wife but discovered she wasn't there. 'Tiff?'

She was a few paces away, kneeling down at a grave that was relatively presentable. There were no flowers on it, however. Chucky hesitated coming over, but as he changed his angle, he could just make out the words, "Lisa Valentine, beloved mother, wife and daughter. RIP.'

He felt his heart plummet to the darkest pit in hell. Speaking of hell, that's probably where he belonged right now. Argh! Tiffany 's mother! How could that have slipped his mind? He heard a familiar voice in his head from years back, around the time the twins' human bodies were born. "Christ! Enough with your mother already! I killed that bitch 20 years ago and she still won't shut up!" Oh God, it was all coming back to him... the broken wine bottle...the pool of blood on the floor... a young Tiffany crying over her mother's lifeless carcass... Jesus, was this... guilt he was feeling for once in his miserable life?

'Tiff?' He said quietly, stepping towards her a little. She was shaking, or to be more specific, crying. Her whitish hair covering what face wasn't obscured by her black nail-polished hands, which were now wet as well as pale.

'30 years ago today, I was standing over my mother's willow coffin, looking at the primrose lining for the last time. She looked so peaceful at the viewing, her brown eyes closed, mouth turned into a smile. Of course... t-they couldn't do anything about the...the s-stab wound except stitch it up. They put her in her wedding dress. Did you know that?' Tiffany took her hands away from her face and turned to look at Chucky, who looked ashamed. 'You should look like that, you cold-hearted bastard. You had no conscience back then, did you? You just took one look at her and plunged it into her stomach. You didn't think what it would do to me. You just killed her...'

'She was making you miserable, I couldn't just stand by and watch that happen. I loved you and still do, just like when we were sixteen and stupid.' Chucky came closer. ' Tiffany, I'm so, so sorry. I swear, I never meant to hurt you. It was instinct, I swear.'

Tiffany shook her head. 'You destroyed me. You turned me into an emotionless monster. I killed because I was already dead, and jealous of the people who had everything to lose but still have it all. I hate you for killing her. I hate you for killing me, emotionally and literally.'

Chucky said nothing. But then Tiffany did something that surprised them both: she stood up and hugged him. Chucky was caught off guard, but slowly put his arms around her too, feeling their two hearts melt together and combine in a hateful cold embrace with blood splatters. He felt her heartbeat under her dress and in his own chest, beating steadily.

'But you know what? I love you for teaching me how to love again. I love you for giving me everything, making me lose everything, but loving me for the price of loving you. You saved me from her, and I have to admit, she was a monster. I never felt good about myself when I was around her. Thank you for giving me a life again, a husband, a family.' She looked up at him with her beautiful green orbs. 'I love you, Charles Lee Ray.'

Chucky just looked at her and leaned down and kissed her, feeling like that was all there was to say. He sighed, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in years. Decades even.

They stayed tight in a warm embrace for a while, before Chucky looked up into a shocking pink sky. 'Tiff, if you don't mind, I'd like to find my ma's grave and then leave. Because I...uh...Got some allergies up in here.' He wiped tear from his eye before Tiffany could look up, but she saw. Good God, she saw.

'Are you...crying?' She asked, cocking her head.

'Me? Charles Lee Ray, the Lakeshore Strangler, crying? Nah-yes.' He said, seeing Tiffany's raised eyebrow. How the heck does she do that? He thought.

'Okay, Chucky, let's go. But first,' She motioned to the bunch of flowers still clutched in Chucky 's grasp. He nodded, and she took a single pure white lily from his bunch in the double digits. After kissing it and leaving a black kissmark on it, she set it on Lisa's grave. 'Goodbye, Mom.' She said, and with that she held Chucky 's free hand and the killer couple walked in search of Joanne Ray's grave.

Soon, they came to it.

It was a miserable looking grave to begin with, and that was going into hardly any detail. It had been kicked in and spraypainted on, which enraged Chucky. Had his mother not been a kind and gentle woman, beautiful and happy despite all his father did to them both? It was true, the Lakeshore Strangler had felt love for someone, despite being wanted dead by more people than wanted him alive. And the people had kind of gotten what they wanted, right? Well, kind of. He was...partially kept to the deal. He couldn't help that he'd been wired like this.

He looked down on the mound of earth at the grave's feet. Six feet below them was his mother, who even at an absurdly young age to be at someone's funeral, the ten year old in his head knew this angel wasn't waking up from her sleep. He felt his careworker's hand on his thin shoulder, her words of comfort silently warming him up even though Heaven was crying buckets. His mother was buried in the rain. This was the last straw for him.

'Why did God have to let her die?' He asked Tiffany quietly. She leaned her head on his shoulder. 'I thought you never believed in that religious stuff.' She said.

'I don't. But if there was some grey haired douchebag up in the sky making sure people actually kicked the bucket, and didn't come back like you and I did, don't you think he'd have seen how good she was? She didn't deserve it.' Chucky looked around. 'Don't tell anyone, but none of these people really deserved it.'

But still, he knew it was going to come, why did he react that way when it did? Why did he attack his father's headstone when he spotted it lying beside his mother's? Easy. He wanted to put all the built up rage he'd felt at not being able to save his mother into effect immediately. He'd been a pathetic skinny boy when it happened; now he was a doll with the upper body strength of a fully grown man.

He screamed and punched, not caring if his plastic knuckles bled or not. He screamed all sorts of curses at his no good drunk of a father. He pounded the grass with all his might. He dug down towards the wooden box six feet under, wanting to kill him more painfully than he had 53 years ago. He turned to Tiffany, who now had the dropped bouquet of flowers in her own arms after Chucky had flung them to the side in his rage. 'Give me your lighter.'

'What, no...Chucky-'

'GIVE ME THE GODDAMN LIGHTER NOW!'

Trembling, Tiffany dug in the pocket of her jacket and pulled out her lighter, and gave it to Chucky. He took a flower from her bouquet and put the flame to it, and set it on top of his father's grave. 'Goodnight, asshole.' He said, watching the flame gradually spread to the mound of dirt on his father's grave. Then, he took his starting to wilt bouquet of lilies from Tiffany 's arms and placed it out of the flame's reach and on his mother's grave. They both looked to the star spangled sky, and put their arms around each other, whispering their apologies to one another.

'Tiff?' Said Chucky after a while.

'Yes?'

'When I die, don't put me in a box.'

'Why not?'

'Because I don't want to be buried beside him.' Chucky pointed a bleeding finger to his father's grave, which was now a forest of flames. ' He made us both miserable, and turned me into this.' He gestured down at his doll body. ' He reduced her to the thing that's in that box in the ground, and now I'm the one carrying the burden. I can never forgive him for that.'

'I don't blame you.'

'You don't? You don't think I'm a bad person for doing this?'

'Never.'

'Good.' Said Chucky. And with that, he pulled out his emergency gun from his overalls, aimed it at his father's headstone, more specifically at the 'beloved' part of the memorial. It made a perfect dent in the stone and knocked out 'beloved' completely. Chucky aimed again for the father bit, but Tiffany pushed the gun lightly down and said, 'Don't waste bullets, someone could come along now and tick you off pretty bad-'

'Haha! Hey, guys, look at the doll crying over some old bean's grave! Guys!'

BANG.

The youngster fell to the ground and his friends scarpered pretty quick. Chucky replaced the gun in his jacket and the couple walked off, barely the height of the headstones themselves but feeling on top of the world. Cue the walking away dialogue.

'Hey, Tiff.'

'Yeah?'

'What was that song we danced to at the High School Prom?'

'Which one?'

Chucky hummed a bit. 'Oh, that one?' Tiffany began to sing.

'Earth Angel, Earth Angel,

Will you be mine?

My darling dear, I love you for all time,

I'm just a fool,

A fool in love with you.'

The killer couple danced along the gravel path back toward the cemetery gates. They were extremely happy for two reasons; their parents couldn't bother them anymore; but also they were gratefully happy that they had brought them here in the first place. The world may be against them both, and sometimes both were against each other, but if they'd never been born, yes, lots and lots of people would still be alive, but they wouldn't have been able to live this exact moment in time like they were, like they were sixteen and stupid again.

Yes, old people, one of our generation does know that song! I quite like it, actually.

Well, knock me down with a feather! I never thought I'd see the day I wrote romance! Oh well, I get off for this one. Chucky and Tiffany are so in love it's not even funny. Best killer couple ever!

Okay. I don't mean to sound big headed, and I probably do, but if you want more ChuckyXTiffany stories just click on that PM button and message me! I will be starting a series of one-shots titled ' Chucky Hates (Insert Overdone Holiday Here)', so look out for those!

Anyway, have a nice day and I'll hopefully see you next time!