Authors Note - An oneironaut is a person who explores dream worlds. It comes from the Greek word oneiros (dream) and is basically just lucid dreaming. This first chapter is set directly after ending of the 2010 remake when Nancy and Quentin are at the hospital but the rest of the story will be set two years later. Freddy Krueger still stalks their dreams but for some reason he can't hurt them in real life. It takes time to recover and Nancy believes that some day Krueger will be back, and she and Quentin won't be able to survive him again. I hope you enjoy chapter one. Review, review, review!

Oneironaut

Chapter One

It was undeniable – the silhouette of her nightmare looming only a few feet away. A breath escaped her lips as she tried to warn her mother, but it was only a breath. There were no words spoken. Reality slowed as she watched those blades inch closer and closer to their target, their malicious intent so close to being accomplished. Her mouth opened in a horrified scream, a warning that came too late. There was a squish and a crack as the weapon broke through her mother's skull, a look of instantaneous surprise coming and leaving the woman's face. The steel fingers extended through the eyes and blood cascaded like red ribbons down her mother's face. Shards of glass seemingly halted in mid-air before retreating along with the gloved hand, taking the body with it. They disappeared into the mirror and she was left looking at her own, screaming expression.

Soft blue eyes snapped open; something between a scream and a strangled sob tearing its way past the girl's throat. Her body jerked instinctively, weary gasps filling her lungs as her body tried to keep up with the frantic pace of her heart. Tears fell swiftly but silently down her already streaked face, her breaths turning into sobs at the realization that what had just transpired was only a dream. She looked around the room frantically, trying desperately to recall where she was and what had happened. Her fingers tightened around the chair's armrests, nails digging into the wood in her distraught panic. There were people in the room but her vision was still blurry from waking and she couldn't see any faces. A hand descended on her shoulder and she yelped.

"Nancy!" A familiar tone barked. The girl's vision cleared and she turned her gaze upwards to see the exact face she had just been dreaming of – looking down at her in concern.

"… Mom?" The woman stared back at her daughter with confusion and worry, obviously disconcerted about the horrified look on her daughter's face.

"What's wrong, hon'?" She asked in a soft voice, moving her hand from Nancy's shoulder to run her fingers through the girl's dark hair. Nancy turned her gaze from her mother's, taking in the room's appearance and the people staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

"Where-… What… Where-?"

"You're at the hospital, Nancy. They found you and your friend at the preschool and brought you both here but you refused treatment beyond your arm wounds. Apparently you just fell asleep in the waiting room. I've been here for five hours, waiting for you to wake up." Gwen brushed back a strand of hair away from her daughter's face. "Are you alright?" Nancy looked at her mother with obvious discomfort but forced herself to say something.

"Just-… Just a bad dream, mom. I'm fine." She glanced around the room again before turning her gaze to her feet, noting that the toes of her boots were stained red from someone's blood – she couldn't remember whose. She could feel her mom hovering above her and was tempted to just fall asleep again but something was nagging at the back of her mind. There was something she needed to remember.

'You and a friend? …' Didn't she go alone? Here eyes went down to her chest to glimpse a small array of little medallions hanging from her neck, scintillating gently in the artificial light. Her hand went up to them but before she touched the necklace an abrupt picture assaulted her mind - a dark room invaded by a flashlight and a kerosene lamp. Hastily scratched pictures of creatures out of a child's imagination marring the walls. A chair in the corner next to a decrepit bed, two bodies occupying both of them. Two faces. Her own…

And Quentin's.

She had stepped in a puddle of his and Freddy's blood when they were leaving the preschool, staining her boots. Those were the red blotches. How could she have forgotten him? A gasp tore from her throat before she turned to her mother, unable to stop the frenzied exclamation from slipping past her lips.

"What happened to Quentin? Is he okay?" Her mother, startled from the sudden and panicked question, stayed silent with her eyes wide. A shade of sympathy shrouded her countenance and never before had Nancy felt her stomach drop as far as it did at that moment.

"Oh, Nancy." Gwen paused. The pit in Nancy's stomach worsened. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt like cotton. Her chest was tight and she found herself unable to let out a breath, her fingers tightening even more around the armrests of her chair.

'No…'

"He's in the ICU, but I haven't heard much." The twist in the girl's stomach lessened but still remained. She exhaled.

"I want to see him." She whispered before compulsively wiping away the tear-stains from her cheeks. "Please. I need to see him." The last sentence hardly came out at all – a quiet plead weighted down by her stress. No matter how hard she tried the tears kept coming back to her eyes, giving her an even more pitiful appearance but possibly making her mother a little more susceptible. Gwen bit her lip thoughtfully, running her hand over Nancy's head while pondering on whether or not her daughter was ready to face what had happened.

"Nancy… I don't think you can right now."

"Please, mom." She begged.

"You look thirsty, hon'. I'll go get you some water." The woman was gone before Nancy could protest, leaving the teen frustrated and alone with her thoughts.

'Freddy's dead… The dream means nothing… … Fred Kruger is dead.' She repeated the phrase again and again in her mind until she actually began to believe it again, blaming her recent dream only as a reaction to what she had been put through. She absently fingered the necklace, constantly glancing towards the doors leading into the ICU. She needed to see him, why couldn't her mom understand that? Quentin was her safety, the only thing that made sense anymore. She didn't connect with a lot of people, tending to avoid other teenagers like they were a plague. Quentin was different, though. They went through hell together and he was the one who took the brunt of the danger. He was real. He connected with her. He understood her.

He loved her.

"Nancy Holbrook?" Nancy jumped slightly at the abrupt voice but recovered quickly. She looked up to see a nurse staring back at her with timorous eyes, wringing her hands uncomfortably and shuffling her feet.

"Yes?" The teen replied hesitantly.

"There's a man… Uh, Alan Smith, who is asking for you." The nurse stammered, motioning with her hand towards the ICU doors. "I can take you if you want."

'Alan?' Nancy pushed herself onto her feet wearily, nodding with a quick "Yes" before following the shy nurse out of the waiting room and into the intensive care unit.

'Mom can just wait until I come back'

The scent of death was overwhelming; a putrid odor faintly concealed by a sweet mixture of decay, blood-soaked bandages, and antiseptic. It infected her nostrils, permeating her mind and making her uneasy. She moved awkwardly while trying her best to ignore the motions out of the corner of her eyes, keeping her gaze focused on the nurse's back or her own feet. The faintest of bloodstains were spattered across the floor, stains that even bleach couldn't conquer. She turned her eyes away from them only to let her gaze fall upon the bustling doctors, interns, and nurses going about their duties – each and every one with stoic expressions. She couldn't blame them, though. They dealt with death every day and for her it was even hard to think about. Those moments when she held Quentin in her arms, waiting for the ambulance while praying that he could just hold on a little longer. Those moments were some of the hardest she had to endure in her life. The thought that she could lose the only person who accepted her was horrifying. Fred Krueger had brought them together, and he had come so close to tearing them apart.

She couldn't handle death.

"Right in here." The nurse slid open a glass door and gestured for Nancy to go inside. The girl muttered a thanks before stepping into the cold room, the door closing quickly behind her. Alan Smith sat patiently in a chair next to the bed, his steely blue orbs fixed on her with unreadable emotion. She couldn't help but shiver underneath his gaze, even though he was the person who had gotten her into the ICU in the first place. She turned her eyes away from him, her attention going to Quentin; almost as pale as the white sheets he lay against. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. There was a tube down his throat and dark bruises marring his face; harsh reminders of what he had done for her.

'I'm so sorry.' She stepped closer, switching her attention back to Alan. He was still looking at her with the same, judgmental stare, his mouth set in an emotionless line. Nancy crossed her arms in an attempt to keep her torso warm, shifting her gaze from the floor back to the older Smith continuously.

"Thank you… For getting me here." She started, her voice soft and afraid. "I'm really sorry about what happened… We-" The older man raised a hand and she quieted instantly.

"Don't apologize. Quentin made his own choice and I guess you must mean a lot to him if he would put himself through this."

'Neither of us had a choice…' She didn't say it – but it haunted her mind.

"But… Freddy-"

"No… Fred Krueger did not do this." He stood up abruptly, making Nancy flinch. Walking close to her he let his hands clamp down on her shoulders, hard enough to make a point but gently enough to not cause her any pain. His voice softened but stayed at a tone that was to be taken seriously. "No one will believe you. Hell, it was even hard for me to believe my own son when he told me about his dreams… Your allegations are irrational and borderline psychotic. People already suspect that it was you who attacked Quentin... You have to lie – tell people that it was just some nut living at the abandoned preschool." He sighed, drawing his hands away from her shoulders before pinching the bridge of his nose. A few seconds passed before he spoke again. "I'm sorry, Nancy… But you can't tell the truth…"

"I know."

"I'll go talk to your mother." He took a step towards the door before pausing and turning back to her, his eyes flickering over to the bed. "You can stay with him as long as you'd like."

"Thank you." He nodded and exited the room. She was left standing uncomfortably in the frigid area, taking in the tubes and wires that were connected to Quentin. With every gentle inhale and exhale of artificial respiration she felt just a little more guilt – guilt because she believed that he was here because of her. That he couldn't breathe on his own because of her. That everything that had happened was because of her.

'We didn't have a choice. Stop blaming yourself.' She breathed out before moving forward, dragging the only chair in the room closer to the bed and sitting down slowly. She leaned forward and extended her arm to grasp his limp hand. Her fingers entwined themselves in his and she squeezed gently as a small gesture of affection. Freddy Krueger was dead. They didn't have to be afraid anymore.

"Hey, Quentin." She mumbled, rubbing her thumb over the cold skin of his hand.

She couldn't help but wonder if he was dreaming

Silver light bled from the broken windows; slipping through every crack in the brick walls and patched roof to spatter across the littered ground. The stone pillars were cold and uninviting but he found himself sitting at the foot of one despite. Blue-stained silver stared vacantly into the dim grayness of a dream; slow breaths slipping past numb lips. Why was he here? … He couldn't remember. Minutes seemed like hours as he passed them in silence, unable to explain the sense of familiarity burdening his mind.

"Hello, Quentin." The voice could hardly be recognized as human – a horrid, grating sound. When he looked up he regretted it, staring straight up into the eyes of a nightmare. He stood up to run but was pinned to the pillar before he could, forced to look Krueger in the face; that melted face. Broken gasps tore past his throat as he grappled helplessly with the gloved hand pinning him to the frigid stone. "You took little Nancy away from me." The hand tightened around his throat, the blades slightly cutting into the skin of his neck. His vision was beginning to spot. Freddy was supposed to be dead.

"You-"

"Shut up, you little fuck." The nightmare winced, bringing his separate hand up to his own neck. Dark blood seeped between his fingers, dripping over his hand to dot the concrete floor. How was he bleeding? The nightmare dropped Quentin to the ground, more blood spurting from the widening gash in his charred throat. Something between a growl and a gurgle tore from his mouth before he raised his claws. The wrist rotated with a sickening crunch before falling from the rest of the arm. The blade on the index finger sliced into Quentin's palm, making the teen yelp suddenly.

Krueger dissolved.

Nancy slept softly next to her love, her fingers still entwined in his. There was no blood on her palm. There was no cut on his. The spot on his neck where four thin, red lines should have been was unmarred.

It had only been in his dream.