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Authors Note: This is a long one. I hope you enjoy this. We've got lots of angsty goodness and the plot is a thickening. Hope you enjoy.

And WOW over 100 reviews! Woooooohoooo! Keep em coming, since it's the only way I know if you actually are still reading and enjoying this. Thank you for all the favorites for this story as well. Viva La Krueger!

Frankie came to on the couch with a very worried Daniela hovering over her with a damp washcloth. Her eyes focused on her roomie. "Did I imagine those kids?" She asked hazily.

"No, they are right over there." Daniela pointed to the kitchen table where the kids sat drinking coffee and looking both exhausted and guilty. The boy gave her a timid wave.

Frankie closed her eyes, having hoped they'd been some sort of delusion brought on by bad Thai food. The name she hadn't heard another person speak in over a decade had shocked her badly. Like a ghost had appeared in front of her.

"Damn." She muttered under her breath, and sat up. Daniela looked more apprehensive and tried helping her. "Don't hover Dani." Frankie said, waving her hand away. "I'm okay…"

"You turned white as a sheet Frankie. That's not okay in my book." Daniela pursed her lips at her.

Frankie took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. She had a very heavy sense of unease about these two teenagers. "I'll be alright. Go on to bed."

Daniela made a "hurming" noise and with one last glance at the new arrivals headed off to her bedroom.

Frankie stood and walked over to the still steaming pot of coffee and poured herself a cup, filled it with cream and added five packets of Equal. She stirred it methodically not saying anything to the obviously nervous teenagers. She was still trying to wrap her head around this. She took a sip and let the rich taste of the coffee swirl around her mouth before she swallowed and then went to sit down at the table with them.

"Okay…" She said, holding onto her cup. "Who are you and why are you here?" Straightforward and to the point was best. Frankie looked at the young man, and now that she was really looking at him noticed he seemed strangely familiar.

Quentin cleared his throat and tried to stand up a little straighter. Nancy had had enough of a shock after what happened in the pharmacy when they'd stopped to get a refill on his ADD meds. He figured he'd take the lead on this. She looked ready to break apart…and he wasn't far behind. But how do you explain what was happening to them? And not sound insane?

"We…we've got some questions." He said finally. "And you're the only person that we think can answer them."

Frankie's eyes narrowed. "That only answer half of what I just asked."

The boy let out a breath of air between his teeth, glancing over to the girl next to him. She was staring at the table top, dazed and shaking. Frankie wondered if they were on drugs for a moment.

The boy seemed to come to a decision. He turned back to Frankie. "My name is Quentin Smith, this is Nancy Thompson…we were students at Badham Pre-School when you volunteered there."

Frankie's heart stopped she was sure. Her hands shook and her mouth dropped open. She saw it then, why these two seemed so familiar. Quentin…and little Nancy all grown up. "Quen…Quentin…" She said his name as if trying to believe it was him. She'd never seen any of the kids from Badham in the years since she'd left. Frankie had thought it a blessing. She didn't know how she'd react to the fact if she did. Would she smile and say hello or would she tear into them with the reality of what they'd done. The lies that they'd told and how it had destroyed not just her life but a good mans too. But right then she had nothing she could say, she was simply numbed by the reality sitting in front of her.

Quentin nodded. "Yes, you were helping our teacher apparently…when a man named Fred Krueger worked at the school?"

At the mention of Freddy's name again she felt tears start forming. God she hadn't actually physically cried in so long about it. The pain was always there, never leaving her, never letting her move on to someone else. Not even letting her move further than Denton. But no one had said his name in so long…she glanced over and saw the girl, Nancy looking at her strangely. Her brown eyes were bloodshot and glossy, nearly vacant.

Frankie realized Quentin was waiting for her to say something. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Yes…I was there." Her blue eyes looked at the table top, mirroring Nancy's lost stare.

"Nancy and I…" He paused trying to figure out how to phrase it. "We think we're the only students left alive out of that class."

At this Frankie's eyes looked up into his. "What?" Her voice was shocked.

"We think we're the only surviving members of the class." He shifted uncomfortably while Nancy wrapped her trembling fingers around the mug of warm coffee in front of her. "We think they are all dead."

Frankie looked at him confused, not quite sure she was hearing him clearly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Quentin suddenly got angry, despite himself. His fist slammed down on the table top. How many times did he have to say this? "They've been murdered, killed…dead!"

Frankie moved herself back a bit away from the boy, noticing that Nancy didn't even flinch when he hit the table. It was clear he was afraid, but she had no proof of any of this. And if it was true, who was to say he wasn't the one who killed them? He didn't look stable…and on top of that, a part of her brain asked her, why should she give a shit? They had certainly never given a damn about her or Freddy.

"Why?" She asked him carefully. "Why would anyone want to kill a pre-school class?"

Quentin leaned back in his chair, sighing. He was doing this wrong. He could tell she was freaked out by him now. And he couldn't help it. There was no way what he had to say wasn't going to freak her out. "Not why…but who." He looked back her. "We…we think we know the why."

Frankie shook her head at him. "You think it was me?" She said, voice rising slightly. Yes she had a definante reason for it…but she couldn't have actually killed those kids. The parents maybe…but the kids?

"No…no we know it wasn't you." Quentin said, not realizing until just then how it had sounded. "We know who it is….but we're trying to figure out a way to stop it…maybe something you saw or know. Anything…" He knew he sounded desperate and rambling but the truth was they were desperate.

Frankie was at a loss. "Quentin…" She said his name trying to get him to stop. "I'm sorry but I don't have any idea if even what you are saying is true. I mean…you show up here late at night telling me about murders and looking like you've been on a bender for the past two days…"

Nancy's hand shot out and tossed a file folder onto the table top. The photos and print outs spread out in a fanning pattern in front of Frankie. There were articles about deaths, newspaper stories on clear printer paper, and mixed in with those were other photos, ones of little children that she recognized. And there with those children was a face she hadn't seen in over ten years.

Fred's eyes were always so beautifully blue. The camera hadn't done them justice, but the smile was brilliant. And there she was next to him, smiling just as widely, just as happy. Frankie hadn't realized she'd let out that choked half sob that made Quentin look at her suddenly. With trembling fingers she reached out and pulled the picture towards her. She glanced at the printouts at the photos, noticing one of them had the faces crossed out, a class picture with only two class members free of the dubious red x.

"There's your proof." Nancy said, her voice rough. She took a drink of her coffee.

Frankie glanced at her for a moment as she picked up the picture, swallowing hard. "I…I never got to see these." She said in a whisper.

"We hadn't either." Quentin said, taking a deep breath.

Frankie looked at him curiously, her thumb running gently along the curve of Fred's cheek in the photo. "What?" She asked him.

"Our parents never showed us the pictures." Nancy spoke again, her eyes watching every movement of the woman next to her.

"Why?" Frankie asked her, then looked to Quentin. She felt lost and that sinking sensation in her stomach was growing.

Nancy answered before the boy could. "They wanted us to forget what happened. They wanted to forget what happened." She leaned across the table and picked up the group photo with the children making faces at the camera. "You were friends with him weren't you?" She asked Frankie, pointing to the man in the hat.

Frankie licked her lips, her pulse started to thud a bit faster. "Ye…yes…"

"Did you know he was…" Quentin started to say but before he could Frankie cut him off.

"He never laid one finger on you fucking kids." She said it low, nearly a growl; years of stewing anger, sadness and frustration coming through. Frankie hadn't meant it to come out that way. But seeing him, even in just a photo, reminded her how much he'd loved those kids at Badham and how they'd for whatever reason so easily turned on him. It brought all the pain of leaving back.

Quentin and Nancy both looked at her wide eyed. Quentin confused and Nancy as though realizing something.

"How…how do you know?" He asked.

Nancy's eyes glanced back to the photos, the one still on the table where Freddy Krueger and Frankie Jones were sitting in the background, then the one in her hand. "You were more than friends." She said in a whisper.

Quentin's face grew a shade paler and Frankie's eyes closed for a moment, not from shame but from too much coming back too fast.

"She was in high school." Quentin said, as though to argue what the girl had said aloud.

Frankie opened her eyes and glared at him. "I was in high school. That's why we were waiting till I was eighteen." She said between clenched teeth.

Quentin's mouth fell open. Nancy let the photo fall from her hand, looking as though she was going to cry herself. But Frankie didn't care…not anymore. She was going to tell them the truth, they'd come looking for it.

"That's right…he never touched me and he sure as hell didn't touch any of the kids." She stood up and still holding the photo started pacing, not able to just sit anymore. "Fred never would have done that, none of it. And I would know. I was around him more than anyone. He didn't have any family other than you kids. He loved all of you. You gave him a childhood he didn't get to have."

She took a breath, letting it out slowly. Quentin and Nancy were quiet, and she saw in their eyes they were realizing the truth. She wiped the tears that were on her cheeks away. Frankie hadn't even realized she'd started crying. "I loved him and he loved me. Freddy wanted to leave Springwood when I turned eighteen. See I had problems at home. Bad problems…and he wanted to get me away from them. My father was a cop…and he also liked beating the living shit out of me when he was drunk…which was most of the time. And even when he wasn't drunk." She leaned against the back of the couch, her energy running out.

Frankie took a moment then looked at the pale, stricken faces of her past that sat at her brightly lit kitchen table. "My father found out about us…I'm not sure how. We were so careful." She sniffed, wiping her eyes once more. "But he…he convinced your parents and the parents of the rest of the kids that Fred had abused you. When I went to meet him, he'd left town…the news got to him before I did about it. He knew what was coming and his reputation had already been destroyed. No one was going to listen to him after that." She slumped down lower. "I…I've never seen him since. I left Springwood the same day and never looked back. So if you're looking to me for help with something…sorry. I've not got any for you."

"You…you didn't know…" Quentin said softly, barely a whisper in the now quiet room.

Nancy glanced at him, then quickly back to Frankie. There was a look of fear and pity on her face. It made that sickening feeling grow in Frankie's stomach to a nearly crippling level.

"I didn't know what?" Frankie asked in a shaking voice.

Nancy placed a thin hand on Quentin's. She turned to the older woman, meeting her eyes gravely. "Fred Krueger didn't leave town…" She said in a tired, resigned voice. "The parents found him…"

Frankie's face turned the color of chalk. Even before she heard the words escaping Nancy's pale lips she was shaking her head no.

"They were going to confront him. But things went wrong…"

Nancy's voice kept saying these things but Frankie's mind wasn't going to believe them. No…she would not believe this.

"He tried to get away, but they cornered him in a factory."

Burnt windows…the smell of smoke. Something bad had happened there. Frankie knew something bad had happened and she couldn't look inside for fear of what she'd find. And that's when she knew it was true…

"They tossed a lit bottle of gasoline in, trying to make him come outside."

Freddy…Freddy why did you leave me? But you didn't leave me…not by choice.

"Something happened and the place…it burned down."

He'd been alone…and scared…and they killed him. They didn't give him a chance. They didn't give her a chance. They'd burned him alive. Frankie slumped to the ground, clutching the photo in her hands looking into Fred's blue eyes staring back at her. Tears fell onto the picture as they rolled down her face. She couldn't even feel them, she was numb.

But she wasn't, not completely. Her chest felt like someone was standing on it. She couldn't breathe, and the horror of what they'd done to him kept repeating over and over in her head. They'd murdered him and she'd not even known. All these years and she'd never known. "Oh Fred..." she was broken, splintering even as she said his name.

"Please…please Miss Jones you have to help us." Quentin's voice came from far away. Frankie realized she had no idea how long she'd been on the floor staring at the photo, nor did she care.

"Get the fuck out of my house." She said in a deceptively calm voice. Frankie didn't even look at him. All she could see was the photo and Freddy's eyes, swirling blue. She'd never see them again other than the image in front of her.

"We need your help…you're the only person who maybe can help us." The boy's voice was near tears himself.

Frankie looked at Quentin then, and her own eyes were like pale blue lasers, slicing into him so keenly he instantly went quiet. "I don't give a fuck about you or Springwood. If you thought I would after what you just told me you are as stupid as you look. Get the fuck out of my house." She stood, legs trembling, but she stood up using the couch as support.

"You don't understand, we're going to die if you don't." He pleaded with her, getting up from his chair.

"You don't understand." She told him, barely hanging onto her self control. "I don't give a shit if you die. You and her, all those other little bastards…you helped kill him!" She took two steps towards Quentin, not sure if she would punch him or attack him or what. "You lied and that's what happened! You and that whole god damn town can rot! Maybe this is karma, ever think about that? Maybe this is justice."

"It's revenge." Nancy said softly, but it was enough to make Frankie pause and turn to look at her. She was still sitting at the table, that same expression on her face.

"What?" Frankie was nearly panting she was so angry; she bit the word out at the girl.

"You're right…it's justice. Its revenge for what they did. What we did." Nancy blinked, her red rimmed eyes looking up into Frankie's face resigned. "But you're without sin."

Frankie's brow furrowed at her. "What the hell are you saying?"

"You've not seen him have you?" Nancy asked her.

"Seen who?" Frankie shook her head. She wanted them gone so she could simply curl up somewhere and not feel. But instead she was having confusion dumped on top of the healthy dose of anger and outright pain these two had already given her.

"Freddy…" Nancy said his name in a whisper, as though afraid he'd appear if he heard it. "Freddy's killing us Frankie. He's killed them all but us."

Frankie found herself shaking her head again; as though that would help her block the insanity she was hearing. And it was clear that Nancy was nearly at the point of insanity. "You told me he's dead…how can he be killing you if he was dead?"

Quentin let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes. "He is dead…he's…he's attacking us in our dreams."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Frankie nearly screamed. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

Quentin gathered up some of the printouts and shoved them at her. "Look! All of these…all of the deaths had to do with someone being asleep or falling asleep. He's coming back in our dreams and he's killing us off one by one. Read it!"

Frankie glanced down at the first story, not even sure why she hadn't just called the police on the two of them yet. She wasn't the biggest fan of the police though, thanks to dear old dad. So instead she read the first story about a girl who died in a car accident, then she saw another about a boy who'd cut his own throat, another who died in a locked prison cell after he was arrested for the murder of his girlfriend which he denied doing. Frankie recognized every name there, could even match them to the faces in the class picture.

"You can't tell me there's no way it's a coincidence that every person in that class has died mysteriously." Quentin told her after a few quiet minutes as she read the list. She'd found herself back in her original seat at the kitchen table. And as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. It was far too bizarre, too centered and specific.

She tossed the printouts back on the table and gave Quentin a pointed glance. "Even if I gave a damn…a dead man can't kill you in your dreams."

"It's him…we've all seen him. Jesse, Dean, Chris…they all saw him and so have I." Quentin told her, tone laced with anxiety.

"I've seen him." Nancy said in her same grave voice.

Frankie sighed, glaring at both of them. "Even if you're nutty theory is right Fred wouldn't do this…no matter how much shit Springwood is responsible for. He didn't have it in him…not something like this."

Nancy arched one dark brow. "If it was him…if I could prove it. Would you help us to stop it?"

Frankie looked at her strangely. Would she help stop it? Or should she be cheering on whomever it was doing it? She glanced away, looking heavenward. The truth was, deep down…she did care. She remembered Nancy when she was five years old and painting flowers with Freddy, she remembered Quentin driving everyone crazy while pouring chocolate milk everywhere. And she remembered how much Freddy loved those kids. If, by some crazy bizarre chance it was Freddy doing this…wouldn't he want her to stop him? And how the hell was she supposed to do that. God, she was becoming as nuts as they were…

She looked back at Nancy who was waiting for an answer. Frankie nodded once. "Prove to me its him…go ahead…let's see you do it."

Nancy pursed her lips at the sarcasm dripping from Frankie's mouth. She reached into her jacket pocket. "Hold out your hand." She told her and Frankie did as instructed. The girl dropped something into her palm, something soft and light.

Frankie pulled her hand back and opened her fingers from around whatever it was. There in her palm was piece of red and green cable knit sweater, tattered edged and very familiar. It carried the scent of old flowers and smoke.