Part 2 of the Scream For Me series

Episode 6—Nevermore

Ghostface walked helplessly, trying to push past hysterical people as nicely as he could, so as not to disturb little Mikey Myers, who still thought they were playing a game. "Freddy?!" he cried out, trying to sound out above the mass of confusion that covered the bloody streets. "Freddy Krueger, where the hell are you?!"

Someone pushed into him, yelling wildly, "I'm telling you, it was Michael Myers! He came at us like a monster—I swear to God, tore everything apart!"

Ghostface frowned and trudged on, holding child Michael close. At last he heard a small whispering coming from behind him. "Pssst, Fuckface, over here!" He turned and was surprised to see Freddy peeking out of an abandoned, trashed alleyway. He hurried over to him, breathing hard. "What the hell happened here? Something about Michael? Where is he, where'd he go?"

Freddy's eyes were wide with a wild kind of anger as he howled, "What the fuck do you mean where is he?! He's been everywhere! You've been gone for days, Fuckface! At least a week!"

Ghostface shook his head, cradling Michael in his arms. "No, it's only been a few hours at the most, idiot."

"Well where the fuck have you been that time is so fucked-up?! 'Cause it's been a whole fuckin' week, dipshit!"

"I was in Hell." he explained, "Oh, and this-" he uncovered Michael's eyes and showed him to Freddy, "-this is kid-Michael apparently. I met him when me and Pinhead were in Hell together."

The other killer looked at him disbelievingly. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"No, no, just listen—I'm not lying. That portal you pushed me in, it sent me to Hell! It was crazy, Freddy! I found Pinhead and he was all stupid cause he'd lost his cyno—cino...minion things, so he went crazy and kept trying to tell me what to do, and we found Michael's kid-self, which is really his innocence, and-"

"And did you see Voorhees?"

Ghostface shut his mouth. He'd completely forgotten about Jason, honestly. Freddy let out an exasperated groan. "Listen Fuckface, whether or not that little brat really is kid-Myers or not, it doesn't matter. The only person that could ever keep Michael in line was Voorhees. We need him!"

"Sorry," he said, shrugging awkwardly. "Guess I dropped the ball."

Freddy let out an enraged howl and went to strangle Ghostface, but little Michael spoke up. He poked Freddy's side and asked innocently, "You're the crispy-man? I remember you. Do you know where the hockey-man is?"

"What the fuck is a hockey-man?" he spat before turning to Ghostface. "What the hell is he going on about?"

"Well he remembers us—mostly. I'm the ghost-man and you, apparently, are the crispy-man. Jason is the hockey-man." he picked Michael back up into his arms and held him close, away from Freddy's wrath, but mostly to keep he himself safe from getting strangled. "Oh, and by the way, Pinhead said hi, and he's going to kill you. He said that too."

"Pft. Whatever. Like I give a fuck what that prick has to say to me." and Freddy turned his attention towards the entrance of the dark alley. He watched as people ran around screaming and sobbing, mauling each other and tearing themselves apart. He sighed. This wasn't right. If anyone should be the Antichrist, it should be him. This was bullshit. He said to Ghostface, sounding aloof and distracted, "We should find Voorhees."

"Krueger there's no way we could find him now. It's hopeless. I think we should-"

"No!" he interrupted, "Don't say that fucking shit to me! 'I think'? Since when have you ever thought, Fuckface? Maybe if you'd spent half your useless fucking life thinking then we wouldn't be in this shit to begin with!"

"Well I think that you are crispy!" Ghostface howled, releasing his hold on little Michael. As they argued the small, overwhelmed child began to run away. He darted to fro, dodging past people and other lost, now orphaned children. He didn't know what was happening, but he did know that it was interesting, and the small voices in his head—voices that would become louder with time, and persuade him to slaughter every living thing—encouraged him to go forth into the mass of confusion. There was adventure to be had, he was sure.

As he ran around, smiling at the chaos, he found his way back from the pit that the ghost-man had helped him climb out of. He glanced over his shoulder, to make sure that nobody was watching him, and began throwing rocks in the huge crater. He only stopped when the ground began to shake; he swallowed and backed away a little. Everyone in the city ceased their yelling and turned their attention to the massive hole in the ground.

A smelly, red mist erupted from the crater with a hiss and a dark figure crawled out of the ground. He was carrying something, dragging a limp figure behind him. Young Michael, too afraid to scream, simply hurried back and hid among the crowd, hoping that the dark figure hadn't caught a glimpse of him. He sniveled and cried as he saw Satan emerge and let out a mighty roar.

"This world is mine!" he faced the people with a dastardly grin on his face, his sharp teeth glistening red in the dying sunlight. "My people," he said, "come to me."

Deeper in the small city, Michael had erected a throne out of the dead bodies of his victims and. He'd sent an army of demons to do the same to the rest of the world and send any other slashers that might stand against him to Hell. So, finally, he was content to plop haphazardly onto his throne. A drove of loyal, stupid people had agreed to serve him on the condition that they were kept safe; he'd agreed to this, but only on one condition.

A Starbucks, Michael thought, pointing to one of the servants. I demand that there be a royal, unholy Starbucks on every block.

"But sir," he said, "do we really need that much coffee?"

Yes! He thought angrily, I do! I'm a very tired person, so get off your lazy ass and go build me a goddamn Starbucks!

The man wandered off, grumbling under his breath. Michael sighed in content. Everything is perfect, exactly how I've always wanted; everyone listening to me, following my every order. All of my whims attended to...he looked down, his dark, almost black eyes shining brightly. Something almost human in him returned, a fragment of his old soul as he remembered the friends he'd lost and probably had murdered. Something's missing...

But this lonesomeness only lasted a mere moment before he was kicking at the skull of one of the fallen non-believers that made up his throne. Yeah, this is great. I ended the world. Nothing could ruin this.

Just as he thought this he heard a horrible, ear-splitting scream of pure terror. It sounded like it came from a few streets away, and it was followed by a chorus of horror-stricken howls and yells. Michael frowned under his mask and arched a brow. That didn't go along with the other screams he'd been hearing all day; these were last-breath screams. These were screams that a dying man let out an instant before he was swallowed up into Hell. Michael jumped up and pointed to one of his servants.

You, slave, go see where that scream came from.

"Yes, sir." he scrambled off. A few minutes later his voice was heard, howling an begging for mercy. This made Michael begin his messy descent down his pile of dead bodies and onto the pavement below. Of course this ended in failure as he tripped and fell flat on his unholy, Antichrist face, but that's okay. Because at this point he kind of deserves it.

Anyway, when he reached the ground and managed to get to walk a few streets down, he was surprised to see that there was a circle of people crowding around a hole in the ground. He pushed his way angrily into the middle. There stood Lucifer, in one hand brandishing a chain that was tied around the neck of a limp body. Michael's heart instantly stopped. His eyes grew wide as he thought weakly, J-Jason...?

Satan turned to him. He'd been busy ushering hoards of people into the huge pit. His smile grew when he saw his brainwashed Antichrist. "Ah, Michael. Isn't this what you asked me for? What you wanted all along? You've been dreaming about it for years, haven't you? Of finally earning respect, and loyalty, and-"

"Hockey-man!" came a high-pitched cry. Michael and the Devil turned to see a small child pushing his way feebly into the center of the circle. Michael scratched his unruly brown hair; where did he know that kid from? He stared at him long and hard, wracking his brain.

I know you, don't I? But...how?

The child was kneeling by Jason, shaking him desperately. "Please, please wake up, hockey-man...please..."

Two other voices arose from the crowd of confused people; an annoying nasally one, and one full of eternal, useless malice. "Hey, I told you to keep an eye on the little fuck. Now look, he lead us right to the middle of a goddamn-"

"Well I thought he could stand in one place for more than two seconds!"

"You stupid fuck."

Freddy and Ghostface pushed their way to the center of the circle. When they saw where the kid had lead them to—face-to-face with Michael—they froze in their tracks. After a moment of hesitation, Ghostface lurched forward to rescue kid-Michael, but Freddy held him back. "No! Just let them work it out!"

They watched as Michael stood there, his shoulders slumped, his thin figure breathing hard. His mind was breaking into fragments, little sharp pieces that were killing the spell that Satan had put him under, and it was killing him. All at once he fell to his knees and looked around him. What had he done? Created this mess? The world was spinning, exposing to him the filthy truth of the trouble he'd started. He'd abandoned his friends, the people who'd kept him safe for the past few years. He'd lost the last bit of innocence he'd had, uselessly cast it away and left it in Hell with Lucifer...he'd killed his best friend.

Lucifer seemed to sense the inner turmoil that his brainwashed servant was going through. He placed a hand on Myers' shoulder and said, "This is what you asked me for." behind him Jason stirred a little, rattling the chain around his neck. Kid-Myers let out a relieved sob and wrapped his hands around the hulking killer. The Devil saw this and sneered. "Disgusting—Michael, you know what to do. Kill him."

Ghostface let out a sound of protest, but was silenced by Freddy. "You stupid fuck," Krueger whispered, holding him back, "we can't protect him forever—he has to figure this out his own goddamn self!"

"But what if he does the wrong thing?!" Ghostface whispered, nearly sobbing at his own uselessness. "What if he chooses wrong and kills his innocence?!"

Freddy sighed and removed his hat. He ran a hand along his burnt scalp and said after a moment of careful thought, "Well, Fuckface, that's what you have to let kids do. You have to let them make their own dumbass mistakes."

They were both silent as they watched Michael turn from Lucifer to the child embodiment of his old self. The child was clinging to Jason desperately. "Hockey-man, he's going to kill me!" he cried, shaking Jason hard. "The boogeyman's going to kill me!"

The older killer opened his eyes at last. He blinked a few times, trying to banish the tears of pain that were there, and with much difficulty he sat up. Although he had vague memories of being chained, he didn't remember being dragged up out of Hell to this place. He glanced at the crowds of people around him. They stared at him with fear in their eyes; his gaze then turned to Michael.

Myers, He thought, hugging the child to his chest closely. you're going to kill me; going to kill yourself?

NO! Shut up! Michael thought, gripping his hair and looking down. His mind was shattering again, cutting into his ego like shards of glass. The voices in his head went crazy, screamed for him to do something. Kill, kill, kill. If you do, it'll all end. It'll all be total darkness...alone. Alone forever, without Jason or even Fuckface or Freddy... I want to be alone! He thought suddenly, taking out his large knife. Want to be alone forever!

Jason took a ragged breath and stood up; Lucifer loosened his grip on the chain that bound him slightly, smiling. He was so sure that things would go his way. Michael Myers put that damn knife down for once in your life and think. The young Michael hid under Jason's shirt, shaking.

"I-Is he going to kill us, hockey-man?"

Michael took a step forward, his eyes darkened. He lunged at Jason, his knife thirsting for blood. Clumsily Voorhees stepped back, narrowly avoiding the attack, and tried to pry the child off of him. He knelt down in front of little Michael and thought, patting his head, Run away now, okay? I'll play with you later.

"N-No, I can't run away!" he sniffled. "I can't leave you, hockey-man, not again."

But- Just as he began to think this, Michael's knife sunk deep into Jason's shoulder. He reeled back in pain, pushing the grown-up Myers away from him roughly. What the fuck is wrong with you?! You do NOT stab me, Myers! I don't give a fuck how 'troubled' you are, how fucked up and broken your goddamn stupid brain is! I know who you are, and the real Michael Myers would never stab me!

Michael lunged at Jason again, this time faster, his eyes deadened. Jason caught his arm and held it away. The well-worn, older killer's eyes shined with anger as he shook the younger slasher that had once been his friend. Don't make me brake your arm. Hell, I'll rip it off if I have to, just snap the fuck out of it!

You don't know me. Myers thought dully. His child-self stared at him with wide eyes. As the two killers struggled, the child approached them. He tugged on Michael's jumpsuit, his eyes teary. Jason tried to keep him away, but failed.

"Sir, what are you doing? Why are you trying to hurt everybody? They didn't even hurt you back."

Michael roughly pushed Jason away; the hulking killer fell hard onto the ground, panting. His body was already weakened, he could barley stand up. His time in Hell hadn't been kind to him; though Jason showed little outward signs of damage, aside from a few cuts and bruises, his insides were still screaming and burning with each little move he made. Whether or not he survived his best friend's insane onslaught, he knew it wouldn't affect his fortune much in the long run; he was ready to give up. His body hurt too much to even think about living.

Lucifer laughed, thinking he'd broken him. "Are you sorry yet, Voorhees?"

Jason gasped as the Devil reminded him of something; what had he said in Hell? What was that all mighty, do-gooder speech he'd given that had earned him so much torture? I'd do it again, Myers!

Huh? Michael turned to him, a brow raised under his thick rubber mask. What did you just say?

I-I'd do it again for you, Michael. I'd do it all again, a hundred times over.

Myers turned to the Devil. What the hell is he going on about?

Lucifer panicked and shrugged. He motioned to the child and said hurriedly, "Who can tell? Just hurry up and kill the child so we can end the world already!"

You didn't have to push me in! Jason thought above the Devil's insistent droning. Michael slowly lowered his knife and walked over to the other killer. He knelt down by Jason and his eyes grew weary.

What are you talking about, idiot?

You knew deep down that if you would've just asked me to give up my soul so you could come home, I would've. When no response came, Jason persisted. I wouldn't have even thought twice, Mike. I would've done it for you, and you knew it, didn't you?

Michael's eyes filled with tears. Suddenly he felt his stomach growing cold; his heart tore in half as he thought with difficulty, Y-Yes...

And guess what.

What?

Behind them both kid-Michael gradually began to inch closer to his adult self; he slowly began to fade into his future self until he was nothing but a mere shadow. Then he was gone, back into his old self, and just like that Michael's eyes at last gained their old childish innocence. He felt himself growing weak, and had to fall on his knees beside his old best friend.

Jason sat up and managed to pull the younger killer into a tight embrace. Myers resisted only for a moment before melting into it. I'd do it all again, you stupid fucking idiot. I'd do it all again for you, 'cause you're not like this. You're not fucked like we are. You're not a Ghostface, not a Freddy, and definatley not a me—not a Jason. You're the best fucking person I know, Michael Myers, and even if you stab the hell out of me, I'm not letting you go.

Michael didn't think about stabbing him, though, just began sobbing. He lost himself and fell on the ground next to Jason; he curled up into a ball and gripped his head. Jason thoughtlessly pulled him into his lap, began stroking his hair. It's okay, you idiot, he thought, breathing raggedly. He tasted blood, felt his heartbeat slowing, but it didn't matter. Don't be sad, don't cry. He knew he only had a few more minutes before he would be gone, and he had to make them count.

B-But I did baaaaadddd! Michael woefully thought.

A ways away Ghostface let out a loud curse. "Are you fucking kidding me?! I've been waiting years for so much as a glance from him, but Voorhees gets this?! He's laying in his Goddamn lap...no fucking fair..."

He was silenced by Lucifer. Upset that his servant had failed him, he angrily yanked hard on the chain that Voorhees was attached to, making him gasp and grip his neck desperately as he was dragged away from his best friend. Michael looked up shakily. Let him go.

"Hell no! His soul is mine! Sure, maybe the world won't end tonight, but I'll have the soul of a Voorhees as my prize."

"Fuck no you won't!" Freddy howled, jumping forth from the crowd. He lunged at Satan and began stabbing him repeatedly with his claws. "That big, stupid Hockeypuck's soul is mine!"

Ghostface, feeling left out, joined the fray and started cutting the Devil with his own knife. "And nobody takes away my Michael's soul but me!"

Surprised by the sudden onslaught, Satan released the chain. Jason fell to the ground with a thud and let out a pained groan. Michael went to crawl over to him, but hesitated; he frowned. Hey, guys?

"Kind of busy here, stupid fuck!" Freddy spat.

Is the ground shaking?

Just as he thought this the ground under his hands crumbled—the pit was collapsing in on itself. Lucifer let out a howl and stomped his feet on the ground, ensuring that everyone trapped near the pit with him was falling as well. In an instant Freddy let out a huge, "Fuck the rest of you!" and nimbly jumped off Lucifer's shoulders and darted with little difficulty into the surrounding crowd. Ghostface clumsily tried to drag Michael along with him, but Myers pulled away and began crawling over to Jason. As the Devil went tumbling back into the pit, the younger killer managed to grab his friend's grimy hand.

Jason, he thought as the ground cracked beneath him, you have to get up and move!

The other killer opened his eyes a little; they were full of hopeless sadness. Mike, I'm done, okay? Just go and get out of here. Go find Freddy and Ghostface and-

Fuck no! He thought, tugging hard on Jason's arm. I'm not leaving! All that shit doesn't mean a damn thing unless you're there!

Jason attempted to get up, but just ended up on his hands and knees, breathing painfully. Michael, go! Now!

Fuck you! Myers thought right back, taking both of Jason's hands and trying to drag him. I can't leave without you! Don't give up, you stupid fuck! Get up and move! The earth crumbled beneath his shoe, causing him to fall backwards. It was then that he came to the realization that he couldn't do it. He began to cry as Jason roughly pushed him away.

G-get away from me, Mike.

Michael stared at him hopelessly. "Fuck no he won't leave you, you Hockeypuck!" Freddy said, popping up next to Myers. He took Jason's arm and Ghostface took the other. Together they drug themselves away form the collapsing pit just as it totally fell into a pile of rubble and dust. The crowd around them cheered madly, but Jason didn't get up. He barley moved. His chest just rose and fell feebly.

Off to his left Ghostface and Freddy were celebrating their victory. "Yeah! I told you we could do it, you stupid ass!" Freddy cheered, jumping around wildly.

"I knew we could! We're too fucking awesome to not save the day!" Ghostface howled happily. It was then that something unprecedented happened. In the midst of all the excitement and cheering, he pulled Freddy into a hug. The other talking killer stood there for a moment, his eyes wide and angry, but was too stunned to do anything. The whole world stopped for that one second in time as the two stood together. Of course, the moment was quickly ruined when Freddy stabbed Ghostface repeatedly in the abdomen and kicked him in the groin.

"Don't you ever try that again, do you understand me, you sick, stupid fuck?!" he demanded, glaring down at his friend. Ghostface let out a wheeze and cupped his crotch protectively. A ways away Michael was crawling over to Jason, his eyes glowing with happiness.

Hey, did you see that? Ghostface hugged Freddy.

Y-Yeah, Mike. I saw. Jason thought, his eyes closing for a long moment. He coughed up a little blood through the mouth holes of his hockey mask and gasped. Michael saw this and his eyes grew wide with concern.

J-Jason?

When no response came, Michael shook his friend violently. Tears began leaking out of the corners of his mask as he realized that all was not yet well. No, this wasn't right. He should've fixed everything. His best friend shouldn't have to once again pay for his mistakes. Jason, no! What the Hell are you doing! You're not supposed to die! You can't die, we saved you! I didn't give up on you, I reunited with my innocence! Everything's okay again!

Michael, listen, Jason thought, placing a careful hand on Myers' shoulder. He held him firmly. I've spent the greater part of the past few years lying to you, shielding you from the shitty truth of the world. But right now, I'm not going to do that, understand? I'm going to be honest with you.

...Jason...don't...

Jason's eyes grew sad as he thought bluntly, I'm going to need you to be an adult now, okay? I'm going to need you to act your age, just for this once. Be mature and smart—I know you're smart deep down—and listen. I can't be here forever.

Yes! He insisted, Yes you can!

Freddy heard this desperate thought and glanced back over to where Jason and Michael had isolated themselves. A look of worry flashed across his face. He nudged Ghostface—who was still wheezing in pain—with his shoe and helped him up. Together they silently wandered over to where Jason laid, broken and very beaten, in a crumpled heap.

Michael Myers, you're the best killer a guy could know.

Jason! Stop this, damn it! Fucking shut your damn mouth! Michael was crying so hard that he had to lay his head on Jason's chest; the older killer's heartbeat was slow, fading. He began to shake as the hand that Voorhees had placed on his shoulder traveled down and stroked his back.

Mike...please... Jason pulled Michael close to him and pressed his mask close to his.

Don't, Jason...don't leave...

Love you, man. Jason thought as his grip on Michael slackened and he closed his eyes. Michael shook his head. He took Jason's hand and squeezed it.

Jason?! JASON? JASON, WAKE THE FUCK UP! WAKE UP YOU GODDAMN RETARD!

It was then that something very unexpected happened. Ghostface placed his hand on Michael's shoulder. Nobody said anything as the shortest—and usually the most annoying—killer in the group knelt down by the killer he'd pursued for years, and gave him a hug. Freddy swallowed. No, he wasn't crying. He wasn't even tearing up, but his heart felt weird. He almost felt—what the fuck was this? Is this what people called sadness?Wordlessly he sat down beside the other two embracing killers and lowered his hat over his eyes. He observed his old enemy, Jason Voorhees, and remembered all the spats they'd had over the years. He remembered how invincible he'd once thought they all were. What a joke now. Of course they could pass on. They could only take so much before...

"Damn idiot," Freddy whispered to himself, shaking his head.

They could only take so much before they just gave up.

"Jason? Wake up for mommy now, sweetie."

Huh? Jason's eyes popped open. He looked around wildly. I'm dead? His mother stood in front of him as healthy as ever. She reached out and pulled her son into a bone-crushing hug. Hesitantly Jason hugged her back; their last encounter was still fresh in his mind. Mom where am I? Aren't you mad at me?

She laughed and patted his head affectionately. "Oh, Jason, how silly. Of course I'm not mad at you." she looked at him seriously and added, "Sweetie, you're not a little boy anymore. I'm sorry I gave you and your little friends so much trouble. Now look at you—you're shirt is ripped, your a mess, and you're dead."

He lowered his head and looked at his tattered clothes. I had to die, mom. It was the only way I could save them. The Devil would've just kept attacking Michael if I hadn't just given up like that...and besides, living hurts too much. If I'm dead my best friend can't stab me, and-

"Now Jason, you know that your mother's always here to listen to you," Mrs. Voorhees began, "but now I can't stand to hear any more of your whining!"

Jason's eyes grew wide. What world was this?! His mother was actually disciplining him? Mommy...you're being mean...

She placed a firm, yet supportive hand on her son's shoulder and scolded, "Now Jason, your mommy loves you very much, but this 'hopeless' routine you've been doing all these years isn't going to get you any further in life!"

But mom, it IS hopeless. Look at me—look at us! We're dead!

Mrs. Voorhees kissed her son's forehead—though it was actually his grimy, disgusting hockey mask she kissed—and shook her head. "No, honey. That's what I've been trying to tell you for years! It's never hopeless. Here-" she took Jason's hand and helped to pull him up. "Now, you said that this big bully Lucifer won't leave you and your little friends alone unless he has the soul of a Voorhees, didn't you?"

Uh...I guess.

"Well then, here." she put her small hand on her son's heart and pushed him away. "Go back and play with your friends. Tell little Mikey I said hi."

This only confused him even more. He scratched his head cluelessly and thought, What are you talking about? I'm dead. And suddenly he understood. His eyes grew wide and he shook his head. No, he couldn't let his mother fix this problem for him too—she'd spent her whole life trying to give him dignity and fix his fucked-up life. Now that he'd royally screwed up, she was willing to give her soul for his? Jason thought desperately, No, mom, you seriously can't do this!

"Now Jason, don't tell your mommy what to do!" she said firmly. "I've already made up my mind! Go and have fun. Live, for God's sake, Jason. But please, please don't go around like before, slumping your shoulders and looking so miserable." she took his hand and squeezed it before stepping back into a gathering red mist. Everything was becoming hazy for him. Jason desperately reached out, tried to hold on to her.

No! Mom, I'm sorry I'm such a fuck-up! Please don't do this!

"Oh Jason, don't worry. I'll be fine." and as he fell back, back, back and lost sight of the silhouette of his loving mother, he heard her say, "Be safe, Jason."

Jason let out a loud gasp and sat up, his eyes wide. He looked around. Where was he? Was he dreaming? Around him there stood three other killers. He swallowed and thought ruefully, Am I alive?

There was a moment of intense silence before Michael let out a loud cry and collapsed into his best friend's arms, hugging him close. I thought you were dead, you asshole!

I did too, I guess. he was so terribly confused and very depressed. Above him Freddy stood, his hat lowered to cover his eyes. Jason could tell that he was smiling though.

"You fucking Hockeypuck. What the fuck did you think you were doing, dying like that?" and Krueger punched his shoulder roughly. Jason reeled back and glared at him.

Ow! Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you? I just rise up from the dead like that, and you punch me!

Ghostface sniffled, trying not to lose himself, but this proved futile. He let out a loud, obnoxious sob and dramatically fell into Jason's lap. "Oh, oh God—J-J-Jasonnnnn!" snot dribbled out of the nose-holes of his mask and onto the bigger killer's pants. Jason tried to sweep him out of his lap, disgusted.

Really? Fuckface, you're getting snot all over me.

Ghostface clung to him tighter, though, blubbering, "You were dead—now you're not!"

Yes, that is a general summary of what happened.

"And I was lost without you!"

Jason narrowed his eyes at the small killer and heaved a huge sigh. What the hell are you talking about? I've only been gone for, like, five minutes at the most.

Ghostface took him by his shoulders and shook him roughly, "I can't live without youuuuuuu!"

Michael frowned under his mask at this. He tapped Ghostface's shoulder, trying to get his attention. Hey, I think you're getting Voorhees confused with me. I'm the one you can't live without, remember?

Ghostface swatted away his hand and hugged Jason's hulking frame close. "I love you!"

Freddy let out a huge gagging sound and laughed. "Ugh—Fuckface loves Voorhees, now?! What the hell?!"

Jason wouldn't put up with this foolishness any longer, though. He stood up to his full height, attempting to pry the smaller killer off of him. Don't even start with that shit—I don't love any of you. The only reason I came back is because being dead is boring.

Michael backed away as he said this, seeming hurt. Voorhees...?

Jason ignored him and threw a still sobbing Ghostface onto the ground unceremoniously. This only made the smaller killer look up at him and say affectionately, "Jason is so huge—and strong! He beat up the Devil, I bet."

I did not.

"Then how are you back here, with us?"

Jason grew quiet and turned away. At last he thought sadly, I don't want to talk about it. He thought back to his mother, to all the years they'd spent together. She'd been the only person in his long life to put herself after him. Now he was back here, with these idiots, and everything would be the same. He'd still be in the front lines, risking his life for their stupid choices. His eyes grew teary as he thought to himself, Sorry, mom. Sorry I can't do better for you.

Just as he thought this, he felt someone grab his hand. Afraid that it was Ghostface, he ignored it. Jason, are you okay? You're not like yourself—you should be teaching us a lesson, stuff like 'And what did we learn?' or something like that.

Jason sighed. He turned to Michael and squeezed his hand. I just...I don't feel like it, okay? Now go run along and do your usual stuff. You know, get in life-threatening trouble and then come and find me to come bail you out.

But—

Myers, my mom is dead. My mom is rotting in Hell and it's all my fault.

Michael stared up at him in his normal, childishly confused way and frowned under his mask. I don't get it.

Jason sighed. That's nothing new, is it? Listen, after all this, after having you throw me into a Lake of Fire, and-

Sorry about that, by the way.

-and having you stab me and beat me within an inch of my fucking life, I just really don't want to be here.

But...Michael's eyes grew bright with tears. He went to hug Jason, but the hulking killer turned away, shaking his head.

You don't get it. Being there, in Hell, finally getting what's been coming to me for all the years I've spent hurting people...I didn't regret it. And I really felt okay with leaving all you guys here and going back. It's where I belong, but now I just...he looked back over to where Freddy was trying to punish Ghostface for his outlandish displays of affection. You guys haven't changed. I don't want to go back to how things used to be, don't you get it?!

Michael seemed perplexed and hurt by his best friend's thoughts. No, I don't get it. We're all here safe, back together. Nothing else matters, right?

Of course nothing else matters to you, Myers! Jason suddenly became furious. Why couldn't anyone else see the truth as he did? Why was everyone so damn stupid and blind? You're too selfish to see anything other than yourself and whatever the fuck you want! You wanted me alive, so here I am, just as miserable and fucked up as ever! Congradu-fucking-lations, I'm miserable, but you're happy! Fuckface is happy, Krueger is...whatever Krueger is, he doesn't have people-emotions so it doesn't matter! What the fuck does it matter if I was ready to die?! What the hell does it matter if I was sick of putting myself out there for all you miserable fucks—yeah, I died, but it was my Goddamn choice to make! I was the one who chose to give up, but nobody can just let me be, can they?

Ghostface and Freddy heard the other killer's thoughts and glanced over at him. Michael was hugging himself, trying clearly not to cry, but he didn't back down. I'm not selfish, Jason. I just love yo-

Don't you EVER say that again, you asshole! You didn't love me a few hours ago when you were stabbing me, did you? You didn't love me when I came between something you wanted. It's always like that with all of you and I'm done. Jason began walking away, disappearing into the rubble of the city. Michael went to run after him, but Freddy caught him and yanked him back.

"Don't, Myers."

But..but he called me selfish!

Freddy laughed, "Fuck yes you are! You're a self-centered little piss-ant kid! I don't blame the asshole for wanting nothing else to do with us! Hell, I don't even want anything else to do with us!"

Ghostface pulled Michael over to him and locked him in his arms in an attempt to keep him from going after Voorhees. "Mike," he began, "he just needs some time..."

Don't call me that and don't say that stupid shit! Michael looked down as tears began to run down his mask. It's never going to be the same, is it? He's never going to come back...

Both Freddy and Ghostface just glanced at each other and said nothing. Nobody dared to say the truth. Nobody dared to admit that everything that Jason had thought had been true. Nobody dared to admit that he was right, that things really would never the the same.

**A/N**

Just realized this story had 96 reviews. Thanks to all of you. I appreciate it so much. Also, if you still have interest in this story and want it to continue, you should let me know. If you hate it, are tired of hearing about it, and want it to stop, go ahead and let me know that too. If you guys want me to keep going I will. If not, then it is what it is. Peace and love and stuff. Thanks. Oh, and if you're interested in keeping the series going, the next episode I planned will be much less dark and a lot funnier.