Disclaimers, ratings, name, etc can be found in prologue.

Author's Notes:

More warnings…

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/GORE

WARNING: SENSUALITY

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Chapter 3

It had started in a beautiful forest. It was like something out of a fairy tale - tall tress, rising as high as sky scrappers, some with thick trunks and others willow thin, their branches packed with leaves, some of which floated down lazily to the ground. The sun filtered down through the canopy above and birds chirped musically.

Then the air had grown a chill and in a flash it was night, the ground covered in a thick blanket of snow. This would have been beautiful too but suddenly the forest seemed more dense and foreboding and the cold was bone biting strong. Lissa trudged through the drift, arms crossed, shivering and then she'd heard a snapping sound behind her.

She made the mistake of turning to hear the source of the sound. She had been running ever since. It was hard to move through the powdery terrain but she had to keep going. She was too hysterical to scream anymore. It felt as if she had been running forever. She had to escape though. Had to get away.

Even though her eyes were blurred with tears, even though her skin was frozen, even though her lungs felt as if they'd explode she knew she could never stop running. Because if she did he would catch her. The man from the video, the one in the hat, with the razor fingers.

She knew now, innately, that this was Freddy.

And he had indeed come for her.

She stumbled in her footing now and then but still she moved with determined quickness. If she kept moving she would get away. She would find safety. She had to. The forest that had once been so lovely was now unforgiving, tree limbs whipping out at her flesh to tear at her clothes, to draw blood. Branches caught in her hair, trying to grab hold but she merely tugged out of their grasp, letting them take chunks of blonde hair.

Then she reached a true obstacle, a dilapidated but still formidable rusty barbwire fence. The strands of twisted metal were grouped close together, barbs not even an inch apart. The fence was too high to leap over but she saw one section where the wires parted just enough. She'd have to lift one strand up and climb through. It would be a tight squeeze but…

Gasping she grasped the strand that needed to be lifted higher. She cried out as the barbs dug deep into the flesh of her palms but she continued her work, wrenching it upwards. She put one leg through and had her body halfway out when suddenly she was tugged viciously backward by the material of her sweater.

She was sucked back into the darkness and several leafy branches rustled. A sharp scream filling the air. Several black birds burst from the top of the canopy into the night sky. There was another scream and then a loud, masculine grunt of pain and once more Lissa appeared at the fence.

Her nose was running and blood stained her clothes, but this did not stop her as she once again worked at the fence, squeezing her way through. Her back was bleeding liberally, a slash visible across her spine but it wasn't deep enough to kill her and certainly not deep enough to make her stop running.

The cold air bit at her wound, making it sting but she ignored it, sobbing as she saw a church ahead as well as a spotlight. Light! If she could only get in the light she felt she'd be safe, then through the light and into the church - she'd be saved! She just had to keep moving…

Her feet sunk deep into the frozen blanket of snow, puncturing deep as she made her way. She could hear a thrashing behind her, knew Freddy was recovering from her surprise attack. She had just bearly managed to hit him and wiggle out of his grasp and now he had regrouped. He was coming after her. She could hear his ragged breathing; she had to keep moving, had to make it…

Just as she reached the spotlight a teenage girl stepped out of thin air from behind its wooded post. Long dark hair covered her face and she wore a long, tattered white dress, the skin of her bare arms a ghastly shade, veins coursing visibly beneath. The girl's hair flew back and Lissa looked into her face.

A high pitched squeal of terror escaped her throat and dissolved into gurgling as her face began to melt, her whole body convulsing as her pupils liquefied into the white of her eyes and her skin began to disintegrate into a moldy green.

She collapsed at the girl's feet and the long dark hair fell back into place like a veil, covering what Lissa had just seen. The dark head bowed, looking at Lissa prone, dead form then rose to see Freddy charging through the snow up to her. The hair fell away again to show a fresh faced, pale teenager. Samara.

One corner of her mouth had lifted slightly, a glittering visible deep in her dark eyes as Freddy huffed and puffed his way to her. He saw Lissa dead at her feet and snarled, ungloved hand reaching out to take a hearty handful of the hair at the base of her scalp, "That one was mine!"

His mouth latched onto her jugular, biting and sucking hungrily, tongue wetting the flesh of her throat. Samara merely let out a sound of delighted pain, her hands clutching to his shoulders then moving back to grab hold of his sweater. She tugged hard; drawing his mouth away from her just so she could latched her lips over his.

They kissed one another ravenously. It appeared as if they were biting one another more than kissing, each fighting for control but eventually the heated lust cooled, fading away, as did the scenery around them. The forest, the snow, the church, even Lissa's body disappeared, a white blankness taking its place as the two kissed.

Samara drew away slightly, whispering into Freddy's mouth, "Let me."

She sank down and out of his grip, dissolving into nothingness at his feet. He caught his breath, blinking as the dreamscape changed and altered yet again. The ground beneath his feet was dark and brittle, cracked but a light shown up from beneath, through the cracks. Lava, perhaps?

A thunderous roar filled the sky as several strange creations jutted up from the ground, bizarre curls and twists, spirals, and these too were cracked but had light pouring out. It was like something Tim Burton or Henry Selick would have designed.

The sky above was filled with thick, cumulous clouds but they were see-through, showing a star filled sky and a white, pregnant full moon. Freddy's head tossed from side to side, grin in place. Not too bad. A bit girly for his tastes but considering he was the one who had taught Samara how to manipulate the dreamscape and she had invented something like this thanks only to what he himself had taught her, he could say it wasn't too bad.

After all, she had only learned quickly because he was such a good teacher.

And she certainly didn't lack style.

No where the hell was she?

"Samara!" He bellowed, his voice echoing. There was no answer.

He scowled, slightly pissed, "Samara! Where the fuck are you!"

Another echo and then he heard some strange noise, something akin to music as a voice asked in a dreamy, breathless tone, "Here I am."

The noise burst, falling into a thrumming beat as Samara appeared from behind one of her twisted, curled land sculptures. She was as frightening as she was beautiful. Her power pulsed and flowed around her in a variety of colors - red, orange, yellow, white...and she was still fresh faced, eyes completely dark and black but glittering again.

Freddy couldn't help but laugh. She was trying yet again to entice him. Ever since their first kiss, she'd been hungry for more. She was forevermore a student, always eager to learn. While losing Becca's living body had reverted her to her more emotionless self, some feelings remained.

And one of those feelings was desire. She wanted more than kisses from Krueger and he knew it. Hell, the first time he'd kissed her he'd almost taken her right there, his dick begging for a good, long hard fuck. But he'd backed off.

While it would have been good to take Samara, especially when she offered herself so willingly, he had restrained himself. Ever since meeting Samara he'd restrained himself at many things and while this experience was wholly new and uncharacteristic of him (as well as something he did not enjoy in the least) he continued to do so because if he had learned anything over his undead existence it was that patience paid off in the end.

Sure, he could take her when she offered herself. Hell, he could take her when she didn't offer herself, devil knew he loved when they struggled but no, he wanted to prolong things. And why? Because this was fun as fuck for him!

Since dying and becoming a dream demon, nothing had entertained him and filled his undead life and attention as much as dreams and killing his children, racking up his body count. Samara was the first thing that had come along that was different. And variety was still the spice, even when you were dead. Now when he wasn't killing, he had someone to occupy his time. To mess with.

And oh how he would! How he had been! He teased and tantalized better than she could ever hope. For while her attempts to entice him were indeed temping he was still the more experienced of the two in these affairs. Yes, she knew the mechanics of things but she had never done anything.

He had and he knew she was curious. Hungry. And he just loved that too much. Finally he had something over her. Though he did so carefully, just in the right proportion. In that first kiss, in sealing that union, they had agreed in most ways to be equals.

While they playfully fought for control neither asserted complete dominance over the other because it was pointless to try and do so. Things were at an even stalemate control wise and would remain so, of that he had no doubt. But what little thing he did have to dangle above her head he would.

And currently that was his knowledge of sex.

She floated over to him in all her horrifying glory and he licked his lips, chuckling, "Looking good."

She had all ready tried numerous forms to attract him. Her little girl form alive. Her little girl form dead and rotten. Her teenage form alive. Her teenage form dead and rotten. This form was entirely new, similar to how she had looked when she had killed him in the real world but even more elaborate - almost entirely supernatural in appearance.

She eased toward him, posture entirely suggestive and he merely shook his head, "That last one was mine."

"I'll give you the next one." She offered sweetly.

"Huh, I just bet you will. The soul?" He opened his gloved hand and Samara drew away. It was obvious she was shelving a sigh as her hair fell back into place to cover her face. Her supernatural spirit form disappeared as she reverted back to her normal teenage self, aware that he was once again not going to give her what she wanted.

She reached into her pocket and drew out a glowing orb, Lissa's soul, it squeaked and squawked as Freddy drew near it and sucked in a deep breath, chest puffing out as the orb floated up and landed over where his heart would have been had he one. The soul melted against him, glowing for a moment before sinking deep inside him.

Freddy's eyes closed and he looked quite blissful, like a junkie who had just received a hit. It was still amusing to Samara. Watching him absorb a soul. Sometimes he did so visibly and other times it was just taken in invisibly. But each time his light eyes seemed to spark just so.

Amusing, to think his eyes could ever spark.

But then, they certainly took on a light when he killed.

Freddy sighed, eyes narrowed as he was back to business, "Things're going pretty good, kid," his gloved hand ruffled the top of her hair roughly, razors once again taking their toll of dark strands, "'Freddy Takes Manhattan'. Who would have thought that would have took, huh?"

As was her way, Samara did not answer and just as Freddy was about to make another trademark, smart-ass remark he froze. While outwardly Samara showed no reaction she was surprised. She eased closer to him. He was solid. Stiff. It was as if he had been petrified.

Samara looked around and saw that the dreamscape she had created was gone. Her hair hid the action, but she did blink. How could her scape have disappeared so quickly? How could it have done so without her knowledge? Without her or Freddy changing it? Without her feeling it?

She looked at Freddy again but he was still. Bubbles floated through the air and Samara noted that the ground beneath her feet had changed into glossy, white marble. Columns of stone rose up out of the ground and above her head was an immaculate painted ceiling. A massive golden chandelier hung above and now rose petals joined the bubbles in the air, filtering about, floating down.

Samara's own dress had changed, becoming a ballgown, her hair drawn back and atop of head. She looked from side to side, face impassive when suddenly she found herself swept into someone's arms, dancing lazily. She looked at her partner.

It was a man. Tall, blonde, and elegant, but in essence everything about him was almost androgynous in nature, his cheekbones high and well defined, his lips glossy and his eyes…his eyes were impossible to describe, beautiful and cold, deep…

And something about him was so familiar, like she had met him before, long, long ago…

Classical strings of music filled her ears and still they moved about the dance floor, their gait wide spread. She could see Freddy out of the corner of her eye now and then. He had still not moved an inch and then the man before her spoke, grabbing her attention, "Hello Samara."

His voice was not of this earth and it went through her being like lightning rod being struck. She looked at him and he graced her with a smile, "Do you know who I am?"

She said nothing, face still blank.

"Were you even going to ask?"

Still nothing.

He looked wickedly pleased by her 'response', "Of course not. That's the way we made you. You don't remember me, but I came to you when you were alive and very, very young. Perhaps a reminder…"

His pale hand rose and cool fingertips ran along the side of her face. Samara's inner eye exploded with the visions she had been seeing for as long as she could remember. Horrible images flooded before her - things that most human beings could not withstand - violence, death, and pure evil.

As quickly as they came they left, his hand leaving her flesh to brush along her shoulder, pick at the material of her dress thoughtfully, "You see, I am the one who gave them to you. Or more accurately, I represent those who gave them to you. I didn't really come into play until much later, after I had healed, but that is another story."

Samara realized vaguely they had stopped dancing and her head was swimming from what he had shown her. She had had the visions continually and for so long that she now hardly noticed them - they were as regular to her as breathing. She had only been dizzy the first time they had appeared, when they had come to her…

"You're not lying." She whispered.

"No. I am not. But then you knew that. Do you want to know my name?"

Samara looked at him, then to Freddy. The man laughed, "Oh yes, him. Are you actually worried, Samara?"

She was once again silent but he didn't seem to notice or care, "He is fine, I assure you. Krueger is quite egotistical. He thinks he has complete control of this dreamscape, that no one has any power over him and in most ways this is true…very true. In fact it is straining for me to hold him as I am now but you see, once I had the control, the power…the power…"

The man shook his head again, "But that is also another story. I have been called many things Samara, held many names and titles but lately I have settled upon Nicodemus. Do you know the definition of Nicodemus?"

"Conqueror of the People." The words left her mouth before she could stop them. She didn't even know where they came from.

"Yes. Samara, I shall leave you to Mr. Krueger, as I know that is what you wish, but beware, there is more to him than meets the eye. And more to you."

Samara's face did not change but she was now full of questions. As if sensing it, Nicodemus pressed a finger to her lips, "Shh. Quiet. I'll see you. Promise."

With that he vanished as did the ballroom. Everything was as it was before he came, Freddy remarking dryly, "But then who would have thought…"

He stopped, frowning. He shifted from foot to foot and shot a glare at Samara, "What happened?"

Her mouth dropped open slightly but she didn't say anything. Freddy's eyes narrowed, "I felt something. On the dreamscape…did you."

It was more a statement than a question and Samara could tell by the deadly edge in his voice that this was one of those time she should most definitely answer. She shook her head. Freddy scowled again but seemed slightly elevated by her lie.

Like Nicodemus had said, Freddy was proud in the knowledge that he alone controlled the dreamscape and every facet of it. If Samara felt nothing and he did, well then that just meant he was more powerful than her at something.

And considering she had an array of powers in her arsenal, it was good for him to have that. He noticed that Lissa's blood still decorated his blades and he chuckled, "So, who's next?"