Chapter 3

Martin sat next to the fire, with his mother and father, his original parents, sitting near. Martin gazed about him in panic, recognizing the scene. Something bad was about to happen, he was sure of it. But what? Martin felt strange and soon realized why. Instead of the four year old he was expecting, he was a sixteen year old teen.

His father sat, silently playing his guitar. No sound emanated from either it, nor his father's mouth. His mother looked at him and smiled, but instead of the warm, loving smile he'd grown to miss so terribly, it was a cold, cruel smile, like someone holding a dark secret.

Then, as before a voice called from the surrounding woods. But this voice was different as well.

"Awwww, what heartwarming scene." the gravely voice called. Then, the fire flared up, and out of it strode the ugliest man Martin had ever seen. His face was severely burned, flesh and skin hanging from it in some places. His teeth were blackened and yellowed with age. But his eyes sparkled with cruel and sadistic glee. On his head he wore a rumpled old fedora, and he wore a long black overcoat over a red and green striped sweater. On his right hand, he wore a glove with long razor sharp knives attached to the fingers. He flexed his hand and the knives rang.

"Hiya Marty!" the man said. "Ooooops! Silly me! There's still some of your original childhood trauma to play out. Now let's see..." The man turned towards Martin's parents, still complacently sitting by the fire.

"No," Martin said softly. "Mom! Dad! Run!"

"Who was it that bought it first Marty?" the man called over his shoulder. "Was it Mommy?" He drew back his hand, preparing to strike.

"No!" Martin screamed, leaping to his feet. He started to charge the man, maybe push him into the fire, but rotting hands burst from the ground, grabbing his ankles. Martin fought to free himself, his blood running cold with terror. "No!"

"No?" the man grinned. "Well then it must have been Daddy!" With one quick swipe, he ripped Martin's father's face off. Insanely, only then did the scene come to life.

Martin's mother began to scream in terror, as the man grabbed her by the throat. But the worst part was that his father didn't fall. He sat and sang, his voice loud and clear, a grotesque parody of one of Martin's favorite songs. "Hang down your head Martin Dooley! Hang down your head in shame! Hang down your head Martin Dooley! Wussy you let your parents die!"

"Stop it!" Martin screamed. Tears streaming from his eyes he struggled harder against the hands that held him but to no avail.

"Now it's Mommy's turn to play!" the man, who Martin suddenly knew was called Fred Krueger yelled. He shoved his claws into his mother's neck, her screams choking off into a gurgle, blood pouring from her mouth. Then Freddy slashed open her stomach, and with a wet splat, her intestines fell to the ground. To Martin's horror, they writhed like snakes.

His father, his face nothing more than bone, one eye hanging from the socket rose, and began to come towards him. Freddy ripped off his mother's head and handed it to her. She held it above her neck, and joined his father. The hands released Martin, and he began to back away.

"You let us die you little wussy punk!" his father yelled.

"No!" Martin cried. "There was nothing I could do!"

"All you had to do was set the thing on fire!" his mother's head accused. "But all you could do was worry about your worthless wussy, selfish hide! If not for you we wouldn't even have been there! It was your idea to go camping!"

"I'm sorry," Martin sobbed. "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry..."

"You're even too pathetic to tell that geeky bitch Willow how you feel!" his father yelled.

"You're too busy thinking about yourself to notice how Slutty Amy looks at you!" his mother screamed.

His tormentors burst into flames, and pointed accusing fingers at him.

"It's your fault you worthless sack of shit!" they said simultaneously.

"No!" Martin screamed again. But this time, his voice held power. His parents were blown apart as if they had been hit by a blast wave. He stood, shocked at what he had done, but he did not have long to ponder it. A burnt hand grabbed his shoulder, lifting him from the ground. "Now that those two assholes are out of the way," Freddy said. "You and I can get down to business." He flung Martin to the ground, hard.

Martin landed next to the fire, his head bounced of the ground, adding to the pain of the fall. Freddy placed one booted foot on Martins chest, shoving and grinding. Martin gazed blearily up at the man who he knew now would kill him. Freddy's arm was raised, for the killing blow. Martin felt a sort of calm descend upon him. Until he heard Freddy's next words.

"And after you, I'm gonna kill all your friends." Freddy said. "Amy, Sylvia, Joan, Derk, Willow, Xander, Buffy, all of em."

Martin's terror rose again, cutting through the haze. He knew that he must not die, he must warn the others. He thrust his arm into the fire just as Freddy's claws descended. Martin felt the claws bite into his shoulder just as the burning in his arm woke him up. He also heard Freddy's parting shot; "Don't tell anyone kid!"

Martin thrashed awake, to find himself safe in his room. He vaguely remembered screaming as he woke, but now he laughed. "It was a dream!" he thought. "It was only a dream!" Then, two intense pains assured him otherwise. His right arm was forming a lovely second degree burn, and his left shoulder was bleeding. Whatever had happened, it had not been, just a dream.

There was a frantic knocking at his bedroom door. For a moment he panicked, thinking that maybe Freddy had somehow followed him.

"Martin?" Ms. Skorse called through the door. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah mom." he said shakily. "Yeah I'm okay." Silently he thought; No I'm not. I'm a long way from okay. I've got a homicidal maniac trying to kill me in my dreams and he's perfectly capable of doing so.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I thought I heard you scream."

"S'okay." he assured her. "Just a bad dream is all."

"Okay, if you're sure." He heard her footfalls echo down the hallway towards her room.

He hated lying to her. Julie Skorse had been his adoptive mother since he was five years old, and had done her best to give him all the love his real mother had and more. But what was he supposed to say? Sorry mom I'm just a bit upset because the next time I or any of my friends go to sleep we may not wake up?

He went to the door and peeked out. Her door was shut so he went to the bathroom and began administering first aid to his wounds. The cut in his shoulder was not deep, he'd woken just in time. He'd learned first aid in sixth grade so he was certain he'd be okay. If he could just stay awake.

He glanced in the mirror, remembering why the song Tom Dooley had been a favorite of his. Before he had been Martin Skorse, he had been Martin Dooley.

The first aid done, he sat down to think his situation through. "Okay," he said to himself, "I've got some sort of evil spirit invading my dreams. He says he can enter my friends' dreams too. Now he may have just said that to frighten me, but can I take that chance? No." He sat and pondered what to do.

First was to make sure that he didn't fall asleep. For awhile that would be easy enough, coffee, other caffeine. Eventually though, he knew he would have to turn to something stronger. "Okay," he thought. "If he can go after my friends in their dreams, than they need to be told." He knew that the majority of them would think he was nuts, but he had to try. But there were at least four who would believe him. And he decided to call them first. Namely, Giles. Giles was the occult expert, he'd be the most likely to be able to figure out a way to fight this thing.

He headed back to his room noting, to his relief, that he was now wide awake. He closed his door, and turning on the light, picked up the phone. He had Giles' number on speed dial.

The phone rang several times before he heard a tired voice answer.

"Hello?" Giles said.

"Giles hey," Martin said, "It's Martin Skorse."

"Of course," Giles said, "No one else would call me at this hour. What is it?"

"Look I-" Martin struggled, but could not continue his sentence. "I...aaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeee..."

"Martin," Giles said tiredly. "Are you all right?"

"No." Martin said simply.

"Well what's wrong?"

"I...I...I can't tell you." Martin realized with near panic.

"I beg your pardon?" Martin didn't wait to hear anymore, he hung up the phone.

He hadn't been able to get the words out! Freddy's last words to him were "Don't tell anyone". Dreams were a part of a person's subconscious. Freddy had given him a subconscious command that he was incapable of disobeying!

Martin walked down the hall towards his locker, keeping a close eye out for any missing faces. He didn't think he would be able to handle it if Freddy had already taken someone. He reached his locker, his mind buzzing. He didn't need to worry about falling asleep, terror was better than caffeine any day. But just in case...

He pulled the bottle from his backpack, the bottle that would keep him alive for many days and nights to come. He looked furtively up and down the hall, and put the bottle in his locker. Then he turned and headed for his first class.

Amy stood by her locker, watching Martin.

"Oh I know that look." a voice said. Amy turned to find Willow beside her.

"What?" Amy asked, smiling innocently.

"That look." Willow said. "I know that look. I have it every time Xander walks by."

"I think I know exactly what you mean." Amy said. Both girls had crushes on men that had crushes on other girls. And in both cases those girls were their best friends. Amy and Willow sighed simultaneously, causing them to giggle. Amy smiled. "Guess we should get to class."

"Yeah."

Giles sat at his desk, lost in thought. None of his young friends were what someone could truthfully call normal. He took their strangeness for granted. After all, how normal could he really claim to be? He helped a teenager kill vampires. But the call from Martin last night was above and beyond the call of weird. The boy had been upset about something obviously, but why couldn't he tell Giles about it?

"Coffee?" Giles started at the unexpected voice. He turned in his chair, seeing Alice in the doorway of his office holding the pot.

"Oh yes, that would be fine." Giles said. Alice entered the office and glanced around it. She noticed several pictures from London.

"So you're from England?" she said. Alice had decided it was time to get to know her co-worker a little better.

"Yes indeed." Giles said. "Born and bred."

"When did you come to America?"

"Quite recently actually." Giles said. "I was formerly the curator of the British Museum of Natural History."

"You were the curator of the Museum of Natural History in Britain and you came to America to be a Librarian at a High School?" Alice asked incredulously. "Bad career move Giles."

"You're telling me." Giles muttered.

"Why did you do it?" Alice asked. "Come here, and do this, I mean."

"To be perfectly honest," Giles said, "I don't have the slightest idea."

He was not being honest at all. He knew exactly why he had done it. But what would he have told her? I came to America to battle the forces of darkness? "I just needed a change I suppose."

"Care for a change in your nightly routine?"

"I beg your pardon?" Giles was sure she couldn't have meant what it sounded like she meant.

"Dinner, with me, tonight." Alice smiled. "That is if you didn't already have plans." she added quickly.

"No, no," Giles reassured her. "It's just that, well you took me by surprise that's all."

"So is that a yes?"

"That would be lovely." Giles said.

To Be continued…