A/N: I realise I probably spelt Jezelle's name wrong... overlook it, if you can. If not, just review me and tell me what a pillock I am.

Disclaimer: You know I don't own anything.

Part Three

She was in a cornfield. A familiar cornfield... the familiarity clarified when she turned around and spotted the small white church behind her - still standing and looking rather... new.

Marisa frowned and looked down. She was still dressed in the same jeans and shirt that she had been wearing earlier in the van... van... van. She was asleep. She had been sat on the van floor beside Lila and she must have fallen asleep without realising how tired she was. So why was she back at the church?

'Because you're meant to be here.'

Marisa spun around and gasped. Standing in front of her, flickering in and out of view and smiling sympathetically, was Jezelle.

'Wha... um...' Marisa didn't even try to finish her sentence - she was wordless.

'What am I doing in your dream?' Jezelle offered with a chuckle. 'I'm not sure myself... this doesn't happen often. Perhaps it is a warning for you. I have been seeing a lot of you in my dreams lately.'

She started pacing up and down in front of Marisa - the corn simply moving aside to let her pass untouched. 'I believe it is a forewarning. I think it is telling you what is to come... and that you must do something about it.'

'Do something about what?' Marisa asked uneasily. Jezelle looked her directly in the eyes, smiling mysteriously.

'The Creeper.'

The scenery around them shifted, becoming a dark room. Marisa and Jezelle were stood in one corner, and to their right stood the Creeper before a barred window, holding a young man by the throat. Marisa couldn't see the boy's face but she recognised the bandaged hand and torn shirt - this was Darry Jenning. His sister was standing before him saying something... convincing the monster to take her instead. It was fruitless, a second later the Creeper crashed through the bars and flew off into the night, leaving Trisha screaming after her brother.

The landscape changed again, becoming a colossal oil rig. Darry was lying on the floor twisting and writhing - his mouth open in a scream as the Creeper bit out one of his eyeballs. Marisa winced, remembering the state Lila had been in when they found her, but it didn't look like the same situation would occur here. The Creeper took both eyeballs and then snapped the boy's neck - dragging him into the maze-like depths of the rig, presumably to finish his meal.

'Why are you showing me this?' Marisa asked, feeling nauseous.

'Why do you automatically assume it's me showing you this, honey? I'm just following the program here.'

Before Marisa had a chance to reply the scene changed again, becoming a coach full of high school students. Her stomach tightened instantly - she remembered this. Several of the students were friends of hers, and the only reason she hadn't been on the coach that day was that she was sick and couldn't cheer with them.

Minxie Hayes was sat to her left, presumably asleep. Minxie and Marisa had never really got along - Minxie was always too much of a back-stabber for Marisa to want to be acquainted, but she had been good friends with Alison. Until the incident on the bus.

Minxie wouldn't tell anyone anything about what had happened, and became completely paranoid about everything. She even accused Alison of things... horrible things. Eventually the two ended up in a fight and refused to speak to each other unless it was to argue - usually resulting in the both of them being split up by Marisa or Rhonda Truitt. Rhonda was Minxie's friend and Alison's arch-enemy. It was a long and complicated story and before Marisa could even bother thinking about it, the bus came to a skidding halt at the side of the road and she was thrown sideways. Jezelle, somehow, remained standing.

'Watch yourself honey, you aren't as invincible as me.'

'Thanks.' Marisa muttered, steadying herself on the seat and grimacing as the scenery changed again. It was starting to give her a headache.

They were still on the bus in the same place, but all of the soccer players and cheerleaders were standing in the aisle facing them, terror plastered across their features. Knowing what she would see, Marisa turned around and was faced by the Creeper, standing in front of the window and sniffing at the students. De ja vu.

'Why am I seeing all of this?' She hissed to Jezelle, who seemed to be making herself comfortable on one of the front seats.

'Not a clue, honey, just make yourself comfortable.'

Sitting on the edge of the nearest seat, Marisa watched the Creeper judge all of the students. A jerk of the head, she assumed, meant for them to move - they were safe for the time being - and a grin or wink meant... well, they definitely weren't safe.

'I still don't see the point in showing me this... I know what this thing can do. It ate Ben, remember?'

'Okay honey...' Jezelle got to her feet and the scenery altered again, becoming the corn field. 'You've seen what this thing does to innocent people... doesn't that make you mad?'

'Um... sure... yeah.'

'Don't you want to do something about it?'

Marisa was now confused - what was the old woman getting at? What could she, a soon-to-be victim of the monster, do about it? She didn't like the direction their conversation was going in, and could only pray that Alison would wake her up some time soon. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, wouldn't you like to end its killing spree?'

'Er... you mean kill it? But... Minxie said it couldn't die.' Marisa frowned, looking around doubtfully.

'Minxie? The blonde that has one dream and thinks she knows everything about this creature?' Jezelle laughed scornfully - apparently she wasn't Minxie's biggest fan. 'What the hell would she know? I've seen things in my time that would make her hair curl.'

'So... so it can be killed?'

'Of course it can, everything can be killed. Here, let me show you.'

Jezelle took her hand and turned her around so that they were both facing the church. A figure flitted in front of it, shooting backward and forward at an alarming speed. When Marisa focused on it she saw that it was a priest in what appeared to be ancient robes and an old leather apron, moving backward across the church yard... then it clicked. It was like time was rewinding in front of her. To prove this theory, the man stopped and retraced his previous steps at a normal speed, carrying large chunks of metal to and from the white building.

'What's he doing?' Marisa asked quietly, watching the priest with intrigue.

'Watch.'

The man threw the armful down the top of an old pipe... the pipe that led into the basement, Marisa realised. She wondered whether the Creeper was down there and whether the priest even knew the creature existed at the same time.

'C'mon honey.' Jezelle pulled her forward and they followed the man round the back of the church. A wooden trapdoor was set into the ground, and it was this that he pulled up by a rope handle. Looking around as though to make sure no-one was watching, he jogged down and slammed it over his head. Jezelle reached down and began to follow him down the dark, narrow, stone staircase - indicating that Marisa should follow her. Perplexed, the girl did.

It led into a dark, muddy room - colossally sized and apparently being used as a blacksmith's forge. The priest was at the other side of the room stoking a glaring fire with a poker.

'What's he doing?'

'Watch and see - you ask too many damn questions, girl.'

Reaching across and pulling on a thick glove, the priest stretched forward into the fire - coming back up with a crudely fashioned sword blade in his grasp. He carried it to a nearby anvil and started hitting it with a sledgehammer. Marisa raised an eyebrow. She was about to query about his actions to Jezelle when she remembered that of all the questions she had asked during her dream, the old woman had answered maybe one.

'He's making a sword, before you ask.'

'I'd gathered.'

The man sped up again, flitting around the forge so fast that he became a blur before stopping over at the fire again at what must have been hours later. He was gazing in awe and triumph at the completed weapon. Marisa looked at it herself and frowned - the edges seemed to glow blue...

'And there we have the first complete blade.' Jezelle said needlessly. 'Created by Vicar Arnold Whittaker. Who incidentally died ten minutes later.'

'What's the blade for? And why are the edges glowing!'

'It's a Blueblade, created with one purpose in mind.'

'And what purpose is that?' Did she really need to ask? It was written all over Jezelle's face.

'To kill the Creeper.'

'And... what happened to it after the Vicar died?'

'His son found it amongst his possessions, along with a note on what to do with it. The boy made more weapons like it and went after the monster with a lynch mob. Poor souls,' the woman shook her head sadly. 'Dead... all of them. He killed every single one of them.'

'But... why did it save Alison?' Marisa pondered, thoughtfully.

'Because it wants her in good condition when he eats her.'

'He could have eaten her... he could have eaten her and then taken us, but he didn't. He walked off.' Marisa looked at the empty basement and wondered what it looked like now. Strewn with bodies, no doubt. 'Why did he do that?'

'Think of all the other people he has killed! He probably wasn't hungry enough for you yet.' Jezelle was sounding increasingly annoyed that Marisa wasn't as furious with the monster as she was. 'Do you know what this basement looks like now? Like this!'

It was horrific. Bodies covered the filthy walls - naked, preserved and sewn together in a sick tapestry. The more prominent was one lying on the table facing the opposite way, mousy brown hair matted and bloodstained. Wait... mousy brown... hole in her stomach. Marisa turned around and retched on the floor, mildly surprised that she could actually vomit in a dream. The situation was getting weirder by the second.

'Oh god... Louise...'

'You had to see...' Jezelle said sadly, squeezing her shoulder. 'You had to see what this thing does.'

'Oh god... wake me up... get me out of here...'

'In time... first you need to make me a promise, Marisa Williams.'

Jezelle pulled her to her feet and held her steady. 'Promise me that you will find the only remaining Blueblade and kill this thing, so it can do no more harm.'

'Where is the blade?' Right now she was too upset to argue with the woman - she would worry about the damned monster when she woke up.

'Find Robin Whittaker. He's in Los Angeles, so you shouldn't have a problem. Oh, and Marisa? Don't tell Alison about any of this... or the other one. They will hinder what you must do.'

Marisa tuned out and clamped her eyes shut; praying that the nightmare would end and she could get out of the basement. She wouldn't mind even having to be faced with Caleb and his friend and the dingy back of the van.

'Wake up!'

Marisa opened her eyes and looked around. She was lying on the van floor, head throbbing madly and Alison standing over her wearing an amused expression.

'It's about time, lazy arse.' Lila grinned, clutching a dirty cloth to her bloody eye socket. 'You've been thrashing and yelling like mad.'

'What did I yell?' Marisa asked carefully, taking Alison's outstretched arm and pulling herself up.

'Not much coherent.' Lila shrugged. 'Mostly wake me up, or get me out of here. Dream anything nice?'

'No... nightmare about the monster.'

'I could have guessed.' Alison chuckled, sitting down beside her and shooting a glare at the partition, behind which Caleb and friend's voices could be heard laughing. 'Gits.'

'He hit her with his gun.' Lila grinned again at the expression on Alison's face. 'Because she called him a fuckwit.'

Marisa gave a small smile and shook her head. 'How long until we get to LA?'

'Dunno where we are.' They shrugged.

The van jerked on a pothole and Marisa winced as she was knocked sideways. The monster could turn up at any moment and finish them off... was it possible for her to kill it with an ancient weapon that may not even exist? Did she want to kill it? It had saved Alison... but then again, Jezelle had said it had done that so she was fresh for him to eat later on, when it got hungry.

But Jezelle had worried Marisa. The old woman had seemed far too keen on getting Marisa on her side - on a side where her opinion had to be that the monster needed to die. Immediately. Of course, the girl wasn't completely against this option; she just wasn't the kind of person that slaughtered something she knew very little about. Even if it did want to kill her.