Oh, so I totally realized I never put a disclaimer on this bad boy in the first part. So, here it is: I don't own Friday the 13th, Camp Crystal Lake, or Jason Voorhees. I do, though, own everyone else just because I'm too lazy to incorporate survivors (so far) in this. But who know. That may change. One can only hope, right?

Anyway!

I would love to thank the awesome human beings (sorry, dears, but I never dare use gender pronouns or nouns unless I'm 100% sure that's what you are; 'cause what if you're both?) who reviewed the last part of this story. They all made me feel like I could actually do this. And don't worry, it will stay at the Teen rating for the whole thing. If anyone wants anything deeper (oh goodness, what a bad usage of words when speaking about homosexual male couples) then send me the message near the end of the whole story and I may be able to whip up some poorly written smut. ^_^

On that note, on with the bloody story! And please, for my sake and sanity, enjoy it. :)

As night slowly fell on what used to be Camp Crystal Lake, a little boy and his young father sat on an old dock. Laurent had at first thought it would be too dangerous to go out on the rotting wood, but when Kiran had run onto it anyway, causing the man to follow in a panic, he soon found out it was safer than it looked. He had also thought the same of the old bed and mattress in the cabin… and the stove. But they had all worked fine so far when tested.

The setting sun's rays cast a crimson hue on the water, trees, and the only humans in that ex-camp. Kiran smiled and pointed at the color radiating off most everything in sight. "Daddy, it's your favorite color!"

"Yeah, it is, buddy," his father responded with a gentle one-armed hug. "And you know why red's my favorite color?"

"Why?"

"Because it's the color of love, the color of the life sustaining liquid inside you and me, and the color of your mommy's favorite dress." He felt he may have spoken a bit too much when he mentioned the blood part, but he saw that it made no difference to his child after he mentioned Ginger. The kid always loved to hear about his mommy.

"Why was it her favorite dress?" Kiran was becoming inquisitive. Which he never did that back at the apartment… and made Laurent even happier for coming to the lakeside house.

"When we met, she was wearing that same dress," and with another guy who kicked my ass for speaking to her, he added in his head. But either way, he was happy he had met Ginger. She had been the sweetest, most beautiful woman he had ever known up until she had just walked out on her own son just because Laurent didn't desire her anymore. That, literally, had been the most shallow point in her life for as long as Laurent had known her.

"But why did that make it her favorite?"

"Because I loved it on her so much, squirt. It made her look so… beautifully dominant. Like she could take over the world and make everyone love her for it." Again, he added another little bit silently in his head: and I like the dominant type. The thought made him smile toward the crimson color glistening on the lake.

"Oooh!" Kiran giggled afterward and jumped up. He gave Laurent a look of understanding, like he knew that was how his mommy always had been, before he grinned devilishly. "Last one to the cabin is a rotten egg!" He cheered to as his short legs quickly carried him away from the still seated man.

Random, but cute, Laurent thought with a chuckle. He'd give the kid a head start, catch up to him, then let him win anyway. They hadn't raced in what felt like forever, and he wanted Kiran to be happy with it. Not that his little boy would throw a fit over losing; he just felt like making it even more fun. Kiran needed more fun in his life…

Laurent sat looking at the blood red sunlight for a few more moments before he languidly stood and stretched his arms toward the heavens. He turned slightly, ready to jog slowly to catch up to his most likely winded little boy, as a small breeze came toward him from behind. He inhaled deeply, wanting to enjoy the fresh air, but nearly gagged at a smell he never suspected to find in such a peaceful place. It was like when he had come across week old road-kill as a little boy. But this scent was worse. It was stronger, like it was coming off a very large dead thing just inside the forest.

He turned slowly, arms still raised in a long-lasting stretch, hoping he wouldn't spot the dead creature. What he saw made him freeze like a buck who just saw the man hunting him. This was… unexpected.

A man was standing just outside of the tree line (which was remarkably close to where the dock connected to land). He was tall, probably near seven feet if Laurent was any judge of height from that distance, muscular, tense, breathing heavily, and was holding what looked to be stout sword. But the most striking feature was his face.

Or lack of.

A goalie's hockey mask browned by age, dirt, and wear adorned the man's face. To see that disguise, mixed with the obvious anger emanating off of him while he held a dangerous object caused Laurent to pale. He doubted the man was truly dangerous, but… had Laurent and Kiran been sitting on the guy's dock while he watched? Laurent hadn't known anyone else lived near the lake, and thusly thought that it was a free-for-all on anything found there. Apparently not.

"Hey, sorry about all this, sir," he began, finally bringing his arms down from above his head. The mask followed the movement of his arms, and the breathing stilled for a tension-filled moment. Then the strange man began breathing heavier, taking a step forward. Laurent panicked. "You don't have to be angry at me; my kid and I didn't know this was your dock. We'll leave it alone from now on. No need to get angry."

The young father felt his own breath speed up with each step the man made his way toward him. He almost felt he would hyperventilate if this man didn't just chill out. A little bit of anger began to uncurl in his gut. If this guy tried to hurt him or Kiran, he would be surprised at how fast Laurent would move. He would be on his back before he knew what hit him! Laurent's hands curled into fists at his sides. Just let that large man try to get him. Just let him.

Slowly, the sword- no, it was an old machete, he now realized- was raised further up, to about waist height. All the while, the man continued his heavy, lumbering steps toward Laurent, finally stopping where the dock met land, and underneath where the water met the land. The mask tilted down to look at the slowly lapping water through the slats of wood then back up at the frightened/angry newcomer. Laurent noticed the man drag in a deep breath, staring at him all the while. He could only see one eye twinkling in the slowly dimming light. The arm with the machete raised up above the mans head in one swift movement.

"What are you do-"

Aforementioned arm swung forward faster than Laurent thought possible for any normal man, flinging the machete at him with enormous speed. But thanks to a lot of training with dodging random things being thrown at him in high school (he never had been very popular with too many people since he always spoke his mind), he ducked just in time to hear the weapon whiz a matter of inches from his head. It splashed into the lake just past the dock.

Holy.

Shit.

All thoughts of playing with his son dissipated from his mind in a fraction of a second. This man was more messed up than any of the screwy arses back at the apartment. Even worse than his ex-landlady.

Laurent crouched further down in case the man was planning to attempt to beat him after that missed attack. His head was down , looking through the boards to the clear water. It rippled in frenzy from the small, lethal invader that had just splashed in it's long-been virgin depths.

"What the hell was that for?" He yelled, not looking at the obviously crazy man or standing up. When he got no response, he looked up. There was nobody there. He looked around for a moment, scanning the trees and bushes nearby to see if that man was walking away. But there was nobody. There wasn't a single sign the water had been disrupted by the blade either, now.

But… hadn't he just had a dirty, rusty, nasty machete thrown at him? Hadn't he just seen a large man standing at the edge of the dock with an air of irritation and anger? Hadn't he just wished to kill said man if he tried anything? And now there was nothing. The water was natural and calm, as if it hadn't been outraged by a blade just moments ago. And there was no man. Not even the smallest sign of a man.

Maybe he was going mad?

Laurent stood quickly and sprinted toward the cabin, feeling that maybe he was the crazy man, not that creepy apparition he had seen a bit ago- a minute at the most. He finally caught up to his little boy in less than a minute (after all, the whole thing had happened in less than three minutes including the waiting, getting nearly injured, and running to Kiran) and attempted to seem happy as he caught the child up in his arms for a massive hug. He was feeling as if maybe, just maybe, he was slowly going insane… first that bit about not liking women anymore; then that huge urge to kill his landlady back at the apartment; now seeing a maniac throwing a weapon at him/getting a surge of fury again. He was really was becoming a loon!

Kiran laughed happily, struggling to get out of his father's grasp. "Not fair, daddy; that's cheating at the race!" Laurent blinked at the boy's words, finally realizing once again that they had been playing before his bout of mental unhealthy. A race. They had been having fun!

"But I'm the big man here, kiddo!" He tickled the little boy, forcing a smile onto his own face in response to the oh-so-real one on Kiran's. "I can make up the rules as I go along all I want. So I call this legal as of right now!"

That created a massive giggle fit from the six year old, and he hugged Laurent back with a huge smile. "You're weird, daddy. If you want to win the race so much, you could have just ran harder!" The little boy giggled at the fake appalled look on the young man's face. "'Cause I know I'd win if you hadn't picked me up like that."

The look on Kiran's face was one of innocent triumph. Laurent couldn't help but laugh at that look. Only hours ago, he knew his little boy never would have become this outgoing and playful. Just getting away from that oppressive apartment complex was already doing wonders for the little boy. "Y'know, buddy… I still think I could've beat you. I'm a pretty good runner."

"No way! I'd be the winner!"

"Then let's test it, kiddo," Laurent said with a laugh, setting his already flailing little boy on the ground to continue his running to the cabin. He followed shortly after, looking like he was running as hard as he could, but just couldn't catch up. That earned him a big grin from his son's face, and an extra burst of speed from the little guy.

There was no way he could go insane with such a cute little kid always loving him like that. Laurent was just stressed by that bitch landlady. That was all. No mental problems. No system malfunctions. And definitely no strange man in a hockey mask wielding a machete anywhere near or in the land surrounding Crystal Lake. No, sir. That would just be crazy.

Jason watched from the trees as the man stood again, looking far more shaken than he had let on when the machete had been thrown. That man had also shown signs of rage… but those were gone now. Replaced with a gut-wrenching fear. But it still wasn't enough for the large serial killer. He wanted that stranger dead, his blood spilled everywhere for the next visitor to see, to smell, to touch in their own fear. Jason wanted to kill that man.

Crystal Lake was his domain… nobody else's. And it was obvious the people still hadn't learned that.

What about the little boy? He hadn't gotten a very good look at the kid, but he could tell that he was still much too young to harm. Children were never problems. Only the teenagers and their elders were the problems. Sure, children created messes, caused some minor trouble, could be annoying when they wanted to be. Teenagers and adult were more than capable of that much and more. They were the real problems. And Jason found it to be his duty to fix said problems quickly and efficiently whenever they arose.

It made Jason feel a tad remorseful to think about splitting the child from his parent, though. After all, they seemed to have as good of a bond as he and his mother had so many years ago. When she had been ripped away from him by that stupid girl, that had hurt more than he wanted to admit to anyone. No. It had hurt worse than anyone could ever know. Thus the reason Jason could justify splitting them apart from one another. In this new age, children couldn't be as attached to a parent as he had as a child. And that boy couldn't know how it was to be picked on for how he looked.

Every movement the young man made was watched like a hawk as he stumbled off the dock and ran in the direction of the little boy. It was time for the pursuit. That man would be dead within the first day he had come to the lake, and his little boy would run to the nearest town and be picked up by some loving woman. The boy wouldn't remember much about his father in five years time with how happy he'd be. Good.

Jason walked quickly, following the man far enough back so as not to be sensed, but close enough to see him the whole time. He clenched one giant fist in anticipation of the killing the man with his bare hands. Sin had no right staying here longer than necessary, and Jason was ready to be that man's usher into hell… whether he wanted to or not.

He was nearing the clearing the man had stopped at. Only slightly to his surprise, he saw that the younger man was hugging his little boy. Well, that would put a bit of a damper on things. He didn't want to kill the child's father right in front of him. That had happened to Jason once, and he couldn't bare to think another child would have to endure the same traumatizing event all over again. But what Jason saw next was what really stalled his anger at the man.

That little boy's face peeked over his father's shoulder, all smiles, laughter and faked anger at his daddy picking him up. And Jason was immediately reminded of another little boy years ago… himself. Not exactly, but enough of a mutation to be a painful reminder of his past.

The child's face was deformed to the point of seeming almost inhuman. Too-large hazel eyes adorned a face that looked like it had been made of the wax of a burning candle. Those eyes low on his little face, lay under virtually nonexistent eyebrows, and in flesh pale as death. His mouth was normal until he opened it in smiles and speech, revealing some half grown-in teeth, some fully developed, and others completely missing.

He was… happy? But how could the boy be so happy around even his own father? Jason remembered moments where he would hide from his own mother, crying quietly in a cupboard while she called for him. He knew he had been born 'different' (as mother always used to say) and felt quite often so hideous that not even his mother should see him. Jason had found no joy in being himself, even when he began physically filling out before other boys.

There was nothing to be proud of. Never had been. He would always be the outcast, the freak, the one nobody wanted to be seen with for fear or retribution from others. Nothing.

This little boy, though. He was happy with himself, his life, his father. He looked full of love and vibrancy. That child was full of joy even in his deformity, playing, laughing, smiling… being normal. Such a thought was nearly unfathomable for Jason. He didn't understand how such a small, impressionable little boy could not already be spiraling into what Jason himself had become. How could he not be angry at the world for judging him? How could he not be angry at God for cursing him with what he looked like?

Jason wanted to know what it felt like to be loved without his flaws being pointed out. Yes, mother had loved him more than anyone else ever could, that much was true, but she always brought up his deformities. She had always said he was different, that's why he couldn't go play. The children would laugh, so don't go out. Mommy loves you, baby boy. Stay with mommy. I'll protect you. They won't understand you like I do. She had been right, but he still wondered.

What did it feel like? This was first time Jason had been curious about anything besides why stabbing somebody in one place created more bloodshed than in another place. Or his killing of those sinners in general. He wanted to know what it felt like to be loved unconditionally. No. Not just unconditionally. Without the person even noticing that he was physically imperfect. That he was better than anyone else to that person, flaws and all, just because said person found him perfect in his imperfections.

Well, something along those lines.

But how was he to know what that was like if he killed the only instance he had ever seen of a relationship even marginally parallel to his own? That decided it. He wouldn't kill the man yet. He would observe how they interacted and what made that boy love his sinning father so much. He would watch them, and when he learned all he felt he needed to understand this strange little boy, he would kill the man.

Good plan. No. It was a great plan.

Laurent made Kiran's favorite dinner that night: Spaghetti-O's with Spider Man shapes. As he cooked them over the (well maintained, thank God) stovetop, he listened to the sound of his six year old setting up their room more fully.

When he had left him in the room to make the dinner, the little guy had stated that he was going to make their little bedroom much nicer. In Laurent's mind, that meant there were going to be toys strewn on the floor, both of their clothes would be stuffed into the small bureau they had discovered in the closet (and had moved out to make the room seem less open), and he would be busy wrestling the small, battery operated travel television out of the suitcase. But that was alright with Laurent. He liked Kiran doing things for them.

As expected, the Spaghetti-O's were taking a long time on the old stove. The man had held up hope that it would be as fast as the glass-tops he had gotten used to now, but the little gas-burner just didn't want to comply so easily. Sure, it worked it magic slowly, probably savoring the experience of cooking after so long without a master to use it regularly… but it had two hungry males to feed. And also as expected, Laurent quietly swearing at it to hurry up did nothing either. It just made a popping sound when he kicked it lightly, and he let it be from then on. Instead, he sat on a stool they had also found in the quaint little hidden pantry near the sink to think.

What had been spurring all those moments of near insanity? He knew that being laid off his most recent job had created some stress, but it shouldn't have been enough to wipe out most of his rational brain cells. No… there had to be more. Things, memories, angers that were hidden deeper inside of him than he could imagine. But what could they be? Everything he thought of were superficial, annoying, and quite frankly fleeting. He had the love of his little boy. He had the adoration of a sweet girl; one that he should have given up his lack of attraction to and made a real move toward, since she seemed much less fiery and prone to abandon ship as his Ginger had been. All he had to do was give up what he really wanted.

That was all. Just that. Nothing else.

A light bulb flared to life suddenly, deep within his mind. It was his restraint on who he was- for the sake of others- that must have brought all these bouts of unusual behavior. It had to be! Laurent couldn't simply leave that as an option… it had to be the one thing stopping him from being the pretty-much-normal-guy he was! He had been in denial of being homosexual since Ginger had left. The man had fought all attractions, urges, and so forth to keep his son happy with as much stability that a single father can muster. Laurent had stopped himself from being who he wanted to be to make others happy. And, as with many sexually deprived men, that made him irritable and prone to mental breakdowns. There was just too much of him stopping himself to be truly healthy.

This, of course, is what he continued to tell himself. For he certainly couldn't be losing his mind without some plausible reason. That was it. He was a man with suppressed urges for another man. Any other man, it seemed. It had to be what was driving him totally bat-shit insane. Making him get angry. Making him ecstatic over a shabby yet cute little cabin near a lake he had never heard of before. Making him see a man wearing a mask and holding a weapon near the dock just after his son left. And now that he thought of it… if he wouldn't have seemed so creepy and menacing at the time, that was exactly the type of guy he found himself watching the most. Muscular. Tall. Quiet. Dominant.

Laurent buried his face in his hands momentarily. What was he thinking? There must have been something more wrong with him if he was attempting to point out attractive points in a hallucination! That was just wrong. Sick and totally wrong. His mind wandered back to what he had seen again, straying toward small points that were attractive about the man. Dominating strength. Silence.

Ugh!

"Oh, stop it, you dumb-arse," he growled at himself, censoring in case little Kiran was near enough to hear the words.

The smell of something staring to burn suddenly invaded Laurent's nostrils and thoughts. The Spaghetti-O's! He jumped off the stool, nearly sending it tumbling to the floor, and reached the stove in les than three strides. A few stirs later proved it to be in not-too-bad of condition, though a little bit hotter (and a lot more scorched, even if it was very small) than Kiran liked. Too bad. The little tyke had to learn that his daddy wasn't going to be the capable chef here. Maybe Kiran would pick up cooking to free himself of endless nights filled with burned, undercooked, or cold food? Seeing as he was six years old, Laurent seriously doubted it. But the thought made him smile anyway.

"Dinner's ready!"

Laurent poured the Gatorade- purchased at the same time as the canned food- into two plastic cups (also bought with the food). Not knowing if there was going to be a refrigerator in the house when they reached the lake, the man had purposely only bought things that could keep for a while without being cooled. Of course, there had been a little fridge of sorts in the kitchen. This one was hidden under the sink in some cabinets, but it was an old fashioned ice-box. He would have to drive into town to buy the ice for it, but then he could get milk, too.

After two bowls were filled with their dinner, steaming next to their own glasses of Gatorade, Laurent stood waiting. There was no response. Now that he had thought of it, there hadn't been a sound in there for a few minutes now. He began to panic.

What if the little guy had been kidnapped? What if he had wandered out of the cabin just to play a trick on his daddy? What if he had locked himself in the closet? What if… no. He needed to go see what happened, not just wonder about it. Any good father knew to check before conjecturing about their child being hurt or scared. Laurent felt like a bad father a that moment.

He rushed into the bedroom (which wasn't much of a rush, seeing as the cabin was rather small) and stopped short, not uttering a sound. His little boy, that darling child who was always sweet and considerate of others even when it wasn't working out in his favor, was sleeping. Kiran was sound asleep on the naked mattress of their queen-sized bed. He looked completely at ease, happy, and more serene than Laurent had seen him in his sleep for a while. There wasn't even a sign of dreaming going on behind those closed eyelids. The boy was simply adorable.

Laurent slowly approached, deciding that food could come later after they'd both had a good night's rest (even if it was only about 7:30), and lay on the bed next to his son. The child made a small sound of comfort before scooting into the haven of his father's arms for the rest of the night. He welcomed Kiran with a gentle hug, closing his eyes and paying no heed to the still lit bulb hanging from the ceiling. They were both capable of sleeping with lights on, and he was much too comfortable now.

His eyes closed as he yawned, and they didn't reopen. Laurent and Kiran Spencer slept soundly and restfully without worries for the first time in months. It was… very nice.

Can you believe that was only 600-ish more words than the last section? It felt like it was running on forever when I was writing it. But one mustn't rush into the good parts too quickly, right? It would ruin the plot, yes it would. So if you enjoyed this part just as much as the last, do one little thing for me... add it to your story alert. That means just as much if not more than reviews do. :) And it takes less work for you guys. A win-win situation, no? Exactly. So add this little monster to your story alert (or even add it to faves AND story alert if you really want to spoil me) and I'll be sure to get another section up, pronto*! Good? GOOD. :D

One last note! ========= What would you guys think of a 'Red Dragon' (written by Thomas Harris) fic after I completely finish this one? It'll be another homosexual Teen rated romance most likely, but I have a semi-cute idea in mind. Tell me if you want one and I'll start deepening the plotline, lol.

*Within less than 2 months, give or take a few weeks depending on weather conditions, workload, and general writer's-block-esque problems.