A/N: IT'S A MIRACLE ON ELM STREET! Michael Myers has stopped killing people, and that weather machine has EXPLODED! Does my knowledge of movie trivia not amaze you? No? Okay then…well…I OWN NOTHING! Only your soul…and all crunchy peanut butter in existence…

Ch. 4: I finally bring in Devi!

She was looking down from her perch on 'Mystic Hills', admiring the smoking ruins of her former home, when a thought came to her. Now where was she going to live? It stopped her; she didn't have much money, so a motel was out of the question, she could stay with Tenna, who-shockingly-had prepared for it.

"So, Tenna," she wanted to say this in a way that wouldn't make her friend explode with her usual enthusiastic-over-animation, or squeak that god forsaken squeaky toy, "Is it okay if I live with you until I can find my own place?"

Tenna, completely entranced by the wreckage, hardly heard what Devi had said, "Yup, sure," she was entranced by the odd shapes coming out of the smoke.

/\^/\Three Weeks Later/\^/\

Devi was on the edge of insanity, not only because the recently stalled murders have started up again, but also because she hadn't been able to find a decent place to live. Since she hadn't really left Tenna's apartment because of her ever-present agoraphobia, Tenna was there most of the time SQUEAKING. THAT. DAMN. DOLL. And when she wasn't squeaking it, Devi could here the squeaks echoing in her skull.

It was a particularly bad night, there was nothing of interest on television to Tenna, and so to pass the time she was squeezing 'Mr. Spooky' in rhythm to 'Barbie Girl'.

Devi meanwhile was attempting to paint but she couldn't concentrate, it was hot and stuffy in the apartment despite all the windows being open. Suddenly her phobia was switched, she couldn't breathe in this enclosed space, and she desperately needed to be outside in the cool, fresh night air.

She jumped from her spot in front of her latest work, and raced to the door, ripping the door open and slamming it shut once she was in the hall. She sprinted down the hall, and being on the first floor, she reached the front doors easily enough. Prying them open she retreated into the night, running, skipping, laughing in the cool darkness that surrounded her.

I must be going crazy! She thought with some concern I haven't been this happy and care-free for so long! She was jogging now, randomly turning corners. Whee! La-la la la-la la-la la la-la-la, la-la la la-la la-la la-la-la! She was mentally singing part of a song she had heard earlier that day. (If you can guess the name of the band AND song, I will give you a Virtual Hug!)

She rounded another corner, to find a dead-end. No problem I'll just go back, she turned on her heel to return when she realized; she didn't even know where she was. She could use the street signs! Of course, that's what she would do.

Walking down to the nearest street sign, she was terrified when she read it. She was panicking, looking to her right she saw what she wished she would never see again in her life.

Johnny C.'s infamous house, number 777.

She overreacted as she always did when reminded of him. She screamed, and ran as fast as she could back to her short-term home, slamming and locking the door behind her. She spun around to quickly scan the hallway for any signs of life, her paranoia kicking in like a terrible case of the plague.

Then she heard THAT voice snicker at her ridiculous actions…it was Sickness…she wasn't dead.

A/N: Wouldn't it be terrible if I stopped here? Yeah, I thought so…

Part 2: More Forgotten Memories

It was Johnny's second sleep study test and he vaguely wondered whether he'd remember anything this time.

It was a brisk winter day, Johnny and his father had moved away from their old house, and was currently residing in a slightly smaller gray house. Johnny hated living in the city, away from his old friends, familiar surroundings, he was twelve now, it was more difficult to make friends-especially since nearly everyone that lived in the city was an ass-hole-but he suffered through it, his dad was still recovering from what had happened to his mom.

Sometimes Johnny just wanted to scream 'But I was there! I saw it happen! I am more traumatized than you could EVER be! I cared about her too, ya know!' but he didn't want to upset his father, who was the only family he had left. His dad told him he was going to have a little sister if his mom wasn't killed. That could have affected his dad in a way that would make him more sorrowful than Johnny.

Johnny was out taking a walk, he thought There's one upside to being in the city, these Brain-Freezie things! I wish they had better choices then Icy Ham, and Frosty Peanut though...at least they have cherry. He slurped up a good amount of the partial thawed icy.

He turned the corner to his house, and walked up to the door. Reaching for the handle, the door drifted slowly open, it wasn't like his dad to leave the door unlocked let alone OPEN.

"Dad?" he poked his head in examining for anything in the least suspicious, "Are you here?" He spotted a figure apparently sleeping in the arm chair. He smiled, it like was like his dad to fall asleep in front of the TV, but…shouldn't the TV be on?

Johnny strolled over to where his father was resting, and casually put his hand on his shoulder. He immediately withdrew his hand with a gasp of shock. He was ICE COLD! And that was saying something since he had just been holding a Brain-Freezie, which now was spilt all over the previously clean white carpet.

He seized the top of the chair and spun it to see that his father's throat had been slit, and before the blood could have created any stains liquid nitrogen had been poured on his face, permanently preserving a scream of terror on his lips, and shock in his eyes.

Johnny spotted the note on his final blood relation's hand.

Written in a nearly illegible scrawl: The last thing he said before I froze him was that odd nick-name of yours, Nny, I think, either that or he had trouble saying your full name because his throat was all cut open and stuff. Just like your mom, did I ever tell you how good she was? She was the best, there have been about thirty-seven since her, and none were as good, even the little girls, around your age, all dead and gone now but who cares? –Delis F.

Johnny crushed the paper in his hands, the sick-o that had killed his mom was still running around raping people! Not just adults, but little kids too! He was irate, how could such a fucker be allowed to live? He thought God would of taken care of people like him, but apparently that was up to normal people.

People like you Nny... That was a voice he hadn't heard in a while, not since his mom died, it was Bun-bun that red rabbit he had gotten from his seventh birthday. He looked around for the forlorn stufftie, finding it under a couch; he picked it up as it spoke again.

You are the one to do these things, Nny. You keep track of the amount of shit that goes through the world. Johnny listened as the rabbit put up it's proposition.

A/N: WOOT! This is SO fun! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE! YAAYY! :P R&R pleez