Pairing: S/X, W/O, B/R
Rating: NC17 (Graphic Violence, Character Deaths)
Disclaimer: I own none, all belong to Joss Whedon
Comments: Always welcomed!
Summary: A killer is hunting the teens of Sunnydale High, killing them one by one in their dreams.
Warnings/Spoilers: A rip off from all the Freddy Movies, does not belong to me. Please don’t sue! Italics indicate dreaming. Also if you haven’t watched any of the movies be warned the ending is always lame, so be warned now.
Beta’d by: Dragonfly_64
Spike twitched in his sleep. For the past two weeks every time he slept, he would have the most horrible dreams. There was a man with a horrible disfigured face Spike figured from a fire. On his right hand, he had four sharp razors for fingers. Every night Spike would run from the man in his dreams, absolutely terrified of him even though he knew it was only a dream.
In every dream Spike had he could hear children singing. The song was embedded forever into his brain. ‘One, two Kruger’s coming for you. Three, four better close your door. Five, six grab your crucifix. Seven, eight better stay up late. Nine, ten never sleep again.’
Spike was running through the familiar boiler room wincing as he heard the razors scrap against some metal surface. He turned left and the next thing he knew he was in a run down house.
Starting with the kitchen he went through the drawers trying to find anything interesting. Finding just dusty utensils he moved on to the fridge. Expecting to find rotten food he grabbed a hold of the door and yanked it open. Spike jumped back as a hand swiped out, razors clawed at Spike ripping his chest open. A cry came from Spike as he stumbled back and looked down to see blood dripping from the wound, luckily it wasn’t fatal.
“Welcome to my home,” The killer greeted with a sneer as he climbed out of the fridge with ease, “You have to be sick of this cat and mouse game? We’ve been playing for weeks!” He complained as he licked the blood from his blades, “How about you give up? Give me your soul?”
“Fuck you!” Spike cursed at him. Obviously he pissed off the other man enough to make him launch himself at Spike.
Before the blades could penetrate, Spike was jarred awake by his father shaking him roughly. “You’re alarm has been going off for nearly ten minutes William,” His father looked concerned. “You’ve never been such a solid sleeper before.”
Spike’s hand went to his chest finding the cuts he had gotten in his dreams, “Bad dreams.”
“I’d say,” Mr. Giles dragged his son to the bathroom to take care of the scratches. “You have to be more careful, William.”
“Don’t I know it,” Spike whispered. He knew he didn’t have much time left. Whoever was after him in his dreams was losing patience it was only a matter of time before he really did kill Spike.