Sweet Tommy

Summary: After the final movie, some of the restless souls find peace. Afterlife redemption
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the entire Fear Street trilogy; references to violence and canon character death; AU
Pairing: Cindy Berman/Tommy Slater

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He was free.

The voice in his head driving him to kill and mutilate…the voice that had turned him into a monster…was gone. Even dying had done nothing to set him free, only serving to bind him to the curse with an even tighter grip. He’d gone after other Shadysiders. The children he’d been supposed to look after. Innocents. Like he used to be.

He’d been a monster. And it didn’t matter that he hadn’t been in control of himself. It didn’t matter that something had crawled inside him and brought his inner darkness out to the light of day. It didn’t matter that he would never have done those things in his right mind.

He was free…but it didn’t change anything he’d done. It didn’t change what he was. It did nothing for the blood that stained his hands.

Gradually, he became aware of his surroundings. He was standing inside one of the cabins in Camp Nightwing. He wasn’t sure why he was here. He knew it wasn’t really the campsite. Maybe it was a trick of his mind. Perhaps even a form of purgatory.

She was standing in front of him. Solid and whole. Her clothes and skin were perfect. Nothing like how torn, broken and bloody she’d been the last time he saw her.

“Cindy.” He whispered her name like it was a prayer.

“Tommy.” She stepped towards him. Into his space. Wrapped her arms around him. Rested her head against his shoulder.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his own arms tight around her. She was dead and so was he. But he could feel her warm body pressed against his. Feel her breath soft against his neck. He could smell her perfume. The hint of citrus that lingered from her shampoo. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the words, his breath catching. His embrace tightened. If he allowed his grip to loosen even a little, would she drift away like smoke?

“The curse is broken.” She whispered the words into his neck, tickling his skin. “It wasn’t her, though. Not Sarah Fier.”

“It never was.” As a murderous slave, he’d only been able to kill. To stalk those he was supposed to protect and take their lives. But somewhere, deep inside, he’d known the truth. Known who was truly responsible. “It was the Goodes. Nick. And it was me.”

Cindy pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. She reached a hand up and placed it against his cheek. “It wasn’t you. Not really.”

He turned his head to kiss her palm, even as he whispered, “My hands were the ones that wielded the axe.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” she whispered.

He dropped his arms from her and forced himself to take a step back. “I killed you.” His voice broke on the words. Tears blurred his vision, but he forced himself to continue saying the words she needed to hear. Whether she was truly there or not, it didn’t matter. “I killed others, too. I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop even when I was killed.”

“I stabbed you.”

“I deserved it.” He shook his head. “I wish it had worked. I wish I hadn’t been brought back. I wish Nurse Lane had succeeded in killing me before I hurt anyone.”

“Tommy.” She took a step closer to him.

“You need to leave. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t deserve you.” His voice was low and haunted. Tears blurred his vision, but he forced them back. Refused to let them fall. How many tears had the parents of those he’d killed shed? He was a monster. He had no right to grieve. “I should have been stronger. I should have fought back. Not let myself get taken over.”

“How could you have stood against Satan himself?”

“I should have found a way.”

Cindy moved back against him, raising her hands to cup his face. She leaned in and kissed him; a gentle brush of lips against his that turned deeper and lingering.

By the time she pulled back from the kiss, he was shaking. He reached out to frame her face in his own hands and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She pressed her face against his hand and then reached up to take his hand, squeezing it gently, before saying softly, “You shouldn’t feel so guilty, Tommy.” She walked over to one of the chairs and took a seat, gently pulling him to stand in front of her and beginning to unfasten his pants.

“Cindy….” He moved his hands to cover hers.

She looked up into his eyes. “You didn’t do this deliberately, Tommy. But it’s hurting you inside and I won’t let that happen.”

He raised his eyebrows, but dropped his hands, even as he said, “We’re already dead.”

“Maybe, but I don’t feel dead.” She unfastened his pants, pushing them down, and then patted her lap. “Bend over.”

He glanced at her lap and then at her face. Part of him wanted to laugh it off. To play it off like it was a joke. But this was Cindy and he loved her. And he didn’t know how, but she still loved him. And if she believed this was what needed to happen, he’d put himself in her hands. Or over her lap. With that thought in his mind, he slowly lowered himself over her lap, settling his palms on the floor and taking a slow, deep breath.

She pulled his boxers down and he shivered as cool air ghosted over his backside. When the first firm smack landed in the centre of his backside, he jumped; more from surprise than pain. She had surprising strength in her arm and as she continued to smack firmly, it didn’t take long before parts of his backside were stinging.

“This wasn’t your fault, Tommy.” She continued to smack firmly as she spoke. “You were possessed. Forced into committing those murders.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, “Like so many other Shadysiders. We were all cursed for so long, but it’s over now. We’re free.”

He listened intently, his eyes watering more from the painful emotions roiling around inside him than the pain of the smacks, which was really negligible. “I can’t forget what I’ve done,” he whispered. 

“We’re together now,” she said. “Maybe this is the afterlife. Maybe this is all that’s left for us. Or maybe we have something to go on to after this. Maybe there’s a way we can go back. To help those we left behind. Like Ziggy.” As she spoke, she moved her hand a little lower and began to swat the tops of his thighs and the creases that were his sit spots.

His breath caught and he let out a quiet sob. One hand moved from the floor and he threw it back; not to try and block her, but so that she’d catch his hand and hold it. His backside stung, but his emotions hurt so much more. And as he clung to her hand, those emotions tore through him, released with the loving discipline she was giving him. He slumped limp over her lap, crying.

A final few smacks and then she stopped, gently rubbing his back. “I love you.”

He lay in place until his tears slowed to a stop. Then, he slowly slid off her lap, kneeling next to her, resting his head on her leg. He kissed her thigh and murmured, “Thank you.”

She didn’t respond, just stroked her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and sighed quietly, just letting himself bask in the warmth of her forgiveness and love.

The End