DISCLAIMER: Jennifer's Body and all related characters and events belong to Diablo Cody, Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, and Dune Entertainment. This is a not-for-profit work. I am not making any money, nor am I attempting to negatively affect the market for any of the materials shown, or take proceeds from their creators, but rather to expand the fanbase and keep the pre-existing fanbase strong.

Some quotes from the film are scattered throughout.

RATING: T (for violence/gore, character death, some suggestive adult themes, coarse language, and ideologically sensitive material)

Contains a lot of my own personal beliefs concerning the afterlife, many of which do not mesh with any established religion's teaching, and some of which may be considered offensive. Read at your own risk.

Coarse language, including slurs.

Some non-sexual, non-descriptive nudity in later chapters.

CHARACTERS FEATURED: Colin Gray, Jennifer Check, Needy Lesnicki, and most of the supporting cast of Jennifer's Body, as well as various OCs

SPOILER WARNING: Contains Spoilers for pretty much the entire film.


Chapter 1: Through the Trees

Colin Gray screamed, over and over, but the sounds of his own screams seemed more distant with each ripping, rending bite. He wished the pain would get more distant too, but instead it became more intense, as if she were harrowing his very soul, eating it along with his flesh. Was it supposed to last this long? Wasn't the dying bit supposed to make it hurt less?

These thoughts ran dimly through his mind, the part that wasn't consumed with the ordeal his body was going through. It was oddly like sex: it was like part of his mind could think above the pleasure, or, in this instance, the pain.

He tried to cry out to God, but she had eaten—Oh God, eaten—too much of him, he couldn't make more than wet, strangled, jagged sounds. He clutched his rosary with fainting fingers and prayed in his head instead. He figured God would hear anyway.

God must have. He was still screaming, somewhere, far away, but finally the pain seemed... not less intense, but deeper. He began to realize that this body that he'd always thought of as himself, as his identity, was merely a collection of nerves and muscles and bones and skin, a meat-puppet, and that he was something completely different, controlling this puppet without even realizing it... for a short while. The part of him that really was him was separating, preparing to exit.

Should it have been frightening? The sensation of dying? It wasn't, really. This new, deep pain felt almost good, in a strange way... the pain was a doorway that was slowly opening. A doorway to where? Did it matter? A new world. It'd be all right.

Then suddenly, he was back, ever so briefly... he saw her toothy maw stretched wide, wider than should be physically possible for a human jaw. He saw her inhuman eyes, pale and terrible, staring into him with a triumphant expression: HOPELESS. He wanted to grin up at her, to say, I'm not hopeless. But he'd lost control of his facial muscles. He doubted she'd understand anyway, as she lowered her face below his line of sight and made one final chomp, crunching into his ribcage and splattering everything with spurts of red.

The pain was excruciating, abrupt, deeper than ever before... and then he splintered into a million pieces and he went through the doorway, hurtling past the dark shapes. Hurtling through the trees.

It took forever; it was instantaneous. He had time to wonder, at length, whether that stupid band had any idea how close they'd come to the mark. He was floating slowly enough to see each of the dark shapes in detail... they were trees, but only on the surface; he knew they were more than that, but he could never explain, not in the mortal words he'd had such command over during his life. Yet at the same time, he was rushing past these trees at an enormous speed.

Headed towards the Light.

He saw—no, felt it. How could he see anymore? He had no optical nerves, nothing to see with. The term, like so many others, was quickly becoming primitive, outdated: a mortal term. This Light couldn't be seen anyway. He'd felt it when he was alive too, in a diluted, distant sort of way: holding his rosary in prayer; singing along with some dumb song in his dad's car; sunny days following rainy nights, with the smell of the wet earth, the world feeling fresh and clean and made anew.

He was amused: that corny light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel thing was real! He burst into dozens upon dozens of bubbles of laughter; it wasn't so funny in itself, but he felt so joyful! How could he not, so close to that Light that was pure happiness?

And just before he reached it, the thought of Jennifer, sudden, unexpected, certainly unbidden, filled his mind.