Nightmare On Elm Street/Criminal Minds crossover. Nightmare On Elm Street is a franchise about a bunch of kids getting slaughtered in their sleep. Got the idea from the episode "Birthright", which had Rodney Eastman a.k.a. "Joey Crusel" from NOES 3 & 4. This ignores the death of Rod, Nancy, Lt. Thompson, Kristen, Joey, Kincaid, and Rick. Alice and Jacob live with Rick. Uses the concept of the Dream Police that was pitched but never used. NOES belongs to Wes Craven and New Line Cinema and Criminal Minds belongs to CBS. I use a line from NOES 1 and Krueger's sweater is the one from the first film.


In a sprawling house, in a small, suburban town called Springwood, Ohio, everything suggested an aura of tranquility. Stars shone in the sky, and the night was only broken by the occasional chirp of a cricket. However, in one house, things were not as peaceful as they seemed. A sixteen-year old boy was in his bed, tossing and turning, trapped in a nightmare.

The boy looked around. Where was he? Pipes hissed, releasing steam. A strange, high-pitched sound filled the air. He gasped. What was that? A strange chuckling filled the air. With another gasp, he took off running. He moaned and sweat poured down his face. There was a shout of triumph and pounding footsteps told the boy that someone was giving chase. He panted. He couldn't believe this was happening. All because he had run out of Hypnocil and had forgotten to get more. He moaned again. He just wanted to wake up. Why couldn't he wake up? Without warning, he tripped and fell down a flight of stairs.

"What the heck? They weren't there a minute ago," he said. There was another chuckle-closer this time. The boy stood up and looked around, panting nervously. He had to get out of this place-but how? He quickly made a decision and hurried down the hall. Suddenly, he came across what seemed to be an exit.

"Yes! Thank God!" he gasped. He opened the door. To his horror, a man in a red-and-green sweater stood in his front of him. He cackled and waved his right hand, which was covered by a glove with four razors.

"This…is god," he taunted. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the boy was flung forward. The door slammed shut and then came a blood-curdling scream. The next morning, his parents came into his room.

"Kyle? Honey, are you up yet?" his mother questioned. There was no answer.

"Kyle? Sweetheart?" his mother asked again. Again, there was no answer.

"Kyle? Kiddo?" his father questioned. He stepped forward and he felt something stick to his foot. No, he thought to himself. With trepidation, he pulled the sheet up. His wife screamed. Their son was lying in the bed, slashed to ribbon.

"Why didn't he tell us he was out of Hypnocil?" the woman questioned, as her husband grabbed the cell phone off his son's nightstand and began dialing. The phone picked up after three rings.

"Hello?" a voice asked.

"Donald, he killed my boy," the man reported.

"Okay. We'll be right there," the man promised. He hung up and his wife fell into his arms, sobbing.