Disclaimer: I don't own Jason Voorhees or any Friday the 13th content. I do own Blake and Henrietta.
Story: When Jason Voorhees was a little boy, there was one counselor who cared and tried to save him. She'd failed but the memory of her was branded into his mind, alongside that of his mother's. Years later, he meets her great grandchild with her looks, and finds a second chance along with her.
Set after Freddy vs. Jason.
Spoilers: Um…from all 12 films, I guess. Even the new one.
Warnings: Violence, language, etc.
Pairings: Jason/Blake (OC)
A/n: Done so I could write it as realistically and as un-Mary-Suish as possible. Also, this Jason is based on Victor Miller's original decision to have Jason look like a normal child, only mentally handicapped. My Jason isn't mentally handicapped, but he isn't overly deformed. He'll look normal, except for some kind of small defect. Chosen because I wanted Jason to be this way and because I wanted to write kids being cruel over small things that they easily exaggerate over.
Not really edited.

The Devil's Aria
Chapter One: In My Time of Need

"Hey, freak!"

"Over here, retard!"

"Oh my god! Look at his face!"

He was so confused. They kept pushing him around and shoving him into the others. They kept jeering and laughing at him. He could feel the tears dripping down his one good eye.

Why? He didn't understand why they were so mean to him. Where were the grownups? The counselors? Where was his mother?

One more hard shove and he fell into the water.

The water was rapidly filling his lungs. He tried to stay afloat, but he kept panicking and the water was dragging him down. He stayed above water before going down again, and the other kids were still laughing.

Couldn't they see he was going to die?

His last image was seeing an angel run towards him, a panicked look on her gorgeous face as her long, silvery hair fanned behind her. As he blacked out, the woman dived in and swam towards him, holding onto him as she swam back to the surface.

Calming herself, she laid his body flat on the wooden docks and began to perform CPR. The terrified mother finally reached them, but she focused on giving Jason Voorhees mouth to mouth. After breathing into his mouth and compressing his chest for at least thirty minutes, in which everyone had gone quiet except for a couple of sniffles and crying among the children and the outright sobbing of Pamela Voorhees, she felt the stress of the moment catch up to her. Her heart clenched and her head felt like it was being squeezed. She stopped performing CPR and collapsed next to the dead body of Jason, bringing a new round of horrified yells and screaming.

Blair Williams, age 22, was supposed to retire as a counselor from Camp Crystal Lake because of how susceptible she was to heart palpitations. Suffering a stroke after so much stress, Blair fell into a deep coma.

It was many years later. Blair's fiancé, desperate to have something of her (other than having took on her name as his own since they couldn't marry), took her eggs and implanted them in another woman, using his sperm to have a child born from him and Blair. He was able to have Blair's twins, taking care of them by himself until they were well into their twenties. By then, Blair was still unresponsive and he had to make the choice to pull the plug. One of his girls had children, making him and Blair grandparents.

The last image he had in his mind when he died was of his only great grandchild, Blake Williams who had the features of his long lost love.

Blake Williams had just recently turned sixteen on June 13, 2008. She wasn't only an only child, but also a child of the state. Her mother and father died from a car crash, and no one else was willing to take care of her. Now she lived in her great grandmother's home on the cliff, overlooking Camp Crystal Lake.

She sighed heavily, as she stared out into the water below her. Not only had she inherited Blair's home, but she'd also inherited her great grandmother's rare looks. She had her silvery hair, her pale skin, her narrow face and petite figure, and her abnormal bicolored eyes. One eye was amber gold and the other pale grey. The only thing that made her look different from her great grandmother was cutting her hair short and letting it spike out, especially around her face.

Some would ask her if she was worried about living so close to Camp Blood, but she honestly wasn't. She lived there for most of her life, and she hadn't been bothered once by Jason Voorhees. She lived a quiet life, undisturbed by campers and Jason alike. The only places she goes to are the town and her home, and her only companion was the baby vixen that lived with her.

"Henrietta," she called out softly, waiting for the little fox to scuttle into the room.

Henrietta came and began chowing down on the food Blake left out for her. Blake began eating as well, writing equations down for school. She scrunched her face up. Just because she lived alone and was a child of the state unfortunately didn't mean she could skimp out on school.

She began drawing on the side, knowing the teachers didn't mind any more since they were used to her doodling something. She hadn't meant to, but she began drawing her version of Jason. Idly, she thought he wasn't really dead. They keep killing him, or at least thinking they did, and he just kept coming back. Last she heard, after the FBI set up that sting and then Jason's niece sent him to Hell, Freddy Krueger brought Jason back to life.

She wasn't surprised to hear the murders around Crystal Lake had started up again.

"When will people learn, 'Etta?" Blake murmured to her fox, gathering their plates and putting them into the sink. She set up a bowl of milk for the baby vixen before beginning to wash the dishes.

Henrietta didn't answer her, focused on lapping up the milk.

Blake hummed to herself, singing to a song she couldn't get out of her head.

"Sparkling angel
I believe
You were my savior,
In my time of need

"Blinded by faith,
I couldn't hear
All the whispers,
The warnings so clear

"I see the angels
I'll lead them to your door
There's no escape now
No mercy, no more
No remorse 'cause I still remember…"

Blake hummed the rest, Henrietta trotting after her as she started getting ready for bed. Unfortunately for her, she didn't notice the dark figure stalking around her house, peering through the windows and listening in on her.

She did, however, notice waking up late. She woke up half an hour later than she usually woke up, groggily realizing that school was in another thirty minutes. She flashed through her usual routine before running out the door and onto her new motorcycle.

School was rather dull and it went by rather fast. Unsurprisingly, there was a group of people that had recently gone missing, and were no doubt dead. Mostly, Blake focused on getting through the day without having to snap at everyone who whimpered or screeched at every little thing, claiming the problem was Jason.

She had no idea she would sort of become one of those people.

Blake entered her home quietly, not at all expecting her surprised visitor. She'd already set down her backpack by the door before she looked up and noticed the huge, hulking figure standing in the middle of her living room. At 6'5 1/2", Blake thought Jason Voorhees really lived up to his reputation.

Her scream was locked in her throat and she knew if she ran, he would easily catch up despite his size. So she stood still and closed her eyes, waiting for his next move.

She flinched when she heard the heavy thud of his footsteps coming closer. His breathing was harsh, but slow and steady. She immediately knew when she'd been cornered. She could feel his dark presence weighing over her. And then the tip of his machete was under her chin, lifting it up and barely missing her throat. After a minute had passed, she braved it and opened her eyes.

Jason was in front of her, his blue right eye staring intensely at her, while the other was closed shut. The hockey mask he wore covered most of his face, totally worn from use and from the usual wear and tear the killer usually put it through.

She was startled when he yanked her forward, machete narrowly avoiding piercing her throat, and slammed the door. He suddenly let her go, making her fall backwards to the floor and on her butt. The giant of a man stalked back to her living room, setting down his machete onto the floor and sitting down on her mahogany settee. He watched her steadily and she slowly moved to sit as far away from him as possible.

"Are you going to kill me?" Blake asked, trembling all over.

Jason said nothing, so she hesitantly took that as a no.

"Um, you –you want to stay here?" she hazarded a guess.

Jason stayed silent, tilting his head, but he made sure to get more comfortable to give her a clear sign. She narrowed her eyes. Everything about this man wasn't all about brute force or strength. Blake could see it now, after that little gesture. Jason wasn't just some big, unstoppable brute. He wasn't stupid. He was highly intelligent, and she could see the calculation in his eye. She'd heard some of the stories of how he killed. How else could he stalk –hunt down those people, without some cunning? He didn't come at them full frontal all the time. Sometimes he waited for an opportune moment…

"O-okay then. I'm just going…to do my homework."

After another silent response, she walked more comfortably to her backpack and brought it with her to the kitchen table. She began on her work, uncomfortably aware of the stare directed at her.

She was tempted to whimper.

Henrietta suddenly trotted into the room and Blake froze up, glancing between her fox and the masked killer behind her. Jason stiffened up, but made no other move than that. She anxiously called out to her pet.

"'Etta, come here…"

However, the baby vixen scampered curiously over to Jason. She sniffed him and then curled around his feet. When Jason reached out, Blake tensed and got ready to leap forward. To her surprise, Jason started petting the fox instead. Forcing herself to relax, she determinedly focused on her work.

When she finally got into it, time passed and she definitely didn't notice Jason standing behind her, holding the fox and staring over her shoulder. She leaned back when she was finished, her head thumping against something hard. Letting out a gasp, she turned slowly and saw Jason right behind her.

"Um, hi."

He grunted, and the noise that came out of him startled her. He was usually so quiet.

"Henrietta and I need to eat so…" she was dumbfounded when Jason set the fox down and began preparing her fox's food like she does it, as if he had done it his entire life. She began preparing her own food, letting Jason take care of Henrietta for now while keeping a wary eye on him.

Her nerves were practically shot by this entire encounter. Who could blame her? She had a masked serial killer, and not just any killer –the infamous Jason Voorhees at that! –wanting to be housed in her home.

She was surprised she was still alive.

Blake woke up the next morning, confused and not in the least bit rested. It was a Saturday, so she'd decided she could take Henrietta out for a walk, careful not to stray too close to Camp Crystal Lake.

She gasped.

Throwing off the covers, she ran from her room to the living room. Sure enough, there he was, a silent statue sitting on her settee and watching out her window.

He twitched at her entrance, the only sign she knew he knew she was there, but he didn't move otherwise.

"Good…good morning," she muttered, feeling herself go into shock again. Henrietta was already eating by his side, so Blake decided to settle for cereal. She ate at the table, facing him this time so she could watch him for any sudden or warning movements.

"I was going to take a walk with Henrietta today," she muttered, unsure if he'd even hear her. Apparently he had because he quickly stood up and strode to the door, setting himself in front of it.

"Uh, you don't want us to go?"

Jason shook his head.

"Do you…want to come…with us?"

Jason nodded, grabbing his machete from where it was leaning next to the door, and then strapping it to his belt.

"Let me just get ready then. You know…take a shower, change clothes, that kind of thing?"

He just stared at her so she shrugged and left for home.

"Whatever you say," she muttered.

Then again, he wasn't saying anything.

Started 2/24/09 -Completed 3/7/09