Chapter Text
11/10/2005
Hurricane, Utah.
6:35 PM
Everything was ready—or, well, most of it.
While Abby and Mike had prepared to be out early, Vanessa had not. She had woken up late, mostly because Mike couldn’t bring himself to wake her.
She woke up groggy at first, disoriented. But a second later, she practically jumped off the couch, scaring the hell out of Mike, who was walking by.
“I haven’t slept like this since—ever. What time is it?” Vanessa asked, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair back, clearly still half-asleep.
“It’s 6:35” answered Abby, emerging from her room. She wore a pink, white and cyan sweater, some cozy pants, and new shoes Mike had bought for her.
“Shit! I’m sorry, we should be going—” Vanessa said, grabbing her phone from the table and starting for the door.
But Mike stepped in front of her.
“Are you sure you want to go like that? You look—”
“Homeless,” Abby chimed in from behind.
“Abby—! But, ugh, yeah. Are you sure you don’t want to take a shower? I could lend you some clean clothes,” Mike offered, a worried look on his face. Vanessa didn’t look great—physically or otherwise.
She thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Yeah, I guess I could use a shower and some clean clothes.” She moved slowly toward the bathroom.
“Okay, I’ll grab something for you to wear,” Mike said, jogging to his room. Is there anything a woman could wear in here? he wondered.
6:50 PM
Vanessa stepped out of the shower, wrapping the clean towel Mike had handed her around her body. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed.
She was less pale now, the dark circles under her eyes faded a bit. Her hair—still too long. Her body thinner, slightly more slender. Her thighs were thicker than before, and her nails had lost their color.
She gripped the sink and took a deep breath. Maybe Mike was right. Maybe staying with them was for the best. Maybe her health could improve if she did.
After drying off, she checked the clothes Mike had brought her. Simple:
• an old gray shirt
• a green hoodie
• white sweatpants
• green-and-white socks
• and a pair of pretty blue, white, and yellow shoes
With no spare underwear, she kept the ones she’d worn before. She dressed and looked in the mirror—
Cold.
So cold.
And yet her skin was heating up with unease.
In the corner of the bathroom—unbelievably pale eyes and teeth. The eyes were dead, expressionless. The teeth sharp and broken, forming a twisted grin.
It looked like a rabbit. Tall. Black as a starless night. It stared at her, expectant, as if waiting for her to do something.
She turned quickly, looking to the corner. Nothing. She looked back to the mirror—gone.
Hallucination? Given her history with bunnies, it wouldn’t be surprising.
But how could she explain the otherworldly chill still haunting the room? She swallowed hard and pushed the thought away, stepping out.
In the main room, Mike and Abby sat on the couch. Abby ran up to Vanessa holding something—a perfume bottle with a weird grey wolf girl on it.
“Here! Mike got me this one recently. It’s great!”
Vanessa took it and sprayed a bit on herself. Abby wasn’t lying—it was nice.
“Okay, are we all ready?” Mike asked, grabbing his wallet from a kitchen shelf.
“Yeah, I believe so,” said Vanessa.
“Wait!” Abby shouted, running back to her room. She returned wearing her Foxy hoodie over her sweater.
Mike stared at it for a few seconds, eyes narrowing. Foxy—the one he hated the most.
“Okay. Let’s go,” Mike said, grabbing his car keys.
7:12 PM
Vanessa led the way, having written down the address of the new pizza place. To her dismay, it was the same one from before. The place where The Puppet had attacked.
They parked a block away. The streets were packed—stands selling Fazbear merch, people in cosplay everywhere.
Abby and Vanessa looked around wide-eyed, excited. Mike, on the other hand, seemed more uncomfortable by the minute.
They browsed for a bit. The animatronics hadn’t come out yet. Vanessa kept staring at a limited edition Springbonnie plush—white with pink and brown accents. A strange recolor. Still, she felt drawn to it. Mike bought it for her despite her protests.
Abby wore purple and gold sunglasses and picked up a plush of the yellow bear—Fredbear, Vanessa had called it.
As time passed, the lights dimmed. Soon, heavy mechanical footsteps echoed through the area. They looked around—and there it was: a Freddy animatronic. Slightly chubby, a weirdly circle-shaped head, colors warmer than the original Freddy suit, and bright red cheeks.
Abby stared in awe. She ran to the robot, and Mike’s heart nearly exploded as he sprinted after her. Vanessa followed close behind.
Just as Mike reached Abby and grabbed her hand, the animatronic spoke.
“Oh-oh, look what we have here! So-me-me n-nice miss! I can see you’ve got style.”
Its head moved mechanically, gazing at her hoodie.
Abby smiled, but it faded a little. She turned to Mike and Vanessa.
“What’s wrong, Abby?” Vanessa asked.
“Nothing. It’s just… these aren’t like them. Not fully, I think.”
“What do you mean ‘fully’?” Mike asked.
“I think something’s off with them. I can feel it. They’re not like the others.” Abby’s expression dimmed.
“Mhm. That’s one question answered, I guess,” Mike muttered, eyes dull.
“Wait—one question? You brought me here just to see if they were possessed?” Abby asked, crossing her arms, annoyed.
“I’m sorry, Abby. Okay? This won’t be the last time—we’ll come back tomorrow,” Mike promised. Vanessa glanced at him with sympathy.
8:05 PM
An hour passed. The restaurant didn’t open. Apparently, it wouldn’t until two days from now. All three of them felt disappointed—for different reasons.
They walked back to the car. Abby trailed a few feet behind. Vanessa linked her arm with Mike’s, teasing, “A real gentleman would walk a woman out.”
They drove home in a quiet, comfortable silence.
Mike started preparing dinner. Abby went to her room, and Vanessa stayed in the kitchen, sitting at the table.
“You’d make a great man-wife,” Vanessa joked from behind him, playful. She liked teasing him.
“At least I know how to cook without setting a pan on fire,” Mike shot back.
“That was one time!” she protested. “I’d just been stabbed!”
“Mhm.”
She balled up a napkin and threw it at his back.
8:45 PM
Vanessa set the table while Mike finished cooking—steak and fries. The fries were in a basket labeled Exotic Butters. When she asked about it, Mike said it was a gift from his new job.
They ate. Abby used her laptop while chewing.
It felt like a dream to Vanessa. Yes, they’d been friends since the Freddy’s incident. But while she gave Abby gifts and helped Mike however she could, she often tried to stay away—still feeling guilty.
Mike washed the dishes. Vanessa packed the leftovers. Abby darted to her room, starting a call with her friends—earning a shout from Mike.
9:25 PM
Mike and Vanessa watched TV together. Some show called ER was playing. A semi-serious hospital drama starring a doctor named Carter.
Vanessa didn’t pay much attention. Her thoughts drifted.
When was the last time I felt this close to anyone? Never. And it hurt.
She lacked affection. Of course she did—her father had been an abusive, manipulative psycho.
She looked at Mike and felt something unfamiliar. Was it love? She didn’t know. She’d never had time to feel it before. But she liked it.
She scooted closer, wrapping her arms around him. Mike pulled her in.
She knew this couldn’t be forever. She couldn’t be a weight on Mike’s back—her pride wouldn’t let her. But… she hoped it could last longer than she’d expected.
She felt herself drifting to sleep on his shoulder. As she faded, she felt his grip tighten, keeping her from slipping off the couch.
Tomorrow is another day, she thought.
Not as a punishment—this time, with hope.
Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place
Metal screeched in a dimly lit room. Afton—no, Springtrap—was working. Tearing apart, fusing, testing. Seeing what he could create today with the “gift” he gave them back in 1987.
From the shadows, a figure watched. A rabbit.
It showed no expression. But Afton knew—it was angry. Angry for what he’d done to them. Then—and now.
He didn’t care. The entity couldn’t stop him. Born from a pathetic wish, it was no threat.
“Save them,” he mocked, imitating a little girl’s voice. He knew her well.
He stared into the dark, locking eyes with the figure.
“You can’t,” he spat, hateful and mocking.
The entity vanished in an explosion of darkness.
And Springtrap? He simply went back to work.