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Chapter Text

The aftermath of… everything… took forever to clear up, if you asked Gregory. Going to the hospital, having to explain to police about the actual child murderer living inside the pizzaplex, getting adopted—it was a tiring two weeks. 

But so worth it. Vanny was found and arrested, the virus that had taken over the animatronics was removed, and the pizzaplex took advantage of being closed for the investigation to get some much-needed renovations done. By the time both he and Vanessa were released from the hospital, it was ready to open again, and therefore, ready to welcome its night guard back into its shiny new halls. 

There was some event going on that weekend to celebrate, and it was stirring up as much chatter as the investigation had, but Gregory couldn’t have cared less. He missed Freddy, gosh dang it. Could anyone really blame him? 

One night might not seem like long enough to become deeply emotionally attached to someone, but considering he’d also gotten an actual legal guardian out of that same night, Gregory figured it was the trauma. Really brought unlikely people together, y’know? 

And he wasn’t the only one to have gotten attached. When he raced ahead of Vanessa and burst through the front doors of the pizzaplex, Freddy was already there, pacing with his head down. He turned to Gregory the moment he stepped inside, and they met in the middle, Freddy falling to his knees to better hug Gregory. 

Arms flung over Freddy’s shoulders, Gregory buried his beaming smile against Freddy’s neck. “I missed you,” he whispered. 

“And I missed you,” Freddy replied softly, one hand resting on the back of Gregory’s head. “Are you all right, superstar?” 

Gregory hummed. “I’m fine now, promise.” It was a fair question—the last time Freddy had seen Gregory, he’d been very unconscious and, so he’d been told, a fair bit bloodier than anyone was comfortable with. 

Vanny had gotten close. Way too close. 

When he’d woken up in the hospital the first time, Vanessa had only managed to calm him down by reassuring him Freddy had been okay, if extremely distraught, when they’d finally left the pizzaplex. Then he realized she was in a hospital gown too, sat in a wheelchair with an IV bag hanging from the back, and he spiraled again. 

Gregory was very glad to be out of the hospital.

He heard Vanessa come in behind him, but he had no interest in moving, so he just listened as she and Freddy greeted each other. He gasped in surprise when Freddy suddenly stood, taking Gregory with him, but he settled into the secure hold the animatronic had on him with ease. Vanessa was great and all, and he couldn’t thank her enough for taking him in, but this—this felt like coming home. 

The next hour passed in a blur of proper introductions, explanations from each side to try and piece together the whole picture of what exactly happened on the night Gregory broke in, and hugs. Lots of them. 

Only under duress would he admit to likening it to paradise. 

(Gregory wasn’t stupid. He knew what “touch starved” meant. He knew he, as a previously homeless orphan, was practically the poster child for it.)

He could only be convinced to leave Freddy’s side when nature called. 

“You remember where the bathroom is?” Vanessa asked, passing him her flashlight. The pizzaplex’s night cycle might not make the building completely dark, but he genuinely appreciated it. Flashlights worked wonders at chasing away looming shadows. 

(Vanny was gone and the animatronics were all back in their right minds again. He knew there was nothing to be scared of anymore. But if trauma was overcome that easily, Gregory wouldn’t have an appointment with a therapist this weekend.)

“Think so,” he said, bouncing off, in too good of a mood to mind needing to wander a bit, if it came down to it. “I’ll be right back!” 

When he wasn’t running for his life, being in the pizzaplex after closing was actually pretty cool. The quiet hallways might freak some people out, but living on the streets had desensitized him to unnatural silences. It was like a whole different world after dark, and he was one of the few lucky enough to be part of it. 

(The shadows weren’t even that scary.)

Gregory was still smiling to himself when he stumbled upon it—a new exhibit in one of the museum-style sections. The special event, he guessed, based on the signs and balloons surrounding the miniature stage tucked against the wall. He paused, flashlight flickering over the attraction. 

According to one of the informational signs, the four deactivated animatronics standing before him were considered the originals. These exact Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, and Foxy models were all that remained of the pizzeria location that really kickstarted the whole animatronic band concept. It put Fazbear Entertainment on the map. 

They were smaller than the Glamrocks, these animatronics. About the size of an adult human, but bulkier. And kinda boxy. Covered in worn fur, too, instead of the sleek metal and plastic Gregory was used to. He could tell they used to be really dirty, despite the efforts someone had probably gone through to clean them up. Overall, very dull-looking, with minimal accessories or anything. But then, they were the foundation for the bots he knew today, so he supposed they deserved a pass. It wasn’t their fault their creators didn’t make them cool-looking. 

It was weird, though, to see these old versions of Freddy and Chica. How different they were, even at the most basic level, being dark brown and drab yellow respectively instead of the bright orange-brown and white of his friends. 

Even shut down, their postures were stiff. He hadn’t realized how lifelike the current models were until now. Gregory couldn’t imagine these ones would be capable of half the things his bots could do.

Shaking his head, Gregory continued on his way to the bathroom, leaving the past behind him. 

Had he lingered, or glanced over his shoulder as he went, he would have seen a pair of glowing eyes flickering to life and a head turning to follow his footsteps. 

(So much for being deactivated.)

• • •  

Gregory had just finished drying his hands when he heard the door creak open on the other side of the wall separating the room in half. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what tipped him off, but goosebumps immediately rose along his arms. The Glamrocks weren’t very quiet, and he hadn’t heard any of them approaching. And he couldn’t imagine why Vanessa would come in here. 

He especially couldn’t imagine why any of them would come looking for him without calling out. 

Heart racing, he wondered if he should say hello, ask who it was, just—something. But the thought of alerting whoever—whatever—it was to his presence… it made him afraid in a way he hadn’t been even with the infected Glamrocks on his tail. 

There was the sound of shuffling, and the quiet click of the door closing behind the newcomer. Silent as a mouse, Gregory crept across the tiles and slipped into the end stall. He locked the door behind him and sat on the seat, knees tucked up to his chest. 

A moment later, the bathroom lights shut off. He tightly clutched his flashlight but didn’t dare use it yet.

He listened, trembling, as the movement got closer. It had a fabric quality to it, but there was weight in each dragging footstep. He didn’t recognize the sound of this intruder. The daycare attendants were light-footed, the Glamrocks rattled and clanked, and Vanessa was only human.

Staring down at the gap between the stall door and the floor, Gregory watched, paralyzed, as the faint shadow of something lumbered into view, little more than a silhouette in a room lit only by the emergency exit signs. It came to a stop just outside his stall.

Gregory’s eyes slowly trailed up. Visible through the crack, angled to zero in on him, was a glowing eye with a blue iris. 

It wasn’t the right height for Freddy. For his Freddy.

He flicked the flashlight on, pointed at the door. Brown fur surrounded the eye, deep shadows casting the socket into darkness. The head tilted slightly, watching him.

A large brown hand raised to curl over the top of the door, metal shrieking as it was twisted apart.

Chapter Text

Freddy watched Vanessa glance over her shoulder for the third time in less than two minutes. It had been nine minutes since Gregory had departed for the bathroom, and he could see her starting to get twitchy over his prolonged absence. 

While Freddy had no personal frame of reference for how long a bathroom break took, he knew from interacting with children of all ages for years that nine minutes, for a capable child of Gregory’s age, was too long. The most likely explanations for this delay varied; perhaps he was experiencing difficulties—a stomachache, perhaps?—or he had gotten lost in the relatively unfamiliar halls of the pizzaplex, or something had caught his attention. 

All simple and harmless reasons; Freddy knew by now that things were rarely so simple and harmless in the pizzaplex, not after hours. Though Vanny had been found and removed from the premises, and all the animatronics were free from the dangerous virus altering their minds, he could not help but worry that something had befallen Gregory. 

With what confidence could he call the pizzaplex safe when so much danger had poisoned its halls for so long, unnoticed? 

Even his bandmates were beginning to shift with unease. Right as it hit the ten minute mark since Gregory’s departure, Chica said, “He’s been gone a while…” 

“Maybe he’s exploring?” Monty offered. Freddy could not help but think he sounded incredibly unsure. 

“I’m just gonna check on him real quick,” Vanessa said, popping to her feet. 

Freddy was quick to follow. “I will accompany you. That way, we will not lose both you and Gregory.” 

“He’s not lost,” Vanessa muttered, more to herself than as a reprimand to him. “I can’t—I can’t have lost him already.” 

“We can all go,” Roxy said, rising from her seat faux casually, preventing Vanessa’s worry from spiraling. “If the munchkin took a wrong turn, we can split up to look for him.” 

It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. Freddy could not help but wonder if his friends were thinking as he was—that the removal of one danger did not mean the removal of all dangers. 

As they set off, Roxy and Monty fell into an argument over who would be able to find Gregory the fastest, if the child had indeed gotten lost. By unspoken agreement, the four of them refused to let even a moment of silence descend on their group, all aware of the tension in Vanessa’s shoulders and the pinching of her brows. 

Ignoring the way Roxy and Monty were beginning to shove at each other—their competitiveness was one of the many reasons Monty was banned from Roxy’s Raceway and Roxy was banned from Monty’s Gator Golf—Freddy kept pace with Vanessa and suggested, “It is possible he discovered some of the new features that were adding during the renovations and is exploring them.”

She snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past him to have gotten distracted. He’s got a terminal case of ‘sticking his nose in other people’s business.’” 

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Freddy murmured. Where would they all be without Gregory’s curiosity? He refused to even entertain that what-if. 

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Vanessa finished. She shook her head. “Kid’s got a way of escaping trouble, y’know?” 

“I do,” Freddy agreed, only somewhat ruefully. He had had a front row seat to Gregory’s antics, from beginning to end, that night several weeks ago. 

On Vanessa’s opposite side, Chica giggled at him. “Ooh, ooh, once we find him, can we show you guys some of the new stuff?” she asked, bouncing. “You gotta see this, Miss Vanessa, they found really, really old versions of me and Freddy!” 

Catching the new thread of conversation, Monty jumped in, incapable of ignoring an opportunity to poke fun at Freddy. “Old Fazbear here sure didn’t look so good, back in the day.” He snickered. “He was short, too.” 

Freddy, having heard this several times before, merely sighed in the way humans would. 

“And I was yellow! Isn’t that weird?” Chica added. “See, look, they’re right here—”

All five of them came to abrupt halt, Freddy’s system skipping from a brief burst of confused surprise. On the small stage, Chica, Bonnie, and Foxy stood, perfectly in place. Between Chica and Bonnie, though, was a conspicuous empty space where the old model of Freddy should have been. 

“Aren’t they supposed to be deactivated?” Roxy asked. 

Vanessa took off so suddenly, Freddy’s spatial awareness programming spasmed. She ran the rest of the short way to the bathroom, and horrified understanding drove the rest of them after her. 

She slammed into the men’s bathroom with such ferocity that Freddy could easily picture her attacking the wayward animatronic with her bare hands and tearing it apart. If it had hurt Gregory, he had no doubt she would not so much as hesitate. 

The light, he could see, was off, though Vanessa was quick to flick it on as she skidded inside, shouting Gregory’s name. 

She did not receive an answer. 

Freddy followed her as she ducked around to one side of the split bathroom. One bang after another echoed against the tiles; she shoved each stall open, saying, “If you’re ignoring me, kid, this isn’t funny!” 

Heading to the other side, a burst of panicked static escaped Freddy’s voice box, immediately drawing the others’ attention. His friends gathered around him, gasping. The last stall door on this side had been ripped off its hinges, the top badly dented. Blood splattered the floor. 

Freddy almost didn’t recognize his own voice when he growled, “Find him,” to his friends without looking away from the scene. A broken flashlight—Vanessa’s flashlight, which she’d given to Gregory—laid next to a torn scrap of blue fabric. 

The other three scrambled out of the bathroom, leaving Freddy to focus on Vanessa, who stood at the opposite end of the bathroom, eyes wide with something so human, it nearly hurt to look at. 

He could not help but think of the implications. The old models had been brought in long after the virus was eradicated, from their minds and the pizzaplex’s servers. If this animatronic held aggression toward humans, it was not new code. 

That would have to be considered later, though. Stepping carefully around the blood—Gregory’s blood—Freddy reached out and took Vanessa’s shoulders. She did not resist as he steered her away, back around the dividing wall and out of sight of the evidence that something truly terrible had befallen Gregory. 

When she started to tremble, he slowly folded her into a hug, watching for any sign that such comfort was unwanted. But no, she nearly collapsed against him, shaking badly, though not yet crying. As much as he ached to be out there with his friends, searching for Gregory, Vanessa needed him as well. Both humans were part of their family, and Freddy knew Gregory would not want his new guardian to be left alone, hurting. 

“Gregory is very good at escaping trouble,” Freddy said after a moment, echoing Vanessa’s sentiment from earlier.

“He had help last time,” she replied. “He had you.” 

“And now he has many of us.” He thought for a moment, cycling through words until he settled on what he wanted to say and how. “He surprised me often, in the beginning, at how capable he was at surviving.” 

She flinched minutely, but he forged on. “However it comes about, Gregory has repeatedly beaten the odds. With help or on his own. There is no reason to think now will be any different.” 

This old animatronic was hardly the first to draw Gregory’s blood. Bleak as he felt, Freddy could not help but suspect it would not be the last, either. 

Vanessa nodded, two parts acknowledgement, one part determination not to drown in premature grief. With a deep breath, she straightened up and stepped back, eyes bright but dry. 

“We will stick together,” Freddy told her. For her safety, and so he could pass along messages to and from his friends. 

They set out, Freddy coordinating with the others so they did not overlap in their hunt. 

It was Monty, who had descended into the basement, who found something first. The fizzle of shock-panic-urgency he unintentionally sent the rest of them brought them running. Freddy made sure not to run as fast as he was capable of, fearful of losing Vanessa. Only the lack of despair from Monty kept Freddy from malfunctioning. 

They reached him at the same time as Roxy, Chica only a little behind her. Monty stood in the doorway to one of the utility tunnels, staring at something. He moved as they approached, allowing them to join him. 

It was the old Freddy model. Sparks intermittently shot out of the exposed wiring that jutted from its neck. The head lay all by its lonesome off to the side, eyes open but unlit. As dead as an animatronic could be. Dark spots of blood stained the fabric suit’s hand, but Gregory was nowhere to be found. 

“What the hell,” Vanessa whispered. “What could have done this?” 

“Wasn’t me,” Monty muttered. “It was like that when I got here.” 

“The other three haven’t moved,” Chica offered. “I passed them on my way down.” 

Roxy nudged past the rest of them, skirting closer to the downed animatronic. She sniffed at the air, recoiling just as quickly. “Something even mustier than these ones was here,” she said, kicking at a limp leg. Turning away, she shuffled around, eyes half-lidded in concentration as she attempted to follow the scent. 

Reentering the hallway, Roxy paused at the intersection leading to the utility tunnel. “That way,” she said, pointing down the left hall, after testing each direction. “Whatever it was went that way.” 

Their search now was slower, this new unknown adding caution to their footsteps as Roxy tracked it. They peeked into rooms as they passed them, just in case. 

It turned out to be unnecessary, for their journey ended not far from the tunnel, in one of the unused cafeterias. Standing in a clump at the double-door entrance, Freddy found he could go no further. Something old and angry and anguished snaked through his wires, freezing him—and his friends by the looks of things—where he stood. Vanessa went tense as a bow-string, a small cloud of misty white escaping her mouth. The temperature, beginning at the exact boundary of the room, had dropped dramatically. 

It took Freddy a moment to understand what he was looking at, even as his programming fought against an invisible block; initially, he had eyes only for Gregory, desperate to go to him but physically unable to do so. But the rest filtered in soon enough. 

He hesitated to call it an animatronic, the thing sitting on the floor, Gregory cradled in its lap. It did not feel like an animatronic, in a way no human could understand. But it was shaped like one, even with its back mostly to them, and it did not look altogether too different from the old style of model. The similarities to the decapitated Freddy were obvious. This one… drooped, though, and lacked the stiffness that indicated an endoskeleton. 

The thought that this was a human wearing a costume, like Vanny had, crossed his mind, but Freddy was quick to discard the possibility. This thing was not human either. Or perhaps, not human enough. 

The lights above it flickered at random, the quick bursts revealing a dirty, matted suit in a dull, faded gold color. This, whatever it was, had not been restored the way the others had.

Vanessa began to shiver, and that was when the thing slowly turned its head to look at them. 

It was another Freddy, that was obvious almost immediately. But there was nothing but empty space where its eyes should be, black sockets staring at them. Rusty red stained its lower jaw; the mouth hung open at an angle, like it had been broken. 

With the way it twisted to face them, more of Gregory was revealed. He appeared to be unconscious—please, only unconscious—and though it was difficult to tell in the darkness, Freddy could see what looked like gashes on one of his limp arms. 

A pained moan broke the silence, and it took a moment for Freddy to realize the sound was not coming from Gregory, but the thing holding him. It looked away from the group after another tense minute, returning to its hunch over the child. As if… 

In a hesitant whisper, Chica echoed his own thoughts, “Is it… protecting him?” 

Indeed, the not-quite-animatronic curved over Gregory in such a way that nothing could reach the boy without going through it, as though to block Gregory from view and potential blows. One of its large hands was positioned around his head, a chilling sight at first glance, but it was not grasping or squeezing, merely supporting. 

“Well,” Roxy said, eyes narrowed, “it doesn’t exactly look like it ripped off the other one’s head for the sake of getting the kill itself.” 

Which meant it had saved Gregory from the old Freddy. 

“Anyone else trying really hard to move right now?” Monty growled. 

“Something is interfering with my programming,” Freddy said. “I cannot enter the room.” 

The others murmured their frustrated agreement. 

In their midst, Vanessa took a deep breath and blew it out in a rush, squaring her shoulders as she did. “But I can.” And despite the massive strain it appeared to cause her, she did just that, taking one step at a time, each looking to require more effort than the last. 

Unable to do much else, Freddy quietly called after her, “Good luck, Vanessa.” 

For she would face the creature alone. 

Chapter Text

The thing tilted its head to track her slow, labored progress as she made her way around to its front in a wide arc, wary of inciting its ire. Vanessa rolled her shoulders, ignoring how the air grew colder the closer she ventured, and tried not to sneer at the creature holding her charge captive. 

Was captive really the right word, though? She wasn’t sure, not with how it minutely shifted to clutch Gregory tighter against its chest, body twisting to subtly put itself between her and him.

The behavior reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite spare the mental energy to figure it out right now. Not when she knew this thing was capable of decapitating an animatronic. If she pissed it off, moved wrong or said something it didn’t like, her fragile bones and muscles wouldn’t even offer it a challenge. 

Finally facing it head-on, with several feet between them, Vanessa crouched down. She could see each exhale mist in front of her, so cold was the room. But where her arms sported goosebumps, and she was unable to keep herself from shivering, her limited sight of Gregory revealed complete stillness. It was bad if someone stopped shivering, wasn’t it? Was it cold enough to give him hypothermia? 

Keeping half an eye on the four animatronics crowding the door at her ten o'clock, she examined the creature in the flickering light. 

Musty, Roxy had called its stench, but up close and personal, it was even worse than she’d imagined. Old wasn’t enough to describe the state of this thing. And she really didn’t like the look of the dried blood around its mouth. 

“So,” Vanessa started, watching for its reaction. Its empty eye sockets remained focused on her, but would it be able to understand her? Better keep the conversation light in case it had a temper. “Thanks for saving my kid.” 

The creature’s head dipped just enough to give off the appearance that it was looking at Gregory before it zeroed in on her again. 

Okay. That was a good sign, right? 

“He’s hurt, though,” she said as gently as she could through the light chattering of her teeth. “That brown Freddy hurt him.” 

It made a grating noise, different from the pained groan. Like it was trying to speak but couldn’t. 

“And you didn’t hurt him, did you,” she said, aiming for soothing. “You’re a nice Freddy. You wanted to help Gregory, right?” 

It didn’t answer, but it did glance at Gregory again. 

Vanessa summoned her courage and boldly moved closer. It didn’t attack, but something like a growl escaped it. “I need to help him now,” she said firmly. “The brown Freddy hurt him, and you saved him, so now it’s my turn to help him with those injuries. Do you see that?” She gestured at his arm, and since she was closer, she could see blood on his shoulder too, smearing onto his neck. Hopefully, only smearing, and not leaking from. “He’s bleeding, and that’s bad.” 

It really did look creepier than the brown Freddy, she decided as it stared at her. Whether it was because of a slightly different design or the disgusting state of it, she wasn’t sure. Just, this gold Freddy and its missing eyes set something off in her brain that really didn’t like being so close to it. 

The hell are you, she wondered. The word ghost floated through her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. 

Finally, though, the thing—whatever it was, ghost or not—uncurled a little from Gregory and halfway offered him to her. Holding her breath, Vanessa steadied herself and carefully lifted her kid into her arms. 

Despite her fears, Gregory wasn’t cold at all. In fact, had she not been witness to the reality that he had to have been in this freezing room longer than her, she would have said he’d never been exposed to this bone-deep, unnatural chill. 

She paused after standing, just long enough to say, “Thank you,” before rushing toward the others. 

A tension in the room that she hadn’t been fully aware of suddenly vanished, and the temperature almost instantly returned to normal. Vanessa glanced over her shoulder even as she passed Gregory off to Freddy. 

The room was empty, and there was no sign that the golden Freddy had ever been there at all. 

• • •

“I didn’t imagine it, right?” she asked the band a little while later once Gregory’s injuries had been treated. It was… odd that he hadn’t woken up yet, but not necessarily a reason to panic. “The weirdest animatronic in the world got ahold of Gregory and then just… vanished?” 

“Unless we’re all suddenly capable of hallucinations, no,” Roxy said. “You didn’t imagine it.” 

“It was so strange!” Chica fidgeted with the edge of the blanket she’d laid over Gregory. “It was like I blinked, and it was suddenly gone.” 

“Good riddance,” Monty mumbled. 

“It did not seem hostile,” Freddy said. He’d barely been able to take his eyes off Gregory since getting him back. “Just… wary. I do not believe it was an animatronic at all, either.” 

“What else could it have been?” Vanessa asked, finally giving in to the urge to get up and pace. Her nerves were absolutely shot. So much for a peaceful first night back. “’Cause there’s no way there was a human in that thing.” 

The bots all seemed to stall, eyes flicking between each other. It was Chica who took the initiative and declared, “Well, I think it was a ghost!” 

Monty pounded his fist on the table. “Ghosts aren’t real!”

“Not sure we, of all things, really have room to say that,” Roxy told him, which Vanessa thought was impressively self-aware. Kinda scarily so. 

“It disappeared like a ghost! And the room was so cold, too!”

“Aren’t ghosts supposed to be see-through or something? That thing sure wasn’t!” 

Vanessa rolled her eyes fondly as Chica and Monty devolved into an argument.

“What do you think they would say,” Freddy whispered to her as she passed him, just loud enough for her to hear, “if I suggested it was magic?” 

She snorted. “They’d have your head like our pal had the old Freddy’s.” 

Freddy huffed, smiling. It faded after a moment. “I do not know how to explain what happened,” he said, staying quiet as the others argued. “But there was something old in that room, Vanessa. Something old and angry.” 

She shivered, quickly plopping down into her seat to mask her unease. “Do you think it’s gone? For good, I mean.” 

Freddy didn’t get the chance to answer, for better or worse, because that was when Gregory groaned and finally opened his eyes. Content to keep him to herself for the moment, Vanessa didn’t bother with grabbing the others’ attention—and notably, neither did Freddy.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said, leaning over him. Gregory stared up at her in bleary confusion. “How you feeling?” 

He hummed in response, looking around as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was. 

“You are safe now, superstar,” Freddy gently told him. “Do you remember what happened?”

There was a brief pause, and some measure of awareness returned to Gregory’s eyes. “I got snatched,” he whispered. “That old Freddy got me.” 

“That’s right,” Vanessa replied. She hesitated. “You don’t have to worry about it happening again. You were—”

“He saved me,” Gregory interrupted, eyes hazy, “He saved me because no one saved him.” Nonsensically, he added, more like an afterthought, “He couldn’t help the others.” 

Chills ran down Vanessa’s spine. She looked up at Freddy, who looked as disconcerted as she felt. 

“’S why I’m so tired,” Gregory continued, muttering almost to himself. “He needed to—to borrow a little. And now we can talk. He’s here.” And he clumsily patted his chest.

Vanessa thought she would never feel more hysterical than when she had to confront some knife-wielding creep in a bunny costume—but this? Oh, this took the cake. 

“What do you mean by that?” Freddy asked at the same time that Vanessa, so frantic she’d looped right back into forced calm, calmly—so calmly, she was the calmest—demanded, “Who the hell is he?” 

“My friend,” Gregory happily answered, still so weirdly out of it. “I told him we could be friends.”

“Your friend? Who—what’s his name, at least?” 

“It’s—” Gregory giggled to himself, like he was about to tell the punchline to a joke only he understood— “It’s me.” 

Chapter Text

Vanessa startled awake with a snort. The TV screen across from the couch was back on the movie’s menu, the music looping softly. The rest of the room was dark. 

Realizing she’d been poked awake, she sluggishly sat up from her slouch and turned to Gregory, squinting a little from the TV’s brightness. Between that and the harsh shadows, it took her a too-long moment to realize something was wrong with her kid. 

Gregory, sitting on his knees on the couch, facing her, was a little more hunched than normal. He looked like he was deliberately making himself smaller, and his head was tilted down, bangs blocking his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. “You both fell asleep, and, and I just wanted to—to meet you.” 

He peeked up at her before she could even hope to process what that meant, and Vanessa immediately jerked into full wakefulness. 

It was like there was a white film over his eyes, making the pupils and irises look faded, nearly blending in with the sclera. The slightest glow seemed to come from them, casting faint highlights on the sides of his nose and tops of his cheeks. 

“Evan, I presume,” Vanessa choked out, tense. She wondered if he’d notice if she pinched herself. But there was no point to trying; this was no nightmare, much as she kinda wished it was. 

No. This was reality—the reality where her eleven-year-old kid was haunted by a murdered child and his… companion. His guard dog, more like.

Now that she was paying attention, Vanessa could just barely make out the looming, menacing shape of an animatronic-but-not just beyond where the light from the TV reached. Pinprick white dots watched her from empty sockets. Golden Freddy—as Gregory claimed Evan said he was called—had seldom faced her head-on in these past two weeks, usually flickering in and out of her peripheral vision and lingering in the corners of mirrors. It was unsettling in a different way to see him in her direct line of sight, not disappearing as soon as he was noticed. 

Evan nodded Gregory’s head, shy and apologetic. “He’s sleeping. I…” He hunched further down, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I don’t think I can do this when he’s awake.” 

“Possess him?” she asked, maybe a little harsher than she meant to, and she actually felt bad for the way Evan winced, expression crumpling. 

“Yeah,” he whispered so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear him. “I’m sorry. I, I swear, I haven’t controlled him before.” 

Vanessa blew out a breath and tried to keep in mind that Evan and Golden Freddy had saved her kid. That Gregory had invited them to haunt him. That Gregory thought it was the coolest thing ever to have a friend in his head, someone who was all but leeching away at his soul. 

She took another, deeper breath. Briefly closing her eyes, she forced herself to let that last thought go. Gregory had reassured her every day since the attack that it didn’t hurt at all, and that Evan claimed it was more like he had planted his figurative roots in Gregory’s soul rather than opening a stream to himself. 

“It’s all right,” she replied once she knew she wouldn’t snap at the kid. Nice to meet you got caught in her throat and adamantly refused to come out, so she instead followed up with, “What’d you want to talk about?” 

Evan offered her a weak smile—which looked painfully out of place on Gregory’s chaos-gremlin face—and quietly said, “I just, I wanted to thank you. For not—for not hating us. Me and Goldie, I mean. That we’re, um. Here.” 

It was near physically painful, watching this child retreat further into himself with every stuttered, unsure word. Like he wasn’t actually all that confident about how she felt. 

Much as she wasn’t… happy with the whole haunted situation, she really truly was grateful for what the pair had done for Gregory. And she didn’t hate them. Was kinda creeped out by them, yeah, and more than a little wary, but hate was far from that. 

It would be cruel to let him remain anxious about it.

Keeping her voice soft, Vanessa leaned a little closer and said, “Hey. I know I’ve said it before, but now that we’re, uh—about as face to face as we can really get… thank you, Evan. Thank you for saving my kid.” 

“It—it was nothing. Not that Gregory’s nothing, I just, I mean.” He paused to release a shaky breath. “I couldn’t just watch. I, I was done just watching.” 

Reminded of her last stand against Vanny, Vanessa nodded. “I know what you mean. And I want you to know, I can’t promise to ever really be… comfortable with the haunting thing. But that’s not because of you. I’d be like this if a literal saint was possessing Gregory. And I won’t try to make you leave, okay? It’s Gregory’s choice, and if he’s happy to have you as guests,” she shrugged, awkwardly looking at the TV, “then I’ll learn to live with that.” 

When she dared turn back to him, Evan’s blank white eyes were wide and swimming with unshed tears. He sniffled and whispered, “Thank you. I, I really like it here with Gregory. And I don’t want to make you upset, so I—if there’s anything I can do to, um. Help, I guess. With making this all less weird, I’ll try.” 

“I appreciate that,” she told him, sincere, and then because this was her kid’s face peering up at her with tears just beginning to shine on his cheeks, she settled sideways like him and wrapped Evan in a gentle hug. 

He tensed for a moment, gasping, and Vanessa heard the unmistakable clicking of Golden Freddy moving closer. An absolute guard dog, she’d swear. But then Evan went boneless with a little sob, sagging against her. 

This, at least, she could do. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t Gregory she was comforting; all that mattered was that there was a crying child shaking in her embrace. She pulled him closer, tucked him beneath her chin, and flipped Golden Freddy off as he restlessly circled the couch, teeth bared. 

“We’ll get through this,” she murmured to Evan. “We’ll figure it out, all of us together.” 

Amidst his choked-off sobs—choked like he was trying to hold them in and keep anyone from hearing them; she loathed whoever had made him think it was necessary—Evan nodded with a shuddery sigh. 

Vanessa held him for a while, the kid in her own kid’s body, and pretended like her own eyes weren’t maybe a little damp too.