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Michael Afton loved Easter.
It was without his favorite holiday - a strange one but one that just once didn’t turn every head. Explaining it to his friends led to conclusions from his friends. You must like easter because of the chocolate baskets.. No. Not quite. Though he’d like and say it was. He’d lie through every excuse. Yes, it was for chocolate. Yes it was because the church down the street had a pretty service that was outside to “glorify God’s creation” in a rare splash of color in Hurricane. Yes it was because of the Freddy Diner Easter egg hunt, coloring and hunting for them.
The last one was closest. It was a powerful urge that lasted until the end, even when the subject of his adoration was tainted, a shuffling terrifying shadow of a creature that he’d once adored with all his heart. On Easter, his father was normal.
(As an adult, he would be honest and admit that he loved Easter because his father was sane. His father was sane because it was a whole day where a good chunk of Hurricane was focused on his wants and whims. Every Easter, William Afton was king of Hurricane and he worked hard to prove to people he was decent and good. He was a benevolent ruler. For a few years after his death Michael would laugh through the holiday because his father raised the dead, his son was risen, it was so blasphemous it was hysterically funny.)
Not today. Today he was six years old and father was happy.
—
William Afton loved Easter.
He loved Easter because whatever thing mother and father had forced him to give up for Lent was returned to him. He loved Easter because the village parish held an Easter egg hunt that ran down the main street of the town. He loved Easter because mother and father, so enraptured by the rise of a fictional God, considered him a blessing. Nana would have chocolate and her garden was overrun with rabbits. She’d tamed two, Flopsie and Statesman, and he could play with them. Then there was Easter dinner…
Michael was conceived on Easter. He was pretty sure that Evan and Elizabeth were conceived on Easter. That explained the rash of October and November birthdays. Hell, he was probably conceived on Easter.
(As a monster, he would be honest and admit he loved Easter because it called him to his true purpose. He was proof that the bastard who bragged about his son’s resurrection was weak. One child? He’d raised two. He could have raised three. Perhaps he had. He had brought himself back. Mankind is always perpetually superior. Where was God during the rest of the bloody year? Where was he in death? Nowhere. Nothing. There was nothing there and he was God obviously. Obviously.)
He wrapped his arms around Clara who purred as his hands slid down between her legs, “William.” He could feel her smile, “I think we’ve got to get ready for church.”
“Nah.” He trailed a kiss around her neck, “Let’s just stay here. We’ll have a lie-in and then a nice breakfast before we go to the restaurant.” her legs pressed together around his questing fingers before leaning into his touch, “We can give Mike his easter basket, play with the kids…”
“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” She pressed her lips to his in a long kiss, “Ah no. There he is. I do love Easter kisses from Hurricane’s Easter bunny.”
“Santa kisses. The Easter bunny fucks-”
“Happy Easter mother! Father!” The door burst open to reveal a tiny child in blue space pajamas that were a size too big for him, his feet wrapped in blue cotton on the shitty dark shag carpet, “I made you a card!” the six year old had a paper card in one hand and a bright grin across his face, “Hello Hello Hello!” He beamed, “Hello!”
“Michael, Mummy and daddy are busy.” she tried not to sound breathy and William leaned against her, “We’re sleeping.” William was grateful that they were wrapped in blankets as his son stared at the two of them.
“Get out.” William growled, “Mother and Father haven’t woken up yet.” he winced, “Give us ten minutes.”
“Go take your shower dear.” Clara winced, “Put on your little suit and tie and we’ll …we’ll be along shortly.” she smiled, “Not the suit in the bag dear, your church suit.”
“Okay! Bye Mother! Bye Father!” the little boy disappeared, running down the hallway leaving the door open. A paper slid to the floor and lay prone on the carpet.The two adults stared at the door and Clara pulled away from her husband. He groaned, turning away from her towards the window, “How does he do that? Does he have a sixth sense for it? Some sort of psychic link that says interrupt mother and father in intimate moments.” His cock was still hard, “It’s like a bloody superpower. Standing at the door. “Hello Hello!” Good God.”
Clara closed the door, “Liz and Evan are going to wake up soon as it is.” She closed the door and looked as desperate for release as he was, “Let’s do this quick.”
(Clara Miller-Afton loved Easter because her husband was normal, her children were adorable, the world was filled with cute shit, she could dress her babies up as bunnies like she had when she was a little girl dressing her dolls up in costumes, and everything was bright and filled with spring. Her little one year olds were worth the struggle to parent alone. William did not help today either, which was okay. He was busy. With the Easter egg hunt. With his performances.
He was - she reflected with a start - God today. King of the town. On Easter however, she was queen.)
“Boo.” She closed the door and moved back toward the bed to lift her nightgown. Her husband stared up at her with love. He tugged her close, “I want you for longer.”
On cue (None of the Afton children missed their stage cues.) Evan began to wail a room over. She slid on top of him and watched him purr with pleasure at how wet she was. The moved in synch, their energy picking up as she arched against him. His long nails dugged into her back, kissing her hard. She came with a little whimper and William came a minute later with a grunt, the two holding each other there.
“I love you.” she whispered against his ear. The sweetness where they were joined was as good as a spring promise of love and affection, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”
“I know.”
He paused, meeting her gaze looking gentle and grateful and hopeful. His mind was running through things she couldn’t fathom. He looked vulnerable, “I love you too I think.” he held her against him, “I love you. Think we have time to go again when you’re done with the kids?”
“William!” She laughed aloud, “Go! Hop in the shower! Hurry up!”
She rolled away from him with a laugh and he stared at the distant early sunlight peeking over the horizon. He flopped back as she moved to the twins room. He yawned.
—-
Michael had showered and dressed and frowned at his stupid tie. It was like being asked to hang yourself, wrapping a piece of fabric around your neck like this. Tiny fingers squirmed at the tie before he sighed and padded to his family’s room opening the door casually to find the bathroom his mother and father shared open. Father was in his undershirt, bare feet on the tile, lean and pale body bright in the bathroom light. He whistled, shaving his features.
“Daddy can you help me with my tie-” He stopped, “Father can you help-”
“I am your daddy Michael.” It was death and disdain if he called him “daddy” or dad any other day of the year, “Here. Let me put my shirt on and I’ll show you how. Just let me finish this.”
“Can I come in?”
“Don’t hesitate.” He gestured, “You’re-” Michael was aware his father was staring at him awkwardly. Any other day of the year, any other day... “...Thank you for asking. Yes you can come in.” He tapped his razor on the sink, “One day I’ll have to teach you how to do this after all.” He sounded nervous about the prospect, “I’m almost done.”
Michael padded into the bathroom looking at Mommy’s pink rug and the ducks on the sink, trying to take in every single piece of his parent’s life and warmth and love, “Is it hard?”
“No.” William murmured, “It’s precise. I like shaving.”
“Is that why you don’t have a beard?” He kicked his legs, “Because it’s pre…cise?”
“Yes.” William smiled down at him, “I like things precise. You’re very observant. When things aren’t precise I don’t like it.” he turned back to the mirror, “Things should be clean. Especially today.”
“Because it’s Spring Bonnie’s birthday!” he raised his hands, “Spring Bonnie gets to take over the diner today and Freddy has to help.” This was very good, even though he wished Bonnie could share like Freddy did during Christmas. Freddy always tried to share the stage, “I want to help in the show one day!”
“Hmm. You do?”
“Yeah!” he clapped his hands, “I could be a pirate or a space man or an explorer…”
“I’ll tell you what.” Father was clearly riding some emotional high of importance and joy, security in himself, “You can help today. You can start the easter egg hunt. How’s that?”
Michael Afton’s eyes went wide.
Either Bonnie or Freddy started the Easter egg hunt. Daddy would go to the restaurant with Uncle Henry, hide all the eggs in the building and the big field back behind it. They’d set up little cardboard cut outs and hang ribbons and it was glorious and bright and pretty and-
(Lies. The best kind of lies. Good lies hurt long after they’re told.)
But he would get to go up to the microphone and say Go! and the kids and adults would listen to him. It was very, very important work for someone who was six years old. He kicked his little feet and accidentally kicked his father in the leg before withdrawing and shrinking back.
Father knelt beside him with a chuckle, “Here. See? Cross, and Cross, then the rabbit goes through the hole and runs out and…done!”
“Done!” He clapped his hands, “Rabbit goes through the hole and runs out! Done! Thanks father!” he hopped off the edge of the tub and turned to watch his father finish getting dressed.
(Rabbit runs out. He is ancient and decaying and tying a stupid tie around his neck, black against purple fabric, purple skin, Rabbit goes through the hole, and rabbit runs out. He’d scream if he had air in his lungs. He’d light the old man on fire personally, crying all the while. Betrayer. Run rabbit run.)
—
Clara had somehow knitted bunny ears for Elizabeth and Evan, both twins looking like a cross between purple and yellow jelly beans and baby rabbits. She had also, perhaps in a fit of creativity, sewn paws on their little outfits. He’d raised an eyebrow at that - Don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too far? but he let it slide. He felt good about today. The rabbit thing had been a colossal joke crossed with the memory of happy times in his childhood but he always woke up feeling good on Easter Sunday and each squirming one year old twisted in their stroller alternating between staring up at the sky and at each other. He had three beautiful strong children who were behaving, a gorgeous wife, a litany of terrible Easter jokes and two songs in his head. It made for a good distraction in church.
Counting guitar cords through the bright sunny day made him smile at the idiots filing into the outdoor pews, seeking out Henry who stood up and waved. Little Charlie looked profoundly upset, arms crossed over his chest. He allowed himself a small feeling of satisfaction. Call me crazy why don’t you.
“Happy Easter Will! He is Risen.” Henry hugged him, “It’s a beautiful morning.”
Will swallowed the urge to roll his eyes, “He is Risen indeed. Alleluia.” the typical response. Will’s gaze found Charlie who sat, annoyed. She wore blue and white and looked like a little girl instead of a little tomboy, “You look adorable Charlie.”
“Hmph.”
“She didn’t want to go to church this morning.” Henry patted her head, “She wants to go to the restaurant.” he stroked his daughter’s head, “Still planning on ducking out early?”
“Still have to.” William wanted to smirk at the unhappy little girl. She deserved it, clearly uncomfortable. He’d known the little girl since Suzanne had passed her to him with a tired smile. Call me crazy. Call me crazy why don’t you…
“She can come and help.” His mouth disconnected from his mind, “If she wants. She can help hide the easter eggs.”
“Daddy can I?!” Charlie looked thrilled, “Oh Daddy please let me-”
“Let us all rise.” The pastor of the church was a heavy set man who Will had seen gorging himself on pizza, watching the waitresses, charlatan. “And give thanks for his glorious morning.”
Rainbows of ribbons and bunches of flowers lined the area as William settled back into his chair. Elizabeth began to fuss and he lifted the tiny blue creature into his arms, rocking her gently. In what could only be called an Easter miracle, Michael gently put a hand on his baby brother’s stomach when Evan sensed his twin was no longer beside him. Charlie hopped off her chair to move toward Michael, standing beside him and joining him in staring at the baby whispering to Michael about the state of the Afton’s youngest son.
William smiled. His chest twisted as he watched the two children before stealing a glance at Henry. His friend, his-
Not today. He stared at Liz, burying his features in her shoulder, inhaling her sweet baby smell, “Not today.”
“You say something?”
Henry had leaned in close before he stared at Michael and Charlie wriggling baby Evan who was gurgling happily, “...Lookit that. Wouldn’t it be funny if they got married? We’d be grandparents.” William blinked at that, watching Michael gently prod Evan who was staring at nothing. Babies were functionally blind until about 5 to 8 months and didn’t acknowledge that things lasted until about the same time. That discovery had led to a stab of pity for his offspring. If he disappeared for Evan, Elizabeth, and Michael - he disappeared. Their mother disappeared. They ceased to exist.
William Afton hated isolation. They were extensions of himself thereby they also had to hate it.
Evan however was staring at Michael with a gurgle before Charlie must have poked him too hard and he began to fuss, “Charlie stop that.” He chastised the little girl before looking to Clara who took Evan from her with a sigh. Elizabeth picked up on the cue for a duel act - the Afton children squalling. William whispered a silent prayer of thanks to his youngest son and daughter as the pastor looked in their direction, murmuring polite apologies as they carried the children out. Michael followed, looking back toward Charlie.
“D-Father?”
“Henry? Last call.”
“Go ahead sweetheart.” Henry Emily waved at his daughter, “I’ll see you at the restaurant later okay?”
She looked sad for a moment and William wondered if she was hoping Henry would come too - before she nodded mutely and beamed up at her uncle, falling into step beside Michael. The pastor began to drone on again as the Aftons plus guest left the stage, padding across the grass to the parking lot.
—
The owners of Fredbear’s were royalty.
It was only natural. Hurricane was a small-ish town (currently), and Fredbear’s was founded by a big shot engineer and a brilliant toymaker who traded roles like children traded baseball cards. Their mechanical marvels and decorations, their carpeted stage area for the children and the wood floors for the tables. The food (though the food wasn’t great, but some of it. The pizza for instance.)
“I get to help start the easter egg hunt.” Michael slid off the seat he’d been squeezed into with Charlie, “I get to say “Go”. Father said so. Daddy said so.” Charlie’s eyes went wide and Michael smiled, secure, preening as his father would. Secure in his knowledge.
“He’s daddy now?”
(Only on Easter)
“Father.” Michael looked frustrated, “But I get to say it. I’m going to be so important.” he nodded. Father promised and he wasn’t going anywhere, “Maybe next year your daddy will let you do something fun. Or for Christmas.”
“I don’t really want to.” She squirmed, “I want to get out of this stupid dress!” Micheal laughed as she pulled bows out of her hair, “Don’t laugh! It’s not funny!”
“Charlie, if you’d like I have a spare pair of Michael’s jeans. You two are about the same size. We’ll get you a Freddy’s shirt. Would you like that?” Charlie looked grateful, Mrs. Afton savior incarnate.
“What?” Michael blinked, “She’s going to wear my clothes?!” Girls couldn’t do that. They were his. He crossed his arms, “am I going to wear her dress?!”
“You could if you wanted to.” Mrs. Afton pushed his nose with a smile, “People can wear what they want, Michael. As long as they don’t go naked.” He tilted his head at that as his mother smiled, “I have something for you to wear since you’re so important today.” She led them to the back of the car before handing him a suit jacket and Charlie a pair of jeans, “Michael is always getting into scrapes. Here. Go and change. Just remember to give them back.”
She beamed, running off for the bathroom. Michael stared at her concerned, “Girls can’t wear clothes made for boys.”
“What’s that?” Father had reappeared, “We’ve got to pick it up people. What are you on about Michael?” Father was getting bags from the back of the car. Michael frowned, “Mom gave Charlie a pair of my jeans. Girls can wear clothes that are specifically made for boys?”
Father snorted, “When I was older than you, in secondary school, I played Juliet in Romeo and Juliet. There are moments where such things happen. I went to an all boys school. I wore a dress and kissed a boy. It’s theater, my lad. Theater.”
Michael’s eyes went wide and his father rolled his eyes, “Bodies are bodies. Transitory. “ He gestured, “Come on. Let’s go set the eggs out before your mother dresses you. She’s insisted that she has a special outfit for you to wear.”
—
Sing to the LORD a new song; Sing to the LORD, all the earth. Sing to the LORD, bless His name; Proclaim good tidings of His salvation from day to day. William Afton hummed, gently tucking an egg into the lower branches of a tree, No. No, and five and six and five and six…
“Uncle Will!” Charlie burst out of a nearby bush startling him into nearly dropping one of the eggs, “I thought of a neat thing to do - can I-” she paused, “Can I show you? Please?”
“...Please don’t startle me like that. You’re a little girl, not a gopher.” He winced, “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Come see!”
He sighed, watching the little girl disappear into the brush. He winced, church trousers moving through the bush and scratching at his legs. They were going deeper than he and Henry liked - children and parents blundering through the land the diner was built on meant that they’d have to go through and clean later after all was said and done.
“Look!”
The little girl had found a natural tunnel, nothing spectacular, about two or three feet. It was the perfect size for her and she’d strung it full of ribbon and found - somewhere - most likely from the flowers on the tables - flowers.
It was beautiful. For a six year old it was functionally brilliant. It was a little work of art. She really is Henry’s child.
“Did you take the flowers off the tables?” He pointed at them, crouching to her level, “Don’t take things from the restaurant without asking. You like to call people crazy. You like to take things that don’t belong to you. That’s not a good thing.”
“I’m sorry.” She frowned, “I didn’t mean it. I - I-”
“It’s…satisfactory. What do you intend we do with it?” he gestured, “What’s back here?” he crouched, annoyed he couldn’t go through without destroying Charlie’s masterwork. He hesitated, getting on his hands and knees to stare inside. Wildflowers blossomed in a natural little alcove.
“Well well. You found a secret garden.” He sat back and grimaced as his ass found mud, “Here. Put some eggs in there. It’s a bit farther out than I’d like but if people don’t like it you can find the eggs. Hm?”
“O-Okay.” She seemed thrown, “I didn’t mean to call you crazy. I was just- trying to-” she frowned, “I just want you to be okay. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“There are two words you should say after that.” He gestured, “My parents drilled them into me. What are the two words you should say in those moments?”
“I’m…sorry?” she looked confused, as if an adult demanding an apology from a child who didn’t know better was a bad idea, “...Thank you for not having sharp teeth though.”
Human feeling curled in William Afton’s chest as he stared down at her, “Did you cut your feet?” he paused, “Charlie are you not- you don’t have the right shoes to be crawling around in the bush.” he sighed. That same confusing feeling. He extended his hands, “will you let your crazy old uncle carry you out of here so you don’t keep hurting yourself?”
She hesitated before moving over. He lifted the six year old into his arms and carried her out of the bushes. Turning to look over their shoulder William chuckled, “It looks like our little adventure left a path to your garden.”
“Yay!” she wrapped her arms around his neck and he winced. Confusion gave way to annoyance. He should be practicing. He should be warming up his voice, he should be-
“Father!” Something small and yellow appeared at the back door. A second couple had appeared setting out tables and chairs. Michael was wearing a yellow button down shirt with purple suspenders, a purple tie, and yellow ears. He was spring bonnie writ small. William laughed, genuinely touched, smiling as he set Charlie down on the softest grass he could judge, “Well! I’ve got a kit eh?”
Michael stared, “...what’s-”
“A baby bunny.” he laughed, scooping up his son, “You, your sister and brother are my kits and your mother-” Clara stepped out of the restaurant door, “Ta-daaaa!”
Clara was a means to an end, a tryst, a trophy to conquer and be won. Then she was a force to be feared, a creature who knew his secrets. She had put up a mask he’d never expected and seeing her standing in the doorway left him feeling confused.
His wife had put on a gorgeous dark purple dress, cut to show her smooth neckline and her slim arms. She’d pinned her red gold hair up behind her head using it to hold a pair of purple rabbit ears in place. Little carrots hung from her ears and she’d drawn whiskers across her cheeks, “Well? How do I look? Yellow and purple for the boys, Purple and yellow for the girls.”
“You look amazing.” Mrs. Fitzgerald was the restaurant manager, a round woman with a thick mop of dark curly hair and dark skin wearing a dark orange apron and a pair of bear ears. The bear ears were another joke. Her husband was smiling, hefting chairs down from his pick-up truck to set beside tables they’d already unloaded, “How y’doing Bill? Damn glad to see you.”
The larger man wrapped him in a hug, William reflecting his church clothes were officially ruined. The man smelled like hay and horse manure. The fitzgerald’s farm had seen some better days but Michael did love his friend’s horses. Jeremy bounced out and poked his best friend’s ears, “How come you’re a bonnie? I thought I was Bonnie?”
“I’m helping with the egg hunt today.” Michael turned, “So I’m Spring Bonnie’s son.”
“Sure looks like it!” He’d regret it later, leaping straight into the voice that he’d coined when Charlie had been first introduced to theodore, “What d’you think Jere ole’ buddy ole pal?”
Jeremy ignored him, “Does that mean I can be Foxy today?!” Jeremy Fitzgerald beamed, “Mom can I get my stuff from the truck?”
“I don’t particularly see what - sure.” She shrugged her shoulders, “A bunch of rabbits and a fox. That’s not going to be a problem.” she laughed weakly, “Mikey you should see what Jere made…”
William found it easier to shove down his son’s lack of interest in his own plans as Jeremy returned with a pair of red fox ears and a pirate eyepatch. He beamed, snapping it over his dark curly hair and grinning at Michael, “What do you think? Yar!”
“Yar!” Michael clapped, “You look neato!” He grinned up at his father. William’s own sense of peace was briefly disturbed until he felt Clara slide an arm around his waist, “You look fantastic Jeremy.”
“Are we having a Halloween party or an easter party?”
The three children stared at the four adults, “An easter costume party.” it was clearly the simplest thing in the world to them, “C’mon Mike! Let’s go to the arcade!”
“I haven’t turned the machines on yet!” Mrs. Fitzgerald held up a hand, “You two get back, get back. Jeremy go help your father with the chairs.”
“What can I do?!” Jeremy threw up his hands, “I’m small!”
“Go offer him moral support.” William barked out a laugh as Jeremy grumbled, his one eye looking sad, “See you later yeah Cap’n?” He saluted Michael and William raised an eyebrow, “For rounds of the new arcade cabinet?”
“Yar!” Michael saluted back just in time to see Charlie returning with her father in tow, holding his hand. Henry had a pair of shoes in his hands, smiling, “Thanks for getting her out of the briar patch Will. I really appreciate it.”
“Mike! You look just like your dad does when he’s Bonnie!”
He did. William had always found his resemblance to his son preturbing. The only thing of Clara in him were his ears and height. He’d be tall (an annoying thought.) But standing there Michael stood up proudly and William Afton found it in him to laugh, “He does look like a miniature version of me doesn’t he.”
Michael shrugged. If William was king of Hurricane and Clara was queen then the little rabbit in his little purple bow tie was the crown prince of the hamlet. He preened and looked up at his father, “Come on Michael.” He gestured, “Let’s go get ready.”
It would take time to wind up the damned suit, and having company was preferrable. He kissed his wife hard who beamed, throwing Henry a wink before he held the door open for the little boy. The interior of Freddy’s was cool and dark, Fredbear center stage as Will paced through the arcade towards the back room.
“Why did Jeremy call you captain?”
“Captain.” He paused, “Cap’n. Cause I’m Foxy. Foxy’s the pirate captain. Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica are on the ship and they have adventures.” it was a rather elaborate canon. Sometimes Charlie played, though Charlie would never be Freddy or Chica. She was always making up original lady characters, sometimes wolves, sometimes girl bears, sometimes rabbits, other times just strange unusual creatures.
“Really.” William chuckled, unbuttoning his church shirt and tossing it casually on one of the work benches, “You and your little friends have adventures like this? Fredbear should technically be in charge.”
“He’s not.” Michael frowned. Fredbear made him think of Evan and Evan was a baby he couldn’t lead a pirate ship, “He could be on the mystery buggie if he wanted but he’s not. Foxy is. Bonnie’s his second in command.” he beamed, “Cause if something happens to Foxy, Bonnie’s in charge! Cause he should be.”
William Afton felt a flash of pride in his son. He patted his boy’s head, “Go turn on the machines and find your little first mate.” He murmured, “Make sure he’s working hard yar?” Michael nodded, grinning. He threw open the door to parts and services leaving the high early sunlight casting purple and gold shadows over the interior of the building. William smiled, features caught in the splay of dark and royal colors, before he abandoned the outside world to the shadows and closed the door.
Once inside he exhaled, sliding on suit parts mechanically. While Henry could be any size and fit Fredbear, anyone could wear fredbear, Bonnie was made to his measurements.
Bonnie was his. He exhaled, smirking into the mirror before closing his eyes. With the reverence of the pope putting on his mitre, he slipped the head on his features. A rabbit giggle escaped his features and Bonnie did a quickstep.
“Showtime!”
—-
Everything should have been perfect.
Everything. Except for Peter Kowalski and his friends. Fritz was okay, maybe. Fritz was just a baby but he didn’t cry like Evan and he was utterly almost stupidly fearless. Mike had seen Fritz roll over and crack his head on linoleum and get up giggling. Fritz was, what his mother called a daredevil.
Peter was just a devil. Case in point, them trying to rob the claw machine. The egg hunt was going to start in an hour, after one, plenty of time for lunch. Parts of it took place at night and he’d seen Mrs. Fitzgerald and Uncle Henry setting up lights. He had gone back inside for a glass of water (he and Charlie had been guzzling soda like tiny terrors according to his mother and she insisted they have water.) but Peter was slamming the side of the toy machine with a hand. Peter and his cronies. Red and Harvey were just that - cronies. Toadies. When Charlie had shown him some of her dad’s comic books they were the guys who worked with the super villain. That was what Pete was. Pete was a super villain and Red and Harvey were his toadies. Harvey even looked like a toad, massively fat with his church shirt smeared with gunk.
“Hey. Stop it.” Mike pointed, “Stop. that’s my father’s.”
“Fatha? Aw you gonna cry about your fatha’s fuckin’ toy machine! Baby fag wants to please daddy fag.” Peter glared at him, “Go away British boy or I’ll use you to bust this thing open.”
“Don’t.” His hands curled into fists. He’d picked out those toys. Foxy was in there and lots of other kids needed Foxys and Bonnies, “Don’t. Or I’ll tell. Or I’ll fight you.”
“You? Fight me?” Peter raised an eyebrow and shook his head, “Let’s go little bunny. Hip hop you little shit-”
William Afton was quick. He was unnaturally quick. Michael? Michael was strong. When he tried to throw a punch Peter caught it and threw him aside with a little cry. Michael rolled, head coming to a stop on the carpet before he felt Peter grabbing his arm, “Ow! Stop it!”
“Give me those!” Peter grabbed for his ears and snapped them in two, “There! Now you look like less of a fag!”
Michael froze. He stared down at his rabbit ears. His mother had worked hard on them. His dad had been proud of him. Now they didn’t look alike. Maybe now he wasn’t his kit anymore, maybe now he was just a stupid little boy-
“Leave him alone stupid!-” Charlie’s voice came out of nowhere. He looked up, utterly stupified at the pain in his arm and his head. He stared at her as she flew at Peter who looked surprised before he grabbed her and threw her into Harvey. Peter laughed as Harvey held her arms behind her, “Lookit you! Who do you think you are huh? Is this your boyfriend?”
“Shut up!”
“Are you gonna kissy kissy kissy?” Charlie made a noise that sent Michael’s hairs on edge - and Michael saw red.
—
Jeremy Fitzgerald heard the screaming before he saw the fight.
He’d gone in to look for Charlie and Michael because he hated soda, he only drank lemonade and he’d had plenty of water. Dad made him when they were out with the horses. Good for your teeth kid, good for your blood. He stepped inside to hear crying, screaming, and Charlie’s voice above it all.
“Mikey stop! Mikey stop it!”
Jeremy ran into the other room to find his best friend, his cap’n, having pinned Peter Kowalski to the carpeted stage, beating the shit out of him. He knew what that was because that’s what Dad said he’d do every time he did something bad (he never did), he knew it because that’s what Jonesy Baker - his babysitter - would say that on the phone. This was a beating. This was Mikey beating somebody.
The little boy was on Peter’s chest hitting him so hard Peter’s body was bruising and bloody beneath his tiny fists. Blood splattered across his best friend’s face. Charlie was trying to tug him off him. He threw her off once, twice, the second time their mutual friend hit a chair leg with a cry. Michael saw none of it.
“Hey!” Jeremy ran forward and tackled him off Peter, “He’s down! He’s down man! Don’t! Please!-”
“Get off me!” Michael wasn’t human. He looked like he’d gone crazy, “Get off me! He was gonna hurt Charlie! Get offa me!-”
“He started it!” Peter Kowalski’s voice was slurred. Jeremy saw to his horror the older boy’s face was a mash of blood and bruises and he’d lost a tooth, “He started it!”
“Liar! Liar filthy liar you were gonna rob us and you hurt Charlie and then you were gonna hurt me and you deserve it you little rotten bastard I’m gonna kill you-” Jeremy had never seen his friend look so scary. Michael looked like a real fox, he wasn’t a little boy he was an animal, “He broke my bunny ears!”
“Hey hey hey-!” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s eyes went wide. Jeremy ran for his mother like she was a saint descended to earth, “Oh dear God. Peter what happened!” She moved to the larger boy, Red and Harvey bolting. She glared at them before moving to Kowalski, “What the hell is going on?”
“He hit me! He just jumped me! All the Aftons are crazy! Everybody knows you’re all freaks!” Peter spit blood across the floor, “None of the rest of that stuff’s true!” he whimpered, “I can’t breath! I can’t breath through my nose!”
“That’s a lie.” Charlie was crying, rubbing the back of her head, “You pushed me and your ugly goons grabbed me and twisted my arms!” She bit her lip, “Don’t lie!”
Charlie and Peter began to yell in turn, blood and snot running down Peter’s broken face. Jeremy stared at Michael. Michael looked crazy. His eyes were bright and he still had blood splashed across his face. His best friend looked really scary. He looked like he wanted to bite Peter and drink his blood. Like the vampires on the young and the restless.
Moving forward, he took the other boy’s hand and tried not to curl away when he felt blood on the other 6 year old’s fingers, “C’mon Mikey. Let’s go find your mommy.” He would stick by his cap’n. Mike needed him. Mike’s dad was weird and a lot of people did think that Aftons were crazy but Mike liked to draw pictures like he did and he didn’t make fun of him for being the biggest kid in Kindergarden. He didn’t make fun of him because he worked with animals. He liked the animals too.
The two children emerged into the sunlight, the world filling with gasps of surprise. Jeremy saw Mr. Afton at the podium, guitar in his hands. Mr. Afton dropped the guitar and and Mrs. Afton trundled forward, passing one of the babies to a friend, “Michael, oh Michael what-what is-” Jeremy squeezed his hand before letting go. Smears of Peter Kowalski’s blood came off and stained his fingers.
—
He had been killing time. The egg hunt could start a little late, Clara had sent Michael inside for water which was fine, he needed a drink and before they did the official little start he’d collect his son and get a drink himself. Henry was beaming, smiling, this was what they’d set out to do, to be, to have...
Then Michael had emerged from the restaurant shaking with rage.
The poor boy’s little yellow shirt was blood stained, splatter ran across his features. He was practically foaming at the mouth.
“Peter!” Peter Kowalski’s father ran the hardware store. He rose, bolting towards the door. Henry leapt toward the microphone to talk to the crowd. He ignored it. His blood was ringing in his ears as he saw that Peter’s nose had been broken, his front tooth was missing. Michael had a bruise on his head and he was missing his little rabbit ears but he was too focused on the older boy who whimpered when his father approached him and hugged him.
Charlie came out behind them, holding Mrs. Fitzgerald’s hand.
“...And that’s what I have.” Mrs. Fitzgerald nodded, “Charlie? They tried to hurt you?”
“Red grabbed my arm.” She pointed, “He twisted it behind me. Then Harvey started making kissy noises and Peter joined him. Then Mikey went crazy and jumped him snarling.”
“Peter is that true?”
“I was joking!” Peter Kowalski was clearly in pain, “I was just joking-”
“Liar.” Michael was being held back by Jeremy, “You dirty rotten liar.”
“Shut up!”
“Fuck you!”
“Michael!” Kowalski raised his eyebrows, “Mr. Afton…kids fight. It’s clear that Charlie and Michael fought…”
“What?” Henry stepped in, “Charlie and Michael fought?”
“No daddy!” Charlie ran up to her father, “Peter ran up and he and his friends were picking on Michael so I went at um’ and they grabbed me and Red pinned my arm behind me and Harvey started making kissing noises and it was yucky!”
Silence filled the room and William Afton allowed himself a smirk. Henry Emily rarely got angry. The very situation smacked of darker things that no human being would allow and Henry met Peter Kowalski’s father’s gaze.
“Get off our property.”
“...C’mon Henry…Bill…”
“Get the fuck off our property.”
“I’d listen to him.” William Afton’s voice was mild. Seeing Henry get mad rarely happened but when it did it was like watching a firework, like watching a flower bloom. He picked up his son who burrowed into the suit, “Given the circumstances.”
“It was just kids-”
“Get off my property Or I’ll take your kid’s fucking arm off.” Henry growled, “Go. Now. You’re lucky the police chief’s not here.”
Mr. Kowalski grabbed his son and yanked him, hard. The boy fixed them all with loathing and Will held his son tightly before Henry lifted his own daughter into his arms, squeezing her hard, “Daddy you’re squeezing me too hard!”
“No I’m not.” Henry Emily held her tighter, “You’re dreaming peanut.” he had his features burrowed in her shoulder, “Just a bad dream.”
“Yes you are!” she wriggled, “Go hug Mikey!”
“Okay then I need it. Just another second okay?” he set her down before looking at William. He set his son down before Henry wrapped his arms around Michael, his little body cold, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He sniffed, “Big brave kid huh? I uh- We should go make sure. The kids. And the eggs.”
Every parent imagined the worst in moments like this. Charlie looked like she was ready to stay before her father took her firmly by the hand and led her out to the slowly darkening sunshine.
“I missed the easter egg hunt.” Michael was crying now, chest heaving, “He broke my bunny ears.”
“Michael!” Clara was there, “Michael!” She ran toward the two of them, heels clacking before they were muffled by the carpet. She wrapped her arms around him before William wrapped his arms around him both. Grateful for long arms, proud of Henry, proud of his son because…because…
“Mommy.” He was sniffling, “Mommy I-”
“Clara let me help him.” William Afton held up a hand, “He’s a little hero. Let’s get you a change of shirt son.”
He set his son down on the table in parts and services, wetting a rag with water, “Michael calm down. Deep breaths or you’ll make yourself sick.” He exhaled, “Breath with me, in, and out, in, and out…”
The little boy’s chest rose and fell. He coughed, sputtering, before his father smiled, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”
“What?” Michael looked up at him, “You said no fighting-”
“Oh I know. But that wasn’t fighting. That was doing what was right.” he brushed his oldest son’s hair back from his face, “You gave him what for - as the Yanks think we say.” He chuckled before squeezing his son’s shoulder, “You’re a good boy. You did exactly what you needed to do. Never be ashamed of that.”
“...Peter was hurt really bad.” Michael whimpered, “Like really bad.”
“But he hurt you. And he hurt Charlie. You were threatened, your people were threatened. Michael, when you are threatened you must always fight back.”
“...Really?”
“Oh yes.” William Afton offered him the towel, “Who knows what would have happened to you and Charlie if Kowalski had been allowed to continue? And he tried to rob us?”
“He tried to break the toy machine-!”
“Then you were a little superhero.” William beamed, “Did you like being a hero?”
Micheal appeared to be thinking before he nodded slowly, “Did it feel good? Hurting that bully?”
“Yeah.” Michael said, “It felt great.”
“Hold onto that.” William Afton offered his son a Fredbear’s shirt of his own, “That’s better than helping me at the Easter egg hunt. That’s better than anything. Remember that feeling, then when you see injustice - when you see bad guys - you know what to do.”
Michael appeared to be thinking again before his little mouth turned downward, “...I-” he stared at his hands, “I got really mad.” He stared at his fingers, “It was scary.”
“That’s okay.” William slipped on a Fredbear’s shirt of his own. His son’s hesitation was concerning. He’d been so wound up, such a little fire cracker. He sighed, “It’s okay to be scared of it. Just power through because it’s fun. Didn’t it feel good, having that prick bastard at your mercy?”
He paused, “Beating up the bad guy?”
“...Yeah.” He nodded, “Yeah! It did!”
“Then that’s what you hold onto.” He smiled. On Easter. A real little rebirth on Easter. He studied his son and wondered if this was how God felt seeing his son perform miracles on earth. He’d turned rage onto an enemy and he’d enjoyed himself. Perhaps.
He wondered. He wondered about his shed. He wondered about his plans. Leaning down, he impulsively kissed his son on the head and hugged him. Easter really was the luckiest of days.
“Next year. You can help me with the hunt. How’s that?” He set him down when his son was dressed, “You could help with Christmas too. Do you want to be a part of the family business?”
“Can I be a pirate too?”
“Of course.” William laughed, “Of course you can.”
—
Michael Afton was secure in his father’s affection, feeling heroic, and confused by Jeremy Fitzgerald’s reaction.
“Mikey you looked really scary.” Jeremy stared at his feet, “Don’t…don’t do that again okay? Cause you’re nice.” he hugged him, “Please don’t do that again.”
“It’s okay Jere.” Michael nodded mutely, puffing up, “My father says I did good. I did what I was supposed to do.”
“Really?”
“Mm hmm. He was going to hurt Charlie.” That was it. That was what was assured. He had saved her. Like superman.
“...If you say so Mike.” Jeremy frowned, “I mean I guess it makes sense.”
“Sure.” Michael nodded, “That’s what you’ve gotta do. Like my father said. You’ve gotta defend yourself.”
Jeremy supposed that made sense, “Anyway. I’m glad you’re okay.” he pointed, “Charlie’s okay too.” he sighed, “But we missed the prizes.” there were big trophies that Fredbear and Bonnie were giving out to the children. Michael shrugged watching Bonnie, the rabbit’s fake eyelid winking. Secured. Safe. A glorious Easter.
—
Red Baker knew that Pete was in trouble.
He hadn’t really wanted to do it. That was what Pete did, he scared you into doing what he wanted. He wanted to find the courage to apologize to Mr. Emily and Mr. Afton, especially to the poor little kid. Harvey did too. The older boy shuffled his feet, walking along the edge of the field.
“Look. All we gotta do is just. Talk to him.” he nodded, “They’ll let us back. Mr. Emily is the nicest man. Mr. Afton’s a bit nerve wracking -”
They heard a giggle from the forest nearby.
“Hello?” Harvey froze.
Another giggle. It sounded strange, inhuman but also human. It was abnormal. The two boys exchanged glances.
(It is a universal truth that the human mind is prone to stupidity in times of security. In times of a lack of security, fear shall be substituted for security. Whatever the noise, they had to investigate it. Or something might investigate them.)
Red passed over a path of crushed leaves, trod by something much larger than they were, passing through into the woods. Cold air nipped like dogs at his skin, hairs on edge as the giggle happened a third time.
“We should go.” Harvey muttered, “we really should go.”
“Ssh-” Red pointed. He crouched down, “Look.”
Ahead of them the trees had grown into a natural arch. Ribbons and flowers fluttered in the breeze, crickets chirped. The moon was a sliver, making the whole image eerie. The ribbons fluttered, grayed by the light. Harvey stared, “What the fuck?”
What the fuck indeed. Red took a step forward. The giggle was louder now, Wind blew through the ribbons making the whole thing seem abandoned and lost.
“Red let’s go back.”
“Shut up.” He waved a hand, “I want to see.” The dim lights of the diner in the background twinkled like safety. Harvey looked over his shoulder before turning back to Red - only to find his friend gone.
The wind blew faster now, the giggle gone. He stared at the hedge with ribbons, frowning, before he heard a crunch and saw Red silouetted in the archway.
“...Red? What’s in there man?”
Red shook his head.
Harvey became very conscious of the cold through his church pants. He became conscious of the chill in his chest. He saw, in the dim light, that red had pissed himself. The boy whimpering.
“...R-Red?” He stepped through the arch, standing beside Red, “What are you-”
In the middle of the clearing was a body.
Shrouded in shadow, the body sat, legs crossed, head bowed into it’s knees. It was a man, no! A woman! No it was slim and sexless and it looked like a grown up. Holy shit. Harvey wanted to cry, “Is it…Is it dead?”
“It.”
Red’s voice was a whisper.
Harvey didn’t have time for this. Today had been a shitty day - a six year old Afton had beat up an eight year old Peter. They had lost their gang because Peter got stupid, and he was pretty sure he was banned from Freddy’s. Now, there was something in the woods, in a creepy tunnel with decaying ribbons and plastic flowers.
“It.”
“Red.” Harvey smacked his shoulder, “Out with it.”
Silence. The wind whistled through the trees.
“It’s coming closer.. “
The giggle sounded again before the head of the thing shot up, eyes glowing silver in the darkness.
Harvey screamed. Urine ran down his leg as he dragged Red from the clearing. They darted for the bright lights of the diner before he realized that they were banned. Glancing over his shoulder, Red sobbing, he saw the vague figure of a human, staring at them through the trees.
He sobbed harder, darting through the parking lot, running as hard as he could for town.
—
William Afton watched the boys go with a snort.
“Are you that frightening?” The doll was child sized, bodies wrapped in the same fiberglass he used for Freddy and Bonnie and their suits, “My dear, we’ve got to learn to make you more personable.” His smile was soft. Stepping into Charlie’s fairy ring he hefted the animatronic into his arms, “All you do is giggle. And you want a friend.” He smoothed the creature’s head, “I think, well. I hope Michael will like you.”
He lifted the doll in his arms, “...I can’t wait to show him what I’ve been working on.”
Hefting the thing over his shoulder he looked out to his shed, his hunting cabin, his home away from home. He smiled.
—