Chapter Text
His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the sunlight, and Michael blinked.
Wait, no. That wasn’t supposed to happen. His eyes rotted away years, years ago, there was nothing left to let him blink.
So how did he?
Breathing. He was also breathing. Without any organs.
This made no sense at all.
Then memories came flooding. The buzzing of the ventilation fans. The flames licking at his clothes and purple skin. The somber voice coming from the intercom.
A mad chuckle escaped his lips. They’d done it. Father was dead… And so was he, presumably.
This must be hell, then, Michael thought. In that case, the Devil must be doing a bloody poor job, because this certainly didn’t look like eternal damnation. Of course, it could all be part of the long game, to get his hopes up and let everything crash and burn at the last moment.
Because that’s just how it always was.
Sighing, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. If this really was some sort of afterlife, then nothing mattered at all, since he’d be here for a long, long time.
Still, looking around couldn’t hurt.
Michael was on a couch inside a living room that didn’t look familiar to him, at all. Brown wallpaper, not the teal stripes he had grown accustomed to at his base of operations. A deer head was mounted to the wall - who even had them these days? - and there was another sofa opposite of him.
With a completely unknown to him person sleeping peacefully on top of it.
“What?” He muttered out loud accidentally.
Was this really supposed to be his personal hell? Then which one of the sins he committed did the ginger boy represent?
He was utterly confused. And Michael’s whole life had been all kinds of weird, he got used to being confused, but this?
This was something new.
Holding onto the bed’s edge, he tried to stand up. Being a corpse for thirty years meant he got used to the physics of walking as a dead man, and Michael nearly tumbled and managed to stay upright.
And then a second voice in his head screamed.
“Hey! What the hell? Help! Somebody!”
“Hey! What the hell? Help! Somebody!”
John was scared shitless.
First he woke up feeling numb and not in control. And that could have been explained by something along the lines of sleep paralysis.
But then his body moved on its own volition, and just to make matters worse, there was another voice in his head.
Safe to say, John was not happy with this at all.
I’m possessed, thoughts began to race in his mind. I’m possessed by some demon, or ghost, or whatever - it doesn’t matter! And it’s taken over my body completely. Great! Just great. I can’t even scream out for help.
Then, to his surprise, it responded.
“...Huh. And who might you be?”
The voice sounded odd. Like it was both an edgy teen and a depressed war veteran talking at the same time.
“You’re- You’re asking me?” If John could, he’d have laughed in hysteria. “I should be asking you that! Why… Why are you in my body?!”
It stayed silent for a few seconds, before… Chuckling mentally.
“...That I would like to know too, kid. Looks less and less like the pit of eternal damnation by the second.”
So it IS an actual demon from Hell. How… How is any of this even real?
Alright. Look at the bright side, John, he tried to convince himself. You’re still here… Even if as just a voice. And they don’t sound hostile. Maybe there’s a way to negotiate, preferably without selling my soul or anything.
“Can…” He began nervously, clearly not used to dealing with the paranormal. How does one even get used to that? “Can you, maybe… Leave, Mr…?”
“...Call me Eggs. Eggs Benedict.” The entity in control responded after what seemed like moments of hesitation.
That only sent him further down the spiral of hysteria. A demon by the name of ‘Eggs’. It couldn’t have been someone with a more threatening name, like Elgrim or Ydissac, of course not.
“And I’m afraid I can’t really ‘leave’,” Eggs continued, to John’s dismay. “Mainly because I’m still not sure where I am or how I got here. Though, uh, hold on, let me try something…”
Suddenly, his whole body flinched - wait, how did he feel that?
John blinked.
And then he blinked again and again. By some miracle, he was back in his own body. Barely repressing a laugh of relief - he wasn’t alone in the room, after all - the teen tried to communicate with the entity again.
“Oh! Uh, thanks… Thanks, Eggs.”
“Eh, no problem.” The visual image of a purple shrugging silhouette flashed before his eyes. “Not like I could do a better job at piloting the vessel, heh. Especially after all those years.”
There were the cryptic lines again. John really didn’t know how to feel about this… demon? It felt wrong to call Eggs a demon. Demons were supposed to be evil, and he just didn’t seem to be that.
“So…” He began, sitting back down on the couch. “You’re just… Stuck there now. In my head.”
“Yup.” A fast response came from the voice. “ Pretty much, since I don’t see a way outta here. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna be taking over your body for manual control!” It sounded oddly cheerful and sarcastic, like it was expecting something else and got a present instead. “...Unless you’re in some grave danger or something.”
The man sighed. This was his reality now.
“Didn’t know I’d get voices in my head some day.” He spoke quietly inside his mind. “But at least you’re not… Not telling me to kill all of my friends in their sleep or something, so that’s… Good, I guess.”
“Pfft, why would I want that of all things?” Eggs sounded both entertained and offended by his ideas on what voices in people’s heads were supposed to do. “...Huh, actually, you never told me your name, buddy. Gonna need that if we’re sticking around each other until the end of time.”
That… made sense. If this entity couldn’t leave, best to be on good terms. Especially since he didn’t sound or behave hostile.
“I’m John,” He answered mentally, and felt a nod in response.
Eggs just chuckled lightly. “Guess I’m going to be your little helper now, John. Might bring a new perspective on things I never got to do. So tell me, what’s your plan for today?”
Things he never got to do, the young man made a note to himself. A clue to the entity’s origins, even if it’s nothing by itself.
“Well…” He began, unsure what to reveal and what not to, “Me and my friends - that’s, uh, one of them over there, Carlton Burke,” John pointed to the sleeping redhead. “We were going to meet up at the local diner. For a reunion of sorts, we- We haven’t really hung out in what, ten or so years?”
But the voice stayed silent, not responding nor even reacting at all.
“...Uh, Eggs?” He asked carefully, somewhat startled.
“Hold on, hold on. Just recalling things.” The entity mused, though it sounded different. Probably confused, if John was to take a guess. “Burke, Burke, Burke…”
Then a mild headache hit him.
“Wait. Not Burke as in ‘Clay Burke’ by chance?”
….How did the voice know? Could it read his memories as well?
Actually, no. If it could, it wouldn’t need to ask. So how did he know?
“Uh, yeah. That’s his father. Chief of police here.” John replied, tilting his head in curiosity. There was something else going on behind the scenes now.
And Eggs Benedict, the demon-ghost-voice-like being, swore under its breath.
“...Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.” It muttered, and his eyes widened. What was so bad that the sarcasm in its voice was completely gone? Eggs was now tense, for a reason the man did not know, and that scared him. “Of course. Of course it’s goddamn Hurricane Utah again.”
Again?
“...Again?” He voiced his concerns.
“Too long to explain, kid. ” Was the answer he received. Eggs sounded on edge, and if something made an eldritch entity anxious, that was bad news. “What year is it?”
John blinked and breathed out. This made even less sense than before. “1995. Why?”
That caused another round of cursing from the voice.
“God fucking damnit. Alright, there goes my plan.” The frustration was audible enough for him to catch on.
“Plan?” The man questioned his inner voice. “What plan? And why the year? Eggs, what - are… Are you, like, from the past or the future? A time-traveling demon?”
Yes, the sentence sounded absurd. But this whole situation was absurd from the start. So any sense of logic was thrown out of the window.
He absolutely did not expect a positive answer.
“...In a way, I guess.” Eggs responded after a few seconds of deep thinking. “Though, uh, once again - not a demon. Just a helping whisper in your mind.”
This time, John couldn’t hold back the fit of hysteria anymore. What has his soon-to-be adult life come to?
Almost instantly, though, he put a hand over his own mouth. He wasn’t alone in the room, after all.
“Mind going outside?” The voice inquired, still sounding tense but now more… melancholic, in a way. As if it had accepted that things - he didn’t know what exactly - weren’t going its way.
Without giving any reply, the man stood up again and sneaked down the corridors, exiting through the front door and leaning back against a wall.
“...So. Who exactly are your friends, kid?” The entity spoke again after they got out. “Cause I’ve got a list of names to run away from really fast and I’ve gotta make sure you - and me, by proxy - stay safe.”
John shuddered. Just what kind of people had this Eggs person been hanging around?
“Right, there’s Jessica, Carlton - you’ve seen him already,” He started, deciding that this wasn’t that confidential of an information. “Lamar, Marla… And Charlie.”
For some reason, he felt a tingle of something as he said the last name.
“...Alrighty then, no red flags so far.” Eggs mused again, “Another important question, then. Do you happen to know either William Afton or Henry Emily?”
John couldn’t even bother asking ‘why’ anymore. The entity didn’t make sense, so of course it wouldn’t start anytime soon.
“Afton? Uh, I think he was… One of the owners of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza?” He took the metaphorical nod from Eggs as a sign of continuing. “But I know Henry. He’s Charlie’s father. Or, well, was…”
John trailed off there at the end, not really wanting to spell out the tragedy.
“No fucking way.” The voice muttered again, tensing up again. “That- That shouldn’t be possible.”
“...Eggs, you’re starting to creep me out.” The teen admitted, furrowing his brows. “What shouldn’t be possible?”
But there’s no answer for a whole minute or so, before the enigma speaks again.
“Charlie. Charlotte Emily, to be precise, should not be possible. She’s dead. Died all the way back in 1983.”
And now it was John’s time to be silent.
Okay, just what was it even talking about? Obviously she wasn’t dead. There was a fine line between not making sense and talking bullcrap and Eggs totally just crossed it.
“...No?” He narrowed his eyes. “She’s, uh, very much alive. Are you confusing her with her brother? Sammy got… Taken away. In ‘83, just like you said.”
“Brother. Huh.” Was the only response. And then awkward silence for five whole minutes, before Eggs spoke again.
“...John? Can I ask for a simple favour?”
It sounded odd. Not angry or confused, but rather somber. Why? The young man didn’t know, but curiosity was getting the best of him.
“Yeah?”
The entity sighed. “Can you drive to where Henry’s buried?”
“You… knew him?” John responded, looking down. Suddenly he no longer felt as weirded out by Eggs’ behaviour.
“I did.” The voice nodded mentally, “Was a great man where I’m from. Want… No, I need to pay my respects.”
That… That was honestly a pretty respectable thing to do. And the fact that the supposedly eldritch timeless being had the same emotions as a human made John ever so slightly more comfortable with sharing the rest of his life with this thing inside his mind.
“Okay then.” He replied, stepping forward and heading towards the garage. “I can do that, yeah.”
The cemetery wasn’t that far away, and not even ten minutes after, John stepped onto the gravel parking lot… And immediately resisted the urge to facepalm.
“...And I’ve just realised I have no idea where exactly his grave is. Great.” He mumbled to himself, hoping Eggs wouldn’t be too mad about this.
To the man’s surprise and relief, he wasn’t. “Eh, I might have a hunch. Take a left turn there, then two right ones - see that telephone pole in the distance? Go there, kid.”
Following the voice’s instructions, he walked down the path and alongside patches of grass with marbled stones mixed in between. The trees rustled, and John leaned gently against the nearby fence.
“...Well, we’re here.” He said, awaiting the entity’s response.
‘Eggs Benedict’ just sighed deeply, staying silent for a few seconds before speaking slowly.
“Rest well, old friend. We succeeded. It’s over now.”
John made a note to himself to ask about what exactly he was referring to… But it simply would be wrong to interrupt now.
… Then Eggs stopped for a second and continued, his voice lower now with hints of light confusion in it. “...John? I’m assuming that is, uh, Charlie’s brother’s tombstone, correct?”
He noticed it too. A smaller grave sitting together with the other one in the rising sun.
“That would probably be Sammy’s, yes.” He nodded, as there was nobody around to see him do it. “Hold on, let me…”
John didn’t have the strength to finish the sentence. He recoiled in shock and nearly fell down, blinking multiple times to make sure he didn’t misunderstand anything.
But no, despite the fact that it made literally zero sense, what he saw was very much real.
BELOVED DAUGHTER
CHARLOTTE EMILY
1978–1983
… What.
“Huh.”