Chapter Text
Any sane person wouldn't have worked at this job for five nights. They probably wouldn't last five hours.
However, Michael was not a sane person.
It should be expected. The apple never falls far from the tree, as they say, despite his efforts to get himself as far away as possible. And yet here he was, in a place built upon death and bloodlust, thinly disguised by his father's legacy.
The animatronics had only gotten more active over the week. How the hell could they even move? The guy on the phone had told him that they assumed he was an endoskeleton and wanted to stuff him inside a Freddy Fazbear suit, which would've definitely killed him.
Now, Michael knew he wasn't in the best of health, but he sure didn't think he looked like an animatronic endoskeleton. Yet.
He never thought he would be thankful for Fazbear Entertainment's negligence, but just this once, he was glad that they didn't bother to do any background checks on him; they hired "Mike Schmidt" almost on the spot, and now here he was. In a restaurant that was the successor to the place that still haunted his dreams, trying to survive against four animatronics who were out for his blood.
He'd made it to the final night, at least. Michael should've felt relieved; a few more hours and it was all over. He could leave when the clock hit 6am, run away to somewhere far-off and leave this whole nightmare behind. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. He had to stay here. To find out what happened to those dead children. To avenge them and his siblings. And he was no closer to figuring it out.
There was a loud BANG on the door. Michael cursed silently to himself; he had been too busy checking on the other three animatronics to monitor Foxy. The sound of metal clashing on metal reverberated across the office once, twice, three more times. When the noise stopped, Michael let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
And then immediately inhaled sharply as the lights suddenly turned off.
The power's out. Great.
As the dim blue emergency lights illuminated the room, and that stupid music box jingle began playing, he prayed to whoever was up there that it would be 6am soon. If he could hold on just a little longer, everything would be okay.
It won't be okay. It will never be okay, as long as there is a restaurant out there with Freddy Fazbear's name on it. Kids will keep on dying needlessly, just like Evan and Lizzie did—
No. He shouldn't think things like that. He would figure this out. He'd be fine.
The emergency lights turned off, sending the room into pitch black.
If he'd had time to think, Michael would've probably thought, Well, I'm totally fucked now, but there was no time for him to do anything as he saw a flash of brown out of the corner of his eye.
Freddy Fazbear leapt at him, metal paws clasping around his neck, and Michael screamed. As much as he could with an animatronic choking him half to death.
Michael must've blacked out then, because his next memory was him lying on the show stage, surrounded by all the other animatronics, besides Chica.
"Finally got him," he heard Freddy murmur.
Michael rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly. "You guys… can talk?"
"I mean, you've seen us walk, you're surprised we can talk as well?" Foxy snapped at him harshly.
"Alright, guys, I've got the suit!" a female voice said, which Michael realised must've been Chica's.
All at once, everything came flooding back to him; what had happened, where he was, the true reality of the situation. Those animatronics were going to force him into a Freddy suit.
Oh god, I'm going to die here.
It couldn't end like this. Not now, at the hands of these animatronics, when he was so close to surviving the whole five nights. He couldn't die the way Evan and Elizabeth did.
"No, no, no!" Michael exclaimed, beginning to shuffle backwards. "Please, no! Don't kill me! Don't kill me! What do you want from me?!"
His back hit the wall behind the stage, as Bonnie, Freddy, and Foxy slowly began to surround him. Behind them, Michael could just about see Chica dragging a worn-down Freddy suit up the steps of the stage.
"Revenge," Bonnie growled at him. "After years… we are finally getting our revenge."
"What— what revenge? I'm here to help you!" Michael cried.
"Liar," Freddy said coldly. "You know him. He was the one who killed us."
"Killed you? What do you mean?"
Freddy chuckled. "Don't pretend like you don't know who we are."
"We're the children!" said Chica, who had joined the group. "The ones your father killed!"
Michael's eyes widened in shock. "My father… William… you're the missing children?!"
"He trapped our souls in these machines," said Foxy. "A young lass named Charlie said she could free us… but we can't be free, not yet, not when there's so much unfinished business."
"Charlie?!" Michael exclaimed. "Charlie, as in Charlotte Emily?"
"She never told us her last name," Bonnie said, "only that she was killed by the same man who ended our lives."
"William Afton," Michael said. "He killed her. He killed you."
"And you are his son," said Freddy.
"But I'm nothing like him… how do you even know who I am?"
"Charlie told us," replied Chica.
"And she told you to kill me?!"
"No, she didn't…"
There was a moment of silence.
"I don't want to hurt you," Michael said finally. "I know my father hurt a lot of people. His animatronics killed my brother and sister. I came here to figure out what happened to the missing children, as I suspected he had something to do with it, and now I've done it. I found you. And he was the one that killed you."
The animatronics looked at each other, seemingly conversing with their eyes.
"We're sorry," said Freddy. "We shouldn't have taken our anger out on you."
"Don't be sorry," said Michael. "You're just children. You should be free to play and laugh and have fun. Not having to deal with… all this."
Another pause.
"But you're free now. You don't have to keep chasing after me. You can move on."
"Not yet," said Foxy. "Not when he still exists."
"My father is dead! There's nothing else left for you to do!"
"Listen, Michael," said Freddy, stepping forward. Michael hoped they didn't notice how he flinched slightly. "Can you do us a favour and take the heads off these animatronic suits? Then we can talk to you properly."
Michael hesitated for a moment. Should I trust them? This could all be a trick, and they'll kill me as soon as I get too close.
But they trusted me when I said I wasn't going to hurt them. So maybe I should do the same.
Slowly, Michael stood up, cautiously walking over to the four animatronics that he'd been trying to elude for the past five nights. One by one, he took the heads off the suits. As he did, small wisps of what looked like white fog floated out of each of the animatronics' bodies.
The wisps of fog began to take the form of children, although they were transparent, their bodies and clothes in shades of grey and white. Their eyes were black, with no pupils, like unending pools of ink, and their faces were stained with dark tear trails.
"Hello, Michael," said one of the ghost children. "Let's introduce ourselves again. My name is Gabriel."
"I'm Jeremy."
"Susie."
"And I'm Fritz!"
Their voices didn't have that harsh, rasping quality as they did when they were trapped in the animatronics. They were now softer and more high-pitched, like how living children would sound.
Seeing the ghosts of the children, the victims of his father's ruthless crimes, caused something in Michael's heart to break. They weren't the heartless killing machines he first thought them to be. They were all little kids, who once had bright futures ahead of them, with hopes and dreams that could never be achieved.
Before he could stop himself, he began crying.
"Oh, please don't cry!" said Susie reassuringly, floating towards Michael.
"You're— you're just kids, all of you— you were so young… far too young…" Michael managed to choke out through his tears.
The ghost children were in no state to hug him, and they didn't know what to say, so they remained silent for some time as Michael continued to cry.
As his tears subsided, he wiped his eyes and sighed. "Sorry about that."
"Don't be sorry," said Jeremy, smiling. He turned to Gabriel. "Should we get Cassidy here as well?"
"Yeah, probably." Gabriel turned towards the door and called out, "Cassidy!"
Michael heard the faint sound of footsteps, slowly increasing in volume, until a fifth animatronic emerged from the darkness. It seemed to be a yellow version of Freddy, albeit with no eyes. When it saw him, it began to run towards him.
"Cassidy, stop!" exclaimed Gabriel. "We're not going to hurt him anymore!"
The yellow Freddy came to a halt, and stared at Michael and the ghost children. Finally, it said, "What's happening? How are you all ghosts again?"
"Michael freed us from the suits," said Fritz. "He wants to help us!"
The yellow Freddy — Cassidy — was quiet for a moment, before finally saying, "Can… can you free me too?"
"Of course," said Michael.
Cassidy climbed up the stage stairs, walking in front of Michael, and he reached out and removed the head of the animatronic. Another wisp of fog floated out, before forming itself into another ghost child. It was also grey and white, with the same void-like eyes and tear stains, and black hair tied in pigtails on the sides of its head.
"I'm Cassidy," she said, "although you probably already know that. How much do you know?"
"I know that William Afton killed you," Michael said slowly. "And… Foxy— I mean, Fritz said that he still exists. Which I don't understand. He's been dead for years."
"Only he's not dead," said Cassidy. "Let us explain."
"We were playing outside one night, all five of us," Gabriel began, "when we saw someone in a Springbonnie costume. We all loved Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, so we were very excited."
"We trusted him," said Jeremy. "He said hello to us, and told us he had pizza and cake for all of us. So we followed him…"
"… into the back of the pizzeria," said Susie. "There was no pizza or cake. Just five animatronic suits. And then he— he—"
She didn't have to finish the sentence. Everyone knew what came next.
"Our souls were supposed to move on, into the afterlife," said Fritz. "But they couldn't, and so we tried to attack him. We chased him around the building, until he ran into a room with an old Springbonnie suit inside it."
"He thought he could hide in the suit," said Cassidy, "but the springlocks malfunctioned, crushing his body. And yet still, that was not the end of him."
"He took so much more than our lives that day," said Gabriel, in almost a whisper.
"He took our dreams…"
"He took our innocence…"
"He took our happiness…"
"He stole our childhoods," Cassidy hissed, rising up menacingly.
Michael drew back instinctively, causing Cassidy to frown and float downwards.
"Sorry," she said. "I kind of lost control there."
"So you're saying… he's still alive in that suit?" Michael asked.
Jeremy nodded. "Yes. Charlie is still able to speak to her dad, sometimes. He told her that William discovered something called Remnant. It kept his soul alive in that Springbonnie suit, and it kept our souls alive in these suits too."
Michael took a deep breath. "I can't believe he's still around after all these years. My god, I hate him. I wish he was dead."
"You want to kill him too…" said Fritz, trailing off.
"If you can destroy that suit, you can end him, once and for all!" said Susie.
"Me? Why me?" cried Michael. "Haven't you been the ones trying to kill him?!"
Gabriel sighed. "We're only ghosts. We can only interact with the outside world to a certain extent. But the main thing is, because we died an unfair and painful death, we can't get anywhere near the person who killed us. We tried, but couldn't."
"And I don't want to go near him anyways," Jeremy added on. "I don't think any of us do. Just the thought of being in the same room as him…"
"So we took out our anger in other ways," said Susie. "And that included… well, chasing after you." She cast her eyes down to the floor in regret.
"I've been so angry and confused for years…" Cassidy said quietly. "I don't want to be here anymore. I'm so tired."
"I'll do it," said Michael, trying to sound braver than he felt. "I will kill him for you. If it allows you to move on to… wherever you are supposed to go, then I'll do it."
"Really?" exclaimed Susie. "You'd do that for us?!"
Michael opened his mouth, but didn't speak, trying to find the words. Finally he said, "You're all just children. You shouldn't be thinking about trying to hurt the ones that hurt you. You should be resting. My da— William tore apart my family, and ruined so many lives. I'd love nothing more than to give him a taste of his own medicine."
There was a pause, and Michael spoke again: "I came here to avenge you. That's all it was. To figure out what really happened to you."
"And now you can do it," said Gabriel. "Now you can get rid of him!"
For the first time that night, Michael began to smile. "Hey, do you reckon setting him on fire will work?"
"Yes!" exclaimed Fritz, pumping his fist in the air. "That would be awesome!"
"There's definitely lighters somewhere in here, they bring them out to light the candles on birthday cakes."
"Michael," Cassidy cut in, "do you even know where William is?"
"Ah, that's a good question," said Michael. "I don't."
"Follow us," Susie said, beckoning with a transparent hand.
Michael followed the ghost children as they glided out of the party room and into a hallway, tucked away from the rest of the pizzeria. It didn't seem familiar to him; perhaps that was due to the lack of security cameras in the area.
"There's nothing here," said Michael, looking around confusedly.
"No… no, he's in there alright," said Fritz. "We can feel his presence. The entrance is hidden behind a false wall." He gestured to a section of the wall.
"So… how exactly am I supposed to get in there?"
"Maybe you could use one of the tables in the party room," Jeremy suggested. "Just bang it against the wall."
"Oh yeah, that could work," said Michael.
"Yes! That's perfect!" Gabriel cried excitedly, clapping his hands together.
"...Michael?" Cassidy spoke tentatively. "Thank you for doing all this for us. We've been trying to hunt you down since night one, and you never even knew us properly, but you're still willing to help us. We really don't deserve this."
"But you do," said Michael. "Like you said, you died unfairly. Nothing about this situation is fair. He shouldn't have gotten away and he shouldn't still be alive. You deserve to be at peace. You don't need to keep hurting anymore."
Cassidy smiled, although it was hesitant, as though she hadn't done so in a while. "Thank you, Michael. We're going back to Charlie now. She will help set us free. Once you kill William, we will be able to move on at last."
Michael smiled as well. "Good luck, all of you."
"You too."
And before Michael could do anything else, the ghost children all seemed to disappear into thin air, fading away like a lost memory.
He took several deep breaths. Everything would be just fine.
*
Michael hoped William couldn't hear the sound of a table being dragged down the hallway. After all, he'd been rotting away in there for years. There was a good chance his ears didn't work anymore.
This is all for the kids, he kept reminding himself. If they can't get their revenge, you have to do it for them. He tried to ignore the twisting feeling in his stomach, and his ragged breathing, and the way his shaking hands made it difficult to pull the table along.
At last, he made it to the false wall. Steeling himself, he lifted the table up, and with all his strength, threw it at the wall. Surprisingly, it broke right through on the first try, landing with a crash in the room on the other side. Leave it to Fazbear Entertainment to create such a structurally unsound building.
This is it. No turning back now.
The lighter felt heavy in his pocket as he crawled through the hole in the wall.
*
Sometimes Springtrap wondered what the outside world was like now. He didn't bother to keep track of time, as he knew he'd lose count eventually, but he was sure it had been years. Years with nothing but himself, his thoughts, and the all-consuming darkness that touched every surface and filled every corner.
He thought about the outside world many times. But he never thought he'd be exposed to it due to a table being thrown through the wall.
At least, it looked like a table to him. It was quite dark, after all.
A beam of blue light cut through the hole that had been made in the wall, and even though it wasn't bright, Springtrap still had to squint. It was the first light he'd seen in ages.
Silhouetted against the light, he could see a figure climbing through the hole in the wall; presumably, it was the person who had thrown the table. He tried to make out any visible features; the first things he noticed were their short, dark hair and purple button-up shirt.
Is that… is that who I think it is?
As the person got closer, Springtrap gasped, as best as he could with his wrecked vocal cords. They looked just like him — well, what he once looked like — he was staring at one of his own creations, one that wasn't made of metal and wires.
"Michael!" he exclaimed. Even that single word took a lot of effort to say.
The person stopped in their tracks.
"D– William?!"
There was no mistaking his voice. It was Michael alright.
"Michael…" said Springtrap. "You came back for me?"
"Of course I didn't," Michael spat. "I know what you did to those children. I came here to give you the fate you deserve."
"The fate I deserve? Oh, but Mikey, don't pretend like you're a saint yourself. You know what you did to Evan."
Michael flinched at the mention of his brother's name. "Yes, I know. I'm not pretending to be a saint. I will regret what I did every single day, for the rest of my life. You, on the other hand? Since when have you shown any remorse for your actions?"
"Life is too short for regrets. Face it, Michael. We're both murderers. It runs in the family."
In what seemed like a fit of rage, Michael pulled out the lighter from his pocket and aimed it towards Springtrap like a loaded gun.
"I. Am going. To kill you. Once and for all."
"Oh, you are now? You're going to kill off your poor old dad?"
"You are NOT my dad! You never were, and YOU NEVER WILL BE!"
Father and son stared into each other's eyes, Michael breathing heavily, lighter still pointed at Springtrap. Then, slowly, the latter began to grin.
"Do it then, Michael."
"Huh? What do you mean—"
"Kill me. Kill me now."
The lighter was still clasped firmly in Michael's hands, dangerously close to the fabric of the animatronic suit, his thumbs poised on the button.
"Go on then, what's the hold-up? You came all this way for my demise, why don't you see it through?"
The hands holding the lighter began to shake.
*
On the mantel above the fireplace of the Afton family's house was a framed photograph.
It seemed like any ordinary family photo. A man and woman, arms around each other, along with a teenage boy wearing a grey tank top. In front of them was a boy and girl; the boy with a striped shirt and clutching a teddy bear, the girl with a red bow in her fiery ginger hair.
When the photo was taken, it had been the end of a day where William had taken the kids out to celebrate the opening of Fredbear's Family Diner. They didn't spend much time at the diner itself, as while Michael and Elizabeth were in awe of the two animatronics, Evan didn't seem to like them.
After leaving the diner, they'd gone to the nearby mall, accompanied by Henry and Charlie, where they'd spent most of their time at the arcade. Evan spent far too much money on the claw machines just to win a single plush toy, and Michael kept losing at air hockey to his mother, but everyone was having a great time.
It was at a park opposite the mall where Henry had taken that photo of them. Later he would go to a photography store to get the film developed and the photo framed.
That day was one of Michael's final memories of them having fun together as a family.
His mother had disappeared not long after.
William tried his best to maintain the illusion of a normal family life. At least Elizabeth and Evan were young enough to believe that their mother had gone away on a long, long trip. They ate dinner together, watched TV at night, and sometimes William would take them to go out somewhere.
When Evan died, and later Elizabeth, William had stopped trying. The photo on the mantel was the last remaining attempt at maintaining the facade of a perfect little family.
On the day that photo had been taken, once they all went back home, William had pulled Michael aside to speak with him.
"You like my animatronics, don't you?" William asked his son.
"Yeah, I guess," said Michael.
"Good. Because you are the eldest child, you'll be the first one to take over my business. So you'd better start learning how to build animatronics."
"Wait, what? I— I like the animatronics, but I don't know if I want to build them!"
"You're an Afton, Mike. It's what you have to do as part of the family."
"What if I don't want to?!"
William chuckled. "You'll see, Michael. One day, you'll grow up to be just like me."
*
It would've been so simple to press the button on the lighter that would set Springtrap on fire. It would've been so simple to end things right then and there, and justice would be served for the dead kids.
But a tiny, yet oh-so-loud voice in Michael's brain was telling him to stop.
Springtrap laughed, although it sounded more like he was choking. "Aww, what's wrong? Scared of getting more blood on your hands? Come on now, just admit it. You've become a heartless killer like me."
The lighter fell out of Michael's hands, and the noise as it hit the ground seemed deafening.
"I will never be like you."
"Oh, really? Because a few minutes ago you were barging in here, ready to set me on fire. Don't be ashamed, Mikey. Like father, like son."
"You… are not… my..."
Michael's voice trailed off.
All of a sudden, he turned and ran away; out of the room, through the hole in the wall, and he didn't stop running until he was outside the front doors of the pizzeria. He stopped and leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath as the adrenaline leached out of him.
Slowly, he slid down into a sitting position, where he curled up and began to cry.
He'd failed the children. He'd failed Evan and Elizabeth. Somehow, he couldn't find it in himself to kill Springtrap.
William Afton was a serial killer, a psychopath — and yet he was still Michael's dad.
The apple had stayed on the tree this whole time.