Archive of Our Own

Poppy’s angel was nothing more than a false shepherd in the eyes of Catnap. He had trolloped down into their home from above bringing her from her sanctuary and promising a revolution that would bring nothing but death. It already had.

Mommy Long Legs had fallen, as did Miss Delight shortly afterwards. Catnap held little consideration for either. Miss Delight was a dangerous cannibal whereas Mommy was stuck in her own head. Neither could see the bigger picture. Neither were welcome in Catnap’s domain.

It didn’t stop the angel from coming down there though. And it didn’t stop him from waltzing into Catnap’s home, the playhouse, and taking what he wanted.

Catnap spotted him on the way out and didn’t engage merely out of sheer disbelief. A man who looked barely through his twenties- how was a former worker the age of what would’ve been the former orphans? -running out of the Playhouse with a dozen feral critters on his heels and Dogday the Heretic on his back.

How on earth he found Dogday, let alone how he cut him down and carried him out was beyond Catnap’s understanding. And he had been quite offended by it. Saving Dogday, the fool, the backstabber he was. One given a second chance by a God and chose to turn it away.

A dog so obedient to those who would torture them but then spit at the feet of their savior. There was no forgiveness for him.

It took Catnap all of his self-control to not leap down right then and put them both down, but that was not how this was to go. He showed restraint and mercy, just as his God requested of him. He was aware of Poppy’s plans and had his own in motion and Catnap would never question them.

He never questioned him. He never asked for more.

And when he lay there burned and brittle, ruined and useless, his God offered a gentle hand and a way out. Become part of him. Become more.

The fear was there but it was minimalized. He was ready to go, he thought. He was ready to be blessed. Ready to be freed of this burned body. He got on his knees and he offered himself to God. He was ready. He was ready. He was ready.

He was not ready for what transpired next. He watched the sharp conjoined fingers press together in preparation for a gentle death and-

And the fleshy human hand pulling against his burned flesh and pushing him back.

“No! No, no! Stop! Stop!”

And there was Poppy’s angel standing over him. His back to him as he held up both hands and pleaded with the hand of God. Stop, he begged, stop.

There was a moment when everything seemed to hang in the air. The hand of God waiting, still posed, as though considering whether to run straight through the human blocking his path and continue right into Catnap. Catnap couldn’t understand why he was hesitating though.

It wasn’t mercy. The Prototype wouldn’t show mercy from mere begging. Especially not the begging of Poppy’s little helper, a former worker supposedly, a walking murderer albeit a messy one as well. You couldn’t simply go up against him and then beg as penance from your crimes.

“Don’t do this,” begged the murderer. Fumbling and stuttering out his words. Catnap waited for him to be silenced but it didn’t come.

The only other option was curiosity. Intrigue. The only reason he would hesitate is if he had a greater plan. Yes, that had to be it. That had to be why he resisted, unless he was waiting for Catnap to deal with him himself.

He couldn’t, he was too broken. He was in agony; just being shoved aside had put him back on the ground in a pathetic heap. Writhing as his burned back made contact with the floor. He stared wide-eyed and hoped that he would soon make his judgement. That he would strike them both down and move on.

God made his decision.

The cost was immeasurable.

He retracted his hand. He drew away, and with it he took Catnap’s chance at salvation.   

Now it was Catnap who could’ve begged for his life. He reared up and shoved at Poppy’s angel and reached up after his God, trying to show him that he was still worthy, that he was ready to go, that he wanted to serve him forever as a part of him. But he didn’t return. He left him behind.

And Catnap couldn’t even turn and strike Poppy’s angel down. He instead slumped onto his side and faded away.

…

…But not forever.

Eventually he awoke and was met with agonizing pain and confusion. He tried to fight weakly in his delirium, but he had been tethered down. The bonds pulling at his seared skin. He couldn’t scream so he simply twisted into himself.

He could hear voices talking over him. Poppy’s angel, Poppy herself, and Dogday. Their words slurred but all framed around him. Perhaps questioning, as he was, why this so-called angel would do this to him. Had the angel said it was to extend his suffering he would’ve readily believed it.

But no. It was all lies instead.

Nobody else needs to die, he said. He kept calling the other deaths accidents. Accidents. Killing Mommy was an accident. Killing Huggy was an accident. Catnap didn’t even know Huggy was dead, but the slurred words brought him up. He’s dead too. Three for three. Yet here he is alive.

“I… I saw some things and… He’s not a monster, okay? He was a kid just like you three were.”

Years ago, yes. Years, years ago. That child was dead. Partially because of the actions of one of the other “children” who he dragged out of the playhouse in a messy, legless heap and now had the gall to sit there beside his deathbed.

He was going to say something. He mustered his strength to lift his head, turn it towards the man, and tell him what a fool he was. That God would kill him.

Instead, he bowed over and emptied his stomach on the floor beside his cat paw shaped bed. Then he blacked out again.

…

He awoke to the angel sitting on a stool wrapping bandages around his arm. Catnap’s eyes rolled over and sized him up. Angel noticed and stilled.

He put on a stupid smile. He was nervous. Good. Catnap would’ve eagerly killed him.

“Hey, buddy!”

He will eagerly kill him.

“I mean, uh… Theodore. Can I call you Theo?”

Hearing his own name was whiplash. Catnap found his body drawing in. He could feel the electric prod approaching, even if it wasn’t there. Not Theodore, it’s Catnap. The name is Catnap. The name is Catnap.

He tried to speak and the speaker in his mouth burned from stomach acid. He clammed up. It didn’t matter; he didn’t care. He didn’t care.

God abandoned him. And everything hurt.

“I’m just covering your wounds, okay? This should make you feel a lot better…”

The bandages are drenched in so much salve that they’re like ice on his burned skin. Catnap shuddered a little as they fell on an especially sore spot. Not that any part of him didn’t hurt. It smelled awful, like bitter medicine and poppy gel. Maybe it would soak into his skin and poison him.

He really hoped that it did. He wanted this to be over.

He faded out but came back to at the sound of humming. His vision had blurred again and his head was pounding, all the while Poppy’s angel was humming and wiping salve down his boney back.

Who could imagine a murderer would have such a gentle touch? How merciful. It felt like a trap. Gentle touches, soft voices, they were all tricks to manipulate the minds of pliable children who were so eager to give in.

Catnap was already so broken that he gave in. Until he wiped a little too firmly. Then Catnap tugged his shoulder away.

The angel stopped. “Okay, okay. Sorry about that. We’ll come back to that later, okay?”

It wasn’t okay but there was nothing he could do. He blacked out fully again.

…

…He woke in horror.

Unimaginable horror.

His head was full and throbbing and his body burned and froze at the same time. He thrashed and it hurt, and he didn’t understand why it hurt and so he fought and it hurt more. He was heaving in air and heaving out saliva dripping through the grate at the back of his throat.

He was dying. He was dying!

“Theo, stop! Please! You’re going to hurt yourself!” the angel pleaded. He desperately tried to hold Catnap down but he fought and rolled. “He’s burning up… Do we have anything that’ll reduce a fever?”

“There’s nothing left in here.”

There was a soft hand on his head. Catnap writhed under it. The gentle touch of furry felt, not flesh. Nobody who would hurt him. A fellow.

“Maybe if we could get to the labs, but up here? It’s already been used…”

“What if I got back to the top floor, got outside, and drove to a pharmacy and got something? He’s still a human, he should be able to take human medicine, right?” the angel asked.

“What? You… You can’t leave! You can’t leave us down here…” Poppy said desperately. “You say you will, but you won’t come back.”

“I would! I would…”

“But even if you did, he’ll never let you reach the surface again. Now that he knows you’re here he’ll never let you go.”

Nobody needed to leave, she was right, nobody needed to go. All they needed was here. All the food and medicine in the world was here.

This was what was supposed to happen. This was what he wanted. Why was he fighting it? Why was he so afraid?

The soft hand petted his head, and he reflexively curled up into himself. Like he was still a child trying to curl up into a ball and hide from the probing doctors. And now here he was, an adult, an adult who never got to grow up, rendered a helpless welp from a raging fever.

He wanted to crawl out of his skin.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted to GO HOME.

…

“Don’t cry. Shh…”

The gentle hand was back.

“It will be okay. You’re going to feel a lot better soon.”

He shook his head.

“…I’m sorry, Theodore,” he murmured. He petted his head. “And I forgive you.”

No, he didn’t. He was a liar. They all were. The doctors lied, the adopters lies, the teachers lied-

God lied to him. God never loved him.

He wept so hard that it felt like his back bones were creaking together.

“Aww, Buddy. It’s okay,” Angel said. He patted their paw and leaned down to bump his head against his. “We’re going to make it better. I promise. I’m-… I’m sorry I did this to you. I didn’t want to, I swear.” He was getting choked up, like he truly cared.

Catnap noticed.

He also noticed that it wasn’t his hand on his back. It wasn’t him forgiving him.

Again, it was Dogday. Even now Dogday was pitying him. Patting him like an animal, like he didn’t- like he didn’t-

He didn’t like this. He was so tired and so confused. It was only a matter of time until something gave out. Which it did, thankfully.

The darkness was welcomed.

…

He felt a prick on his skin. A whole plunger full of liquid of some kind pumped into his body. He didn’t fight it. If it killed him then…

…

…He woke up slightly more aware and in marginally less agony.

Things still ached and burned in a way that spread down to his bones, but it wasn’t nearly as awful as the first few times he awoke. He opened his blurry eyes and looked around to see that he was still in his room, and he wasn’t alone.

Dogday was looming over him. It took him a moment to realize he was in a wheelchair- how he managed to bring it into the playhouse was unclear. Probably Angel folded it up and drug it in. Now Dogday was perched on it over him.

A clean, white bag or sheet, some sort of fabric, was covering his bottom half and now tucked up under his belt. His gory inside now even more protected from the world. There was no oozing or blood either. Had he been sealed up or just cleaned? Catnap wasn’t sure why he even cared.

Dogday turned his head and noticed he was awake. He froze up for a second like prey under a predator’s gaze.

He was still afraid of him. That was good to know.

That made two of them. No, wait. No. That was the fever and pain talking, no. He was alone and abandoned by God. He felt sick already.

“You’re awake…” Dogday said dumbly. He cleared his throat. “I… I need to check your wounds.”

His gentle hands reached down to check the bandages on his arm. Apparently, that was a nasty spot as Catnap could see that some fluid had oozed through and stained the bandages. How humiliating.

How…

How was he going to take care of himself like this? What was merciful about a slow death? It could’ve been quick. Prototype would’ve brought him back to life, he said. He could do that, he believed. It could’ve been over. All of this. He could’ve arisen to the next existence.

When Dogday peeled back the bandage Catnap caught a scent that smelled like infection. He knew it would only be worse from here.

“Let… me… die…”

His voice sounded so weak and frail, yet Dogday’s head snapped up like he had screamed it. He stared at him with an eerily vacant look on his face. Catnap stared back, making it clear that he knew what he was asking for.

But Dogday stiffly shook his head.

“I… I’m sorry, but no.”

It was revenge then. Perhaps it was justified.

Because if God never truly loved him, what was the point of all the suffering? How many toys died to appease someone who never cared?

Perhaps he was the murderer. The monster.

…

…No.

“Come on, open up! It’s not bad, I promise. Look, see?”

God, no.

“Theo, please. Just… try a bite?”

Angel was trying to get him to eat despite the fact that he had brought up half of the water he had forced down. It didn’t matter, here he was with a plastic spoon trying to shove a slimy piece of ham into his mouth.

It had to have come from an MRE but Catnap wasn’t aware that there were any more left up here. Somehow Angel dug one up and was now trying to shove it down his gullet. Catnap turned his head away with disinterest.

“Please. Just try a bite. One bite! You don’t like it, it goes straight into the garbage… And the garbage would be my stomach.”

The joke fell on deaf ears but Catnap’s resolve was slipping. Not out of true hunger, no, but the desire to get this encounter over with.

He didn’t answer, he just opened his mouth wider. Angel smiled.

“Alright! That’s what I like to see! Let’s start with a piece of ham… Oh, uh…” He seemed to only then realize that Catnap lacked teeth or even a tongue. At least that’s what it seemed from how he stared at his mouth.

It didn’t matter what they lacked, the toys still ate. They all consumed what they could. A piece like that would dissolve in his mouth and slip down through his smoke dispenser and into his throat and stomach in seconds.

He started to close his mouth to make it apparent that he wouldn’t wait. He would just close off the option entirely.

“No, no, wait! Here.” Angel carefully set the piece of pork into his mouth. “There you go.”

It was a mere morsel. It tasted overly salty and oily, despite being something that likely had water added to it and was cooked in a bag. Nothing compared to fresh meat or even decently cooked gruel.

And yet the faintest taste made his stomach twist. Not in nausea but in hunger. His usually quiet body that settled for scraps now screamed for sustenance. It begged for more, pleaded for the rest, a taste, anything.

He silently opened his mouth again. Angel brightened up and eagerly began shoveling more of the food in. All the while peppering him with praises about how “good” he was doing, and how he was so “proud” of him. Like he was a pet, or a picky child. Had he sunk so low?

He had sunk so low. Because those pitiful praises made him feel… valued in a way. A sad, pathetic way.

To add salt to the wound, after the meal Angel began to pet his head again. Again, like a pet. Like soothing a scared child.

And despite now being able to pull away from it, he accepted the gentle touch.

…

He woke more than once to hands touching him. Patting him, changing his wrappings, trying to encourage him to eat and drink. The touches didn’t hurt like they used to.

By time he regained the ability to shove them away he stopped wanting to.

It was no different than giving into the doctors, so why did it feel like it was?

…

…He wasn’t sure how much time passed. He awoke to Angel and Dogday tending to his wounds, passed out, woke up, was offered water, passed out, woke up, felt the gentle touches and assuring voices, passed out, woke up-

It could’ve been weeks on end, but he had a feeling what he went through was only over the course of days. The infection he had feared had died away, perhaps from whatever poppy laced salve they lathered his body in. His burns didn’t hurt as much. He started to regain movement.

Not that he wanted to move much at all. As his body recovered his mind crumbled. The depression and defeat kicked in and beat him down further. He hated himself just as much for giving into this than he did for failing the Prototype, and the Prototype failing him, and him being left behind forevermore.

Left with these strange people. Heretics. Poppy’s false angel, Dogday, and Poppy herself whose voice seemed to occasionally be heard before fading away.

Sometimes he would hear the voice of God too. His softer voice from a time long forgotten, but it would fade too. He wasn’t here. He was just haunting him.

But it couldn’t last.

Usually, he regained consciousness on his own, but this time Angel woke him up. He had a somber look on his face.

“Theo? Hey, uh… So, umm. Poppy’s wanting to get moving. We can’t wait any longer- she says. If it was up to me, I’d stick around a little longer. But she’s the boss and she knows more about what’s going on, so… I guess I’m going.”

Angel was leaving him too.

“But as soon as I get things squared. Whatever I’m supposed to do down there. I’ll be back, okay? I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Did he mean that…? No. False promises. Just like with the Prototype.

…Then again, the Prototype never said he would return. Did he? He never lied; he just never cared.

He gifted Catnap the entirety of Playcare. But was it truly a gift or just a prison? Why wasn’t he allowed to join him in the labs? Or in his Better Place? Why would it take his death for him to truly join his only friend, his God?

Now without the fever frying his brain he could think clearly, and he was coming to some alarming realizations. Perhaps he had misjudged it this entire time. Perhaps the savior never truly cared about him.

Perhaps the angel did.

He pressed his head into his hand. A silent plea for him to not leave too, but he couldn’t get the proper words out. Angel patted him and smiled sadly, and continued to promise that he would, somehow and someway, return to him again.

And Theodore believed him.

…Or at least, he believed that Angel believed that.

…

Theodore awoke alone and he assumed that was how it would be from now on. The little critters had been silent for so long- likely scared away by his state and Angel’s frequent presence. He was alone in his room now. Alone in this structure. Alone in Playcare. Alone.

He dragged himself up and found that despite him wanting to lie and rot there, his body was fully capable of standing. There were still some wounds that were bound in wraps and salve but most of his skin had somehow replenished itself. There was poppy gel in that salve it seemed.

He still had a limp though. He hurt when he moved the wrong way, and he had to to slink out of the playhouse and return to the square. He stepped outside to see the overhead lights on and Playcare lit up like a summer’s day. Barren and empty.

…No… Not empty. He wasn’t alone.

Dogday was there. He was parked in his wheelchair beside the statue. Theodore walked down the steps towards him and realized that he had fallen asleep in the chair. Asleep? Perhaps he was exhausted. Perhaps he knew that the light would protect him from the small critters.

But not him. No, Theodore could’ve killed him easily, even with him still midway through a recovery. Had it been before he might’ve, or would’ve dragged him off to the cell and strung him back up. But now…

He hadn’t forgiven Dogday. You can’t forgive something like that and he was sure Dogday would return those sentiments. Things between them were irreparably broken and no amount of caregiving could erase that… But he wouldn’t kill him, and he wouldn’t take him back into the dark.

What was the point of it? What was the point of fighting against the Prototype when he was everything? What was the point of worshipping the Prototype when he would do nothing?

They could’ve been sitting here together as friends.

Maybe if he hadn’t ratted him out to the caretakers…

Maybe if he hadn’t needed to rush with a grabpack too big for him…

Maybe if he had succeeded in getting the Prototype free…

Maybe neither of them would be here.

Or maybe they still would. Maybe there’d still be children running around and they would be their caretakers now. They would be locked in eternal servitude granting children the same comfort and support that- that…

That Angel had given him.

That should’ve been the Prototype, but it wasn’t. It was Poppy’s angel. How insane to imagine. Saved by Poppy’s guardian angel.

He must’ve made a noise because Dogday lifted his head which was slouched on his shoulder. He caught sight of Theodore, inhaled sharply, and quickly turned his head back down. Not to pretend that he was sleeping- a silly thought- but because he couldn’t stand making eye contact.

Still afraid of him. He probably expected that one wrong move would send him back into that cell. Good.

…But was it good? Theodore was too sore and tired and conflicted to even consider what he thought about it anymore. Nothing ever felt good.

“How are you… feeling?” Dogday cautiously asked.

What a timely question.

“Empty,” Theodore replied.

“I know that feeling…”

“Do you?” he asked pointedly.

“Yes,” Dogday said with no hesitation.

Anyone would feel hollow with their guts oozing out. That’s likely not what he meant though.

He was rubbing his wrist anxiously. There was no fur there from where belts had worn it away. His leg would’ve been jumping if he still had it. He always did that when he was nervous. He did that before… He did that before.

Suddenly him trembling in fear wasn’t as appetizing as it should’ve been. What happened to him being so bold as to touch him? Did that only last as long as he thought Theodore was on death’s door? Or maybe just as long as he was weak and defenseless?

“I won’t hurt you,” Theodore said. He wasn’t sure why he did.

Dogday gave a humorless laugh. “Promise?”

Theodore only stared back as an answer.

Dogday caved instantly. “…Okay.” He didn’t believe him.

But he wasn’t here to convince him. He was here because he was cast aside by God and resurrected by an angel. What an odd turn of events.

Suddenly he was the one rubbing his wrist. Scratching at the itchy bandages plastered against his skin. His claws tugging at them without much effort.

“Why…” he asked. “…Why didn’t he come back for me?”

“He will. He only just left a few hours ago. Don’t count him out yet,” Dogday said. “Poppy chose her angel well.”

Theodore didn’t mean Angel, he meant the Prototype. Why would he even assume-

Even Dogday knew the Prototype didn’t care about him.

He couldn’t even label Dogday a heretic anymore. Now he was just the smartest person in the room. He saw it before Theodore had. Everyone had. Even Angel had when he threw himself at the mercy of the Prototype to stop his execution.

He did what his “God” should’ve. He stayed, he healed him, he forgave him. He gave him a second chance.

Poppy’s angel…

…No. HIS angel.

And if God didn’t want him, well then, he would follow his falling angel right into hell. He had already been there and was already burned.

“If he is not back…” Theodore began.

“…By when?” Dogday asked.

“If he is not back,” Theodore repeated with no answer. “I will go after him.”

Dogday no longer hid his eyes. He now unabashedly stared at him, but Theodore didn’t look back. He instead looked up at the statue of the Smiling Critters. At a stone monument memorializing a dead dream. And he felt…

He felt…

Alive.

…

“I just don’t understand. Why Catnap? He was trying to kill you!”

“I know, but… I just didn’t want another person dead. Especially since he was just another victim of this place,” Angel explained.

The eyes of the phone almost seemed to look judgmental.

“He’s not much of a victim now. What he’s done to other toys, to Dogday… Everybody down here is a victim in one way or another but nobody is innocent,” Ollie said.

“I know, I just… Everywhere I go I keep running into toys who want me dead because they think I’m on some sort of crusade, and then look what happens! They end up dead, validating everyone’s fear that I’m some sort of maniac who came down here to start some kind of bloodbath,” Angel vented. He sighed. “This ends now… And by that I mean I’m not killing anybody else. Even if it’s an accident.”

“Uh, you might want to talk to Poppy about that then.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. Her plan with the Prototype?”

Ooohh right. The plan with the Prototype. Killing the Prototype, that is.

Angel stole a look over his shoulder to make sure neither Poppy or Kissy were listening.

“About that… I’m, uh…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m starting to have some second thoughts. Maybe we can, you know, work something out.”

“Work something- Wait! You mean with the Prototype?! Are you insane?! I know Poppy’s told you about how bad he is!”

“Sort of, but YOU told me that he saved Theodore back before all of whatever happened here happened. There’s got to be some part of him that’s still… That’s still the person he was before all of this. Who WAS he? He had to have been a kid too.”

“…If there was a kid in there, I can promise you that it grew up a long time ago,” Ollie warned ominously. Then his voice shifted back to normal, “And it grew up into a big, scary, angry god! You can’t reason with that.”

“I already did.”

“What?”

“When he was going to- When I fought Catnap- Theo, he reached his arm down like he was going to stab him and I got between them and begged him not to, and he didn’t! He spared Catnap because I asked. He could’ve just- shhhhckt- stabbed right through me. He’s willing to reason to some extent.”

Ollie was quiet on the other end. Angel couldn’t tell if it was doubt or worry but he guessed it was both.

“I just… If there’s a way to do this without anyone else dying, I want that. It’s worth a try,” he said softly.

“Well… I think we’re looong past the point of a peaceful resolution, but… Poppy has something she wants to show you before you guys head down. That might change your mind…”

“It might, but if it’s about more death I think I might have to pass,” Angel joked. It was a joke because he knew he would have to see whatever it was and he knew it wouldn’t be good. He noticed Poppy waving for him. “I think Poppy’s ready to go.”

“Okay. Good luck!”

“Thanks…”

Well, Ollie didn’t seem convinced yet, but at least he didn’t freak out as much as Poppy surely would. He wouldn’t run it past her just yet- or at all depending on what she was going to show him.

But there had to be another way to go about this. If Catnap and Dogday could be saved, then who says he couldn’t save more toys? Who decided that there had to be all this death anyway? He was done with the slaughter.

Besides, it looked like Poppy had a tape to show him. Maybe it would back him up.