Disclaimer: I do not own Five Nights At Freddy's. It belongs to Scott Cawthon. All I own is my interpretation and spin on the lore.

Chapter 1: The Bite

"Hey guys," the kid with the Foxy mask said to his friends. "I think the little man wants to give Fredbear a big kiss." He and his friends laughed, glaring down at the little boy at their feet. Each of them was wearing a different mask based off of one of the relatively new animatronics. As they picked him up, they ignored his frantic pleas to be released, and his flailing arms failed to free him.

They walked over to the stage where the two yellow animatronics were standing. They were too busy to notice the worried look on Spring Bonnie's face. The child was screaming now. The four bullies swung him to and fro, saying, "One...Two...THREE!" They tossed him up, and he landed right in Fredbear's mouth. He was screaming at the top of his lungs now. The four friends laughed as the one with the Foxy mask said, "See, little man. That wasn't so bad, now let's get you down from-"

CRUNCH!

All four of them stopped cold at the loud noise, and their confusion instantly morphed into horror. Fredbear's jaws had clamped shut on the boy's head. The child was motionless. From nearby, a woman screamed at the sight, and the four boys did the only thing they could: they ran. Straight into the establishment's owner and the creator of the robots, William Afton.

"JUST WHAT THE HECK WERE YOU THINKING, MICHAEL?!" William shouted later that day, back at their house. They weren't at the hospital because when the paramedics arrived to get the little boy free, they discovered that he was already dead. Michael said nothing. "Do you realize what you've done? Answer me!"

"I-I'm sorry, Dad." Michael stammered. "It was just a little joke."

"Just a joke?!" William scolded. "You call what you did to your brother a joke? He's dead, because of you!" Michael had nothing to say. William Afton sighed as he pressed a hand to his forehead. "And I'm going to have to break the news to your mother when I go to visit her and your sister on Tuesday." Michael felt terrible now. He knew his younger sister was struggling with cancer, and they barely saw her nowadays.

William Afton gave his son a glare and said "I don't want to see you for the rest of the night. I just need some time to consider what to do next." Michael didn't say a word, and ran up to his room. He could still hear his father thinking out loud. "First, my little angel gets stuck in the hospital, now I have to tell her that her little brother's dead. What am I going to do?"

Michael slammed the door to his room shut, but he knew his father was too busy with the bigger problem to worry about that. Michael slumped onto his bed. "What have I done..." He sobbed. "This...this is all my fault." Then, his fingers shook as they curled into a fist. He slammed it into his pillow, gritting his teeth as he said, "I don't care how long it takes. I don't care what happens to me. But I swear, with all my heart, that one of these days, I will make those robots pay."

Tuesday rolled around, and William Afton pulled back up his driveway. As he entered the house, he took another look at the picture in his hand. His daughter had drawn it for hm. She had drawn her entire family, even down to Michael's Foxy Mask and her little brother's Fredbear plushie. And then there was the doll, the one his daughter had called "Circus Girl". It intrigued him. Maybe I can convince the others to help make this one...

He pondered this as he waited for Michael to come home from school. Strange, he thought, Michael's not back yet. He should've been here thirty minutes ago. His thoughts were interupted when he spotted a note on the fridge. He set down the drawing and took the note. As he read, his eyes widened in shock. It read:

Father,
If you're reading this, than I suppose this is goodbye. I never wanted my little bro to get hurt. I just meant it as a joke. I don't know why Fredbear's mouth closed so fast. If I knew what could have happened, I would have stopped it. But it's too late. He's dead. And I'm to blame. So I left. I didn't even bother coming home from school. I don't know where I'll be heading, but I don't care. I'm sorry for what I did, even if sorry won't bring my little bro back. But I can't stay anymore. Goodbye. Michael.

A/N: And there you have it folks. The next piece in the puzzle that is my spin on the Fnaf lore. I'm sure anyone who has read my previous story, "And Baby makes Fowa" recognizes the drawing made by William Afton's daughter.