AN: Takes places some time after the movie. Sorry if anyone seems OOC.

We need to talk

Six whole months. It had been six whole months since the incident. It had been six whole months since the creatures within R.L Stines' manuscripts were unleashed and ran amuck throughout the small town of Madison. But it was all resolved, and most of the monsters had been sealed into a new manuscript written by the boy named Zach Cooper. A few months later, every building that had been destroyed during the monster attack, including the school, and the part of the Stine household that was destroyed by the abominable snowman of Pasadena When he escaped was repaired and rebuilt. Stine also bought a new car, since the last was destroyed by the giant praying mantis. Hannah was going to school and leading a normal life. After that, everything seemed to go back to normal. Or what Stine considered as normal anyway. But something was bothering the writer. It was not the matter of the invisible boy being on the loose(who disappeared somewhere and hasn't been heard from since). It was something else.

Stine kept telling himself that he shouldn't worry over any of the monsters escaping. Sure, they were sealed in one book and unlocking and opening it would likely release them all at once. But that was not what was bothering him. Every few nights for the past weeks within those six months, Stine would go into his study to write. The book that now contained all the monsters the writer ever created rested on the same shelf where all the first books used to be before the incident. Every now and then when Stine would write, he would hear things. He would hear growls, snarls and roars coming from the lone manuscript; monsters trying to free themselves once more. But through the savage sounds and growls, there was one sound that really caught Stines' attention. A voice. Most of the creatures had voices, but Stine recognised who it was.

Slappy.

Stine could not forget what that dummy did when he was released from the Night of the Living Dummy manuscript. He took all the books, released the other monsters, burned the books so they could not be captured again and led them on their rampage throughout the town. That wasn't even the end of it. Slappy wanted Stine dead. He had the gnomes, the giant praying mantis and the werewolf attack the writer, broke his fingers so he could not write a new manuscript and even had the blob monster try to devour him as a last resort. Then he remembered how Slappy laughed in an insane manner when he was being sucked into the new book. Stine would hear the faint sound of the Dummy yelling and screaming through the cover of the manuscript; yelling things like 'let me out' and 'you can't keep me trapped in here'. Stine tried to ignore it, but it was becoming too difficult.

This night however, was different.

When Hannah went to bed, Stine went into the study and sat down in his chair. But he did not write. He stayed in that chair with his legs crossed and his arms folded; staring at the locked manuscript. Two hours passed, with no sounds or yelling. It was now eleven o'clock at night. Still nothing. Stine stood from his chair and started pacing around the room. The writer took his glasses off and cleaned them with his sweater, looking at the book as he did so.

"He probably knows what I'm doing right now." Stine thought to himself, knowing Slappy would know as well.

Placing his glasses back on his face, Stine decided it was time to take a desperate measure. Telling himself that he was going to regret it, Stine walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer. Reaching inside, he took out a small key. With a deep breath, Stine made his way back to the shelf and gently picked up the book. He looked over the leather covering and metal lock. Making sure no one was watching, Stine placed the book against his ear; searching for a sound.

"Hello?" He whispered, hoping for a response.

There was still silence. Stine shook his head.

"I know you can hear me." Stine raised his voice. "I've been hearing your yelling for the past few weeks. Don't think I didn't notice."

Still silence. Stine was getting impatient. The writer raised his voice again.

"Slappy, stop pretending that you can't-"

Loud growls, roars and snarls erupted from inside the leather of the manuscript; making Stine flinch and almost dropping the book. Stine stared at the locked Manuscript as the sounds continued. After a few seconds, a voice found its way into the mix. It was faint but loud enough for Stine to hear. Stine knew who it belonged to. The writer listened to the book more closely; hearing a familiar sentence.

'Let... me... out!'

Stine took a deep breath, having mixed feelings about what he was about to do.

"Slappy, listen closely." He began speaking to the book. "I just want to speak with you."

Stine put the key inside the lock, his hands shaking as he did so.

"I'm going to let you come out. Just make sure the others don't follow you."

With a rush of adrenaline and fear, Stine closed his eyes and turned the key in the lock; opening them when he heard the click. Carefully and slowly, Stine placed the book on the floor; making sure not to open the cover yet. When the manuscript was placed on the floor, Stine placed one hand on the cover and the other grabbed the edge of the cover.

Stine only moved the cover ever so slightly. Before he could utter another set of instructions, a flash of blue light and black ink arose from between the leather cover; nearly blinding the author. Without warning, a small wooden hand latched onto Stines sleeve. The author could hear yelling and screaming coming from inside the manuscript. Stine grabbed the sleeve of the wooden hand and used his free hand to keep the book from opening fully.

"Let, go of me, you savage clods!"

Stine heard Slappys' voice make a curse, but it was not directed at the author. As Stine began to pull the dummy from the pages, the other monsters were trying to follow. Stine managed to pull Slappy halfway out of the manuscript before he realised that he was basically playing a game of tag-of-war with the imprisoned monsters. And Slappy was the rope between them. The dummy yelled out cries of pain as he felt the monsters behind trying to pull him back inside their paper prison; being pulled back by werewolf claws, plant vines and blob monster tentacles. With all the strength he could gather, Stine pulled Slappy out of the page, almost hauling him across the room and closed the book with his other hand before all the other monsters could escape. Stine quickly took the key and locked the book again, making the sounds of the struggle fade and disappear.

Stine fell back and sat down on the floor as he took a few heavy breaths, wiping a small amount of sweat off his forehead.
The writer heard a light groan. He turned his head to look over his shoulder. He saw Slappy on his knees trying to get up off the floor, looking like he was struggling to do so. Stine observed the sentient dummy, noticing a few changes in his appearance. Slappy had a few new scratches and marks on his painted face and hands, with a small crack in his bottom lip. There were also a few rips and tears on his clothes, including a massive tear on the back of his jacket that almost revealed the inner workings of a ventriloquist dummy. Or at least how normal lifeless ones worked anyway. Stine went closer to the dummy, listening to the sound of wooden joints moving. The writer nervously reached out with one hand.

"...Slappy?" Stine whispered, gently tapping the dummy's shoulder.

"Don't touch me...!"

Stine took his hand back upon Slappys' reaction. The writer gave the dummy a sharp glare.

"You're welcome." Stine said sarcastically in response to Slappys' rude greeting.

"I didn't say thank you." Slappy replied in a rude tone.

"Well it seemed like there was some rough housing going on in there. And from the way I see it, I probably did you a favour."

Slappy did not look up at his creator when he replied.

"I didn't need your help." The dummy hissed harshly.

Stine stood up off the floor and stared down at Slappy.

"I disagree." He said, crossing his arms. "I've been hearing you inside the book."

"I'm surprised that you even bothered to listen." Slappy replied, holding his left wrist.

"Yes, but there's more to it. I feel that we need to talk."

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"I'm afraid we do. I've been thinking about what you did a few months ago."

Slappy moved his eyes in Stines' direction, but he did not look up.

"I know you have." The dummy hissed angrily.

Stine looked down at Slappy, mishearing him.

"Pardon?"

"You hate me." Slappy hissed with a growl. "You think I'm nothing but a mistake. Pinocchio gone wrong. I don't blame you for thinking that. But it still hurts to know that's what you think of your own son."

Stine gave the dummy a surprised look. Slappys' words caught the writer by surprise. He could not help but stare at the scratches and tears that Slappy was now wearing. The writer had an idea of how it happened, but he had to make sure.

"Did the other monsters attack you?" Stine questioned, trying not to sound too empathetic.

Slappy reached for a tear in his right sleeve and held it.

"Not that it's any of your business. But we had a disagreement." The dummy answered unemotionally. "They had a debate on who was to blame for our defeat. They kept saying it was my fault because I didn't finish the job when I had the chance. They said I was being too slow. Apparently, breaking your fingers wasn't punishment enough."

Slappy played around with a piece of thread on his torn jacket as he spoke.

"I was hell-bent on getting rid of you." The dummy continued. "Guess I didn't count on that Zach kid being good with the typewriter."

Stine shook his head slowly and got onto his knees, kneeling down next to the dummy.

"Are you sure?" He asked curiously. "You're not usually like that when it comes to planning. There must be another reason."

Slappy just shrugged his wooden shoulders.

"I don't know." He answered. "I thought those gnomes would do it. Can't count anything that short. Then I thought the other monsters would do it. And then I thought Blobby would finish you off. Or I just got distracted by thinking about the good old days."

Stine smiled briefly as he nodded in agreement. He had images in his head of when he first wrote about Slappy. And then he remembered when the dummy just came right off the page like magic. Stine remembered how Slappy looked around the room like a curious child; like the world was all so new to him. Stine had a fond smile on his lips as he remembered all the fun times. Like thinking up stories, scaring bullies and teaching Slappy some things. But the smile on the writers' face quickly disappeared.

"Where did it go wrong?" Stine sighed.

He remembered when it all went wrong. When Slappy became witness to something no one should see. Stine remembered when the bullies threw rocks at his bedroom window. He thought going outside and asking them to stop would help, but it was a bad idea. He remembered when the bullies ganged up on him and started pushing him and shoving him like a toy. He wasn't sure how. But Slappy must've seen the whole thing and came rushing outside to do something. Stine had trouble seeing because his glasses were taken off him. But he heard the sound of a struggle and screaming from the bullies. When he found his glasses, he looked up to see the bullies running away at the speed of racing dogs. But he saw a knife in the dummy's hand as he yelled curses and threats to the bullies. Stines' insides went cold when he noticed the small amount of blood dripping off the blade.

"I was only trying to defend you, you know." Slappy muttered, reading Stines thoughts. "Those other kids were hurting you."

"I know." Stine muttered back.

Stine put his hand through his hair as the painful memories came rushing back. He tried to explain to Slappy that what he did was wrong, and that he was just meant to scare them not try to put them in the hospital. But the dummy kept saying that they deserved it. It made Stines' heart ache as he remembered how hard everything became years later, when Slappy started taking things too far. He tried hold back the painful memories of debating for months on whether or not to have Slappy sealed into his book like the rest of his creations. He did not want to come to that because he considered Slappy to be his only friend. But the dummy was becoming dangerous and hostile. It had to be done. Stine did not know what made Slappy turn that way. It may have been because he was the personification of the writers personally demons. Stine was quite angry about the way the other kids treated him when he was writing about the book about the dummy. Stine came back to reality and took a deep sigh.

"I did it for your own good." He spoke firmly to the dummy. "You were hurting people."

"Well, you and me have a very different view on 'people', if that's what you can call them." Slappy argued, putting his knees to his chest. "Besides, someone needed to teach those brats some manners."

Stine just sat down on the floor with his legs crossed.

"Slappy. Why do you want me dead?" The writer questioned, even though he knew the answer.

Slappy looked up at Stine with his fake eyes. The dummys' fake eyebrows were up for a split second, but they quickly went back down; making Slappy look enraged.

"Are you that stupid!?" He roared, standing straight up. "You didn't even care how I felt! You just tossed me into that God forsaken manuscript as if I'm just a worthless piece of garbage! I thought you cared about me! You even said I was your favourite! You abandoned me! All because I just scared a few morons and played a few pranks that went a bit far! You treated me as if I committed a war crime! It made me realise that you're just as bad as all the other humans in the world! That's why I did it! Because you left me to rot in paper and leather!"

Stine almost fell backwards as Slappy continued venting.

"Being alone and stuck in a book was bad enough! But then that brat you call Zach decided to cram all of us into one! Do you have any idea how cramped and tight it is in there!? If you didn't kick me and I managed to drag you in there with me, you'd know what it's like! I had to climb up a tower of gnomes and graveyard ghouls every day for past few months just to get your attention! Now the monsters want a piece of me because they think it's all my fault! My whole existence is a nightmare now! And you don't give a rats tail about it! You made me think I was perfect! You promised you'd never abandon me! You broke that promise! You lied to me!"

Slappy finally stopped with a stomp; taking heavy and deep breaths from all his yelling. The dummy fell back onto the floor on his backside from exhaustion. It was not long before Slappy buried his face into his knees and started making faint sobbing noises; surprising Stine. The writer could not stop himself from being gobsmacked at the dummy's emotional outburst.

"I was a mistake. That's pretty much what you think of me." Slappy sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "You made me feel like I was special. But you threw me away. And you… You even replaced me."

There was a long pause from both sides. Stine had trouble believing what he was seeing and hearing. He knew what Slappy meant when he talked about being replaced, thinking he loved Hannah better. This was coming from Slappy; one of his most infamous creations. Stine just lowered his head in deep thought.

"You're not a mistake." Stine explained, hoping Slappy would understand.

"Don't lie, you big Four-eyed, back stabbing twit." The dummy croaked with a sob.

"I'm not lying. I didn't want to resort to that. It pained me to do it. I didn't replace you either... I was just trying to be human again. I thought having Hannah around would help."

Slappy did not say anything. He just kept his head down as he made a sniffling sound.

Stine just stared down at the dummy, unsure of what to do next. The writer looked away for a few seconds before coming back and tapping Slappys' shoulder.

"Look at me, Slappy." Stine instructed, wanting the dummy's attention.

As much as he hated to do so, Slappy did as his creator told him. The dummy lifted his head up from his knees, wiping his face with his sleeve as if he really was crying. Stine had his arms open with an apologetic stare in his eyes.

"Come here."

Slappy gave the writer a glare with a raised eyebrow.

"How do you if I'm not going strangle you?" The dummy questioned, sounding untrusting.

"Because I trust that you won't." Stine answered back.

Slappy just looked away and shook his head with a quiet groan of frustration. The dummy tapped his wooden finger against his shoulder for a whole ten seconds before responding. Slappy got off the floor; using his knees for support. With brief hesitation, the dummy stumbled his way up to Stine and threw himself into the writers welcoming arms. Stine knew that Slappy hated giving in, but this seemed like something he needed. Stine felt the dummy holding a tight but harmless grip on the fabric of the writers' sweater.

"I really hate you." Slappy whispered with brutal honestly.

"I know." Stine replied, holding the dummy closer. "But I don't hate you."

Slappy did not respond to the writers reply. The hug only lasted a few more seconds before breaking apart.

"Are you going to put me back now?" Slappy questioned, sounding indifferent about it.

Stine just took a deep sigh before answering the question.

"I'll make you a deal." Stine took off his glasses to clean them. "I'll let you stay out of the manuscript if you behave yourself. You can just hang around the house if you promise not to do anything drastic. It's fine if you insult me or if you need to vent your frustration at me every now and then. But if you try to unleash the monsters again or hurt Hannah or anyone else for no reason, you're going back in."

"So basically it's be good or else, is it?" Slappy crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Pretty much." Stine answered back, placing his glasses back on.

Slappy seemed as if he was going to refuse the offer. But to Stines' hidden amazement, the dummy just held out his wooden hand.

"Fine. I'll cooperate." Slappy agreed unemotionally.

Stine responded by shaking the sentient dummy's hand; making their agreement official. Stine looked over to a clock hanging on the wall; reading 11:13. It was quite late now.

"It's getting late." Stine stated in his head.

As Stine turned back to face Slappy, he witnessed the dummy fall back down on the floor. The writer reached out and helped him back up.

"Are you alright?" Stine asked out of general concern.

"I don't feel too good." Slappy answered, struggling to get back up.

"You're probably just tired."

Stine gently took hold of Slappy; lifting him off the ground and holding him like a child. The writer carefully made his way to one of the chairs and gently placed the dummy on the seat.

"Wait here. And don't try anything." Stine instructed before leaving the room.

"Where am I going to go?" Slappy asked sarcastically.

Stine only left the room for twenty seconds before coming back with a pillow and a sleeping bag in his arms. The writer began to set up a place for the dummy to rest.

"You can sleep here in the study for tonight." Stine explained as he rolled the sleeping bag out.

Slappy shifted his position on the chair as he watched his creator set up the space.

"You know, Hannah might have a spaz attack when she finds out about this." Slappy explained to the writer.

"I'll just have to break it to her gently." Stine replied. "She may not be as forgiving as me, but I know she's not heartless."

"She can still beat the stuffing out of me."

Stine just rolled his eyes before finishing what he was doing. The temporary sleeping space was set up and ready for use.

"All done. I know you don't really need sleep, but I think this might be comfortable if you want to." Stine explained as he stood up.

"You really didn't have to. Do you realise that you're being nice to someone who tried to kill you?" Slappy responded, sliding off the chair.

"Well, as quoted by Nelson Mandela. Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies."

Slappy just ignored Stines' blabbering and dug into the cover of the sleeping bag. The dummy rested his wooden head on the pillow provided and pulled the covering closer. Before Stine left the room, the writer picked the manuscript off the floor. Stine was already in the doorway before he froze; knowing that Slappy was watching him.

"Just taking caution." Stine said, facing away from the dummy. "In case you get any ideas."

"Please. Even if I did do it again, all my so called 'friends' would just rip me apart for what happened." Slappy remarked, referring to the other monsters.

Stine could only look down at the floor in response to Slappys' remark. The writer turned around to face the dummy one last time.

"Good night." Stine said, trying to sound unemotional. "May rest bring you healing."

With that said, Stine turned back and closed the door; leaving Slappy alone in the dark study. Stine still had his hand on the doorknob when it was closed. The writer had trouble processing what he just did. He had no idea how this was going to go, or how Hannah would react if she found out about it. Stine let go of the door as he sighed tiredly; thinking of the events that took place months ago. Slappy was right to be angry at him. Stine blamed himself for the dummy's behaviour. How Slappy became enraged with vengeance. The writer slowly made his way to his bedroom to retire for the night; hoping everything would become clear to him by morning.

Slappy stared up at the ceiling as he laid down on his back in the sleeping bag. The dummy could see the thoughts of his creator. He was expecting thoughts of hate and disgust from Stine. But all he could see was confusion and grief. Slappy turned over onto his side, looking for a more comfortable position for sleeping.

"How can he be so forgiving?" The dummy whispered to himself. "Wouldn't he be more concerned that I might stab him in back if I get the chance? It's not I'm planning on it. There's no point to it now anyway. If I freed the monsters again, they would rip me apart."

Slappy pulled the covering closer, feeling ready to drift off to sleep.

"He thinks he can make me behave. What a joke." He chuckled quietly at the thought. "I don't think I need help."

Slappy's wooden eyelids began to close.

"But... I don't really know... What to think, anymore." The dummy thought before falling into slumber.