A/N: Ok, lately I'm obsessed with Five Nights at Freddy's. I felt like writing an oneshot.

It's an AU, in which Purple Guy (I'm going to refer to him as Vincent. The name stuck into my head, and I know I would probably end up calling him that anyway, so...) didn't die, but got arrested and condemned to remain in jail till the end of his days (dunno the correct name for that, 'm sorry).

Also, yeah. Phone Guy is called Scott, but not because of Rebornica this time: I started calling him that in my mind way before discovering that AU, as Scott Cawthon himself voiced him. As we don't know his canonical name, I prefer to call him with his dubber name.

I'm using my own theory about the whole "children possession" thing. Basically, the animatronics are haunted, but they are not possessed: they are sentient, but the ghosts cause them to bug everytime they see a night guard, as a petty revenge toward Vincent, who had worked on the night shift for a while. In this story, however, Mike managed to make them understand that he isn't an endoskeleton, and so now the spirits can't bring them to hurt him anymore (yes, I support the friendship between the night guards and the robots. I hate myself).

No warnings aside for the obvious references to violence and something you may see as Phone guy x Purple guy... I think... I mean, you can interpret that both as a romance and a platonic friendship. It's up to you.

You're not how I thought

Mike had no idea why he was doing this. Visiting a serial killer in a criminal asylum. But he felt like he had to.

He was the one who had started it. The man who had killed them.

The five kids.

He gulped nervously as the nurse, a redhead on her forties, told him to follow her.

The woman stopped in front of a white door. "He's in there. Do you want me to follow you in?"

Mike shook his head. He felt that he had to do this alone. "Is he... dangerous?" He asked with an unsteady voice.

The nurse shrugged. "He always behaved in the last years. He's still a mentally unstable murderer, though... so be careful."

The twenty years old nodded, wide-eyed.

The ginger knocked on the door. "Vincent? There's visits for you."

Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door, and Mike stepped inside.

Xxx

He sincerely had no idea what to expect, when he entered the asylum for the first time.

Scars? Tattoos? Earrings and a crooked nose, maybe?

Certainly all but... that.

A young man that couldn't be older than thirty-five, with hair so dark it looked blueish in a loose ponytail, some facial hair on his chin and bright green eyes looked at him in surprise.

"Hey, you're not Scott!"

Mike blinked. What? "Uh-what?"

The man huffed, an "are you stupid or what" look on his face. "Scott. Scott Cawthon. You know, freakishly tall, lanky, raven-haired, eyeglasses... when they told me there were visits from Freddy's I thought instantly of him. He used to visit me from time to time, but lately..." he frowned, an almost pitiful expression on his face.

He looked back at Mike. "Who are you, anyway?"

The younger man bit his lower lip. "I'm Mike. I work at Freddy's-"

"-I already know that-"

Mike ignored the sarcastic interruption "-as a night guard."

The attitude of the man changed instantly. "What? Night guard? What happened to Scott?" He asked, eyes wide in confusion.

That name, again. Was this Scott a friend of this guy?

He shrugged. "Beats me. Anyway, I'm here to ask you something."

When Vincent tilted his head in silent waiting, Mike gulped. "Why... why did you kill those kids?" He asked, uncertainly.

Vincent sighed, his eyes directed toward the white floor. "Because I was scared."

The night guard stared in the other's eyes, not seeing a gram of insincerity in his green gaze. "What do you mean?"

The man smiled sadly. "I know I did something horrible, as much as I know I'm not..." he hesitated, as if searching for the right word "...I know I'm not normal. But it's a long story."

flashback

Vincent hated kids.

They were loud, annoying... and cruel. His whole childhood had proved that. The only kid he never hated was Scott, his best, his only friend.

Then why, why was he working at Freddy's? Better yet, why was he wearing that ugly, creepy and even dangerous if not used properly spring suit?

Oh, right. He was broke, and his parents were more than happy to free themselves of the dead weight of a mentally disturbed son.

So, yeah. He needed the money.

As he walked around, a half dozen of kids following him everywhere he went, he saw Scott, in his clean uniform, talking quietly to one of the other guards. He wanted to wave to him, he wanted to wave so bad, but he knew he couldn't. The springs of his costume couldn't stand quick movements, and if he tried to do so... it could close on him. He shuddered in terror, and had to refrain himself from exhaling heavily. Even that could kill him.

He smiled under his mask as Scott noticed him anyway and waved at him with a grin. Obviously, it wasn't that difficult to see a big, yellow-green humanoid rabbit.

Scott was so different than him: he was a nice and overly friendly person that loved his job, loved kids, and more than once he'd said that he preferred spending time with them than with the parents, "always judging people by the color of their skin, who they love or in what god they believe in instead of what kind of people they actually are". And yet, they were best friends.

They had met at school, at eight years old. He was the new kid in the class, and had immediately spotted the child sitting all alone in the darkest corner of the room. After an hour or so, he'd found the courage to talk to him, using the excuse of not being able to resolve a math exercise to get under his skin forever.

And damn, he did. Vincent soon discovered that Scott didn't care about his paranoia, all his phobias, his explosive intermittent disorder... he didn't ignore them, he didn't deny that he had problems, lots of problems, and he reminded him to take his medicines when he didn't. But he wasn't scared by them. He didn't think any less of him because he was ill.

Vincent loved him for that.

And, when he was hired at Freddy's, he had followed him to help him, because he knew he was the only one that could prevent him from snapping.

Scott was such a wonderful person.

Lost in his thoughts, Vincent didn't hear a little voice addressing him, getting more and more annoyed. He almost didn't feel the kid's small hands pushing him as violently as they could, but he definitely felt when hundreds of springs cut his skin, muscles, cartilage.

He screamed.

Xxx

Months had passed, and Vincent was finally starting to heal from his mental trauma. He had almost bleed to death, but they had got him in time. The springs, thankfully, hadn't cut anything vital (he might or not might had become sterile, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining). Before he knew it, he stopped having nightmares about killer suits, and the doctor told him that he was ready to go back to work.

Returning at Freddy's was harder than what he originally thought, lots of bad memories coming back to him as he entered the place, but he consoled himself by remembering that Scott swore that everything would be alright.

And, although he refused to enter again in the Spring Bonnie (he now called it "Springtrap"), for some time it was. He had become a security guard, and he felt better in this role than in any other he ever had.

Then, he came back.

At first, he wasn't sure what it was, but something with that kid's face bothered him. Then, when the child asked him if he knew where the yellow bunny was, he recognized him.

He was the one who had pushed him. The one who had almost killed him.

He became paranoid. The nightmares started again, every night he would wake up feeling the sharp metal springs closing on his body.

He didn't tell his fears to Scott: for some reason, he was sure he couldn't understand.

The kid was back. He wanted to finish the job. He hadn't killed him the first time, he would now.

When he showed up with four friends, he felt like his suspicions had just been confirmed.

They spent all day in the restaurant, and in his mind, distorted by terror, began to form itself a plan.

He would react. Before they could kill him, he would.

However, he needed to look friendly, trustworthy to lure them inside the parts/service room.

The answer was simple.

Spring Freddy.

Also known as Golden Freddy for his color, it was the other spring suit in the restaurant, aside for Springtrap.

He shook his head. He refused to wear one of those darned things ever again.

But it's your best bet whispered a sly voice in his head.

But what if it closed on him like the other?

You can still remove the endoskeleton... it will be harder to move, but not impossible continued the voice, charming.

He smiled slightly, relieved. Yeah, it was a good plan.

Xxx

Everything was red.

He was red, the floor was red, the kids were red... and so were the insides of the animatronics, where they'd been stuffed.

He felt relieved.

However, a small part of him knew, when he saw Scott's terrified face, that he'd done something unforgivable.

Xxx

Scott was crying, desperate sobs shaking all his 2,02 meters of height.

Maybe he was crying too, but he wasn't sure.

He felt betrayed, as the cops handcuffed him, and nauseous, but he also wanted to hug him, hug his only friend, his anchor, asking for forgiveness until his tears stopped falling.

He thought back to all the times Scott had defended him against the bullies, invited him to have a sleepover even though his parents weren't exactly fond of him, held him after waking up from his disturbed nightmares.

And he realized that this time, he had fucked up too bad to make things okay again with a playful scolding.

End flashback

Mike stared, speechless, at the man in front of him.

Before coming here, he'd thought a lot about the motive for the slaughter: he'd even thought about things like pure sadism or pedophilia... but he wasn't expecting this. The man he had in front of him was broken, tormented endless by his mistakes. Even his best friend had left him, though from the description he didn't sound like the kind of person who would-

Whoa whoa. Wait a sec.

"Vincent?"

"Yes?" The man looked at him, head inclined in confusion.

"Scott... Scott was a night guard?" Mike asked, a doubt starting to enter his mind.

Vincent nodded, still looking lost. "Yes, I told you."

"For some time or just a night?"

The man tilted his head again, deep in though. "For quite some years... if I'm not mistaken, he was moved there shortly after the Bite. I myself worked some nights as a night guard, but then..." He pointed to the chair he sat on, a small smile on his lips.

Oh God.

"... Can I ask you a question?"

Vincent shrugged. "You already did. One more or one less..."

Mike gulped. "When... when did he visit you the last time?"

Vincent looked away. "Five months ago. I haven't heard anything from him since July, not even a phone call." He... pouted? Yes. He pouted. "Not nice of him."

Mike felt his blood run cold.

Five months.

He'd been working at Freddy's since five months.

Phone Guy had died five months before.

Oh. My. God.

"C-can I call someone?" Asked the blue-eyed young man.

The murderer shrugged again. "The phone is yours, and I'm not here to stop you."

xxx

"Boss, I need a favor."

"You can't have a raise in pay."

Mike sighed at his employer's antics. "No, it's not that. I need to know the name of the person who worked as a night guard before me."

"What? Why would you need that?" Alan, his boss, sounded genuinely perplexed. Mike couldn't sincerely blame him.

"I think I met someone who knows him."

Silence.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. I... I see."

There was another moment of silence, before a sigh was heard.

"His name is... was Scott. Scott Cawthon. Such a nice boy... he'd been working here at Freddy's since he was eighteen, in the '87. Ironic they got him two days before quitting..."

Mike stared at the wall blankly.

"Mike...?"

Scott was Phone Guy.

Xxx

"...Vincent?"

The man looked up from his nails. "Hey there. All done?"

Mike nodded.

"Vincent, I... think I have to tell you something."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "What's with that face?"

"Scott didn't forget you. He... he died three days before I started working at Freddy's."

xxx

When he'd entered the asylum, he didn't think he would end up visiting a grave with a serial killer, but there he was, patting Vincent's shoulder as he sobbed quietly, wiping the tears that fell off his eyes with the cuffed hands.

They had obtained the permission to go to the graveyard as soon as the nurse started crying hearing the story. Even if they were constantly followed by an armed guard, and the man was handcuffed, it was still something.

To be honest, Mike wasn't there only for Vincent. As much as the heartbreaking story had moved him deeply, he was there also for himself.

Scott was Phone Guy. Phone Guy was Scott.

That man had saved him. He had saved him by risking his own life. And then he had died. His only help and company during those nights.

He knelt near the other man, and put the small bouquet they had bought on the way on the ground.

"Thank you, Scott."

A/N: I think this ended up being a bit more shippy than how I expected, but I think it was fairly nice. Also, as I already said, you can interpret it as friendship. You can get really lovey-dovey with your friends, if you don't have many of them, I know this for a fact...

Anyway.

One thing I both love and hate about English, is the word "love". It's so ambiguous, don't you think? I mean, if someone says "I love you" you can never be sure if they mean in a platonic or romantic way. In Italian we have different words and verbs for that, so I often find myself thinking that a phrase I just wrote sounds too romantic or not enough. Though, it can be useful when you want it to be ambiguous... Hm.

Also... OH MY GOD ANGSTY SHIT WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME. If you wish for fluffier stuff, just tell me, I have a half idea of writing the moment where Scott and Vincent meet.

My Fnaf headcanon:

Vincent: sassy and flirty when he's not freaking out

Scott: the "mom" 2,02 meters tall

Mike: a big softie with Zuko's sense of honor

Jeremy: disgustingly selfless like really dude stop sacrificing yourself

Fritz: Ivan Braginski just really short, ginger, with glasses and a passion for computers. What's not to love?