Author's Note: Welcome ladies and gentleman! To old readers: thank you very much for taking the invitation and joining me on my second fic. To all new readers: thank you very much for clicking this story and giving it a shot.

Now, in the surreal-ish spirit of this last game, flashbacks, dreams and imagination will play a vital role in this story. I've read quite a lot of FNaF 4 fics by now, and it is my intention to take a slightly different turn from the patterns I've seen so far. I know this game is perhaps the most debated of all, so keep in mind that I'm basing this on what I personally believe is true. That doesn't mean I'm not open to your ideas though, as I like to hear different opinions to try and decipher the FNaF series better.

If you're reading The ones that were lost you should know that this fic is not connected to it in any way; they're two completely separate stories. This will also be much shorter, 4-5 chapters max. However, there will be quite a few references to it, so keep an eye out for them :)

Okay guys, here it is. I'm experimenting with a few new things here, so let me know what you think. And as always, happy reading!

Disclaimer: The Five Nights at Freddy's franchise and its characters are owned and created by Scott Cawthon. I don't own anything in this story that is made purely for entertainment purposes.


Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.

- Albert Einstein


Chapter 1: Toys

The headlights of the battered car barely managed to light up the lonely countryside road while the vehicle sped through the dark, rainy night. The 17 year old male driver grinned smugly as he took a sharp turn, making the worn-out tires give out a sharp screech. The other two passengers, a 10 year old girl that was sitting next to the driver and a 7 year old boy in the backseat, clutched their favorite stuffed toys and closed their eyes nervously as the car took another sharp turn at dangerous speed. The girl had a white fox with pink lips and yellow eyes; the boy held close his beloved golden bear.

"Bryan, slow down!" demanded the girl as she looked reproachfully at her older brother.

"Oh, c'mon Lizzie!" laughed Bryan, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to grin at his younger sibling, "I've been driving for almost a year now, okay? I know what I'm doing."

Elizabeth Atwell crossed her arms and put on a sour face. "Then remind me why we're missing our back bumper Speed Racer." she mumbled lowly.

"I told you a million times already!" shot back Bryan, "I was slowly backing up from the mall's parking lot when this idiot just rushed through the lane and hit me." He let out an angry chuckle. "It was his fault, not mine. Right, Chris?"

Christopher raised his sight from his favorite toy and best friend, and looked at his brother's expecting eyes through the rear-view mirror. "Y-yes, of course." he whispered shyly, letting his gaze fall back down to his plushy.

Bryan shook his head. "I don't know why you two are so obsessed with those stupid toys! Lizzie, you're almost eleven! Shouldn't you get rid of that thing?"

Elizabeth's answer was to clutch her toy even closer to her chest. "Ms. Betty Fox is my friend, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Bryan smirked as he made another sharp turn way over the speed limit. "It's one of those new cutesy plush toys, right?"

"Yup!" replied a cheerier sounding Lizzie, "And I heard that maybe, someday, they'll make actual animatronics out of them! Wouldn't that be awesome Chris?"

The boy smiled and nodded, but in reality he was terrified of those metal monsters. Not because of their appearance, not because of their creepy unnatural movements, but because of what they meant to him. In them, he saw his greatest fear.

Reality.

Christopher Atwell had a 'fantasy prone personality'; a mental condition that blurred the lines between imagination and reality, making it nearly impossible for him to distinguish between the two. This often led him to get completely lost in a daydream. Of course, he wasn't to blame for his condition; but for his family, classmates and teachers, ignorant to the boy's reality, he was nothing more than a fantasizer, weirdo, and loner.

The 7 year old happily believed that the Fazbear Gang in his room were his real friends, and more than a bunch of dye and fabric. The sight of the terribly fake animatronic characters inevitably showed the reality he liked to ignore: his best friends were just a product of his broken mind.

"But, we're not Chris!" Fredbear raised his head and locked his glistering black eyes on the boy, "We're your friends, right?"

"Of course Goldie!" whispered the kid, low enough so that none of his siblings could hear him. "But they can't see you like I can... nobody can."

"That doesn't mean we're not real." The plush toy crossed his arms and looked up hopefully at his friend. "We're real to you, aren't we?"

"Yes, you are." Chris smiled, but he was ripped out of his daydream by the ear-piercing shriek of the car's tires.

Bryan was turning the driving wheel desperately, trying to regain some control on the car as the tires slipped on the asphalt. "I CAN'T TURN!" he screamed in panic. Lizzie let out a high-pitched cry as the blinding headlights of the truck in front of the small car came closer and closer. Bryan slammed the brakes, only to make the car slide on the wet road. The grave honk of the truck roared through the air one last time when the two vehicles were seconds away from crashing. Chris could only look in horror from the backseat as the passenger's side of his brother's car crumbled to nothingness against the truck's front. Lizzie let out a hopeless wail...

And in an explosion of shattered glass and twisted metal, the boy's world turned black and silent.


Panting and sobbing heavily, Christopher shot up from his bed, holding his trembling chest as tears began to roll over the soon-to-be 9 year old's cheeks. That night, he lost his sister, and in some ways, also his brother. Since the accident, Bryan was... different. He had always played little jokes and pranks on Christopher, but never with bad intentions and certainly nothing dangerous. Now, it seemed that the only way the 19 year old could forget about his own pain for a while was to cause more to his little brother.

"Chris?" Fredbear stood up from his place on the bed and slowly walked to the crying child, who buried his head in his hands as he sobbed away. "What's wrong?"

"Sh-sh-she..." The boy let out a shaky sigh, "Sh-she's d-dead Goldie." He looked at his plushy with teary, puffy eyes. "I m-miss her so much..." Fresh tears sprouted from Chris' eyes as the last memories of his sister played back in his mind.

"Shh, don't cry again." hushed the golden toy softly, patting the boy's leg with his fuzzy hands.

"I... I w-want to s-stop c-crying Goldie," sobbed Christopher, "b-but I... I CAN'T!" A soft whimper escaped from the child's throat as he shook his head. "B-Bryan's right... I'm such a use-" he sniffed, "useless c-crybaby. Why am I l-like t-this?! W-why c-can't I be b-brave?!"

"You're brave to me Chris!" exclaimed Fredbear, looking up at his crying companion with a tender smile. "You're everything I want to be! You're big, strong, kind, smart..."

"R-really?" the boy raised his tear-stained face from his arms and smiled weakly at the little plush toy that was standing in front of him. "You m-mean t-that?"

"Yeah!" beamed the golden bear, "You're my friend!"

"He's my friend too!" called out a peppy voice from the corner of the room. Standing next to the other plushies, Bonnie waved and smiled heartily at Chris.

"And mine!" chirped Freddy as he stood up from the little pile of toys and tipped this hat at the child.

"Hey! Don't forget about me guys!" chuckled Chica with her squeaky voice. She smiled, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot, pretending to be mad at Christopher for forgetting her.

"Arr, yer be me first matey too, lad!" The headless Foxy plushy stood up next to the other three toys. Then, the brown, purple, red and yellow shapes ran towards Chris' bed, jumped on it and surrounded the now-smiling boy.

"See? You're not alone!" Goldie smiled at Christopher before leaping on top of the kid's chest, hugging him tightly and making him fall on his back on top of his covers. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy followed the example and soon the boy was covered with plush toys that nuzzled against him.

"We're your friends!" the five chorused, tightening their hugs around the kid.

Chris' tears dried, and laughing joyfully, he hugged back his toys. "You're my friends too!" he smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the loving embrace. "You're the best friends I could ask for..."

The boy's smile faded as a fist banged loudly against the door of his room. "Hey, hey! Wake up loser!" shouted Bryan angrily, "Mom and Dad are coming soon; so get up, get dressed and get out of there... NOW!"

The young adult stomped away from the room, mumbling something under his breath. Chris finally opened his eyes and looked around. Fredbear hadn't moved from his spot on the bed, and stared lifelessly at the opposite side of the room. The other four plushies were still crammed together in the corner next to the door, just like they were last night. They didn't move, they didn't talk, they didn't laugh... they just sat inertly in their spot, smiling their sown smiles at nothing.

Chris sighed, and looked down. "Yes, you're the best friends I could ask for..." his voice began to crack slightly as his lips curled into a sad smile. "If only..." A single tear rolled down his cheek, clung down from his chin for a moment and fell down on his chest. "If only you were real..."


Christopher stood alone in the hallway of his house, holding Goldie with one hand as he discretely wiped away his tears with the other. His mother and father were rushing in and out of rooms, drinking coffee, grabbing briefcases and putting on their suit's jackets, repeatedly muttering something about how late they were.

"You know the drill Bryan." started Mr. Atwell, looking sternly into his older son's eyes as he put a hand on his shoulder. "Your mother and I are going away to the conference for a week. There's some cash in my drawer for emergencies only." The formally dressed man spat out the last word very slowly, as if to make sure that Bryan understood everything perfectly. The older boy nodded.

"Good. There's more than enough food in the freezer and the maid will come on Sunday to clean everything. And please..." Mr. Atwell's lighter tone once again became low and severe, "take good care of Chris, alright?"

"Off course dad!" replied Bryan, showing off an innocent smile. "Don't worry, nothing bad will happen. I promise."

"Good." The man gave a hard smile and an icy pat on the shoulder to his older son.

On the hallway, Mrs. Atwell walked briskly towards her younger child, high heels clacking against the black and blue tiles. "Hi Chris," she greeted softly as she knelt in front of her miserable-looking boy and ruffled his hair, "we're going away for a few days. You know that, right?" The almost 9 year old nodded without looking up at his mother. "It's just going to be a week."

"So, you're not going to be here for my birthday?" The boy's eyes misted over as he raised his head to the taken-aback woman.

"Umm, not exactly." she admitted, forcing a condescending smile, "But as soon as we get back we're going to give you a nice, big birthday party with all your friends, alright?"

Christopher looked down and whispered in a weak, cold tone: "I don't have any friends Mom."

The woman sighed. "Then we're going to invite some kids from your school and you can make some friends!" she said rapidly before glancing at her golden wristwatch. "I'm sure you'll have lots of fun."

Mrs. Atwell pulled her son into a fast, cold hug, stood up and almost sprinted to the front door that her husband was holding open. He let his wife rush through and enter the gleaming new car. "Bryan, one last thing." called out the man.

The young adult quickly turned around to face his father. "Yes Dad?" he answered immediately, smiling at the older figure.

"You're not driving anything or anywhere." With those last serious words the suited man closed the door. A few seconds later, the car was heard pulling away from the suburban household.

"You still haven't forgiven me, have you Dad?" whispered Bryan coldly, still facing the closed door. "What do you think about that Chris?" The older son turned around slowly to look at his terrified brother as his angelical smile turned into a devilish grin. "So… I guess now we should spend some 'bonding time' together, right lil' bro?"

Christopher's answer was a panicked run to his room, not daring to turn around for one second. The boy pulled open the door, slammed it shut and leaned against it with all his little weight. He clutched Goldie close to his chest as he heard Bryan's heavy footsteps approach ominously from the hall. Chris shut his eyes tightly, hearing the door handle rattle for a few seconds above him. Experience had taught him that regardless of his efforts his brother could just push open the door, if he really wanted to.

But he didn't. Bryan eventually walked away slowly and calmly, much to Christopher's relief. The boy sighed, set Goldie on top of the bed and tried to calm himself down.

"Chris, you do have friends!" reprimanded the golden plush toy, "You have us!"

"Yes Goldie, but I can't invite you to a birthday party!" was Christopher's reply. "They'll think I'm crazy."

"So?" The toy crossed his small arms. "You know that kids are cruel and mean, they've always been like that to you. But we'll never leave you alone Chris… never."

The boy smiled at his best friend. "Thanks Goldie. I'll check if Bryan's gone."

Christopher walked to the door, grabbed the handle and turned his hand… but the handle didn't turn along with it. He grabbed the small golden sphere with both hands and tried frantically to open the thing, hoping that it was just a bit rusty. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the door wouldn't budge.

"No…" whimpered the boy, "No, please!"

"What did he do this time?" asked a worried Goldie. Chris eventually gave up and walked up and down his room aimlessly as bitter tears of resentment and frustration rolled down his cheeks. Then, the toy understood. "He locked you in your room again. Don't worry, I am here with you."

"But I'm hungry!" wailed Christopher before rushing to the door and banging desperately on it. "Bryan, p-please! I'm hungry! P-please… please j-just open up!" The boy's small fists began to sting and turn red from all the useless hits against the wood. Finally, Chris gave up. He let his body fall and let his tears flow freely as he sobbed on the cold floor.

The golden toy looked at his friend with sad, pinpoint eyes. He then whispered in a soothing, warm voice: "Tomorrow is another day."


A/N: So, that was the first chap. I invite you to leave a review letting me know what you though of it. Remember that I'm very open to suggestions and constructive criticism, and if you spotted an error please be kind enough to let me know. I'll update this fic either on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, when and if I can. Thanks for reading and see you next time!