Written: Late 2016/early 2017
Save Us, Save Them
Helpless (definition): being unable to defend oneself or act without help.
The feeling of being unable to affect or counter a situation you are in, impaled bodies, crushed skulls, eyeballs hanging from the front of a mask, blood staining artificial fur, can't do anything couldn't save them can't stop can't fight back, DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS-
Freddy hates being helpless.
He hates the constant feelings of rage and hatred that isn't his own, the pain and insanity of the spirit trapped within him, that encompass him at night and shove him out of control of his own body. Hates the glee that pulses from the ghost whenever the human that guards the pizzeria at night is brutally stuffed into a spare robotic suit.
Hates the sobs that Chica cannot hide no matter how hard she tries when they are released from the spirits' control in the morning.
They never wanted this. They would protect the humans if they could, without hesitation, even from each other if necessary, but their bodies don't belong to them alone anymore and...and...
'Make him suffer make him pay make him suffer make him pay make him suffer make him pay I'LL KILL THEM ALL YOU CAN'T STOP ME YOU CAN'T FIGHT ME MAKE HIM SUFFER MAKE HIM PAY!'
When the child is at his worst, in his most unstable state of mind, Freddy feels like he is trapped in a blinding whirlwind of emotions and screaming. Sometimes he hears crying, sometimes laughter (wild and unhinged and despairing) but always, always searing anger and hate. Occasionally, he will get snippets of memories flashing in his mind, accompanied by protectiveness and the impression of a child-sized figure shielding an even smaller one from a looming human shaped purple shadow with a manic grin on its 'face'. Afterwards, he sees the tear-streaked mask of the Puppet appear, and the significance of this is not lost on him.
Alone, terrified, confused, and trapped inside bodies that didn't belong to them, the children would naturally cling to the closest adult-like figure (one that didn't want to murder them) around. The Puppet had filled that role for them in the absence of a parent or human that would look after them, and Freddy didn't begrudge it for that. What he did have an issue with was it telling five young children who didn't know any better at the time that they needed to hunt down everyone who wore a security guard's uniform and get revenge for what happened to them. That killing their killer was the only thing that would set them free.
He honestly didn't know if that was true, but the kids believed it and so that fact wasn't really relevant anymore. And...maybe it was better that way. After all this time, if it turned out that there was never any point to the bloodshed in the first place, the knowledge might completely break them. At least right now they were lucid (most of the time); Freddy shuddered at the idea of that raging maelstrom of emotion never ending.
"You turned them into killers!"
"I gave them a purpose! Their souls are imprisoned within you all, they can never be free while that MONSTER continues to live! Would you rather I let them suffer with no hope of a happiest day, thinking that there is nothing that can save them?"
"Killing the murderer and killing every human that has his job here are NOT the same thing! But because of you they don't think they're doing anything wrong!"
"They AREN'T!"
"Yes they are!"
Bonnie has never hated a child before.
Sure, there have been plenty of spoiled kids, even bullies, that visited the pizzeria. He remembers tantrums and scoldings and even the occasional insult towards himself and/or his friends. But in spite of all that, Bonnie never once hated a child.
Before now, anyway.
He didn't at first, not at all. In fact, he was upset on her behalf, and tried to comfort her even if he could only speak within their shared mind (he's never been possessed before either and can safely say that the experience is not fun) while she cried.
But that was before she changed. Before all five of them changed. That stupid, stubborn Puppet...Bonnie hated it too. If he ever took back control, he was going to punch it straight in its ever-smiling face. Hopefully he'd leave a dent in its mask too.
When the pizzeria was shut down (because of sanitary reasons, not the child murder or the guards' mysterious deaths, go figure) Bonnie honestly didn't mind. He loved his job, but he didn't want the cost of keeping it to be innocent lives. So, while he'd miss the kids, he'd take being scrapped over being haunted any day.
(Of course, ending up in the Parts and Service room of a new pizzeria with new versions of himself and his friends replacing them on stage was not what he had in mind. If the humans were going to decommission him, why couldn't they do it right?)
"Who are you?"
"I-I-I'm Bon-on-nie."
"Oh! You can't talk right without your face can you? You keep glitching."
"..."
Ah, sorry, that was kinda rude wasn't it? My name's B-Jack-Bonnie too, I guess you're the original."
"Y-eah-eh."
"That's got to be annoying. The voice box thing, I mean."
"-'ll ge-get used to it-it..."
"If you say so...you know, you seem different now. You guys were kind of scary last night, even though you were trying to comfort us. Now you're...I don't know...calmer."
"That-at-at w-wasn't me. Th-at was-was HER."
"...'her'?"
"R-Rosy. The spiiir-rit inside-side me."
"...so you're saying you're possessed?"
"We a-all are-are-e. That's-s why you tr-tried to say-say a-a differeeeent-ent name at f-first-st."
"I did? Oh...oh yeah, I did didn't I? But...wait, if we're all possessed then am I...really Bonnie? Or am I the ghost?"
"!"
Please help me I'm sooo scared/angry/sad/I HATE HIM I HATE HIM HE'S GOING TO PAY FOR WHAT HE DID/there's a purple man here purple purple/blood splatters across the floor, STAB STAB STABBED I'M DEAD/he killed us purple men are bad they have to die I won't let him/them/him? MONSTERS hurt anyone else-no no no don't hurt them they're innocent! Don't do this, please, I'm begging you, don't make me kill another human that did nothing wrong, STOP!
Tonight, Rihanna is especially vicious. Chica hears her thoughts raging beneath beneath her own, fights back as best she can and begs for the child to show mercy that she's no longer capable of.
It's not enough, it's never enough, and for every broken mangled body (how many suits are left?) she 'wakes up to', her mechanical heart breaks just that little bit more.
What would the humans do, she wonders, if the truth ever surfaced? Would they fear them even more knowing that they're being hunted not by faulty animatronics, but by vengeful spirits? Would they try to help them? Chica doesn't know.
Maybe...maybe one day she will. Maybe one day they'll be free, and be able to truly be themselves instead of puppets of ghosts.
It's a nice thought.
"Why didn't they search us? Shut us down? Let this cycle END?"
"I don't know, Chica. Some humans will do a lot for money. And this company is headed by some...unsavoury people."
"...it's not fair."
"No, it's not. But we're animatronics, what can we-we-we'll make him PAY!"
"Freddy?!"
"I...I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"Liar, that wasn't even you! That's not supposed to happen!"
"Chica-"
"He took control in the DAY! He could never do that before!"
"It was only for a moment, he only got a few words in."
"But how long will that last? What if one day he takes control FOREVER? What if that happens to all of us?"
"Has she ever tried with you? Has Bonnie or Foxy or Fredbear experienced that?"
"Well...no...not that they've mentioned...but Fredbear is so isolated that we wouldn't know even if he was!"
"I think we'd know. The souls inside the two of us are brothers, if he truly lost control then the child would most likely seek me out looking for his sibling."
"That doesn't reassure me, Freddy."
Foxy has always been the most energetic of the group.
It goes back to when things were different, when they were seven performers instead of four and nobody was left in the back room or the scrapyard to rot.
Foxy remembers a large diner with three big party rooms and bright lights, colourful banners hanging across the ceiling and confetti littering the floor. He remembers a time when he could perform and venture from his cove, when his suit wasn't full of gaping holes and his stage wasn't coated in thick layers of dust.
He remembers when his mind wasn't entwined with an angry ghosts and he wasn't seized with flashes of rage and hatred so strong that his body and programming spark and glitch.
The most recent pizzeria is small. There's only one dining hall with a stage where his three friends perform - he watches from his cove off to the side, wishing he could perform as well but knowing it's safer that he doesn't. The ghost inside him was constantly rushing to the surface (or trying to) and it was only through sheer force of will and the advantage of it being daylight that he didn't lash out at the day guard who keeps an eye on them.
No, Foxy might miss entertaining, but he understands the reasons why he can't.
He only wishes that being out of order meant that he couldn't leave the cove after hours as well.
'Like hell that'll ever happen.'
"Stop listenin' t' me thoughts."
'There's nothing else to do right now!'
"...jus' leave me alone lad. At leas' give me some peace b'fore yeh go after tha' poor nigh' guard."
'Monsters like him'll get no mercy from me.'
"'E's no' a monster! 'E's jus' an innocent human tha' took a job 'ere!"
'Watch it captain, your accent is getting hard to understand~'
Foxy remembers the faces of every child he's ever met - his 'crew members' - and this one is no different. He just has a hard time reconciling that boy with this cold, hate-filled ghost that shares his body.
Jake was a little short-tempered when he was alive, he remembers that, but Foxy could never have imagined back then that he could become this...
'Under the right circumstances, anyone can become killers.'
Foxy wishes he could scowl - and that has to be the spirit's fault because he's never been frustrated at not having the same facial abilities as a human before - and snaps, "I told yeh t' stop tha'!"
'I can't, we're connected stupid.' Jake scoffs. 'I'm not a patient person and we're just hanging around in the cove until midnight.'
And that was exactly the type of thought Foxy was trying to avoid, so he stays silent and swears he felt the ghost roll his eyes.
'Oh stop complaining...it's not like you remember what I do at night. Not anymore anyway.'
"Only because I fought back. Yeh didn't do it for me."
Jake is quiet for a moment, then says in an uncharacteristically serious tone, 'that's true...but I never wanted to hurt you either.'
"...wha' do yeh mean?"
'You were my favourite animatronic, I hated fighting with you...if you had helped me, I wouldn't have taken Luke's advice and suppressed your mind in the first place.'
"...yeh wanted me t' help yeh kill people? Did yeh really expect me t' do tha'? Especially when yeh were willin' t' control me like tha'?"
'You didn't give me any other choice!'
"Yeh had more than one choice Jake! Yeh didn't have t' kill anyone in the firs' place, an' yeh could've stopped whenever yeh wanted t'. But yeh didn't an' now look what's happened?! Yeh went mad!"
A ripple of foreign anger flashes through his mind, and Foxy wonders if he'd gone too far.
Then as soon as it came, it vanished. '...I know.'
The soft, almost despondent tone caught him off guard. "Wha'?"
'I know,' the boy repeated. 'I know that I've gone mad. We all have. But it's too late to stop even if I wanted to. And I don't want to.'
It's not too late, Foxy thinks sadly to himself, but if one thing has remained from the child Jake was in life, then it's pure bullheaded stubbornness.
He hears brief, cynical laughter and a muttered, 'aren't all pirates?', then freezes.
Midnight bells toll, and that's the only warning he has before familiar darkness engulfs him.
"See you at six o'clock, Foxy~"
Fredbear can't remember the last time he heard his real name.
He doesn't know if people just don't recognise him or are unfamiliar with his old diner, but now he's referred to as simply 'Golden Freddy' and isn't sure if he should be insulted or not.
He definitely is when people call him 'yellow bear'. His fur is a dashing shade of gold, thank you very much, and even though he hasn't had anyone clean it in a long time it should still be fairly obvious.
Spring never really cared about that. Then again, Spring also liked to poke fun at him for being so concerned about his appearance - and on that note, they recoloured his hat and bowtie black! Why in the seven circles of hell would they do that? He looked fine in purple! Don't humans have any sense of style? It's ridiculous!
'What's ridiculous is how prissy you are, oh my god...'
"You are just as finicky as me when it comes to my fur colour, don't try to deny it."
'Nuh-uh!'
"Kid, I hear you grumble about it."
'Th-that's...that's just because you're a bad influence!'
"Bah, I'm never a bad influence."
Fredbear also likes to think that he has a much better relationship with the spirit possessing him than the others do. From what he knows, they're constantly hostile and fighting for dominance, which achieves absolutely nothing but more problems so he does his best to not yell at Michael every time he takes over to hunt down a night guard.
Oh, that's not to say he has no issue with it; he does. But he also hasn't forgotten his purpose. He cares about humans in general, sure, but children are his priority and the one inside him is only five years old; his programming and protectiveness has never dulled even after spending decades relegated to the back room.
'Well, technically I'm older than that, if you're going by how long I've existed...'
"You were five when you were killed, now hush and stop listening to my thoughts."
'But I'm boooored!'
Even when they're being aggravating. On purpose.
A snigger is the only response to this.
"Why, why must I deal with this?" Fredbear asks dramatically, unable to resist slipping into 'performance mode' even if it was for a solo audience.
...God, he misses entertaining. Maybe someday they'll bring him back onstage, even find Spring so they can be partners again.
It's unlikely, but he can always hope.
"Do you think I could persuade you to leave the guard alone tonight?" He asks casually, steering away from the melancholy subject to address the ghost within him.
'We do have rules, for all we know I might be forced to.'
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
'Gold...' This was said in a slightly warning tone. Fredbear considers pushing it.
'Don't.'
Or not.
He sighs. Michael is usually playful and mischievous, which Fredbear doesn't mind as long as he isn't being sadistic as well, but this is a topic that he's very sensitive about. As much as he hates to admit it, the kid is very supernaturally powerful, and that makes him frightening when he loses his temper and his resemblance to his brother really shows itself.
Though, given that they share a body there's really not much he can do to him.
"Alright, alright, I'm dropping it." He feels the tension begin to dissipate in response. "But I still think you're being entirely too touchy about this."
A small pulse of irritation hits him before the child says sharply, 'it's your own fault for bringing it up when you know I don't react well to that question.'
"I have a healthy degree of optimism that one day I'll bring it up and you'll be calm and reasonable about it."
'Gold, I swear-'
"Kids your age shouldn't swear, watch your language."
'Ugh, I can't believe you call ME annoying, you're showing expert levels of it right now!'
Fredbear bursts out laughing, and decides that if the others actually tried to get along with their ghosts, things would be much better. As it is, he stays away. He doesn't think they'd take the concept all that well.
'Luke told me what Freddy's like,' Michael piped up, following his thoughts and sounding significantly less irate, 'and I got the basics of the others from Rosy, Rihanna and Jake. Judging by what they've said, you're probably right.'
"Probably right?" Fredbear repeats, affronted. "Of course I'm right.'
'Are you ever not full of yourself?'
"You've known me for over twenty years and you're just now asking this question? And for your information, I'm not full of myself. I'm just aware of how amazing I am and have no desire to hide it."
'...'
"Exactly." Fredbear assumes the silence to be one of agreement and shifts from his position on the floor of the back room. He moves to peer out the door, eyes falling on the clock above the double corridors leading to the security office. 11:00. The guard should be here soon.
He glances at the stage. Even as he watches, Bonnie's hands tighten on his guitar, and there's a barely noticeable tremor in his frame. Is he talking to his 'roommate' as well?
'Maybe. Rosy's not the taunting type, so he could be asking dumb questions like you did.'
"I did no such thing."
'Yes you did!'
"I never ask questions that aren't intellectually stimulating."
'You totally did!'
Children. Honestly.
'Hey! I can hear you, you know!'
Fredbear is about to answer when his ears twitch, picking up the sound of the main doors opening and closing tentatively, like whoever did it (presumably the night guard) wanted to avoid catching the attention of anyone - or any robot - that might be inside.
'Well that's just stupid. We can see and hear perfectly well in the dark.'
"You can't blame him for trying," Fredbear replies wearily. He might be used to it, but he never likes the prospect of blacking out wondering if his hands are going to be covered in blood in the morning.
Rapid, wary footsteps reach his ears, and he looks out through the ajar door to watch the retreating human form vanish down the left hallway and a dull light suddenly flicker to life through the doorways moments after.
'It's almost time.'
Well, at least Michael has the courtesy to let him know when he's about to take control of his body.
Several minutes, a bell chime and a brief panicked whir of gears from Pirate's Cove later, the ghost announces, 'it's my turn now.'
"...alright, just get it over with kid."
He feels a mental tug, then the impression of something wrapping itself around his consciousness and pushing it aside into darkness...
...then he wakes up to find himself leaning against the wall of the back room again, facing the work table. And he cringes.
The bare endoskeleton has been pushed to the side, and the bloodstained, slumped over form of a Freddy suit now sits in its place, two very human eyeballs dangling out the empty eye sockets of the mask.
Fredbear averts his eyes, pushes down despair before it can be picked up on by the other inhabitant of his body, and tries to ignore the sense of satisfaction from Michael when he greets him cheerfully.
"..."
More than anything else, Fredbear ignores the horrible feeling of being helpless.
End
Foxy and Fredbear's sections may or may not take place during Phone Guy's last night ;).
I also want to clarify something. I am not portraying the kids as villains. But just like in canon, they are the antagonists here. They're angry, unstable, and in pain. And they want the ones they see as monsters and/or their killer to feel that too. I tried to show that in Chica's section by her spirit having that brief moment of disorientation where she couldn't quite decide if she was seeing William Afton or someone else and just ended up merging them together.
So with all that out of the way, let me know what you think!