A/N: And chapter two is up!

I don't think that I've ever gotten an update up this quickly before. But I've had this idea and I do love it so so I had to write it immediately.

And oh my god; this got a lot more feedback than I thought it would. You're all too kind. Thank you for following, favoriting, and reviewing.

I have literally just finished writing this so I might make a few changes. I feel parts of it are really rushed.

Disclaimer: Haibanashi does not own Five Night's at Freddy's or any of its characters (that would be Scott Cawthon). Haibanashi makes no profit off of this story.

Warnings: There is quite a bit of swearing/cursing. Also some gore but not so much in this chapter.

Let's go!


Jeremy hummed slightly into warm duvet blankets. He was in that blissful place between sleep and full consciousness; he was aware of the world around him but had no desire to react or do anything about it. It was a nice calm compared to…

Nope, he wasn't even going to go there.

Jeremy groaned. Great, even now those stupid animatronics were bothering him. And his sleep no less. How dare they!

"Fuck it," Jeremy blearily blinked open closed eyes to look at the clock in his room. One in the afternoon. Seven hours of sleep before those stupid heaps of scrap metal had started to creep up on his mind. He could live with that.

Not really wanting to but knowing that he was only delaying the inevitable, Jeremy rolled on his mattress until he flopped down onto the floor. Finally, he picked himself up from the carpet and stretched. At least he had gotten a good night's sleep. After the first two days he had just stayed up petrified in the dim light. All of his friends were going to make fun of him if he ever got a nightlight.

Yawning through his hand, Jeremy trudged out of his room and began the slow descent down the stairs to reach the first floor. He navigated his way through the house (totally not tripping over the laundry basket that was on the floor. Obviously) until he stumbled into the kitchen. Blindly grabbing inside of the cupboards, he grasped a random box of cereal and poured it and milk into a bowl. He soon found a spoon and took a bite. Only to spit it back out again.

"Why the hell did I get bran?" Jeremy murmured. It was too early in the morning for this. Or too early in the afternoon. Whatever. He was too tired to care.

Dumping the cereal down the drain of the sink, Jeremy actually located the cereal he wanted before he taking it out and pouring a new bowl. Hopefully his mom wouldn't notice that more milk was missing than normal.

He plunked down into the wooden chair at the oak table in the kitchen and dutifully spooned his breakfast (read: pure sugar) into his mouth. After eating to keep his hunger at bay, Jeremy rubbed his hands against his temples his elbows resting against cold wood. He had eleven hours until he had to be back for another night from hell and he wasn't going to waste that time. So he started to spend it the best way that he possibly could.

By surfing tumblr on his laptop for a good three hours.

Once he had discovered all of the best memes and successfully both laughed his ass off and disturbed himself by the posts, he signed off and walked into what his family referred to as "the office." It was the room that all of the "educational" books and computers and general electronics were kept in and where his parents would shut themselves inside of when they worked through the night. Maybe study was a more appropriate name, but it didn't quite fit the overall functionality.

He grabbed his phone off of the charging block and illuminated the screen to check for anything. His parents, unsurprisingly, hadn't texted him seeing as they were both almost always hung up with work. But despite their busy schedules, they still made time for 'family bonding' experiences, most of which Jeremy didn't mind.

He did have a few messages on his phone, though. One from his football coach reminding the team no to get out of shape over the break, a few of his teammates just spamming the group chat, and four from his girlfriend, Kayla.

[Kayla]

Hey, wanna grab a movie later today?

[Received 12:01 pm]

[Kayla]

R u going to respond?

[Received 12:37 pm]

[Kayla]

Okay, nvm then. I'll go with some1 else.

[Received 12:52 pm]

[Kayla]

You haven't answered anything since Monday. I'm getting a little worried about u.

[Received 1:03 pm]

Jeremy sighed through his nose. Yeah, he probably hadn't been the best boyfriend since he took up the job, but who could blame him? The last thing he wanted to do was talk about his time on the night watch and answer every question that was thrown at him about it. And he was way too paranoid for his own good. He'd probably look like a lunatic if he tried to interact with someone, especially if something about the goddamn bots came up.

So he was on social shutdown mode until he finished his fifth night, got his paycheck, and got the hell out of there. If he had known what he was going to be put through, he would have asked for more than a measly one hundred bucks. Hell, a full six-figure salary wouldn't have been good enough for the torment that he went through every night.

Jeremy reluctantly glanced at the clock on his phone. Around four thirty. Well that was just swell. Pretty soon he'd have the wonderful pleasure of going back and spazzing out for his life. What joy.

… those phone calls were affecting him now. Jeremy failed at anything involving sarcasm of any kind. Not that the ability to be sarcastic was a bad thing. Jeremy just couldn't really do it effectively —

And now he was rambling internally. Great (oh look more sarcasm).

Jeremy slumped his shoulders and groaned. This job was messing with him way too much. Even his personality was being completely altered (not really, but he needed to be melodramatic right now).

Hungry again, Jeremy walked back into the kitchen and swung the stainless steel fridge door open. What was he supposed to eat at five in the afternoon? Lunch or dinner? Not that it mattered. But he wanted to know.

Finally deciding to go the cliché teenager route, he grabbed some pizza and started munching on the cold slices as he leaned against the granite counter framing the walls of the kitchen. Sure, it tasted better warm but Jeremy couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

Actually didn't Freddy's serve pizza?

Jeremy stopped mid chew. When his parents would later ask him why the near entirety of the leftover pizza was in the trash, he would tell them that it was horrifyingly bad.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:

Jeremy stared forebodingly up at the building before him. He checked him phone for the time. Eleven forty-nine.

Damn. He wasn't going to get out of this, was he?

Jeremy gave one last longing look to the world behind him before stepping through the doors and sealing his fate until the clock struck six.

Jeremy shuffled through the hallways towards the office he was to take residence in, glaring at the checkered floors and kids' crayon drawings of the "fun" characters in Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. If they knew what the place was like at night… well, Jeremy doubted that the restaurant would have stayed open for three seconds afterwards.

He paused in front of the archway that connected his office to the main hall. The custodial staff had cleared out like they always did by ten o'clock; no one wanted to be trapped inside after dark.

Heaving a sigh, Jeremy took a seat in his swivel chair (which he may or may not have rolled around on before the messages on the first night) and made sure that the Freddy head was well within reach.

He could hear the slight, rumbling hum and soft clicks reverberate throughout the building as everything powered down and locked itself for the night.

Jeremy glanced at the clock. Midnight.

Now all he had to do was survive.

Jeremy immediately checked the Parts Room. No movement yet. Last night Bonnie hadn't even been there when he checked and that had thrown him into a nervous sweat. He flipped over to the newer animatronics and then Balloon Boy. Still nothing, thank god. If they all just decided to stay there and not move it would be a great night. But that was probably asking for too much.

Jeremy went onto camera eleven and proceeded to crank the music box. Once he couldn't wind it up any further, he pulled away from the monitors and checked the lights for the air vents. Okay, everything was going fine. He pulled out the flashlight and checked the main hall and —

"How the fuck did you get there so quickly?" Jeremy screeched as he saw Foxy's outline and the old Bonnie standing a few feet behind. He proceeded to flicker the light in a way that would have been comedic if he weren't so terrified.

Ring. Ring.

Jeremy's ears perked as he heard the recorder. Advice would be great right now. Like, really great.

"You're still here, huh?" Jeremy heard the familiar voice tinged with static play. "I don't whether or not to commend you for your bravery or hit you over the head and call you a nutcase. But since that doesn't really matter all too much, let's just get you through tonight. Check while I'm talking. Chances are that the animatronics will already be moving right now, if not right outside your doors."

Foxy was gone. Bonnie was getting closer. Jeremy checked the lights again. Nothing in the air vents. Yet.

"Things are going to be very hectic tonight. I advise turning up as much of the music box in one go as you can; spastic intervals will have you constantly switching back and forth which is more likely to get you killed. And here's a tip you might find helpful: put on the mask as soon as you get your face out of the cameras. The older bots can't pick up your face if you have something in front of it. If you put the mask on the moment you get out… well, half of a second can make all the difference."

Jeremy checked the lights again. Bonnie was closer and Foxy was back. The mask thing sounded like a good idea. He really should have thought of that beforehand. But hey, Phone Guy was just awesome.

"So yeah. You've gotten through three nights already. What's a fourth? Just try not to die and make sure you know where everything is. Good luck."

Click.

Jeremy checked the air vents again as the message ended, cracking a small smile at the last few parting words. "Try not to die"? Those words weren't allowed to be spoken in the same tone as telling a child not to eat too much candy. He flashed his light in the hall again. Foxy had run off again and Bonnie was still in the same position. Jeremy pulled up the cameras and went straight to the Prize Room. Mangle was there, spindly black limbs (?) grasping the ceiling and jaws agape. As Jeremy cranked the goddamn music box up, he idly reflected that Spider Fox would probably be a fitting name. But Mangle described the wretched thing perfectly and the feeling that came with the word was spot on so Jeremy dismissed the idea of recommending a name change to management.

He paused and reached out until he was sure that he had the mask firm in hand. With speed that his teammates would be jealous of, he slammed the camera screen down and shoved on the head. And thank god he did because the dismantled Chica was standing right in front of him and how the fuck did he not hear or notice it?

Jeremy bit his tongue to stop the string of curses that wanted to fly from his mouth. This just isn't fair, he thought as the lights started to flicker before cutting off then slowly dimming back on. He took off the mask and checked the hallway again. Bonnie was gone but Foxy had decided to make yet another appearance and Mangle was dangling in front of the arch.

"No," Jeremy whined. He checked the vents. Newer doll Bonnie was there.

Fuck.

Jeremy flashed the lights as many times as he dared, sneaking a glance at the time. Two twenty. How was it only two?!

When Foxy's outline could no longer be spotted, Jeremy shoved the mask back on. And not three seconds later did Bonnie float past him in full glory with his freaky smile and bulging eyes. Once the lights had returned back to normal, Jeremy checked the hall and the vents again. Mangle was still there but the vents were clear and what was that beeping noise — ?

"Shit," Jeremy yanked up the screen again. The music box was out. No. No.

Jeremy cranked the fucking thing up until he couldn't anymore. The alarm had stopped and it had only been a yellow-ish orange but the fact that he was losing track of everything was bad.

He put the camera down again and stuffed his head into the head (that sounded a lot weirder than it had in his mind…). Nothing in the room, okay that —

Clink.

Jeremy glanced up. Mangle was in the room.

Oh fuck him. This hadn't happened before. Would Mangle go away? God, he hoped so. Because if Foxy came back or the music box ran out again —

No. He was going to give himself a panic attack if he kept thinking like that. Mangle would most likely leave just like Bonnie and Chica and Freddy and whatever the hell else. He just had to wait.

And sure enough, the lights flickered out before coming back to life. Jeremy looked upwards again. Mangle was gone. Still, he waited a few more moments before pulling off the head. He wasn't taking any chances.

Jeremy continued through the night in a similar fashion; check vents, check hall, crank music box, mask, and repeat (and flip the fuck out when he saw something). There had been a few close calls with both the new and old Freddy and the older versions of Bonnie and Chica. But the shit hadn't quite hit the fan yet.

And then Balloon Boy, Foxy, and the current Bonnie decided to triple team him.

"I hope you all burn in the deepest pit of hell," Jeremy hissed. If he wouldn't have been put in prison or a mental asylum for it, he'd probably bring a shotgun and pump the hellions full of bullets. But with his luck they wouldn't do shit.

He flashed the flashlight at Foxy and hoped that the damn thing would leave him alone. And even though Foxy was annoying and as terrible as all get out, he was still towards the end of the hallway so it wasn't anything to really worry about yet. The threat of Bonnie and Balloon Boy was greater.

Jeremy put on the mask again and slumped back against his chair. He needed to start to pay more attention to the time so that he knew how much longer he had to bear everything for.

Beep. Beep.

Jeremy's heart stopped. The music box. He hadn't wound it up. But Bonnie and Balloon Boy were right fucking there.

He glanced at the flashing alarm sign on the bottom corner of the monitor, the only thing he could make out on the static-y screen.

It was bright red.

No.

No.

No.

Jeremy felt a cold first clench around his chest, a heavy stone sinking in his stomach. Why was this happening to him? Why? Why couldn't have just one thing happened differently? Why?

The flashing stopped. The soft tinkling of notes could be heard directly outside of the door.

Jeremy felt his throat burn and his eyes blur. Out of all the ways to go, the Marionette…

No. No. No.

Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut. He hoped his parents would be all right without him. God, he should have wrote a will —

The music stopped. Jeremy felt all rational thought stop with it.

Ding dong. Ding dong.

Six. It was six.

Jeremy couldn't bring himself to cheer for another night. The wall of relief hit his exhausted and taut body hard enough to short circuit him and he collapsed against the desk, unconscious.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:

"Hey, ya alrigh' there bud?"

Something crept at the edge of his mind, the sound slowly drawing him out of the world of darkness that consumed him. He blinked once. Twice. Again.

"Wha?" Jeremy picked himself off of hard wood with trembling arms. Everything came back at once. Bonnie. Balloon Boy. The Marionette.

He wasn't dead.

"I asked if you were okay."

Jeremy blearily pried off the mask and looked up at the man in front of him. He was wearing the standard Freddy's uniform and was maybe in his early thirties, late twenties at the best. Jeremy's sleep hazed mind wondered what the man's wiry beard would feel like.

"Uh, fine," Jeremy rasped out. "Um, sorta."

The man nodded solemnly. "No one's okay after the night shift, kid."

"Mhm — wait," Jeremy's head shot up, now fully awake, "what do you mean? How do you know?"

The man glanced over his shoulder before turning back. "I was the guard before you."

Jeremy froze. Then he all but flung himself at the man.

"Wha the fu — "

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Jeremy screamed. "I would have died without your messages and I don't wanna die because of stupid animatronics and — "

"Uh, no," the man used Jeremy's temporary confusion to shove the teen away. "I didn't leave no messages for anyone."

"But," Jeremy's brows furrowed, "a night guard left messages for me to help me out — "

"That ain't me. You're talkin' about Mike."

"Mike?"

The man nodded. "He was the guard before me and told me to listen to his messages if I wanted to live. Then he said to reset 'em every time a new guard came."

Jeremy blinked. "Mike?"

"Yup, Mike Schmidt."

"Huh." Jeremy turned his gaze down to his feet. So Phone Guy's name was Mike. And Phone Guy was an actual person. Yes, Jeremy had acknowledged as much beforehand, but to actually hear from someone that they knew the guy who had been the reason for him not dying… Jeremy wanted to meet him. Badly.

"Yeah, look," the man shuffled, "I know what the night shift is like. You need some rest kid."

"Yeah, I know," Jeremy agreed. "Uh, you wouldn't happen to know where I could fine this Mike, would you?"

"No," was the gruff response. "You can try your luck with management but don't expect to come up with much."

"Okay, thanks," Jeremy smiled. A pause. Then, "Jeremy."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Jeremy, Jeremy Fitzgerald." Jeremy grinned and extended a hand out.

The man smiled. "Kyle Jones." Kyle grasped Jeremy's hand in his own and gave a hearty shake. "Now get out, I need to be cleaning."

"Have a good day!" Jeremy called over his shoulder as he ran out. A muffled "don't bet on it!" followed him out.

Jeremy streaked through the halls, ignoring the indignant looks on a few of the early workers as he nearly bowled them over (it was their fault for being in the way!). He managed to find the management office with only minimal difficulty (read: he only got lost once) and marched in.

"What do you want?" And old man snapped, hunched over his desk and brown eyes alight with annoyance, bordering anger. Jeremy couldn't bother to remember his name.

"I want a favor," Jeremy stated simply.

The manager glared through narrowed eyes. "No."

Jeremy squared his shoulders back. "I'm getting a favor or else I might just let what my time on the night watch was like slip."

"Right," the man sneered. "I'll sue you. You signed the agreement when you started, remember? No talking about what happens on the job."

Jeremy smiled. "I did. But my mom is a lawyer and my family has more than enough funds to take this to court and win. You on the other hand…"

The sneer fell. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I want the address of one of your employees," Jeremy said easily. "Mike Schmidt."

Yeah sure, it sounded stalker-ish but it wasn't like Jeremy was going to do anything bad.

The manager appeared baffled, clearly not understanding why Jeremy would want to know where Mike lived. "That's it?"

"That's it."

The man rolled his eyes. He ducked under his desk, grumbling out profanities as he rummaged around the drawers, pulling out the odd slip of paper. Finally, he resurfaced with a white sheet in hand and gave it to Jeremy.

"Knock yourself out kid," he hissed. "Now get out."

Jeremy only grinned back and bolted out of the room. He didn't want to stick around the restaurant any longer than necessary, even if it was during the day.

Once he was outside, Jeremy checked the time. Nine in the morning already? How long was he out for? Well, at least he'd caught up on some sleep.

With determination running through him and confidence in his gait, Jeremy marched off to find Mike Schmidt.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:

Jeremy was in a bad part of town.

Well, not bad as in some guy will try to assault you at every corner but more the bad where the people who were barely making ends meet lived. There was litter on the streets and people mulling around outside in clothes that could definitely use a wash. Or two. Or five.

Jeremy stared at the apartment complex in front of him. It was relatively small, only reaching around six stories high, with musty windows and a squeaky front door. It wasn't exactly very safe either since he literally just strolled right through the entrance and up the stairs.

He travelled through the hallway, cheap wallpaper chipped off at places and a nasty draft that seemed to be everywhere. Jeremy didn't like it.

When he finally reached the door number that matched the one on the address Jeremy stopped. He hesitated; after all, he was about to meet the guy who had gone before him and survived and given him the knowledge that he in turn needed to survive. It was like meeting a hero.

So with complete and utter reverence, Jeremy knocked on the door.

After maybe ten seconds, it opened to reveal a scrawny man with shaggy brown hair that stood a bit less than half a foot shorter than Jeremy and couldn't have been much older. He stared up with a look that bade for no tomfoolery.

It was then Jeremy realized that he had knocked on the wrong door. There was no way that this stick of a guy was the Mike Schmidt that lived to tell the tale of Freddy's.

"Sorry," Jeremy threw on his best charismatic smile, "wrong apartment."

The boy (Jeremy couldn't call him a man) raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Jeremy decided that now would be a good time to walk away.

Not looking back, Jeremy continued down the hall. He must have gotten the number wrong or misread it or something. He glanced back up. The numbers were too high up; he had gone past the room.

Turning around, Jeremy backtracked through the hall. Checking three times just to be sure, Jeremy knocked.

The same guy opened the door.

"Alright, what do you want?" the boy asked testily.

Jeremy cut off his apology when he heard the tone and sound of his voice. It was… familiar. The only thing missing was the tinge of static.

"Um," Jeremy started, "you wouldn't happen to be Mike Schmidt, would you?"

The brunet's posture instantly became guarded. "Yeah… who's asking?"

"I'm Jeremy Fitzgerald," Jeremy brought a hand to the back of his neck. "I'm the current night guard for Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria."

Mike stared openly before nudging the door further open. "Then you might want to come in. What I think you want to talk about isn't something that you'll want most people hearing."


A/N: Cliffhanger-ish. I was originally going to leave it off right before Jeremy's shift ended but I'm not that terrible.

I don't know what happens if Mangle does get into the room or if you can survive it but for the sake of this story Jeremy can.

Jeremy has a girlfriend! She'll come up later on. Funny story about her name. I named her Kayla. The friend I talked about last chapter (after I had named Kayla but before I told my friend the name) said I should name Jeremy's girlfriend either Kelly or Shania. Kayla is almost like a mashup of them. I thought it was amusing.

Feel free to ask me any questions you may have. I feel like I wasn't very clear on a lot of this.

Please review, follow, and favorite. Your support is always cherished.