** Hi, all! Thank you so much for your continued readership, if that's a word. I realize I haven't updated this in a while, but now that school's out I'll be doing my best to keep writing and finish this! **
Dean spun around in the swivel chair, which he'd commandeered from his brother; it made staying in the office a bit more bearable as he and Sam waited for the third phone message from the phone guy; he wasn't sure what else there was to tell. Creepy animatronics, keep them out of the room. Of course, he was wrong.
The phone rang, and the now-familiar voice filled the tiny room. "Hello, hello? Hey, you're doing great. Most people don't last this long. I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now. I'm not implying that they died. Th-that's not what I meant." Dean rolled his eyes, but he nervously fiddled with his pistol anyway – he'd faced many things over the years, but this particular case was creepier than most. He was surprised Sam was faring so well, since animatronics were basically only a few steps above clowns.
"Uh, anyway, I better not take up too much of your time. Things start getting real tonight." Sam leaned towards the phone, and, as he did so, Dean grabbed the tablet from off the desk. Suddenly, it seemed like a good idea to check the cameras. As he flicked through them, the phone guy's voice continued, "Uh… hey, listen, I had an idea: if you happen to get caught and want to avoid getting stuffed into a Freddy suit, uhh, try playing dead! You know, go limp. There's a chance that, uh, maybe they'll think you're an empty costume instead."
"There's only five hundred things wrong with that plan," Dean grumbled, closing the tablet; there was no activity yet.
"Then again, if they think you're an empty costume, they might try to… stuff a metal skeleton into you." Sam and Dean winced simultaneously. "I wonder how that would work. Yeah, never mind, scratch that. It's best just not to get caught."
"This guy's insane," Sam commented.
"Yeah," Dean replied darkly. "Working here must do that to a person."
"Um… okay, I'll leave you to it," the phone guy finished. "See you on the flip side."
"Later, dude," Sam muttered as the phone clicked and the recording stopped. Silence settled on the little room for a few seconds before Dean swiveled the chair around to face his brother.
"What's the plan?"
Sam scowled. "We don't have a plan, remember? Use less power, don't get killed. Whatever that helps us accomplish."
"We need to figure out a way to gank the sons of bitches," Dean said, clicking the tablet back on and flicking to the stage's camera. "The stupid rabbit is already moving, by the way." He flipped to Pirate Cove, only to see Foxy's long snout poking out from behind the purple curtain; when he returned to the stage camera, he swore under his breath. "And so is the creepy chicken."
"Can you find them?" Sam replied, his voice tense.
"Best not to, I think," Dean told him, closing the tablet again. "If we don't look at the cams as much, we don't use as much power, right?"
"Sure," Sam said doubtfully. "Just… make sure you keep checking the lights, then." As if he'd reminded himself to do this, he pressed the button for the left hallway's light. When the bulbs winked on, they illuminated the looming form of the purple rabbit animatronic. Sam yelped and quickly hit the door button, staring frantically at Dean, who had leaped to his feet, no longer feeling so casual about the whole thing. "How did it do that?" Sam panted.
"It disappeared a few minutes ago," Dean replied, glancing at the other door, behind which was a dark, empty hallway. On a hunch, he checked the light outside that door, as well – and sure enough, Chica was peering in through the window, her eyes staring at them menacingly. Swearing, Dean slammed the second door shut and glanced at Sam. "So much for not using power."
"Great. Just… great."
The Winchesters checked each light again several times before Bonnie, and then Chica, finally disappeared from the doors. Sam grabbed the tablet from Dean's hands and quickly flicked through all of the cameras, allowing himself only a second's glance at each one. "Looks like Foxy is almost out of his hidey hole, too," Sam whispered. "Chica's back in the dining room – Bonnie's backstage – and – "
Suddenly, an eerie noise penetrated the gloom of the empty restaurant, a chilling, booming laugh that sent shivers down Dean's spine. He locked eyes with Sam, who glanced back down at the cams. "Freddy's moving," he murmured.
"Jesus. Okay, try and find the overgrown teddy bear, and I'll…." Dean trailed off, realizing what was so frustrating about this case: there wasn't much he could do.
"You'll check the lights," Sam reminded him.
"Yeah," Dean said. "I'll check the freaking lights."
He did so; there was nothing outside either door, except – a flurry of motion at one end of the left hallway. Dean blinked as a large shape whizzed towards them, racing on two legs. "It's the fox!" he exclaimed, jumping backwards; the animatronic stopped just outside the door just as Dean reached for the button to close it. Instinctively, Dean grabbed the demon knife from inside his jacket and lashed out with it as Foxy reached inside the office; he slashed the front of the animatronic, leaving a long gash in its fur that did nothing to curb its attack. Realizing that this would do nothing, he shoved the robotic fox roughly, and it staggered back into the hallway briefly. Before it could run at the door again, Dean slammed it shut with the button, panting and listening to Foxy's repeated assaults at the metal.
"Dean, check this out," Sam said, as if nothing had happened; Dean turned towards his brother. "Look there." He pointed at the tablet's screen; there were two glowing eyes in the background of the dining room, which Chica the chicken had vacated. The little pinpricks of light burned with an enthusiastic gleam, and Dean thought that their owner could only be highly intelligent.
"It's Freddy," Dean realized. "He's keeping out of the camera. Hiding in the shadows." Sam turned the tablet off and wandered over to check the lights; neither of the doors hid an animatronic.
Another hour or so passed before Dean heard the same chilling laughter again, booming throughout the lifeless halls. This time, Sam had his phone in his hand and had hit the record button; Dean glanced at him confused, and Sam shrugged. "Could be useful," he whispered.
"Find the bear," Dean responded, checking the door lights again as Sam flipped through the cameras.
"I can't find him, but Chica is in the hallway and there are pots and pans being moved in the kitchen," Sam told his brother. He turned up the volume on the side of the tablet, and Dean heard clangs and crashes. "That must be Freddy."
"You know what?" Dean growled. "Screw this. I'm not just sitting around in this stupid office waiting to be killed. I'm going out there."