Bendy took good care of you after you died. It wouldn't be the first time he picked you up and carried you off to a secluded place to sleep. But everything truly was different now and the doors did not open even for you, for the both of you knew that to step foot outside of the machine's reach meant death. It was hard to be bothered by it. You certainly didn't crave food or water any longer, but you sometimes missed hearing your parent's voices over the phone. After your slumber things just felt... weird. You didn't know what to do with yourself anymore outside of staying under Bendy's protection. Your world had changed; shrunk to the size of a corporation sitting in a ink-logged sinkhole.

The worst of it was that you never saw Joey Drew again. He was just gone, like mist; like evaporating ink into the aching vents of the studio. It drove you mad wondering what had happened and what could have been. If only Bendy had been faster, or if only you had used your head instead of your heart. If only you hadn't died. Not knowing what could have happened may have been a plague in your mind, but it wasn't all bad. Death had it's advantages.

You were always somewhat connected to him now. It was a pleasant connection that you were certain no other being of ink enjoyed quite as much as you did. When Bendy would wander then come close again you could feel it in your skin, and when he'd grow agitated or excited it was there in the back of your mind. In a way it was like he was a part of you, or you were a part of him. A subtle symbiotic relationship. Comforting. You never felt alone.

So, when no other employee was allowed to escape the walls of Joey Drew Studios, and they each befell their own manner of madness, Bendy could certainly feel one encroaching upon you. Or at the very least, he could feel your panic and confusion upon reawakening in the music department. Something had happened to Mr. Lawrence. He'd become totally unhinged. He kept yammering about how he'd be rid of you, how it would make Bendy love him more. You'd hardly heard a thing though, distracted by how much he'd changed. He didn't look like Sammy.

The raving man had no time to enact whatever plan he'd conjured, as when he'd come in close with axe in hand, the walls began to grow their long shadows and Sammy had become afraid. The weapon clattered heavily to the rotten floors as he ran with tail tucked. His feet left behind a dark ink trail, but Bendy did not bother to follow it when he'd arrived.

Sammy was headed down a dark path. He gave up trying to kill you after that. But from hence forth, the obsessed man began erecting his alters and lighting his candles. You'd often be following Bendy and discover one. The demon would slump and groan low in his throat, then gesture you closer to him. You truly got the long end of the stick. That could have been me, you thought, holding carefully onto Bendy's hand.

Your other co-workers had fared no better. You'd not seen a Boris for months until after you'd died. It was like as the studio continued to degrade and empty, the creatures hiding in its shadows had begun to re-appear. Or, for all you knew, new ones were still somehow being born. At first the wolf had looked concerned. He'd slowly tip-toed your way, ears twitching and mouth agape like he wanted to speak. No words came out. But then he nearly jumped three feet in the air. Bendy had poked around a corner and scared him off. Everyone was scared of Bendy. Maybe it was a little funny... but just a little.

There were more wolves deep down in the studio. You found dead bodies, mutilated corpses of cartoons with their bones cracked open. Now that was less funny. Bendy kept you from wandering too far in after you'd seen your first dead Boris. Sometimes you became paranoid that it was Bendy himself ripping those poor cartoons up, but you had no proof. Once upon confronting him he lowered his head and said: ...Alice...

So Alice was still alive, much to your surprise. The last you'd seen an Alice Angel had been when Bendy took a chunk from one's leg. And then after that, the last you'd even heard of one had been when Joey, Sammy, and Thomas were "working on" her. That was the same day Bendy had changed and Allison had mysteriously disappeared from the studio.

Alice wasn't the only beast below the studio, though. In the dark halls and flooded up to his knees was a monster nearly akin to Bendy; his light flickering and flashing with silent, unheard emotion. You did not want to meet this this Projectionist anymore than you did Alice, so allowed Bendy to convince you to keep to the upper floors. It was easier that way. But you couldn't help but wonder how so many of your co-workers became corrupted; had they died, like you? Or had they simply succumbed to the squirming ink?

Boris. Alice. Bendy. Sammy and Norman. Who were you among these wandering creatures? These bored souls damned to their bodies' shells for so long as the machine kept them alive? The thick oozing ink that dribbled down your cheeks slowly thinned as the days poured past. You glanced in the mirror and found your shape defining itself into something somewhat more pleasant. No longer were you just a walking talking ink blot. Your hair may have fallen out but the ink shaped itself into an amorphous hunk of what a cartoon's hair might look like. Not real hair, but better than being a formless slug. You looked more human, like Alice herself, though your form was not confined to the Angel's template.

Your stained eyes regained their whites, the pupils creepily re-shaping into pie-cuts. The Angels got to keep their regular ol' pupils, but not you. It was super weird to look yourself in the eyes, so you tried to avoid it. At the very least you were glad your hands had not turned into gloves. The ink did stretch across them like a new skin, though. It was much less sticky, but sometimes it still felt sort of gross. Even though you no longer ate or drank you often found yourself daydreaming about baths. The goopiness still wasn't natural to you.

The ink at the back of your neck suddenly prickled. Your shoulders hunched as you turned to stare down the opened bathroom door. He was close. You felt it. So you packed up your hurt ego and hurried to leave the mirror behind. When he saw you he stopped and swayed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Bendy," you called. "Don't I look weird? How long have I been here like this, I wonder."

He didn't say anything, looking past you down into the hall. It looked like some new candles had been erected and lit. The demon sighed wetly and began to ruefully turn around.

You followed after, trying to keep close after having noticed the candles. You really didn't feel like dealing with Sammy's shit today. "I.. I don't... time isn't real," you explained, frowning. "Yesterday you were pretty small huh?"

And it really was true. Your sense of time had degraded into near nothing. It made your stomach churn (theoretically) thinking that this soupy mess of time was how Bendy had always lived to some degree. You recalled your name, how you used to look, how Bendy's voice had once sounded before the change. Most of all you remembered the face of Joey Drew. It made the ink in your veins boil every time you saw it. But most days there were things you couldn't recall. What did Norman used to look like? Or your apartment? You couldn't remember what was on the plates your parents gave you. That was important. Sometimes you spent hours trying to remember.

"Bendy?" You asked, trying to get his attention. "Do you remember the plates?"

He shrugged, his horns stretching out. After a few moments of walking in silence and thought he said: …Cat...

You perked up, grinning. "Hey yeah! That was probably it, I think I remember now! They had kittens all on them. Aw, I miss cats now," you pursed your lips.

You were his satellite, his plus one, his little acolyte. It got to a point where your presence meant his. All the friendly faces still dwelling within the studio avoided you, even Boris. Just like old times. It was a very lonely life, so it was always best to stick close to your demon. You sort of looked up to him. Maybe it was the slight memory loss, but after a while it felt like you were supposed to look up to him. Everyone else fled his company or kept their distance behind him, but not you. Nope. You stayed right by his side. Speaking of which, you wondered where he was headed.

"Where are we going now?" You asked, taking his hand. He never minded when you wanted to touch him.

He groaned and stopped again, glancing down at you. Most of the time he had no plan. There was never a destination. The studio was just a giant maze of corridors he'd walked through again and again and again without purpose. What was there to do anyways? He didn't eat, he didn't drink, he didn't even really need to sleep. There was no Joey Drew to hunt down, and he really didn't want to waste his energy prying into Alice's little corner of the campus. He often felt despondent, like in a dream. You were the only one to ever pull him from his sad, aimless milling.

"Beeeendy," you called, waving a hand in front of his stony face.

Bendy slowly lifted a hand and patted your head before he decide to just keep rambling on. He was bored and void of thought.

You were pulled on along side him, lips pursed. "Now I'm thinking about my place," you chatted sullenly, unsure if he was hearing you. "Ya know, my old apartment. It was sorta small but I miss it. Say, what if we set up a little house in here?"

He made a confused sound, head tilted.

"We could... I don't know. Gather up all the stuff left behind. Pretty up an office or something, make it homey," you shrugged, kicking your feet as you marched. "You used to decorate my office. It could be like that."

Bendy stopped again, suddenly perking up. Finally thought trickled in; oh, that all did sound interesting. He reeled his head this way and that, as if searching the bare walls for some sort of inspiration.

"Yeah? Ya like that idea? Do you remember where my office was?" You asked excitedly, tugging his hand and grinning.

He did! In a rush he rambled ahead, yanking you along at his side. It seemed Bendy was in better spirits now, so you couldn't help but laugh. You'd grown rather used to barreling into walls; he pulled open a portal that pushed you out into another level. You released his hand before he could accidentally jerk you to the floor, though he didn't notice. You ended up jogging behind him till you ran into his back with a disgruntled 'oof!'

"Those spines hurt," you groaned, rubbing your sore chest and stomach. "Oh is this it?"

He stood with hands clasped to his chest. Before the two of you was a dark, dark room, its door cracked only by an inch. You really couldn't remember what your office looked like, though for some reason you did recall the ceiling. Something about laying on your back and staring up at it. You tilted your head and thinned your lips.

"...Well, let's go in already," you suggested quietly.

He grunted, tense with anticipation. A gloved hand slowly reached forward, unsure of itself but hopeful. The door gently squeaked open upon rusted hinges. It was a black void. However, after your death your vision in the night had vastly improved. After stepping over the threshold your eyes adjusted, and you glanced back at Bendy who was finally creeping in after you.

"See? Told ya you used to decorate, look at all the merchandise!" You spread your arms wide and spun, grinning. "But yuck, looks like a pipe broke recently."

Right there above the desk was a steady stream of thick, sticky ink. The whole desk, papers and all, had been ruined. Not a drop of white remained. You sighed and placed your hands on hips. At least it hadn't stained any of the stuff that mattered.

"Whatcha lookin at," you asked, finding that Bendy had stopped in front of a wall. "Oh, that's what you used to look like," you squinted. "though I think it's missing a limb? Huh. I don't remember this poster."

The poster smirked up at Bendy, it's little demon sprawled over a chair like he owned the place. Fire surrounded him on all sides. For some reason Bendy found himself glancing over his shoulders, as if expecting flames to have sprouted there, too. There was nothing but the bright rectangle of the door frame. He looked back to the poster.

...Me...

"Yeah," you crossed your arms. "you."

He stared it in the eyes a little longer. Then suddenly he lashed out, ripping a streak from the poster and clenching the paper in a white fist.

You flinched, but didn't say anything. Out of nowhere he slipped forward, pushing through the paper and wood like he'd opened a portal. When you tried to go after him you found yourself unable to follow and frowned.

"Where are you off to?" You asked the empty room, lonely.

He ended up coming back to you much later than you'd have liked, which forced you to spend most of the day alone in thought. At least you were smart enough not to spend it in front of the mirror again. When he came into the lounge you'd been in a trance, eyes glued to the cover of the Bible. Only his approach drew you out of it as his bubbly emotions pressed against your skull.

"You're back," you said, smiling drowsily. "And you're happy?"

He purred and stopped to stoop, pressing his forehead to yours a moment. You reached up and held his cheeks cheerfully, smiling. When he lifted his head again you found him gesturing you to rise. Silently you obeyed, confused and interested. Why was he so pleased with himself? This time when he opened a portal you were allowed through.

The heart murmured, carefully encasing your body with tiny vibrations. The ink machine was just as alive and well as it always was, but something about it sounded cozier. Which was a weird thought. How could something sound cozy?

"We haven't been here in a while," you whispered, turning in a circle. "I...I think. What about Alice? Or Norman?"

He shook his head. They did not come down here. Bendy pointed out across the black sea, towards the great open mouth of the machine. He seemed to want to cross the ink, but you made a face. You weren't like him. Full submersion was not a good idea. You wouldn't die, but it would be pretty damn uncomfortable.

"No thanks," you grimaced. "I'd probably be swallowed whole."

He dropped his hand and looked down at you, grumbling. In one swift motion he tipped you over into his arms and hefted you up, then spent no time in trudging down into the sea. Bendy was determined to bring you into the heart for whatever reason.

You held on tight, eyes anxiously cast down. "Oh please don't drop me," you begged, squeezing his sharp bones. "This had better be worth it, devil."

Bendy jostled excitedly and sped up. When he reached the edge he gingerly sat you down first, to which you scrambled back. He didn't wait for you to get a foothold before he climbed on out and stalked past you into the entrance of the machine.

"Wait!" You called out, jumping up and nearly slipping. You didn't want to be left alone beside the dark sludge that was the ink sea.

He wasn't there when you stepped into the thumping hall. You scrunched your brows with an irritated huff. Quietly you stepped forward, glancing at the templates that surrounded on all sides. Had you been inside its heart before? You couldn't remember. It was creepy; all shivering machinery and drooling strands of sticky printing press quality ink. Its warmth and sound was comfortable, but something about it also gave you a bad feeling. Perhaps it was because this was where Bendy had changed, where Alice had disappeared, and where no doubt Boris had been made and remade again and again. You passed the featureless shape of some side character and set your eyes down.

Finally, just there beyond a giant opened door was Bendy. He stood deathly across the frame's line, staring intently at something in the center. You trotted quickly across to greet him and get away from the unease of the machine halls. As you stopped at his side he jerked his head to look down at you, as if forgetting you'd been behind him.

"Spooky," you whispered.

He gurgled and gestured slowly outward. You turned your gaze away and lifted a brow. After a moment you questioned "Yeah? A chair?"

He seemed to sigh with disappointment, dropping his hand and shaking his head.

You squinted, going closer before laughing. "Wait no. No way. Is that Joey's chair? Hahaha! Well that makes my day!"

Then you were grasped by the waist and lifted like nothing. He spun and sat heavily, with you situated upon his lap. You squirmed and turned, oh so glad blood could no longer pool at your cheeks. As your lips parted to impart exactly how you felt about this embarrassing situation, he shoved something against your chest. You shut your mouth with a noise and took it.

The crumbled up bit of paper revealed to be the slice of poster he'd ripped from your office, albeit rather stained now. You glanced from grin to grin, then he tapped the paper and gestured to the wide room.

...Homey...

You tilted your head. Oh, your idea! "You wanna decorate this place? Here, in the creepy ink machine?" You grimaced.

Bendy nodded, nuzzling into the side of your shoulder. His affection had you warmed. You sighed, setting your hands into your lap. A creepy room was just potential to be a less-creepy room, you supposed. He could decorate it and pad it with stolen jackets, film reels, books and furniture. Yeah, you could see it now. Maybe this place wasn't so bad. Bendy liked it. It even already had the best chair on the whole damn campus, which was a great start. Even if Bendy took all day just to move one chair, if you worked together it could be a nest in no time flat.

"Okay."

He looked up.

"Let's make this place more of a home!" You beamed.

Bendy wiggled in the chair and wrapped his arms around your waist tightly. He was the happiest demon in the whole mortal world.

Joey Drew was scum. You hated his guts, his voice, his disgusting breath. But he was the one to put you together with Bendy. He was the one who let you lead the demon around, taking him for walks outside and escorting him to the break room for lunch. Of all the great and terrible accomplishments Mr. Drew did before his leave of the studio, Bendy was one of his greatest.

No misguided attempt to make you stray from the demon's side had ever worked. Sammy's egotistical obsession had not discouraged, nor had Thomas's worry ever pushed you back. Of all the men who talked at you not a one talked with you expect for the demon himself. You were not beneath him, you were not above him, you always felt like you'd been his equal. Everything had changed, everything was different, but it wasn't really. You did miss the time when he was small. But he was still just as sweet, still just as clingy as he'd once been. And you were just as religious. So, as he held onto you in his lap you smiled, a feedback loop of fuzzy feelings at the base in your skull. Everything would be alright.

Finally got around to putting the last 4 chapters up here, they've been on AO3 for a while now. Thanks for joining me on this journey!