Quinze - Stolen, lost, found.

/

Henry had gone back to the cot at some point, but sleep didn't find him. No amount of laying with his eyes shut and listening to everything hum, tick, breathe, could lull him.

He waited for Buddy to be up and about before rolling out of the cot himself.

Sammy didn't budge, save for breathing. Maybe he could really sleep now? The cartoonist carefully padded past the ink man out into the main room.

Buddy was waiting for him, gloved hands folded and a thoughtful frown creasing his face.

"Hey, Buddy."

Buddy nodded at the chair across from him.

The cartoonist's brow furrowed, lips pursed. He took a seat, grimacing slightly at his back's protest. He spied the sheet of paper under the wolf's hands. "There something you need to tell me?"

Buddy nodded. Brow still rumpled comically, the wolf pushed the note forward.

ILL STAY HERE LAST TIME WAS BAD SAMMY WASNT WITH YOU IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE

Henry gave a nod at the paper and passed it back. "Glad you're giving it a shot. Thank you."

Buddy's brows smoothed as he gave the sheet back, and he scrawled something else.

SAMMY MAKES YOU SMILE SO HE MATTERS

Henry chuckled. "Yeah. He does. So do you. It's why we're giving this a shot."

Buddy nodded and gave a smile of his own.

Something moved behind Buddy, and Henry leaned to the side to see. Just Sammy. Good. Not Bendy. Also good. "Morning."

Sammy stretched his arms over his head and let out a satisfied groan. "Did you sleep?"

"I'm good." He lied.

Sammy lowered his arms and tilted his head a bit. "Really."

"Yeah."

Buddy smiled and waved at the ink man. Sammy gave a wave back.

"Buddy'll stay back this time."

"Good." Sammy approached the table and picked up his banjo from where he'd left it the night before. "Are we heading out now, or later?"

"Up to you."

"Lets…" He sighed and hung his head. "I'm not trying to be troublesome, Henry, but I can't think of what to do. We go now, we're done sooner. But it all happens sooner than later, so we can wait… We've done this before, it shouldn't be this hard," he groused, lips pursed behind his mask.

The cartoonist smiled gently and looked over at the wolf. "Buddy? Any ideas?"

Buddy waved him off and pulled the toolbox from beside him. He popped the lid open and gestured to the lever inside with raised brows.

Sammy paused. "Oh. Guess we'll be out of your hair, then."

The wolf gave a silent chuckle.

"He has to get the toy room doors, but after that he can head back this way." Henry gave the wolf a soft, hopeful smile. "I'll heat the soup, then Sammy and I can head out. That good for you?"

Buddy nodded and flashed a thumbs up.

/

Completing the mad angel's quests felt strange without Buddy hanging back at the elevator. Henry and Sammy were an efficient duo, even if Susie was keen on stating otherwise. Still, Henry couldn't recall having a faster finish time for her demands. He'd have timed it were this not hell on earth.

Standing beside Sammy, Henry managed a tired smile. "What'll she say when we're meant to ascend?"

Sammy pursed his lips. "Something insulting, I bet."

Henry huffed a chuckle, but the unease he felt in his gut didn't fade. He chalked it up to not having Buddy behind him. "We're not going anywhere but down."

Sammy smirked. "Like a bad roller coaster."

The cartoonist's brows rose in confusion. "What sort of coasters have you been on?"

"Mm. A few. Wait, does the haunted house ride count?" His tone suggested genuine concern.

"No, that doesn't count."

He shrugged. "Oh, well then, not enough."

Overhead, the mad angel spoke. Her voice was that sweet, light tone that came before the fall. "Are you ready to ascend, my little errand boy? I hope there's room for you two in heaven." The elevator climbed higher still. Susie spoke again, feather-light and razor sharp. "It's so strange… I expected the wolf to be with you."

Henry set his jaw and glanced to Sammy.

The musician was looking back, frame tensed and left hand tapping out a tarantella. He fidgeted his right hand against the handle of the axe.

Susie's voice oozed like tar from the speaker above. "Poor Boris can't stay away from danger, sweet little thing acts more puppy than wolf. Is that why you like him so much?" The darkness that throttled her voice crept forward. "Oh, silly me… you call him Buddy, don't you?"

Henry's mouth went dry. Ice leeched up and around his limbs from his chest.

Sammy said nothing. Didn't even breathe, yet his free fist shook from tension.

A chuckle that boiled over into that familiar, crazed cackle just as the floor dropped out. The elevator cage hung on its cables for a mere moment, then fell. It plummeted faster than Henry's stomach. Amber sparks shot free of the sides as the walls sped by them.

"I've known about your games since that pathetic prophet joined your side! I've recalled hell you'll never know, Henry! But taking that wolf apart and putting him back however I want? A thousand times better than dissecting failed Butcher Gang clones!" Her deep, gargling undertone growled with twisted mirth. "You even boxed him up for me this time! How sweet of you!"

Henry's knees buckled as the elevator hit a bump that sent him sprawling. Sammy did the same next to him but crawled forward. The prophet threw himself over Henry's like a shield. The ink in his mind roared with cries of Protect your lord! Shield him! He must not perish! He had to obey. He had to do something.

Susie screeched, and the elevator vibrated from her manic fury. "You can't hide your theft from me! Don't you get it? I will have my perfect Boris! It doesn't matter where you hide him or who you have to help you, Henry! He is MINE!"

Crash. Dark.

Henry came to to find Sammy crouched nearby. He sat, free arm resting between his knees to balance himself, the other gripping the axe which sat blade down over one shoulder.

The ride back down to hell surged from his fuzzy memory. "Shit."

Sammy said nothing, but ducked his head in agreement.

Henry's expression soured as he gazed up at the ceiling. "So. Now we know." He tried to get to his feet and promptly gave up. Getting up felt too difficult, anyway. "Buddy's dead no matter what we do."

An inaudible sigh. "Seems so."

Henry rolled onto his side and pushed himself to his knees. "Okay." Taking a deep breath, he pulled off his glasses and wiped them down. "We can't get to the safe house from here." Affixing the frames, the cartoonist sighed with a heaviness that could bring down the moon. "You standing in her path won't work. Hiding him won't work." He swallowed, eyes on the floor. "How the hell do we keep him safe?"

Sammy shifted his weight to one knee and grasped Henry's nearest shoulder. Comfort was allowed. He holds your hand. He holds you. "We'll figure something out. Not this time, but soon enough. We know now what doesn't work. Has to be a start."

Henry nodded, hoping soon would be soon.

\

"Okay." Henry frowned at Sammy, who had slipped the axe into a free loop on his overalls. The two of them were before the platform of frozen lost ones that posed in surrender and acceptance around a large Bendy statue. "You're gonna have to explain this to me."

"Not much to say. I certainly didn't tell them to do that."

"They're gone by the time I come back."

Sammy nodded. "They're easily startled, like rabbits."

The cartoonist continued on to the archives. He was regretting not being able to sleep the night before. Inside the circular room, books lined round shelves and encompassed a small office within. "Alright. That tape on the table is another one from Susie. Dunno if you wanna play it, but-"

Sammy had already grabbed the near chair and sat. It was a comical picture, in a way. The inked man sitting so casually, mug and book nearby like he were at a cafe and not halfway to hell. He frowned at the tape player. "Off we go." He hit the play button with his middle finger.

"They told me I was perfect for the role. Absolutely perfect. Now Joey's going around saying things behind closed doors. I can always tell. Now he wants to meet again tomorrow, says he has an 'opportunity' for me. I'll hear him out. But if that smooth talker thinks he can double cross an angel and get away with it, well, oh, he's got another thing coming. Alice, ooh, she doesn't like liars."

Henry's brow furrowed at the tape before he looked back at Sammy.

He'd placed a curled fist before his mouth in thought. "Allison merely played Alice, but Susie wanted to be Alice. That much I know. It's… it was how Joey convinced her to-" He paused and cleared his throat. "I only heard it, but I'll never forget it. She was first to go into the machine." He frowned from his chair and leaned backward. "I let it happen. To appease the ink." He managed a sharp laugh as a sneer curdled his voice. "No wonder she despises me. I used her like I did everyone else!"

The cartoonist blinked and peered over his glasses. "Are you using me?"

The ink man's theatrics cut out with a swivel of his masked head. "What?"

A brow raise. "Sammy, is that what's happening?"

Sammy quickly stood and stomped forward, stopping just shy of being too close. "You think that of me?"

Henry didn't budge or break eye contact. "I'm not upset, I just want an answer."

"No!" My lord, please believe me! "I'd never, I-" He'd felt his voice fraying into many, and took a breath. Steady now. Henry would not harm him. There had to be a reason he was asking. "No. Not you. Never you, Henry."

Henry nodded and lay a hand against the ink man's upper arm. "Yeah, I know."

A troubled huff. "Then why ask that?"

The cartoonist removed his hand and smiled calmly. "So you'd know it, too." He turned to a jutting book and pushed it in with the back of his hand. "I gotta push five in, shouldn't take long." He made his way to the second book and paused. "Uh, I usually have a vision around this part."

Sammy cocked his head. "Vision?"

"Mostly doors flapping and screeching noises." He left the circle and pushed in a second book on his way out. Sammy stayed behind, watching him through the gaps above the books. Pushing the third book in, nothing happened. "Two left." About the halfway point to the next book, Henry paused and looked back at Sammy. "Can you come here?"

The ink man made his way over and paused at his side. "What is it?"

"You know how you remember something and can end up on the ground?"

A nod.

"That doesn't happen with the visions, but that could change."

Sammy gave a soft smile. He'd gladly do what was being asked. "I'll be close, my little sheep."

"Thank you." The two made their way to book number four, and Henry pushed it in without another thought.

A scarlet film fell across his vision in a flashbulb of static. A distant screech overwhelmed the clattering slam and flap of doors and rattling of old books.

Over in a moment, back in reality where Sammy was grasping both of Henry's shoulders in a death grip.

Henry shook his head to clear it, gaze refocusing back onto the battered Bendy mask. "What happened?"

"What happened? Henry, you said nothing about screaming!" said the deeply distressed ink man.

"It's loud, but it's not terrible." What did he know, with tinnitus that never faded?

Sammy's mouth turned down in a sharp frown. "You screamed." His grip relaxed, but only to run his hands down to rest firmly against Henry's arms. "You did nothing but open your mouth and scream."

"I screamed?" The cartoonist focused on his throat, but he didn't feel any pain that'd come from a scream.

"It… Damn." Sammy released one of his arms and tapped out a tarantella. "It came from you, but it didn't sound like you."

Worry unfurled deep in his gut. "What did it sound like?"

His hand stopped. "The Well."

Henry frowned, brow creasing at the implications. He said nothing and turned to the last book, giving it a push. The doors opened, and he headed out to the bridge. "What's the well like?"

Sammy followed, gesticulating with a free hand as he went. "Dark. Wet. Crowded and barren. Horribly loud, yet dreadfully silent." Clenching his fists, he focused on Henry's mosstone back. "Too many things and not enough." Screaming well of voices. Dark puddles. A life in black. He stopped short, craning his head back to get a fuller view of the cavern.

Henry peaked over the edge into the foggy black drop below. "How far down do you think that is?"

"Mm." The ink man took a step to the edge, frowning crookedly at the blackness below. He kicked a chunk of wood over the side and waited to hear it land below. Silence greeted him. "Too far." He said in a clipped tone before turning to Henry. "Don't fall."

"I never do." They made their way up the stairs to the bridge. "Okay. We need thick ink for the ink printer. The bridge needs a gear to work."

"You're going to ride that rickety thing?" Sammy asked, aghast at the idea.

Henry shrugged, before turning for the retractable pipe that held a swollen searcher. "No other way to Bendy-Land." He came back with the thick ink shortly and plopped the mass into the printer with a wet sounding smack. He smirked and glanced Sammy's way. "What note was that?"

Thumb and index tapped in thought. "A slightly sour sounding G."

Henry huffed a laugh. "Right." He pulled the crank and grabbed the gear. "Are you okay in this rickety thing?" he asked as he snapped the gear into place.

"One way to find out, little sheep."

Henry climbed in and held his hand out for Sammy to take. "Please don't jump in like you do over the railings."

Sammy took the hand and chuckled. "Ruin all the fun, eh?"

"Speaking of, there's a mine shaft where I have another vision."

Stepping into the cart, the ink man snorted. "How is that fun?"

"It's not. I'm sticking to theme." The cartoonist grabbed the support cable with a sigh. "And neither is the part where this thing gets stuck."

Sammy grabbed the other side of the cable and tensed like an angry cat. "Fantastic."

With a shudder, the cart came to a stop, swaying slowly in its frozen spot on the line. With another sad thump, the cart wandered over to the other side.

The two quickly got out and headed to the mine shaft, Henry leading the way. "Here we go."

An inked hand grasped Henry's left shoulder. It helped, in a way. The man took another step forward.

Another blinding flashbulb that showered the room in red. Dozens of arms lashed and writhed from broken gaps in the walls. Desperate, searching fingers raked wrathfully at the open air.

It ended with a blink. Henry swallowed and glanced at Sammy over his shoulder. "Anything?"

A gentle squeeze. "You didn't scream this time." Thankfully. Sammy let go.

"Good." They pressed onward into the next room. Chains wove up and down in thick, metal lines from floor to ceiling. The muffled hum of mechanical parts unknown reverberated as the ink machine lowered further and further into the depths.

Susie spoke, an airy taunt in the haze of it all. She just had to gloat. "My, my. You took your time, didn't you?" Her delight for the horrors she was doing out of sight. "But better late than never."

Sammy scoffed behind Henry as they made it up the stairs.

"I think you stopped caring about the poor thing after a while. Such a useless creature, only here to make me beautiful." Her honeyed tone did nothing to hide her intent. "He sure doesn't help you like your pet prophet does. Why else would you let your wolf fall into my hands after so many do-overs?" She chuckled and went quiet.

The man felt heat rise in his throat and he picked up the pace up the stairs. Tears stung his eyes as guilt creased his brow.

Behind him, the musician muttered fiercely under his breath. "What does she know about care? She never cared for anyone a day in her life aside from herself." His temper cooled as he brushed the axe head with his fingertips. His ego shouted for payback, but his heart was on keeping his sheep- Henry… going. "Pay her no mind, my little sheep."

Henry smiled sadly as the lounge came into view. "I try." But it stung.

The record spun on from its perch beside the teapot on the couch. Another couch across from that lay near a miracle booth. The same as always.

The ink man paused behind him, head tilting back to glance about the place. "Henry, is there anything the tool can glean in here?"

Pulling the tool from his back pocket, Henry held it before himself and looked. "Nothing new." He frowned and tucked the tool into his pocket once more.

Up on the balcony limped a lost one. His broken cries called out over the gloomy record spinning on the couch. "He always finds me! Oh no! I just wanna go home! When do we go home? When do we go home?" It slowly limped back out of view.

The cartoonist sighed lowly, hazel gaze flicking back to the door ahead. How many were there down here to save?

Sammy straightened and stalked past Henry while trailing a hand against his arm. "I'll go first, my little sheep. Allow me to inform my flock of what we mean to do."

The ease with which he slipped into being the Prophet sent a wave of anxiety through Henry. Still, may as well let the ink man work.

The door opened to the dozens of lost ones huddled in clusters. Golden eyes glowed from the pain as they all looked at the two of them. Henry hung back, but Sammy strode forward.

His tone shifted from the reemerging sharpness of his old one to a quiet, soothing lilt. It would have given Henry comfort if it wasn't the same voice Sammy used in the sacrifice room. "My devoted flock, I have come with news. Worry not, for you haven't been forgotten. No one here has. You have my word." Sammy gestured to Henry behind him with an upturned palm. "This man is here to guide us to the light. All I ask of you now is to stay out of our path and tell others to do the same."

Some lost ones swayed, some didn't even budge. Those forlorn amber eyes fixated onto Sammy with such distant, agonized hope.

A lost one near the door blinked at Henry. They raised a finger to point at him. "I... remember you," they uttered softly. "Just a little. Long ago but just today."

Sammy turned from where he stood, arms raised in surprise. Very few of the lost ones could speak, and he didn't quite recall who this one had been.

Henry didn't see a need to fear. "You do?"

The lost one nodded, and just barely touched the man's forearm with their fingertips. "You've been here before." The poor thing's eyes upturned at the corners in a melted smile. "You'll be here again."

Henry felt a lump in his throat, but he forced it back with a smile and a nod. "If you remember, then we're doing the right thing."

The lost one nodded and stepped back, head bowed.

The lost ones parted like water for him, giving a wide berth. "We have to go through the vent to get there," he muttered. This place, with the lost one who remembered and dozens who didn't, added to the pressure of his role in freedom. So many loops lay behind him and he didn't feel enough progress was being made… but standing around feeling bad wouldn't help.

Sammy tugged the vent cover free and climbed inside without a word, flashlight in hand as he disappeared into the dark. Henry was close behind, leaving the lost ones alone once more.

\