Author's Notes: okAY so I got like two weeks coming up at the end of this month off. No client work no part timers NUTHIN. I fully plan to have a perfect lil staycation, unplug from social media and hopefully do two things, (okay three things): read, write, and sleep. …four, I guess I gotta eat. But yeah! Might not make the Halloween deadline but I might! I'd love for this fic to end around my fav holiday ;)

Warnings: More spooky-scary stuff, more violence, some gore/blood.

"Things are never quite as scary, when you have a best friend." –Bill Watterson

ACT III
Chapter 13. Stormy Nights and Loaded Dice

"Can you hear us? Auditory input okay?"

The shabby bear drew his mouth closed and cocked its head to one side, dipping the muzzle a bit. This was, Mike presumed, a nod.

"Good. How about auditory output? Talking, I mean. Wonder if you got the same speaker model as Freddy…"

The bear's maw didn't open, but a noise of static bled from the back of the animatronics' throat, making Scraptrap snarl and tug his ears down, and even Max groaned and complained until Lefty fell silent.

"Okay—that's a big no," Mike winced. "Sorry, you two." He turned back to Lefty.

"Can you see me? Got one working optic I hope…?" Mike waved his scarred hand, watching the single golden optic rake follow his gesture dutifully.

"Great! Uhm…full range of motion? Like this?" Mike shook out his other arm, shifted from side to side.

Lefty copied him, moving with relative ease and alertness for an animatronic his size and condition.

"Hey, you're moving pretty good for your age, fella," Mike stepped fully into the bear's space and reached up, "Let's see how your endoskeleton is holding u—woah! Okay! Sorry!"

Because at that, Lefty had really reacted. He lurched off his stage ports with a sharp wrench, and though he remained silent, his one eyed tracked Mike and stayed, staring into his eyes when the startled man apologized. That seemed to get the bear to relax, and Mike remained where he was to prove his apology.

"Uh, go it. No…no checkups. Well…look, if you do need any work done, I can do it." Mike gestured to himself, "I'm not just a night guard, I promise. …this is usually where I tell one of the gang to back me up but as you can see they're not…real talkative at the moment. But I keep them running."

Lefty glanced toward his right, tossing the silent Fazes a cursory, polite glance, but nothing more. He looked back down at said night guard.

"Really, Mike?" It seemed in place of Freddy, Max had no qualms calling him out. His tone was laced with confused indignation and concern. "Did Uncle Henry scramble your brains, dude? Don't fix this thing up, what if it's as bad as the Funtimes!?"

"What if he's not?" Mike replied. Lefty was staring down at him again, and so he offered a hand to straighten the bear's red bow. Lefty allowed it.

"Unbelievable." Max muttered, half to no one and half to Scraptrap, who snickered in rusty amusement.

"Look, he didn't attack me when Henry was here. If he had, I definitely wouldn't be here to talk about it. And Henry had zero problem calling Helpy out as one of his little minions—sorry Little Bear, but it's true." Mike studied Lefty thoughtfully.

Helpy shot him a glum look and wandered around the back of Lefty, his expression so wounded and dramatic Mike snorted. Still, the little Funtime copy's optics were dimmer than before. Helpy had turned off his cameras when Mike had asked. So that was something to their advantage.

'Although with what I saw in Parts and Services, it won't matter if we had a hundred animatronics to go against Henry. Not when he's got Marion by the strings.'

"He didn't try to help you, either." Max pointed out.

"Maybe he was too scared to. SP saved me, but what if she wasn't in the room, or I wasn't wearing a blue band? At some point, 'what ifs' will only slow us down, kiddo." Mike pointed out, making Max deflate. Still the corpse stepped closer, eyeing Lefty the bear with no small amount of distrust and scrutiny. Max almost reminded Mike of Foxy with that look….

Foxy.

"The Captain was pointing at you for a reason." Mike hummed to the shabby, mute animatronic. "I just need to figure out what that was. And anyone Foxy is okay with, I am too. He's not quick to trust, even if he's isn't as jealous as Bonnie tends to be."

"All Bonnie models are jealous types, I just think it's a coded thing at this point." Max agreed under his breath, he muttered to himself and walked a circle around Lefty, but they both kept their distance from each other.

"I do see what you're saying, Max. About giving Lefty too much a leash at first." The night guard finally admitted, after watching the two size each other up. Lefty lowered his mike and watched the eldest Afton with his half-mast stare, but showed no other emotion outside of that. He'd already proven he could move well enough, and technically he was out numbered. SP hadn't returned to her box, but she watched Lefty warily and chimed a few times in warning. Scraptrap mirrored his Suit's glare but kept his distance until his Suit called for him.

Max looked surprised, especially when Mike hopped off the stage and strutted toward the little present box that belonged to the Security Puppet.

"…you do?" He managed.

"Yeah. As much as we need the help, it's not worth the risk. I'm sick of being burned by this place." Mike dug out a blue band and turned, spooking a little when Lefty the bear was already just standing behind him, albeit the same, somewhat polite distance as before. Still, Mike hadn't heard the big fellow go down the stage steps.

"Quiet, aren't you?" Mike eyed him but stepped forward. "Give me your wrist—no, the other one."

Max watched as Mike strapped the blue band onto Lefty's right wrist.

"Looks like your mic is bolted into your left hand. Can't move your fingers, right?" Mike remarked, keeping his tone casual as Lefty canted his head once more in that creepy manner. "There. You can't take this off, and if someone else does, I'll know." Mike patted the arm, and though the wrist band was certainly tight on the animatronic, the small dot illuminated.

Beside the stage, the hovering puppet model twitched and shook herself out once, giving a few curious clicks toward them both. She wasn't shying at Scraptrap, but her bell chimed in a single, unhappy wail when she realized what Mike had done, and who her second charge was to be. He chuckled, but was quick to comfort her.

"If Lefty breaks the boundaries, you come get me or Max, Security." Mike soothed. "And we'll handle it."

"So far he only seems into shadowing you anyway, Mike." Max noted, looking less ruffled than before but still on guard.

"I noticed." Mike reached out again, grinning when Lefty, this time, let him press both hands to the sides of his red cheeks and grinned. The simple display of trust helped boost Mike's morale. "Lucky for him I happen to have a soft spot for Freddy models."

"We hadn't noticed." Max drawled, earning another laugh from Mike.

"I like Bonnie's too, don't worry. Can't have a Bonnie without a Freddy~" He assured, and Max felt his cheeks tint dark purple at the compliment.

"Whatever," he grumbled, and said nothing more in favor against Lefty.

"Hey, it's almost sunrise. Only a few days left until Saturday." Mike noted, studying the slow peek of the sun through the sparse clouds in the sky. Lefty turned to watch through the window too, and Mike stopped to wonder if this was the first sunrise it had seen in a while. Or if it had seen one at all.

There was a low rumble between them all then, earning everyone's attention. Even little Helpy, who stopped mid wander to the Rocket Ride and stared over his small shoulder at the area the sound originated from.

"…sorry," Mike pressed a hand over his stomach and managed a weak grin.

"When's the last time you ate, Mike? You're usually a bottomless pit." That was Max, his embarrassment recovered from and he approached Mike with a soft, knowing tone. He seemed to be deciding to ignore Lefty for now unless and until the odd model pulled some shit. He was proud of his borrowed reflexes, and he did like the idea of SP keeping an eye on Lefty enough to loosen the reins and focus on the dumb night guard for a bit. The dude was smart, but sometimes he seemed so caught up on an idea he forgot basic self care. Dad had kind of been like that back when he was somewhat of a father and less a homicidal maniac driven by grief and rage. Max assumed it was a genius thing.

"Guess it's been a while, yeah…I feel like crap." Mike became acutely aware at this point how exhausted and spent he was, and Gold rumbled across their bond in sleepy, unhappy agreement. Housing the powerful animatronics' spirit came with some caveats, and Mike had started to neglect both their needs.

"M'gunna reheat something…knowing Chica she probably squirreled something easy for me away…" Mike fought a yawn, knowing food was going to keep him alert enough to keep working. He could nap later, probably…

Although without Freddy to keep watch, he wasn't sure how safe he'd feel. Hmm.

He noticed Security Puppet was folding into her box, but was pleased to see her keep the lid off it. Her battery was probably low too, and his watch told him the next hour was well away. Helpy continued on his way to the Rocket Ride, and Mike paused to shove a quarter from his pocket into the slot as he passed by.

"Be careful," he warned with a fond smile, then let his feet take him to the kitchen.

He heard Max and Scraptrap follow, and similarly heard a low hiss of surprise that made him turn to check—but it was only Lefty, who was now right behind the oldest Afton sibling and had startled him, almost exactly the same way he'd spooked Mike earlier. Scraptrap, one ear trained behind him, cackled mischievously down at his kid, who shoved him playfully back.

"Boys," Mike warned, his grin widening when Max and Scrap got a little too close to roughhousing, especially in Chica's adopted, near spotless kitchen. If she came back and found it out of place, he'd almost prefer to deal with Molten Freddy again.

"He started it," Max griped on sheer reflex, even as he plopped onto a nearby stool.

"Sure you don't want something?" Mike offered like usual, keeping half an eye on Lefty, who was looking around the kitchen with mild interest. He hadn't even touched the blue band so far and didn't seem to have a problem wearing it. Good. Even better, he'd followed them—Mike—into another room. If there was a time to sneak away or try and pry it off, Lefty had let the moment pass.

"Can't eat, Mike." Max's smile was wane and fond. He turned the night guard down with growing amusement, and didn't seem bothered whenever Mike tried. "Just water, please. Uh, warm."

Mike nodded, and shoved a few slices of pizza in the oven. He fetched the kid his water, and kept a casual eye on their new friend in the corner.

He wasn't even close to a replacement for Freddy; nobody could be in Mike's eyes. But the ebony animatronic was strange and sedate enough that something about him drew him to Mike. He was still upset over Henry, but in some small way he almost understood the old man's anger and reproach. Nothing Henry had accused him off hadn't been true, after all. They did have a big mess to clean up because of Mike's choices in Pizza World. Why he wanted to take Gold from him, though, was still a dangerous mystery.

'Unless he wants William to have better odds. Or…think that he does. He did say bait more than once.'

Max's points had been good too. Lefty had been on the stage since Day 1, and he hadn't so much as twitched as far as Mike was aware. The gang—Foxy and Bonnie especially—would have alerted Mike to something about him being off. Bonnie because he was nosey, Foxy because he was their best ghost sniffer. Which led Mike's mind to another train of thought.

"Are you haunted, Lefty?" If he wasn't, how else had he been activated? What use was he to Foxy, if he was a mindless machine? If he was, he didn't follow a clock, didn't turn off and on. Hell, he'd shown the capacity for certain emotions and clear dislike when he'd nonverbally refused Mike to look at his insides. Machines didn't do that.

Max raised his eyebrows but turned to see what the bear's answer would be.

The animatronic was looking at Mike, but only tilted his head lazily, jaw working a little lower. But never wide enough to see much beyond his straight, stained teeth.

"He moves pretty well if he's not." Max remarked.

"I know. I was thinking that. Foxy's kid was in him the longest, almost as long as the—as your little brother was in—"

"Don't say it," Max cut him off suddenly, fighting a fullbody shiver. "Just don't. Names have power, Mike."

'He's not wrong.' Mike heard Gold's mental grunt of agreement. 'Problem is Mari's awake now, and on the war path. God, I hope he's alright, and he's not too scared.'

"As in a certain animatronic whose name I won't say." Mike tried for levity, and to a degree it worked. Even Scrap relaxed beside Max. "But we asked Foxy a handful of times, he never mentioned anything—erh, anyone—inside of Lefty."

"Lefty looks pretty old, and if its spirit is old, maybe it can hide in plain sight better. That's a pretty good trick you gotta pick up to survive at Freddy's, yanno?"

"Fair, yeah. I hadn't thought about that." Mike admitted. He was tired.

"Maybe you answered your own question. If Uncle Henry scared Lefty, maybe he wasn't the only one that did. Foxy's pretty tough looking all on his own, never mind he came with the others too." Max sounded it all out as he leaned on the counter, sipping his water.

Mike nodded, but the oven dinged and he broke away from the conversation to fetch his food.

Lefty went back to eyeing the freezer doors, but made no move or touched anything. He lingered a loose distance from Mike and only checked on him once or twice.

No, he certainly wasn't Freddy. But for now, Mike decided to himself as he ate, Lefty would have to do.

At first, Mike blamed it on the lack of sleep.

For starters, the day had actually, startlingly, passed with little how-to-do, as Freddy would have put it. The days like this that came after scary events were sometimes harder than the times that came before. It felt like the world was holding its breath, and the grey weather had done nothing positive for any of their moods. Max and Scraptrap lingered close by to Mike, but soon realized that whatever Lefty planned on doing, didn't seem to be anything malicious or violent. If anything, he settled rather quickly into tailing Mike like an even quieter Freddy Fazbear, and moved to help the man sometimes before being asked to. It was strange to witness, but kind of fascinating, and Max noticed Lefty often watched him back, especially during moment Mike's full focus was on one of his chores. The single, golden stare from that glass optic straddled the line between blank and unnerving, but never lingered on him or Scraptrap long enough to make him feel unsafe. He didn't mention it to Mike, who looked like he had enough on his plate at this point. If Lefty tried starting shit, Max would just have to end it. Simple.

The day wandered toward noon, crested, and then began to sink toward sunset. The clouds darkened further, threatening rain. The air outside and inside seemed tangled up, electric and thick. More than once, Mike caught static whisking from his fingers and he hurriedly swiped them on his pants. Sometimes electrical storms caused Gold's powers to fluctuate a little bit, but this was normal and he didn't pay it much mind. He was careful to keep himself grounded, and that seemed to fix the problem.

The storm was likely onto of them by now.

Mike paused thoughtfully around six, leaning back to eye the ceiling as above it, thunder mumbled heavily for the second time in a few minutes.

"No salvages tonight." He remarked, and glanced at the teenager for confirmation. Against the big glass windows, rain began to pound in pelting droves.

Max nodded in agreement, and stayed lounging by the tables; one high top kicked onto another chair and slouched back as he fiddled with the cord to his headphones. He'd already flipped The Replacement's Don't Tell a Soul twice now, and yawned.

"The dead don't eat," Mike was buried back in the arcade game Helpy had somehow caused to malfunction, but called over to the purple corpse. "But do they sleep, kiddo?"

"Mmm, sometimes. Sorta. S'more like…drifting." Max answered with an off-handed gesture. "I'm fine though, Mike. Just…it's just…it's the waiting around that kills you, yanno?"

"Do I ever," Mike grunted, and groped for the keyboard he'd set behind him. "Where's the code book for this—oh, thanks Lefty. Jeez, you're really on the ball fella. Been watching Freddy help me around here?"

"That might explain some of it. Aside from him being haunted in general." Max agreed. "Picks things up fast. Rules out him being a Toy model." Mike agreed silently.

The Toys, while painted brightly, were anything but mentally. They'd been a dumbed down, supposedly high tech series that Mike had learned had avoided any children being stuffed inside them. While that was obviously a good thing, it left their developmental AI a little be desired. They learned, sure, but rather…oddly. For one thing, Toy Bonnie, Blu, was the leader, due in part to him being the loudest and most opinionated. Toy Freddy was shy and awkward and liked avoiding confrontations rather than heading right into them, like his older counterparts. Freddy had no use for him, and Bonnie and Blu downright hated each other, although blessedly, Chi was the nicest of the lot. Mangle of course, stayed with him now. But Mike kept them all copasetic, mostly because he gave the Toys free reign of a warehouse and checked up on them every few weeks. Balloonboy was with them now, which he and Mike decided was for the best when it became clear the Toys didn't understand some rules but were willing to listen to BB. Mike had wondered if it was because they recalled how close he was to the Marionette, but would never know for sure.

'When we get home, I need to get Danny to take the check-in over. He said he wanted to help out more, and I think the Toys might actually like him…he'll probably remind them of Jeremy after all.' Mike focused on his work but let his mind wander again.

Lefty was haunted, of that much they'd decided. Of who, or what, or for how long, was the mystery. But it was one Mike didn't have the energy to focus on.

"Wonder how Molten's doing across the way. Should go check on him later."

"You waited until nearly nighttime to do that?" Max snarked. "Freddy's right, you are reckless. Or stupid, but since I've met you, I think those two are the same thing…"

Mike chuckled at the friendly barb, but stayed focused on the back screen of the arcade game. It was a misnomer of a game, there wasn't even a recognizable character in it, much like Fruit Maze and Midnight Motorist had been. He typed the activation code that had been missing from the start—and thus discovered why it refused to boot up when Helpy went to play it.

"Finally, an easy fix." Mike hummed, leaning back a little to make himself comfortable, almost dropping the keyboard from his lap when he hit something behind him. He twisted, saw only matted grey fur and snorted, glancing upward warily.

"What was it?" Lefty still gazed down at him silently, but Mike relaxed back against the sturdy leg apparently being offered to him to lean on, and answered the curious corpse still lazing close by. His green and grimy bunny shooed Helpy's clumsy fingers away from the cassette case with a possessive paw.

"Never got booted up properly. Just needs the upgrade code and it should play fine." Mike hummed. "That happens more than you think, more of a factory error than anything strange."

"'Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start.'" Max mumbled an old song, seemingly on reflex, making Mike snort.

"Did you just—was that Dire Straits?" Mike laughed when Max nodded with that little grin of his. "You're right, you are old. Hard to believe, you look eighteen."

"Was gunna turn eighteen in December." Max said, offhanded and casual, as if his death was as plain as the rain overhead. Well, to him, it was by now. That didn't make Mike any less sympathetic.

"…never made it, then." The night guard reasoned sadly.

Max shrugged, and busied himself with strumming what sounded like the refrain to Alex Chilton on an invisible guitar. He looked so much like Bonnie that Mike's heart hurt, but in a good way. So that's where the bunny had gotten it from. Mike could just hear the song warbling from the old headphones, and he made a mental note to look into getting the kid an ipod or something, along with some new clothes. If nothing else, a new set of headphones, maybe bigger ones that could block out noise when he had a panic attack. Mike doubled checked his typing and hummed.

"There." Mike smacked the Enter key. "Done. Nothing to do but reboot."

"It'll be done by Opening Day, knowing these things." Max joked, and the night guard snickered in agreement. He busied himself with what little tools there were to put away—screwdriver to pop the back casing off, keyboard with its dragging cord, and the towering arcade device itself, which was pushed neatly back into place by an obliging Lefty before Mike could word the question.

"Thanks Lefty. M'gunna return the keyboard, be back in a jiff."

In Mike's defense, he wasn't really watching the time.

And, in his defense, it wasn't anywhere near the Witching Hour. Like he'd checked before, it was barely seven now.

Yet when he flicked the light switch to the storage room, it did not turn on. The room was dark, and chilly, like the fall weather had snuck its self in somehow. Only it hadn't, this place was air tight. And when he halted in the doorway, the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up like woken hound dogs. Mike stiffened into place, wiry limbs tense and two-toned eyes narrowed as his jaw set and he glared into the gloom. Already back on edge like when Henry had arrived, Goldy started rousing too, although both were tired. They really didn't have it in them for a fight, but that didn't matter. This was Mike's place to protect, apparently not just from animatronics anymore, either, but humans.

"Hello?" He demanded sharply to the darkness.

"…" was the reply.

"Awright." Mike said, as if being understanding about the whole situation. "You come out or my flashlight will bring you out, how's that sound? I should warn you now, it belonged to a kid who held off worse nightmares than whatever the hell you think you are, so let's just—"

A low growling rumble answered him in that instant, and orange optics flashed from the pitch black gloom. Mike caught sight of teeth, muzzle, and hook in the time it took for the figure to leap upon him with a noise of what could only be expressed as an intimidating sound of excitement.

"Omph!" Mike went down hard, more shocked than hurt, and flopped spine first. A little dazed, he lay sprawled under the full weight of a dark, ruby colored Foxy model with a set of teeth longer than his fingers. "Nightmare Fo—Alex?"

A rippling snarl answered him, and the terror sounded thrilled. Almost…pleased.

And then Mike laughed, reaching out with familiarity instead of his original anger and grabbed hold of the tattered head, tugging at an ear and running his thumb across the exposed ribbing of the fox's metal skeleton. Nightmare Foxy was a bit of a misnomer among his fellow Nightmares, but he wore it well these days. Ridding Arthur of Nightmare's horrible reign had perhaps been the last good thing Alex had been able to do for his baby brother, who'd he killed with his prank decades ago.

This was no longer the frightened, skittish, overly aggressive nightmare foxy model that had lashed out and been bullied by his fellow Nightmares, but the leader of the remaining horrors. And he seemed fond of Mike, and seemed to find comfort when the man offered some physical comfort without a trace of fear or anxiety.

"Alex! Hey! It's been a few years buddy, what are you doing here though?" Mike pushed so he could sit up, chuckling when Nightmare Foxy rowled again, the noise low and rolling. Scary when you couldn't place it, or didn't understand it. Mike understood now, though. This was just a regular Nightmare noise, the only way they knew how to communicate vocally. It was also one of their more friendlier noises, one he'd heard Nightmare Bonnie give to his day guard. Nightmare Foxy himself didn't talk well unless necessary, as he'd lost his voice when he and Foxy split apart when Mike had put the original four's spirits to rest.

The other, younger children had left, at peace and with confidence what had happened before, wouldn't happen again. That Mike, the night guard, had stopped that section of history from repeating itself.

At least…he thought he had. If he wasn't careful, it would start right back up again.

Alex's unfinished business had kept him held down though, like a caught balloon. And when Mike had freed the Fazes during his first five nights, he'd merely moved Alexander on to the strange, surreal world of a child's bedroom and some doors. Still…Alex's remaining here had never sat too well with Mike. It made him wonder if he'd missed something. If there wasn't a way for this kid's story to end happily too. He knew the Marionette held no passion for helping him, but that didn't mean Mike agreed.

Yet Foxy had asserted on more than one occasion that Alex would have accepted no other route. And judging by his current size and terrible, powerful physique, the ghostly animatronic did seem happy and confident in his new spot on the food chain.

"Is Plushtrap with you?" He asked hopefully.

Nightmare Foxy made a noise that sounded like a snort, interrupted by a sneeze of aversion.

"Well, I like him." Mike defended with a smirk. "I think he's cute."

Orange, Halloween-c0lored optics rolled immaturely as Nightmare Foxy collected his large frame and bunched down, settling with a happy swish of his tail as he studied Mike with sharp, gleaming optics.

"Didn't answer me though, what's going on?" Mike pushed up to kneel beside Alexander Afton, reaching out to playfully tug an ear again, much to the Nightmare's delight, who nipped the air just near Mike's arm, knowing he couldn't roughhouse with the human but wishing to all the same.

"Fohhhxxieee," The Nightmare breathed, dropping his jaw wider, thin tongue lashing as he tried to sound out syllables Mike could recognize or decipher. "C-c-c-all-led-d…mmee…"

"Foxy called you? That's right, he did mention that. We needed some answers about the old diner, and the animatronics in it." Mike sighed. "But that was a dead end. Didn't you go back to bed, kiddo?" The Nightmare looked amused at Mike calling something like him a kid, and his tail flicked again, playfully.

"Hnn." Said Alex, then nodded solemnly. "C-couldn't…"

"Couldn't…what?" Clever Mike eyed the Fox's regretful posture. "Couldn't sleep? No. I bet not. A lot's been happening here. I'm surprised more of the Nightmares aren't awake." He shuddered at the very thought. Nightmare Chica was too cozy with fire him to be okay with her showing her pointy, teeth filled beak, and her brother Nightmare Bonnie only ever really liked his day guard, not him. He couldn't help but wonder how hilarious it would be to see Helpy and Plushtrap encounter one another, though. He had a feeling the two would get along like a house aflame, because even the Nightmares echoed their real world counterpart's many base qualities. Bonnies and Freddy's were always best friends.

"Night-t-tmaress…won't-hurt…youuh, Mihhke." Alex assured quickly. "M'in…charrhge now~"

"That's good, in any case." And he meant that. "You I can still count on."

Though the Nightmare model looked pleased at the praise, he still growled softly when Mike's expression fell flat once more.

"…hurtin'?" Alex asked.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Smell it." Alex coughed, jerking his dangerous muzzle with a tip back. "Scared-d."

"Yeah, I am scared." Mike murmured, and it felt good to bleed the wound a little bit. Normally, you couldn't show fear to a Nightmare, who hunted for terror like sharks that smelled blood. But the new Leader of the Nightmares was more judicial than his predecessor had been, and Mike knew Alexander knew something himself about being scared. Bullies got scared a lot, actually. They just didn't understand how to show it, or release the fear in a healthy manner.

Nightmare Foxy dropped his head to one side, encouraging the man to go on.

"…need help-p?" was the low offer.

"Naw. I'll figure this one out, I'm sure of it." Mike's smile returned slowly though, his eyes full of warmth and amusement. "It's just nice seeing you again, Alexander. Foxy and the others…they got locked on their stages. Dead to the world. We're guessing your Dad did it, but the problem is we can't find him, and I'm not even sure where to begin looking without leaving this place. I'm the new night guard here."

Nightmare Foxy—who'd growled and flattened at the mention of his father—perked back up when Mike explained his fear. He gave an interested rumble and sat back on his haunches, seemed to think Mike's words over for a while before trying to speak again.

"Dad's st-t-rong." Nightmare Foxy agreed with a growl, "Not-t t-that st-tron-ng."

"I've been thinking about that, too. Your Uncle Henry's back, and I think he's got Mari. Or..some approximation of him. I didn't actually seem him just his…uh…fingers. I think." Mike shivered at the memory. The Puppet's limbs were stripped but it's fingers were black and spindly. What Mike had seen was striped tentacles slithering blindly along the threshold. He'd associated the color with the Puppet, but could he actually say he'd seen the Marionette?

("You are back to playing your part, night guard, and it's the first five nights all over again. Without help from Fredbear, or any of my Animatronics—")

Mike replayed the inventor's words over in his head, for the first time since the jarring, humbling assault. Hmm.

'His Animatronics, huh? Guess that means I'll have to use ones he didn't make. I can do that. Like Mari always told me, first you learn the rules. Then you break 'em.' Mike grinned lowly to himself, almost not catching Nightmare Foxy's low, stilted words.

"Yeh…Fox-y, m-menchion—men—ssaid tha' bout…Unca' Hen…" Alex looked frustrated with his inability to speak, but Mike only smiled and offered a warm pat.

"Yer…Puppet-t's." Alex reminded. "Liked you…Mi-hke."

"Not according to what your Uncle wants me to think. But I know what you mean. I liked him to." He sighed, sitting there in the moment. Then Gold poked at him, and he jumped. Mike froze, eyes widening.

"…shit! What the hell am I doing!? Oh man, wait, stay put Alex! You need to see—just stay right here! Don't move!"

Nightmare Foxy shot him an odd look but stayed stooped obligingly, leaning on his hook as he watched the night guard scramble to his legs and just about leap out the door. He shook his large head in amusement at the man's antics. Mike was kind of a mess, but Alex enjoyed it. He reminded him of…

And then Mike Schmidt returned, gripping the arm of someone and ignoring the startled, kind of whiny and alarmed protests. He shoved the ashen, violet tinted teenager right into Nightmare Foxy's closet—for Nightmares were possessive creatures and he'd claimed the space once before, so now it was his—and he growled immediately at the intruder. Then halted mid growl and blinked.

Both froze, staring at the other.

"…Al?" The teenager breathed out, looking wary and hopeful and raw. "Alex?" Even like this, family recognizes family. Mike hoped that was a good sign.

Alexander Afton stared at his older brother in something akin to dismay and relief, then flattened his ears and whined, shrinking back. He tried to make himself smaller, as if fearing the teen's reaction at seeing his brother like this. Like a Nightmare.

"No, no wait," Somehow, Michael carried the same reflexes Schmidt did, because he seemed to sense when Nightmare Foxy tried calling his shadows to cloak him and carry him to his home world, on the other side of Reality. Nightmare Foxy whined, but halted with an air of hesitation.

Mike lingered in the doorway, stopping when it was clear Alex wasn't going to bolt like he wanted to.

"It's okay Alex, come on." Mike coaxed him back, and his brother looked startled when the nightmare model of his brother's favorite animatronic actually obeyed the night guard. "He wanted to see you, just about the first thing he asked me. Come here. It's okay, I promise."

Max nodded, too choked up and emotional to manage much beyond that, but he leaned forward hopefully when the nightmare obeyed.

Then purple, dead hands grasped at Nightmare Foxy's broad shoulders, knitting into his moth-eaten and worn fur suit, and tugged him in.

Michael and Alexander Afton kneeled there, on the floor of the storage room, clutching and leaning on the other for support. The Foxy model whined lowly, the noise keening and sharp, and Michael's shoulders shook under his thin shirt as he tightened his hold on the bigger of the two. Scraptrap lingered nearby, his own expression soft and full of thanks when Mike caught his optics.

Mike backed out after that, gently shooing Lefty away from the door, intending to give the two brothers some privacy. He listened to the thunder roll above the restaurant for a while.

He stopped back in the main room, eyeing the watch on his wrist. Lefty made a low grunt, the sound Mike had quickly picked up on as the old bear's noise for a blanket, questioning sound.

"He can't stay forever. Alex, I mean, that scary-looking Foxy in there. He'll have to return to his world before sunrise." Mike explained, feeling another piece of him give way to his and Gold's exhaustion.

"I can't give them forever but at least…I could give them that, huh? I guess that'll have to be enough." Mike said, and yawned. Damn, he was tired. It'd been a few months since he'd worked nights on top of days, and he wasn't as young as he used to be.

"I need to catch a cat nap, Lefty. Don't get into anything, okay?" He almost laughed when he saw the bear give him a mild, affronted look and turned to glance down at Helpy. "Fine. Come get me if Helpy does."

The shabby animatronic seemed satisfied and let Mike drop into a booth and rest his head on his arms.

Above the restaurant, night fell. No one came to pick it up, and so the thunderstorm seemed content to stay put in the meantime as well.

Burying his face deeper into his arms, Mike let sleep claim him. The nearly invisible marionette string that slowly slithered around his wrist went wholly and utterly unnoticed.

Mike stood on the stage, smiling over the crowd of patrons, eating pizza, laughing, talking. The bustling air of a busy restaurant would never not bring him comfort and ease—at least until he eyed the faceless patrons, looked at the unmoving pizza, and listened to the silence of the diner. He took in the sheer fakery of it, built on memories and spider webs, twice as thin and runny at the edges. Another dream, then.

"This again, huh Goldy?" Mike sighed as he broke the routine, and fought a yawn. It was a surreal feeling, to be just as sleepy in your dreams as you were in real life.

'SORT OF.' Rumbled Fredbear from his spot on stage.

Mike sighed, for once not amused with his Spirit's cryptic answer, and turned to see the lovely, charming little diner for himself with clearer eyes. it was empty now, and silent instead of pretending to be full and lively. Better, at least. He spotted the Prize Counter and familiar box and perked up, remembering the last time he'd dreamed like this.

"Least this isn't all bad, I guess." Mike grinned to himself as he trotted across the room without thinking and lifted the box top off. Anyone else would wonder if the man had a death wish, but he knew he could get away with this, because he'd done it before. At most he'd get a sleepy pealing warble, or the Marionette would rise and scold him lazily, but then let him do it the next time. The Fazes used to gaze at Mike in wonder and slight dread, but Mike had always thought the Puppet's noises were absolutely adorable.

However, when he cracked the lid open and peeked inside…he found it to be empty.

"…nevermind." Mike sighed. Right. Still dead. "So what's all this about, Gold, huh?"

'One good turn is deserving of another.' Chimed a soft, amused voice in reply, a voice that was light and airy and not at all the voice of his partner's. 'It's nice to know you haven't changed that much.'

"Hello?" Mike froze, the voice seemed everywhere and nowhere at once. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it for some reason, and he felt like that was by design. It unnerved him instantly. His hackles rose. "Who the hell said that?!"

"Swear jar." Warned a thick country accent behind him, and Mike was so surprised he dropped the box's top with a sad thunk. He whirled in place, shoulders high and eyes wide as saucers.

Because there, on the little, second-hand stage, stood Freddy Fazbear.

Bonnie was on his right, and Chica on his left. To their right was a separate stand, a purple curtain with stars drown round it, and a brass hook caught it and swept it aside as Foxy peeked out.

Gold smirked from his spot on his own grand stage, but said nothing.

Mike stumbled forward, then balked.

"…what the hell is going on with me?" He muttered, rubbing a fist into his good eye. "This isn't real, it's just a dream…I'm goin' nuts…"

"So what if you are?" Bonnie demanded in his blithe, laid-back voice. "Enjoy a good thing when you get it, Mikey! How many good things do you get inna job like yours?"

"Rabbit's right, boyo." Foxy shoved his muzzle out from behind the tiny curtain that was his first Cove, and grinned like the fox he was. "Think by now, ye'd be used ta seeing ghosts."

"Don't be scared, chickadee." Chica comforted in her sweetest tone, the one reserved for kids with dropped food or little scraped knees. "I know it's hard right now, but we're not far. Family never is, right Freddy?"

Mike turned wet, shiny eyes up to the lead animatronic and exhaled a shaky, small noise.

Freddy's look was worn and old but gentle, and he gave Mike a single, slow blink of his blue optics. he lifted a paw, and his first words to Mike were simply,

"Come here, son."

That was all Mike needed. He was up on the stage in the time it took for Freddy to spread his arms better, and tackling himself full force into Fazbear's front and hugging him.

"This is just a dream." He muttered desolately again. "I know it is. It feels too real, so it's got to be fake."

"Weird logic," Bonnie remarked as he watched Mike hug Freddy tight, hiding most of his frame against the world's best giver of bear-hugs. "But he's got a point."

"Hush, Bon." Freddy warned, and Mike chuckled wetly.

"I don't wanna wake up, Freddy." Mike pleaded, as if Freddy had any say in that, as if he could wave his paw and make it all better.

"Got to. All nights end, son." Replied Fazbear, his tone gentle. "Soon, it'll be sunrise. Only two days left."

"Afton still hasn't shown up." Mike muttered sourly, face half hidden in the bearbot's round middle.

"Maybe you been lookin' in the wrong places." Bonnie said.

"Aye. Ye remember what the Black Devil used to tell ya? 'A sly rabbit will have two openins' to its den."

"…do you remember what you used to say to him when he did?" Mike turned to look at Foxy, for the first time, he grinned. "A sly fox will know this…and bring a friend."

"There's a good lad." Foxy praised with a dark chuckle. His optics flared in amusement. "Yer not alone now, ye know that."

"Foxy's right, son." Freddy drew back a little, making Mike look up at him as he ruffled the man's hair. "Less alone than ya been thinkin', but that ain't yer fault. Just…keep that little light at the ready. You want to get this all set right, it's gunna take a lot."

"And even if we're not with you, we're still together, sweetie." Chica coached with a soft look of her own. "Don't forget us, okay?"

"How could I forget you lot?" Mike laughed, the sound wet. He swallowed, feeling himself start to waken.

"Well, we're pretty old." Bonnie joked. "You might not remember how we've been when you see us all brand new and shiny like this~"

Mike eyed them with new eyes, with less emotion and more common sense. It was the original four, brand new. It occurred to him briefly, this is probably how Max remembered them best. No stains, no mats, no chips and dents and cracks.

"I'm sorry I got us into this mess gang. I, I love you." He had to tell them now, even if it wasn't really them, and his over active imagination forcing himself to find a way to press on. To justify his grief. "I'll find a way to fix you guys, I promise. I don't care what it takes."

"We ain't expecting nothing less from you, night guard." Freddy's grin was brave and fierce, and his boldness made Mike's courage flare in his chest, a tiny reignite of hope. "What'd I tell ya? We followed you in…and we'll follow you out."

"Okay." Mike managed, his spirits slowly lifting. "Okay."

'TIME'S UP, MICHAEL.' Fredbear warned reluctantly from his stage.

And so it was.

Because when Mike blinked, it was to Awareness and Reality and he startled sleepily.

Lefty leaned over him, making that low grunt. If Mike didn't know any better, it almost looked like the bear was worried about him.

"I'm alright," Mike smiled. And he meant it, for once. He wasn't perfectly back to normal, and his gaze lingered wistfully on the statues up on the stage. "I will be, anyway. Alright…break's over."

He stood, stretching his body and mulling over all he had seen and been told. Hmm. Two openings, huh? Two friends.

"C'mon, Lefty. I got an idea." Mike hummed, and he was so focused on finding Max he didn't notice the feral, almost dangerous grin that Lefty made as it lumbered after the man.

One good turn, after all.

Max definitely inherited his love of music from me. I love the original version of Romeo and Juliet, which as Mike noted is by good ole Dire Straits. But the killers also did a cover on their album Sawdust which I encourage you to seek out if you like the original. That's probably my favorite, but then, I've loved the killers since I was like 9. That's almost 20 years, damn son.

Fun fact! During the early stages of London Bridge, Marion was initially supposed to be the music buff. This was dropped by the time I drafted Devil's Spine, and decided Mari would be drawn to all sorts of games. Half because he liked a challenge, and half because, as Mike would learn, to entertain the Crying Child. Mike would go on to teach Marion many two player games as well. I still wanted the music connection to follow through the series, so Bonnie took over the job, including keeping Max's cassettes all those years.