A/N: Content Warning: Vomit, a gory transformation, and a little choking.
"Henry! Help! Oh god! The blood!"
Henry shot up in bed and flung his legs over the edge, knocking a pile of books and his glasses onto the worn, orange carpet. Morning sun was streaming in through the curtains and the clock said 7 A.M. He didn't have time to think of anything except that Will was in danger. In his haze of urgency, it took him two tries to put on his robe and three tries to put on his glasses.
Henry stumbled down the stairs, tripping more than once on the shag carpet. Finally, he rounded the corner into the living room, used the back of the couch to propel him faster, and slid on socks into the kitchen.
It took him a moment to realize there was no blood and no one was dying. The kids were sitting around the table eating waffles, except now they were staring at Henry in alarm; all except for Elizabeth, who was grinning, greatly amused. They were dressed for school and their backpacks were piled on the kitchen island, waiting for the bus.
William was standing with his back to the stove as eggs fried, wearing the "Rad Dad" apron Henry had bought him half as a joke and half to shame him into cooking more. His eyes danced, all signs of last night's sickness gone. Will snorted a "Good morning," as though he could barely contain his laughter.
Henry ran an exasperated hand through his hair and closed his robe. "The hell, Will?"
William shrugged and scraped the eggs onto the waiting dish. "You were late," he said simply.
The mixing bowl from last night had been used for waffle batter and was now soaking in the sink. William was dressed in a fresh Hawaiian pattern buttoned shirt and knee-length shorts, as though he was ready to go on vacation. His face was bright and his hair floated in a clean, healthy fluff, held in place with a dab of gel; it was as if he hadn't been drenched in waxy sweat less than eight hours ago. There were six sack lunches sitting in a line by the refrigerator, each with a name in permanent marker written in William's chicken-scratch handwriting, accompanied by the round smiling rabbit he doodled everywhere.
"Turkey sandwiches, carrot sticks, and jerky for lunch," William said, cracking another egg into the pan for Henry. "This family doesn't eat enough meat."
Henry sat numbly in one of the open chairs crammed around the small table by the window. William had cut up oranges and cooked two packs of bacon and set them in the middle of the table. Henry poured syrup on his waffles and took an egg from the plate when William danced it over to the table. Henry stared at William the whole time, watching for any sign of the flu that had laid him out the night before.
William never made breakfast and he was never up before Henry except when he accidentally stayed up all night; and even then, he didn't make breakfast. Henry could barely get him to sit down and eat, let alone get him to help with the cooking. William didn't do the dishes and could never remember which day was garbage day. This idyllic kitchen scene, summer sunlight filtering over a breakfast table covered in colorful, lovingly-made food, surrounded by children happily eating with plenty of time before the bus arrives, was something Henry hadn't seen since his wife left. It gave him the creeps.
"Are you feeling all right?" Henry asked finally, putting an orange slice into his mouth.
William set the frying pan into the sink before it had a chance to cool off and the sizzling of the water vibrated the countertop. "Feeling great," he replied with a wide smile. He rolled his shoulder and earned a satisfying pop. "I slept all night, back pain's gone…in fact, I can't remember the last time I felt this good."
"Oh. Well," Henry deliberated, "That's good, I guess." He made a mental note to check the garbage in the kitchen when they got to Freddy's, to see if William had eaten the contaminated portion of the pizza. He should also probably run a toxicology diagnostic on the robotic sludge. He needed to make sure that, if William did ingest it, he wasn't going to grow a third arm or drop dead.
William smiled wider, if possible. "Aw," he said patronizingly as he squeezed behind Henry with his own plate. "Uncle Henry's worried about me."
Henry ignored him and picked at his food. William piled his plate with the rest of the waffles, eggs, fruit and bacon, easily three meals-worth of food, and ate it all. Henry couldn't believe how quickly he inhaled it; it was as if he hadn't eaten for days. Charlie and Mike exchanged a look of disgust, but Elizabeth and Nicholas were amazed by their father's performance and gave him what was left from their own plates, hoping he'd do it again. Henry wondered if he should take William to the hospital, but there weren't any truly alarming symptoms and Will acting strange wasn't actually all that strange. Still, he needed to keep a close eye on him.
Henry and William waited until the bus came and then they cleaned up breakfast, Henry got dressed, and they headed to Freddy's. William chatted the whole commute. Henry chatted back for a while, but after twenty minutes, William was still going at it and Henry started falling behind.
William hopped out of the car before Henry had put it into park. The sun was already hot on the back of their necks as William unlocked the glass double doors of the restaurant and briefed Henry on the multiple parties scheduled that day. They stepped inside the dark, silent building, the bright party decorations looking dull and somber in the shadows. Henry followed William to the kitchen as he turned on the lights and put their lunches next to uncooked pizzas in the industrial size refrigerator.
"You sure you're all right?" Henry asked again as he started preheating the oven.
William approached fast and Henry jerked backward out of reflex when William grabbed his shoulders, friendly but tight. William looked directly into his eyes, still smiling. "Focus, Henry," he said. "We have a lot of work to do today."
Henry stood perfectly still, something primal inside him not wanting to startle the taller man, the larger animal. "But last night—"
"Too much sun," William cut him off.
The front door jingled behind them in the main room and William looked over his shoulder at the mother and child walking in. The mother looked around the room and then locked eyes with Henry. William waved at her and said they'd be out shortly. He turned back to Henry before leaving and lowered his voice.
"Two hours early," he said in a dark whisper that curled up at the edges. "Makes you wanna fucking kill something, doesn't it?"
When Henry didn't respond, he gave Henry's shoulders a quick pat and let go. He strode confidently out to welcome the birthday girl and talk with the mother about where they would like to have the party and how many guests she was expecting. As with every party, they wanted the long table closest to the stage. It was a good thing Henry and William had been able to get the animatronics up and running again.
Henry slowly straightened his own shirt and brushed away the creases on his shoulders from where William's sweaty hands had gripped him. With a glance to make sure William wasn't looking, Henry dug through the garbage can by the sink; inside were the paper plates from the night before, but the piece of pizza, the one with the substance splashed on the crust, was gone.
The day was going well for a long time and William's spastic energy brought Springbonnie to life. The kids loved his dances and his jokes and, because he felt so good, he even did a few tricks like a handstand and a cartwheel. Henry was glad he was feeling so well, regardless of the reasons. It was odd, then, when, in the middle of the second birthday party of the day, William pulled Henry aside and confided that he was going to go lie down in the office for a bit.
Whatever had given him the previous burst of energy had fizzled out and even in his mask, Henry could tell that William felt worse than he had the night before; he was hunched far over with one hand pressed into the wall and another on his knee so he wouldn't topple over.
"Sure thing, Will," said Henry. "I can take it from here." William swayed like it was all he could do to stay standing. "You going to be all right?"
Will patted him weakly on the shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks, Henry," he said as he passed. He dragged himself down the hall and shut himself in the office.
When he was gone, Henry ran into the kitchen, quickly scrubbed his hands with hot water and soap in case whatever William had was contagious, and went to the costume closet to put on his Fredbear costume. Henry didn't like wearing the Fredbear suit because it was heavy and the metal pieces pinched, but with William out of commission, and the parents having paid expecting to have a mascot character entertain them, there really was no other choice.
—
William crashed into the office and opened a window. Removing the Springbonnie mask, he stuck his head outside and gulped in fresh air in hopes that it would fend off the fainting spell he felt coming on.
He had had his fair share of food poisoning throughout his life—the questionable street taco, the sushi sitting on the counter too long—but he had never felt anything quite like this. He felt itchy and hot and putrid all over, as though he, himself, was rotting meat left in the sun too long. He kept alternating between high energy and no energy, and he didn't know how to make it stop. It made him jittery and afraid, though of what he didn't know.
If Henry found out it was from the pizza, William would never hear the end of it.
Will stripped the heavy mechanical suit from himself less carefully than he should have, but he still managed not to trigger the springlocks. The office didn't have a couch and Will didn't want to sit in his office chair, so he crawled under his desk, curled up, and dug his face into his arms, hoping unhappily that he would be able to sleep off whatever this was.
For the rest of the day, he slept fitfully, catapulted endlessly from one nightmare to another, always being chased or torn apart, sometimes he, himself, being the one chasing and tearing. Sometimes his children or Henry were there, sometimes he was at home, or at Freddy's, or in dark woods, but always the hunt, the fear. He felt it building in his chest, growing like a parasite, crawling and eating its way to the surface.
He felt the pressure building to a climax and his eyes snapped open to darkness. But it wasn't a parasite coming up, it was vomit.
Will lurched up and hit his head on the underside of his desk. Rubbing the new sore place on his forehead, he stumbled through the dark office to the closest bathroom, the communal one down the hall. Thankfully, it was empty. He burst open one of the stalls and collapsed to his knees, gripping the toilet bowl like it could save him.
He retched, once, twice, but nothing came up. He was shaking now, cursing the toxic storm brewing inside him that refused to dissipate.
Suddenly, something broke and he felt acid rising in his throat. He retched once more, but it didn't come out. Instead, it splashed up the back of his throat like a wave, crashing up through his sinuses, making them burn. He coughed, eyes watering, but the acid was still spreading. He gasped in a breath and felt the acid suck into his lungs. Down his back, through his limbs. If he had been able to think rationally, he would have worried his stomach or appendix had burst, but all he could think about was how terrified he was. He had to escape, get help, but he couldn't make himself let go of the toilet bowl.
Eventually, there was a lull in pain. He felt himself swooning.
"H…Henr—"
The acid pierced him like springlocks and he arched back in agony. It was pushing him, breaking and changing him from inside. He tried to cry out but his jaw was broken. His face grew longer and thinner until he could see what looked like a snout appearing before his eyes. Black blood dripped from his mouth into the water and onto his hands, which were also tearing and growing, all knobby bones and claws and dingy yellow fur.
He had to get Henry, he thought, had to find him before it was too late! He wrenched his aching hands open and tried to leave, but he tripped over his elongated legs and smacked his face on the tile floor. His bones were shifting inside him, tearing themselves apart to build something else, something inhuman and much larger. He pressed a hand to his splitting arm, willing it to stop changing, but it wouldn't obey. His breath came out in ragged wheezes as his lungs transformed to suit his new body plan.
With each wheeze, he called for Henry, but it never sounded quite right to his tall, sensitive ears.
Henry? What's a "henry" and why did he need one so badly?
He forgot who he was calling for, forgot what he used to look like and why it was so important to return to it.
Once the pain ebbed away, he picked himself up off the floor and shook the blood out of his fur. He sniffed at the shredded clothes around his feet and wondered why they smelled like him. He stood tall, stretching his long, lean spine up toward the ceiling, inhaled two lungfuls of scent, then crouched and stretched low over his powerful legs. The place he was in…there were other creatures here. Maybe creatures he could eat, which was good because his hollow belly ached with hunger.
He dipped his long snout into the porcelain bowl for a drink and caught sight of his large eyes, his whiskers, his tall flicking ears. He looked wounded, with black blood oozing from his eyes and nose and neck, but he didn't have time to worry about that.
Right now, it was time to hunt.
—
"You're welcome, drive safe!"
Henry slid the cash into the till and watched the children and parents of the final birthday party walk to their cars in the dark parking lot. The party had gone over and Henry was eager to go home and go to bed. He hadn't slept much the night before, having spent the first half in his robotics workshop and the other half worrying about Will.
Speaking of which, he should go check on the weirdo and make sure he hadn't died. William had been silent all day; he hadn't even snuck to the kitchen for a snack. Henry pictured him passed out on the floor of the office like he had on the couch the night before. When the final car turned onto the road, Henry locked the front doors and flipped the sign to "Closed." He rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head, trying to massage out the kink that had settled in that afternoon. He turned off the oven and grabbed William's untouched lunch out of the fridge, hoping to get him to eat something. On his way to the office, he switched off the main lights, leaving only the one by the doors so that he wouldn't trip on streamers or bits of pizza on the confetti carpet.
There was a crash down the office hallway and Henry stopped in his tracks. "Will?" he called. "You alright?"
There was a rustling sound coming from the bathroom, a snuffling that made the dark hallway seem like a breathing mouth. Henry had been startled at first, but then he was angry. Here he was worried about his friend, and William was playing pranks.
"Glad you're feeling better," he said curtly, peering into the dark bathroom. "Could have used your help today." He saw the hunched shoulders of something fuzzy behind the wall of stalls. Had Will seriously put on that goddamned rabbit suit again? Will didn't seem to hear him; he was focused on something in the corner of the room and was scratching at the plaster with long claws. Henry didn't remember William putting claws on the gloves. The snuffling sound continued and Henry was fed up with William's games. He was tired from a long, hard day and he wanted to go home.
Henry flipped on the switch.
It wasn't Will. The creature lifted its head, a small thing on a long thin neck, and locked eyes with him. It looked like a giant, emaciated rabbit except its long arms and legs and curved back made it look like it was just as comfortable on two feet as on four. It had two massive ears that swiveled to lock onto Henry like turrets and its eyes were large and glassy, a little wall-eyed but sharp. Henry could see his own frightened reflection in them.
They stayed like that for a long moment: Henry frozen, not knowing what to do, and the rabbit with its chest heaving in quick breaths, taking in his scent, preparing to dart. Henry stepped back, thinking of locking himself in the office, but he slipped on what was left of William's Hawaiian shirt and shot an arm out to steady himself.
That action was enough to break the spell. The creature opened its wide mouth, slobbery jaws lined with rows of needle-sharp teeth, and let loose a screaming roar that rattled the stalls. Henry didn't wait to find out what that meant.
He lurched into the hall, lost his footing, scrambled to regain it. The rabbit crashed out after him and slammed clumsily into the wall, blocking his path to the office.
Henry ran as fast as he could into the main stage room, desperate to find a place to hide as quickly as possible because there was no way he could outrun that thing.
The tattered, bloody clothes…did that thing get William? Did it…could it have…
Henry couldn't think of that right now. He had to find a place to hide, but there were none. The rooms with locks—the office and the safe room—were both down the same hall. He had to lure it away somehow, without getting caught. Then again, he couldn't let it run wild in the restaurant. What if it got out and attacked someone? No, if at all possible, Henry needed to contain it.
He glanced back and saw that it was still coming after him, sharp claws digging into the floor as it followed him onto the carpet, green night vision reflecting the light from the entryway.
Henry looked up at the stage as he ran, looked up at the thick curtains on cheap curtain rods. "They don't have to be sturdy," William had said in the home store when they were picking them out. "We'll put up a sign. No kids allowed on stage. Simple as that." Now, Henry thanked William for his thriftiness and took a sharp turn around the back of the stage. He slipped his belt off, made a loop and ducked low behind the curtain.
The back area of the stage was tight and the seven-foot rabbit had to stop running in order to squeeze between the stage and the wall. Henry heard it sniffing and grunting, having lost sight of Henry in the fabric and was now trying to relocate him. Henry held the looped belt in one hand and carefully stood, wrapping his hand in the heavy red curtain. The rabbit hadn't seen him yet and Henry unblinkingly watched the back of its twitching ears as it searched for movement. This wasn't a good idea, but it was the only one he had.
This is for Will, you bastard, he thought, then took in a deep breath.
"Hey!" he shouted.
The creature snapped its head around and those giant eyes focused on him. Its ears flattened in a snarl and it lunged.
Henry spread the curtain between them and the beast crashed into the thick fabric. It spit and slashed and Henry yanked hard, snapping the wall braces and bringing down the whole curtain rod onto them. High on adrenaline, he climbed on top of the squirming animal, wrestled the rod under its chin and pressed it into the floor.
The creature struggled and choked, fighting its tangled hands up, trying to get the rod off, but Henry held it firm. Henry hadn't wanted it to be this way, but even inside the curtain, the rabbit was too powerful and Henry knew that one swipe of those claws or bite with those teeth and it was all over.
The rabbit's fight began to fade and Henry knew he was winning, and yet he was alarmed. He didn't want to kill the thing, just stop it. Henry lessened the weight on the curtain rod and as quickly as he could, he found the creature's snout through the fabric and looped the belt tight around it, wrapping it around and around until the jaws were held safely in place. The creature was barely moving now and Henry worried that maybe he had broken its neck, but that's something that would have to wait until they were both safe. Right now, he had to get the rabbit into the safe room.
Carefully slipping the rod out of the curtain, Henry bunched the edges together so that it made a sack around the monster. As subdued as it acted at the moment, he knew that he only had minutes, maybe just seconds before it snapped out of it. Using what strength he had left, Henry dragged it across the main room, down the hall past the bloody bathroom, past the office, and to the safe room at the end with the industrial-strength locks. "We should have a safe room at Freddy's with a bulletproof door," William had said when they were planning this on the floor in Henry's living room. "What? Don't you want to be safe?" Bless you, Will, Henry thought, sweat beading on his brow as he dragged the squirming sack into the center of the safe room.
He made sure it wasn't going to move, made sure it was still breathing and that the curtain wasn't suffocating it, then he let go and dashed back into the hallway, locking the door from the outside. "Locks on the outside, in case we need to lock in any perpetrators, and locks on the inside, in case we need to keep perpetrators out," William had said when Henry told him it was a dumb idea. "It just makes sense."
Henry chuckled tiredly to himself, sliding to the floor against the door. He laughed, thinking of how well Will had prepared them for this moment, and then he buried his head into his knees, his heart beginning to ache.
He listened to the rabbit's sad muffled groans from inside the room. How was he going to tell the kids? He'd need to call them eventually so they wouldn't worry and he'd need to call animal control or the police or someone to take care of the rabbit. But right now, he needed to catch his breath.
A/N: Translation of the sad muffled rabbit groans: "Why are you being so mean to me? ;A; I just want to play and eat and not be locked in a room ;A; ;A; "
