Michael was still sleeping when he got back, judging by his lack of answer when Henry knocked on his room door. For the time being he opted to return to his room and change into clean clothes. He leaned back in the bed staring at the ceiling. This gave him time to form his pile of ideas into a good, formulated plan.

It was about another hour when Michael showed up, obviously having just woken up. He shuffled in and asked, "How was work?"

"As you'd expect."

Michael smiled, a sharp sarcastic edge to it, "So horribly dangerous and stupid on your part."

Henry mock-gasped, holding his hand to his chest, "I'm wounded. If you were anyone else, I might even be insulted."

"Unfortunately, my preferred coping mechanism is sarcasm and snark."

Michael collapsed into the armchair, Cassidy's plush cradled in one arm. Once he was settled, Cassidy manifested onto the floor. "It's a good thing I have you boys here," Henry began, "Because I think I know what we're going to do."

Michael shot him a raised eyebrow. "What's up?" his brother asked.

He cut to the chase, "I want to burn down Fazbear's Fright."

Michael shot up, knocking the plush to the floor beside Cassidy in his rush to his feet, "Burn it down?!"

When Henry nodded, he was speechless for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a few times. Then he cried, "That's arson!"

"You bet it is."

"That's a good plan," Cassidy chipped in, "I bet it'd free the spirits and Dad once it burns them up."

Michael looked from one to the other, frankly speechless. "Listen Mike. I will account for you being able to talk to your father first," Henry assured.

"Well, I'm glad for that but what if we get caught?! How are we going to explain that?"

"Don't worry," a glint entered his eye, "Have you seen the place? It's in bad enough shape I can make it look like an electrical fire."

Michael stared. "You concern me. But alright. I'll trust you," and he collapsed back into the chair.

Henry smiled at him and sat on the bed, "So here's my idea. I go in early. Find Charlotte and rig it to go. Then you go in at 12 to talk to your father with me waiting in the wings just in case. Maybe bring along the taser just in case. Then you excuse yourself and then we set it to go."

Michael looked vaguely uncomfortable, eyes averted and mouth pulled into a tight line. But he nodded, "Sounds solid. How are we setting it to go?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet…"

"I can help!" Cassidy jumped in place, positively giddy at the idea.

Henry met his gaze with a similarly giddy look, "Y'know. They can't catch the culprit if they're a ghost. Sounds good, Cass."

Michael looked from his uncle then his brother with a helpless look, as if he might protest. Then he simply shook his head, "Sounds solid to me."

Henry turned, setting his hand on the night table, "Then it's planned. We burn the place tonight."

Michael added his hand, spindly, spider-like next to his uncle's large and calloused ones, "I get answers."

Cassidy floated, adding his own tiny hand above theirs, "Dad burns. The spirits go free."

Day turned to night too fast for Michael's taste but Henry felt relieved. He had barely slept before his alarm woke him to get ready for "work". Tonight, he'd see Charlie again. Tonight, he'd see William dead...for good.

After he found out he killed Charlie, he wanted to see him dead. He considered it in the years after the Missing Children's Incident. He wanted to murder him in cold blood and he knew he'd feel no remorse. Some may say that made him no better than William but he couldn't care less. William had taken everything from him. He wanted to take his life for that.

In the end, the only reason he didn't do that was the fear of getting caught. Life in jail wasn't a worthwhile sacrifice in his eyes, especially once the knowledge of the hauntings came to him. It was also the only reason he didn't resort to more...drastic...actions fueled by grief. No, he had to be here and present.

Michael stuck behind until it got closer to midnight. They didn't want to risk anything at all going down. In other words, it had to go exactly as planned.

The only issue was that Henry hadn't asked Logan where exactly the Marionette was being stored. And with the interior of the building being mostly labyrinth-like halls with various supply closets stashed through, it wasn't exactly clear. There was the generator room at the back but that got dangerously close to William and, call it paranoia, he felt he should stay away from him.

He had been wandering aimlessly, kicking himself as each closet and nook was searched and deemed empty. He wrenched open a closet across from the bathrooms and groaned, upon seeing nothing but a bucket, mop and cleaning supplies inside. "Charlie, where did he put you?!" he cried, growing frantic.

A few hallways over, his voice made William stir awake, groggy as the systems weakly protested his awakening. His internal clock said it wasn't quite midnight, not even half past eleven. One ear raised, trying to catch what exactly he had heard.

There was the voice again, muffled but obviously agitated as it moved away.

Oh, it was the night guard, Henry! How delightful! He sounded like he was calling and talking to himself, agitated and anxious as he did. His jaw moved into the facsimile of a smile as he realized just what exactly what was going on. How rich! He really thought he didn't move until midnight because its protocols! No, he didn't move until midnight because why move when his prey came right to him, night after night? The "quiet hours" protocols were easy to exert his influence over, unlike the system's "find the child" protocols.

He stood carefully, to minimize the creaking of his joints. Henry was about to be in for the surprise of his life.

Meanwhile, Henry was taking a breather, bracing himself against one of the walls. Where had Logan stashed his daughter?! He really should have asked, said it was out of curiosity. If he had, he wouldn't be wandering through this labyrinth where everything looked the same and time didn't seem to pass. He had to find her before midnight hit.

Creeeeeaaaak.

He froze. Slowly, he moved his head to look down the hall.

Clunk. Clunk. Creeeeeaaaak. Clunk. Clunk.

To his horror, emerging from the gloom at the end of the hall was Springtrap. He stared at him, luminous eyes cutting through the dark, pinning him in place.

He glanced down at his watch which told him it wasn't quite half after eleven yet. Why was he moving?! Had William always been able to move how he liked? Why hadn't he before? Unless…

...it was all an elaborate ploy, deliberate in the hopes he'd walk right into it. And he had, confident in the knowledge he was safe while William slept. Now he was trapped.

William's voicebox began to emit static. That is, until a voice emerged from the static, accented and deceptively smooth, "Henrrrryyyyy…"

Henry bolted, not even looking back, his body working before his brain. And he didn't need to look back, hearing metallic footsteps hammer after him. William cackled with glee, "Henryyy! Come back!"

"Fuck that," he hissed under his breath, sharply turning into another hall.

He moved with raw animal instinct, unable to chart a path as he raced blindly through the attraction. In motion, the place was even more maze-like and he feared he was running in circles. Had he run past those posters before or was he imagining it? Behind him, William continued to pursue, cackling almost madly as he screamed his name.

This wasn't the man he once knew, who almost obsessively and meticulously crafted a facade through which the world would see him. This wasn't his high-energy best friend or the cool businessman. This was William, all pretenses dropped, in hot pursuit for his next kill. Had he been like this all along or had death twisted him? Did it even matter?

No. All that mattered was getting away!

He yelped as he felt William's fingers brush against the collar of his flannel, grasping for purchase. He swung blindly, his arm colliding with moldy fur. William stumbled in surprise, giving him just enough of a chance to duck into a different hallway. Will was faster, faster than he'd give his rotten suit credit for. He had to slow him down somehow.

He whipped into the next hallway, where the arcade machines were placed. A handful were on, illuminating the hall with bright blue light. A thought came to his mind and he came to a stop at the end of the row of machines, William's cackling voice nearing. It was risky to stop but...he grabbed the last machine and wrenched it away from the wall, just as William came skidding into the hall.

The machine fell with not only a crash but a flurry of sparks as its cheap casing broke. The plug ripped from the wall outlet with more sparks then, a burst of flame!

The machine was caught on fire in only seconds. Henry gasped and stumbled back from the sudden inferno. William came to a stop feet away from the machine, terror clear in his horrified stare.

The fire quickly spread from the machine to the cheap drywall, consuming all in its path. Henry looked back at Will, his shocked expression meeting his old friend's terrified one. He pursed his lips then yelled at him, "You get what you deserve! Burn!"

He turned and bolted, hearing Will's furious roar as he attempted chase. It melded to a pained howl as he was left behind in the flames.

The fire as moving fast. This place was surely made cheap if the obviously faulty wiring wasn't evidence. Behind him, he could hear it roar like a triumphant beast. Under it, he could hear his former friend's screams. With the exit door at the other end of the building locked, he was trapped with nowhere to go.

Henry covered his face with one arm as he searched for a landmark to give him direction to the unlocked exit door. There! There was Chica's head surrounded by the present props! It was only a hallway or so away!

Something zipped past him and he practically screeched to a halt. Blocking the next hallway was the spectral Foxy, snarling at him. He turned around to find himself surrounded. Chica, Bonnie and Freddy had him blocked at all sides, all just as angry he was fleeing. Behind them, the fire roared, rapidly consuming the building and all within it. If he stayed, he'd go down with it. He pleaded with them, "C'mon kids. You have to let me go."

They all bowed their heads, glaring at him. "Please…," he murmured.

Somewhere in the building, something exploded, a horrific pained shriek mingling with it. A wave of heat washed over them and the ghosts' heads snapped up to look down the corridor. Henry turned too, to see flames licking the floor at the end of the last hallway. He had to go. Now.

He searched his brain for names. He had poured through all the newspapers, all the documents, anything he could get his hands on in the year after the Missing Children Incident. He knew their names.

"Gabriel, Jerry, Susie, Fritz!" he cried, as the memory came to him, "Those are your names, right?"

All of them looked back at him, appearing taken aback. He smiled at them and yelled over the roar, "It's going to be alright kids! He'll be gone soon! You can go!"

They looked at each other than back at him. They stared at him, every second painfully ticking by as the heat in the building climbed. Finally, they nodded. They understood. One by one, their animatronic visages fell away to reveal their true selves. They were just kids. Very tired kids. They swooped past him, back into the inferno.

He almost swore he could hear a whisper of "Thank you," through the roar.

He only lingered for a moment before he rushed on, taking the turn into the next and final hall sharp. There the red EXIT sign gleamed like the light of the end of the tunnel. He didn't bother stopping to open it, instead shouldering through and charging into the night.

He stumbled a few steps away from the building, greedily gulping down fresh, cool air. Between the smoke and heat, adrenaline still throbbing through his veins and the dustiness of the building, he needed fresh air. He tilted his head back to look at the building.

Fire had breached the roof and licked at the night air. A pang of sadness hit him. He hadn't found Charlie. He hadn't been able to in his mad dash away from William. Oh well, she'd be free now too then, he supposed. Which was probably for the best.

Michael would be so disappointed. He had no choice, he didn't mean to start this fire. Still, guilt gnawed at him for taking that away from him, however unintentional.

He watched for a moment more before turning away, his hand slipping into his pocket. He'd have to call the fire department and spin a story on how he had simply been on the job early. To run, especially with Logan knowing who he was, was suspicious.

Crash.

He turned around so fast to face the building he heard his neck crack. Something was banging around the building, closing in on the exit.

Bang. Bang! BANG!

The door shuddered as it was beat on until it blew open. A familiar but damaged form stepped out into the night, eying him. William had been in better shape, to say the least. Large portions of the plush suit had been torched and burned away, leaving only bare machinery. One arm hung loosely and everything below the elbow was just gone. Both ears were damaged, one a mere stump and the other only metal endoskeleton. His lower jaw was completely gone and, combined with the manic light in his eyes and his forever frozen death scream, it made him look completely unhinged. His voice box crackled and spat until, with unnatural clarity, he crooned, "Henry. You tried to have me killed."

Henry found himself rooted to the spot, staring at him with a mixture of terror and horror. No matter how much he knew he needed to run, he couldn't make himself move. William cocked his head, eyes wide with glee before he charged, "For that I'll strangle you like I did little Charlie!"

In one moment Henry saw red, his terror washed away, and he lunged forward to meet him, fist raised, "You bastard!" he screamed.

To his credit, his fist connected with the side of his old friend's head, snapping it to the side. But, languidly, he rolled his head back to look at him then lunged with his good arm for him. His hand easily wrapped around his neck and he lifted him into the air, cackling madly.

Henry struggled, trying to get his fingers under William's, to try to pry him off. He kicked at him but it was no use. He was solid as a wall, not even acknowledging how Henry's kicks bounced off his chest. William was leagues stronger than him, so much he suspected he was holding back, as to prolong his suffering. Sadistic bastard! He wheezed as spots danced at the edges of his vision. Darkness was creeping into his head.

At least, he supposed, he'd see his wife and Charlotte very soon.

In the edges of his consciousness, a tune was playing in the distance. Perhaps it was because he was dying or he was becoming delirious from a lack of oxygen.

What was it?

Was that Pop Goes the Weasel? Funny that…

Something slammed into Springtrap, hard enough for him to drop Henry. Henry gasped gratefully for air, turning to look at his savior. He gasped again, for a different reason.

His savior was the Marionette, dirty, burnt and absolutely furious. She had coiled around Springtrap like a snake, clawing at his head with a shrill shriek. She reached in, tearing out whatever she could get her hands on, be it rotten flesh, loose wires or even metal parts. William was just as angry, clawing at her with a scream of anger. He wheezed, "Ch-Charlie?"

She looked up at him, eyes lit up brilliant green, just long enough to acknowledge him before she returned to her grisly work. William tried to shake her off but she held on for dear life, trilling back at him, as if mocking him. Henry scrambled back until he could get to his feet. He had a crowbar in his truck! If him and Charlie could incapacitate him, this could end!

But, if things couldn't get any more hectic, Michael's dinky little car pulled in at such speed, it drifted to a stop. It barely had come to a complete stop before he threw himself out, screaming over the fire, "What the fuck is h—"

Everyone froze, all eyes on Michael. But his words had died in his throat when his eyes met his father's. They held the gaze for just a moment before William yanked Charlotte off him and bolted for the woods. She fell with a cry but was right back up, zipping after him with a scream of "GET BACK HERE!"

Henry rushed after, "Charlie no! Charlie, come back! CHARLIE!"

"Dad!" Michael bolted too.

It was too late however, William had disappeared into the woods, his first victim in hot pursuit. Michael came to a dejected stop. Henry didn't. He would have kept going, right into the woods, if he wasn't grabbed. He turned, about to demand he was let go before he met Michael's gaze, "Uncle Henry, don't!"

"But Charlie!" he cried frantically, gesturing to the woods.

"I know!" he pulled him away, "But if Dad loses Charlie then finds you, he'll kill you!"

His expression wavered but he didn't move, making Michael fear he'd ignore him. Then he slumped, "You're right."

"We'll find her. We'll find them both. But not now. We need to get out of here."

"You need to get out of here," he took his hotel key from his pocket and placed it into Michael's palm, "I'll stay and call the fire department. If I leave, it'll be suspicious. The place was so run down that if I just tell them it started out of nowhere, they'll write it off as an accident. I mean, they'll find the truth. It was an accident, Michael. I didn't mean to," he rambled.

Michael's expression was pained but he nodded, "I know Uncle Henry. I know you wouldn't take that away from me," he turned away, "Stay safe. See you soon."

Henry watched until his car pulled out, purposely driving in the opposite way of the hotel. Smart boy. He sighed and returned to his truck so he could call emergency services from within its safety. His eyes drifted to the treeline, where William had Charlie had disappeared to. He lingered for just a moment, as if his daughter would return. Then he climbed into his truck, locking the doors as he did then dialed 911.