[The trio hears an angel.] Trigger warning: Flashback—homophobia/slurs.

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Sammy woke to the sound of Buddy climbing out of the hammock, who made his way out of the sleeping area. Henry was still sleeping, but had done so with his glasses on. That couldn't be comfortable. The fingers of his left hand ticked off a thoughtful rhythm. He could probably remove those without getting ink on Henry or waking him up. Slowly lifting his right hand, the ink man grasped the nose piece with thumb and forefinger-

A quiet grunt froze the ink man, and he turned his head to the wolf in the doorway.

Boris-Buddy was pinning him with wide, pie-cut eyes. Ears forward in observation, arms raised as if ready to grab whatever came next. He held a soup can in one glove, like a pitcher at the plate.

But Sammy got the message. He carefully pulled the glasses off of Henry's face and set them on the cot. The man let out a grunt and rolled over, causing Sammy to jolt backwards and snap his head around. Buddy couldn't fault him for being jumpy!

Buddy's shoulders shook in silent laughter, and Sammy wanted to be offended but just… couldn't.

The wolf bothered him. Not because of his perfection or his muteness. The familiarity of the lanky canine set his teeth on edge, so to speak.

Still, he was in the right place to question his memories. He hoped as he strode into the sitting area that Buddy would at least humor him.

Buddy sat, relaxed and observant. A glove and a foot thumping in a steady rhythm that only he could hear.

How familiar, much like Sammy and his fingers. "May I sit?"

The wolf nodded, gloved hand slowing. He tilted his head and sniffed the air.

Sammy sat and folded his hands and sat straight. He realized that he didn't know where to start. "I… do you… do you know who I am?"

The wolf stilled and blinked. His inked brow scrunched, and he nodded. He then pointed at Sammy and then to himself.

"Daniel Lewek. I know you only because I did something to you. I know I did something." The ink man grumbled. "I can't remember what it was. I think-" he held up a hand to the wolf, wiggling his pinkie- "This- I cut both off long ago. But since Henry has come into it, they returned."

The wolf nodded, eyes wide.

"I don't understand how it works, but it does. The more done with Henry, the more I become… myself." He sighed, hands folded on the table. "I… I need to know what I did to you. My mind can't jog the memory on its own." His muted brow scrunched behind the mask. "But if you can't speak, I don't know how we'd even try."

Buddy Boris frowned, then turned to a shelf behind him. He grabbed a hefty stack of papers to lie out a couple from the start and a couple near the end. He extended a gloved hand to Sammy, then with the same hand tapped the papers firmly with his gloved fingertip.

"You… wrote it down?"

A fast nod. Buddy handed the papers to the ink man and sat back, hands folded before himself.

Taking the papers in hand, mindful of the print, Sammy read.

Read about how Buddy had seen Sammy almost drown in the ink and writhe on the floor as it consumed him. How he'd been an utter ass, snapping harder and sharper than ever because of the ink smothering his senses. The pilfered bottles Buddy had seen. How Sammy Lawrence, driven mad by the ink, kidnapped and sacrificed his coworkers. Buddy escaping thanks to a woman named Dot, and a thrown projector. How Buddy, a seventeen-year-old kid too young for this hellscape, sacrificed himself to save Dot.

...and Joey being overjoyed to see Buddy go into the machine and have a perfect Boris pop out.

Sammy set the papers onto the table and folded his hands stiffly. Funny, remembering his hand in the death of a teenage boy didn't send him spiraling like the other ones. "I… can see why you despise me. This… I'm sorry. It fixes nothing, but I am truly sorry."

Buddy frowned a little and pointed at the ink man with a grunt. He paused and reached behind himself to grab a sheet of paper and a fountain pen. The pen sure had seen better days, but Buddy wrote in broad, gentle strokes that kept the nib from splintering. He squinted at the writing and passed it to Sammy with a firm nod.

THE INK MADE YOU CRAZY AND NOW WERE BOTH LIKE THIS BUT JOEY STARTED IT SO IM NOT SURE WHAT TO SAY

He gave a solemn nod. That was fair.

Buddy took back the paper and wrote more in his large scrawl. Double checking his work, he pushed the sheet back to Sammy.

HENRY IS GOOD IF HE LIKES YOU THEN YOU DID SOMETHING RIGHT SO I GUESS WE CAN GET ALONG FOR HIM

...Sammy could live with that. Buddy took the sheet back once more and flipped it over. His third message was far shorter than the first two.

PROMISE NOT KIDNAP ME AGAIN

Sammy held back a laugh. "A-at least you have a sense of humor. But, no. No, I won't be tying anyone up."

Buddy smiled and gave a nod, then turned to the doorway to the sleeping area.

Henry, hair mussed and glasses in hand, smiled at them both. "Glad you two hashed that out." Placing the glasses back on, he stretched his arms over his head. "So, what's on the roster for today?"

The ink man tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"We can either head out now, or in a few days. It's up to you."

Up to… him? Fingers tapping the tabletop, the ink man hummed in thought. "How long have you been able to stay here?"

"The record was three weeks."

Buddy nodded. So many card games.

"And the shortest amount?"

"Overnight." Henry made a face and yawned. "The outcome is the same no matter how long we stay here."

"What's the outcome?"

"I heat some soup for Buddy, he gives me the lever for the door, then we head to…" The place where a twisted angel ripped his wolf away. "Toys."

"Wait." He pointed at the door, then promptly lowered his arm. "The handle…" He turned to Buddy across from him, who smirked and resumed his silent movements. "Clever wolf." His attention turned back to Henry, who gathered soup cans for the pot on the stove.

The pot simmered on the front burner. Henry turned to the two at the table and grabbed a set of bowls and a ladle. "Buddy won't give up the handle until he gets fed." It never ceased to amaze him how fast the soup warmed. He ladled some of it into a bowl and handed it carefully to Buddy.

Sammy nodded. "Again, clever wolf." He glanced at the bowl that was so promptly set before him. "No thank you."

"The soup tastes better warm. Trust me."

"Then you have some."

"Not hungry." Not with what he knew was coming if Buddy couldn't be swayed to stay behind.

"Nor am I, little sheep." Not if it meant taking off the mask.

Buddy smirked inwardly. Dinner and a show. He finished his bowl in a short swallow and turned to lift the toolbox hiding the lever.

Henry took it and popped the lid open. "Last chance on the soup."

The ink man scoffed and turned from the bowl before him… then he glanced back to the wolf across from him. "Buddy looks like he could use a second helping, little sheep."

A wave of annoyance ebbed at the boulder that was Henry's patience. "Mm. Yeah. Buddy, you can have it."

Sammy's fused jaw hung open in shock, but it slowly filled with ink and he shut it. Guess he'd have to be forceful the next time he wanted Henry to eat.

The lever in the door, Henry frowned. This was it. The toy room, the angel, then… he didn't know. This loop was so different. He'd gotten used to knowing what was coming. "If we're going out there together, we need to cover some things." He rubbed his thumb across the back of his knuckles. A tension headache was brewing behind his eyes.

"Yes. Starting with why you're stalling."

Henry turned and quirked a brow at the suddenly standing ink man. "I'm not-"

But then Buddy shrugged behind Sammy in agreement. The wolf also stood but gave Sammy plenty of space.

Fine. He was stalling. "It's…" He let out a sigh and focused on Buddy. "You know what's coming. The angel takes you after the crash." He smiled, just a little hopeful that the wolf would stay put this time. "You can stay here if you wanted?"

But the wolf shook his head. Crossing the floor, he clapped a gloved hand to Henry's shoulder.

The cartoonist looked up at him sadly. "But… Buddy. You know what's coming."

Buddy nodded again.

"But you could avoid all that!"

Sammy stood back and watched, the prickliness of anxiety at being left out of what Henry meant needling away at him.

Shaking his head, the wolf patted Henry again. He grunted and frowned at his lack of voice. He gestured at the man, pointing between them both before clasping his hands together.

The cartoonist sighed and picked the ax from where it lay by the door. "Alright. Let's go." He pulled the lever, and out into the dark they went.

The darkness, the flashlight, familiarity without comfort.

The hurried thundering of footsteps above drew the trio's attention. Henry looked at the wolf ahead of him. "Did you hear that?"

Buddy stared.

"Yeah. Me, either. Sammy, any ideas?"

"Better if you don't know, Henry."

"You used my actual name, so it must be serious."

The ink man tsk'd behind him, the smirk heard in his voice. "I could just call you Stein."

"Rather, you didn't."

"Very well, my little sheep."

Up ahead, Buddy's shoulders shook with silent laughter. The lights flicked on, and the three of them approached a door. Buddy headed towards the vent on the near wall. He glanced back at Henry and Sammy, before flashing a thumbs up and pulling the vent cover off. The wolf pulled it shut behind him, and the sound of his knobby body thumping in the metal vents quickly faded.

Feeling eyes on his back, Henry turned to Sammy. "He'll be back. He's just getting the doors."

Sammy stepped to stand beside the man. "Where are we heading?"

"Well, what's through there's the Toy Department. Have you been in here before?"

"The Twisted Angel rules this place. She sings the old songs in a minor key just to irk those who

know what they really are. Joyful tunes for joyful toons..." And our Lords delights, part of him begged to say. The prophet rolled his shoulders and turned his mask to Henry. "You're better off avoiding her best you can."

Henry adjusted the ax. "You… don't have to come with me if you're not comfortable."

The Bendy mask filled the cartoonist's entire field of vision. "My comfort aside, I promised not to abandon you."

"You also promised to call me by my name."

Sammy withdrew. "I did not, little sheep."

The doors parted. The massive grinning face of Bendy greeted them, plastered messily to the wall. They entered, Henry lax and Sammy on edge close behind.

The toy room was exactly how it always had been. Huge, high ceilings. Machines left to bleed ink. Broken couches strewn about. Chaos born from the wrath of an angel. Still, no point in stalling. Henry had learned after, oh, the fiftieth loop, that he could fiddle around as long as he wanted between the ominous humming and heading to the cordoned off dressing room.

Speaking of the ominous humming… there it was. Henry turned his head to the rafters, frowning at the humming coming from high above.

But Sammy was still as stone, his mask straight up at the rafters above just like Henry. Unlike Henry, his empty hands shook. "Little sheep, I think that-"

"-score can wait a minute. I've got a problem only you can solve!"

He narrowed his eyes at the man behind the desk. "What is it? If it's about that damn pump again-"

The director let out a forced guffaw. "Oh no, nothing like that! I've got a problem with someone in your department, but I wanted to ask you about it to see if we can figure something out."

"Alright." Sammy set the folder holding the score onto the desk and folded his arms behind his back. His gut told him this wasn't what it seemed. Nothing with Joey ever was.

The director let out a big, dramatic sigh as he always did before talking about anything heavier than a feather. Lacing his fingers over his desk, Joey finally got to the point. "Sillyvision and Joey Drew Studios are both growing. Growth needs a properly cultivated image that says all the right things. We're here to entertain! We're here to delight! We're safe for all ages to kick up their feet and watch our beloved little characters dance, sing, and have a delightful time!" He pointed a finger at Sammy with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sometimes, people don't fit that narrative, but I believe in talking things out before cutting ties!"

"I don't follow."

Joey Drew glared up at Sammy. "Now, Sammy, I think you do."

"I don't." He did.

That classic Joey smile returned, wide and cruel. "We try to keep things family friendly, something fun for all ages!" Joey tilted his head down to pin Sammy with angry eyes and made his move. "So, having a queer on staff wouldn't fit in here, don't you think?"

Were he a new hire and not a veteran to this mans crap, the musician would be shaking. But Sammy had carved this song-and-dance into very marrow of his bones long ago. "Not sure where you got that idea, Joey, but I didn't take you to be so petty. I don't care what someone does in their own life, so long as they do their job. Who do you think's like that?"

Mister Drew didn't like that, it seemed! The man's cheeks flushed red at being dodged in his accusation. "Lawrence, you know."

He scoffed. "I know I was called up here to discuss the score for Sent From Above and not the inner lives of staff."

"You know damn well who it is, and I'm telling you I won't stand for it! Someone in the musical department's-"

"If it's in my department, Mister Drew-" The blond crossed his arms at the shorter man- "Then let me handle it. Those silly cartoon songs don't write themselves."

"I don't like your tone, Samuel."

"Well, I plain don't like you, Drew." Smirk turned sneer. "Don't you have a luncheon to get to? You gave it a whole memo last week, so it must be more important than witch hunting. Don't want to keep your precious investors waiting."

Joey slammed a fist on the desk and shouted, "I'll fire you here and now, Lawrence! I'll have you blacklisted in every film company on the roster! No one'll hire a-"

Ice blue eyes turned glacial as Sammy leaned closer. "And you'll never find a music director stubborn enough or talented enough to deal with your shit if you do." A razor sharp grin split his face. "Unless you want to repeat how things went after Henry left. How many people did you need to hire to replace him again?"

Joey sneered, about trembling with rage, but cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. "Best get back to your music, Sammy." He turned his back to the musician and straightened his tie, using the glass of the framed portrait of himself as a mirror. He smoothed a hand over his hair, slicking it back into place. "Don't want your underlings thinking you're slacking."

He left without another word. There was no need; Both knew where their paths would go if the one pushed the other on the topic again. Stalemates weren't losses if you walked away alive.

Still… this required action. Protecting himself. Throwing Joey's more loyal dogs off his scent. Sammy Lawrence decided that Susie's offer to go to dinner was an excellent idea. Hell, while he was at it, he'd add a bottle of good wine! Sammy knew how to make a woman happy! He just wished he liked women as much as they liked him so he could stop wondering why it was taking so long to return those feelings. Oh well, for all he knew, Susie Campbell was the one to set him straight.

Sammy gave a breathless stumble forward as the memory and the pain it brought ended. He held up a hand and clasped one of his knees with the other. "I know that song."

Henry furrowed his brows and hefted the ax. "Everyone knows that song."

He spun on the man, so tense the wrong move would snap him clean in half. "I wrote that song. For Susie, but that's…that's not her voice-" The splinters of memory stabbed at him time and again. "He replaced her. She'd only been in three cartoons before getting cut!" Sammy grit his jaw and grasped a pipe nearby. "Susie blamed me for some of it! I had no say in what games Joey played!" He let out a hoarse cry and slammed his head into the nearest toy machine. "He lured her like a spider trapping flies but I'm the liar!" He slammed his head again at the final word.

"Sammy!" Henry held the man by a strap and a shoulder. "Sammy, stop."

The prophet easily pulled free and tried again. Inked fingers left dents in the pliable parts of his scalp and he let out a scream. Frozen with the memory of what befell Susie.

Henry took a chance and grabbed the taller man around the middle and fell back onto his butt. Sammy may have been strong, but Henry was stubborn and heavy as anything.

"It's not my fault he deceived her!" Sammy kicked his legs wildly and cried out "Release me!"

Henry grunted as the kicking forced the breath from his lungs. "Only-if you don't hurt yourself!"

"Let go!"

"No more hitting!"

"Henry!" He writhed, but the cartoonist was strong. "Fine! Just let go!"

He did, and Sammy fell forward with a heavy thump.

Henry, his front coated in ink, stayed where he was. Good that Sammy hadn't bolted, bad that his reaction was so visceral. What the hell had that dark humming stirred up?

The ink man stayed on hands and elbows. His fists clenched tight enough to make the faintest straining noises. But Sammy… heaved. He had no lungs to gasp with, but his humanity took the reins. "I… used her to hide parts of myself I hated." She wasn't the first woman he'd done that to. "She didn't care. My attentions gave her delight." His head dipped until the horns of the mask touched the floor. "Until Joey gave her something more substantial." Joey didn't have to fake the things Susie wanted to be real. Sammy did. "Joey… lured her here. He told her she could bring Alice Angel to life." He rolled onto his side and went limp. "I didn't see it. I heard it. Everything. A voice so heavenly should never scream like that." He pulled his limbs in tighter. "That's not Susie Campbell anymore." He remembered a vibrant and driven voice actress. Temptress when she had her eye on someone or something. "That's not even her voice."

Henry had sat and listened, weathered face a mask of concern. He nodded, the ink on his shirt and skin drying to a tacky, itchy patina. "How many people did Joey lure here?"

"Too many."

The cartoonist scowled, but not at Sammy.

"Knowing that I caused what happened to Buddy, I wonder…"

Henry peered at Sammy over his glasses. "Wonder what?"

"Wonder what you thought when you read what he wrote." Sammy turned his mask to him slowly, voice small. "How you can stand to be in the same room as I."

Oh. "Sammy. I knew you back in the days before this place plunged into hell. The person who drank ink and threw people to the machine? That's not the you I considered a friend." When the ink man didn't respond, Henry sighed. "I want my friend back."

The phrasing gave him enough to sit up. Sammy worked his long limbs under himself to stand. He rolled upwards, not quite having bones that'd make it hard to move that way. He then reached down to Henry. If Henry was willing to hold him down to keep him from harming himself, then giving him a hand up should have been fine. His inky shell didn't repulse the cartoonist. That… felt good.

Henry grasped the hand, alarmed not by the slick, tarry wetness but the dull coldness. Like touching a steel pan and feeling the warmth of his own palm give it heat. How the hell was Sammy not cold in just overalls? He pushed the thoughts aside and stood. "Come on." He smirked ruefully. "We have a date with an angel."

The ink man scoffed. "I'll wear my formal mask."

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