Mike sat in the chair, listening to the Phone guy's death. Sighing, he stood up, and looked out the door. His every fibre warned him to return, play out the dream as intended, but Mike steeled himself. Not tonight, his final night before returning to the Asylum. Stepping out into the hallway, he saw Bonnie peek out from the broom closet. Mike ignored him, and walked past.

Footsteps followed behind him, but he didn't stop. Foxy peeked his head out, and Chica glanced her head out of the kitchen. Freddy watched him as he stepped onto the stage. Turning, Mike walked into the back room, and looked toward the heads along the back. Slowly, his eyes turned toward the floor, where a box in the corner hid what appeared to be a hole.

Mike walked toward it, the animatronics right behind him. Pushing the box out of the way, he leaned down, peeking into the blackness. Slowly, two animatronic eyes appeared in the darkness, their flickering glow illuminating some of the old room. Looking at the faint outline, Mike finally knew where Springtrap had been hidden, too broken to move.

'Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there.'

'-Back there.'

Could it-

SLAM

The door slammed open, and Mike leapt to his feet, opening the bedroom door as the loony bin people entered, informing him he was to be taken away. Mike turned, trying to flee to the safety of his room, but they grabbed him, dragging him backwards as they entered the room with the animatronic. Mike glanced inside as they passed, seeing boxes being inflated and items beginning to be stored.

"No! Wait! Don't touch that!" Mike tried desperately to warn them as he was dragged away, staining to catch a glimpse of what they were doing to his room. As one turned toward Springtrap, his whole body froze. Struggling, he managed to pull out his tablet, hearing his alarm go off, and the image of each clasp being removed. Watching in silent horror, Mike saw the moment the final clasp was released, and an inhuman screech resounded.

"Augh!" All turned toward the room as the sound came from the worker being strangled. Cries of horror began to emerge, and all were frozen. Mike, finding himself free, darted into the room, pushing people out of the way and putting him in front as he looked the animatronic in the eye.

"Stop! Listen to me. I know!" Raising his hands, he pointed to one of the few items not yet packed, an old phone. Springtrap turned, his hands still around the worker's neck. After a moment, his hand loosened enough to allow the worker to make gasping breaths. Using his borrowed time, Mike began to speak quickly.

"You say you're sorry? Now is the perfect time to prove it. Don't kill him, prove that all those helpful tips you gave the nightguards were not just an act. Prove it to it, and him." While he had no clue if his words would ring true, Mike had to try. It wasn't likely the puppet or Golden Freddy would ever forgive him, but he couldn't blame them.

There was silence for a long time, those witnessing this confused above all else. Slowly, Springtrap released the worker, who made a break for the exit. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. There had been enough death, which was too much to begin with. Looking toward the half-packed boxes, Mike noticed the puppet was missing, and turned back toward Springtrap.

The three seemed to be sharing a private conversation, and soon enough Golden Freddy faded. The Puppet seemed to deflate, and flopped to the ground, laying there like a piece of fabric with a mask stuck to it. The only one who didn't change was Springtrap, who continued to look at Mike. Tilting his head, wondering if the spirit was still inside it, he nearly jumped as the animatronic took a step toward him.

The phone rang, and Mike ignored the fact it was disconnected, and picked it up, answering it. A single word was spoken, before the person on the other side clicked off. A faint smile formed on his face, and Mike felt his knees grow weak. After a moment, he began to laugh, pure joy rimming his features.

For the single word that had been spoken was 'proof'.

Mike yawned as he returned home from a long day of work. Being the nightguard was exhausting, but he had done worse. His home was clean, and neatly furnished with a decent view, something he had been grateful for upon receiving. Humming a merry tune, he headed for the kitchen to make himself a meal. The door opened once more five minutes later, and Mike peeked his head out.

"So, they decided how to charge you yet?" Inserting an earpiece, Mike clicked a button as it began to ring. A familiar voice answered, and he continued eating his meal.

"So you can just leave the moment you decide to right?" Springtrap nodded his head, and Mike glanced toward the newspaper. As usual, the news about the discovery of a living animatronic was a top story, as was how to judge the crimes. Mike didn't entirely know what side to take, and he had said as much when asked.

"I don't think your crimes will ever be truly forgiven, but at least they gave you a proper burial once they managed to get your body out." Shrugging, Mike stood up and headed for his bedroom. Waving goodbye, he watched Springtrap return to the room he was staying in. Opening the door, Mike pulled out his marker, and looked around his walls before picking a space.

'It wasn't me,' he wrote, stepping back and stifling a yawn. Locking his door, he went to bed, knowing that his dreams would be about current worries. The past had been finally laid to rest.

Now if only he could stop writing on walls like a nutjob.