~O~

Part Seven

Somehow, Bonnie had joined the chase.

The animatronic bunny had filtered through a stream of goofy cackles from his voice box. Dean rushed into a music shop and Springtrap followed.

"Hiya, kids!" Bonnie could be heard talking with Mark and Emily. "Wanna play something special?"

"Eat me!" Mark shouted back.

It would have been a little funny if the situation wasn't life or death. Dean kept himself between a shelf and Springtrap, who seemed to study him intently.

"You killed Andy..." Dean said, struggling to calm his voice. "Why? What do you want? Why do you kill?"

Springtrap simply stared at him, his enormous grin seemingly widening.

Dean tried a different tactic. "I-I know you're all trapped here," he stammered. "Maybe I can help. I can help set you free!"

Springtrap tilted his head at him and reached out, but Dean quickly rushed out of his grasp and dove behind the register counter. He struggled to search for a possible weapon while Springtrap advanced.

Dean grabbed anything he could find; from ashtrays to empty bottles. He threw them all at Springtrap in a useless attempt to wound him. Each item bounced off of the animatronic's head.

If Dean wasn't so terrified right now, he could have sworn the machine almost looked bored with his attempts.

"Oh shit!" Dean cried.

Suddenly, someone rushed into the shop, prepared a wicked-looking taser and shoved it into Springtrap's neck.

An almost human scream burst from the animatronic and his body was contorting in gruesome bends and twists. Gagging sounds could be heard and Dean spotted the terrible, mummified skull inside the creature.

He collapsed to the floor in a pile of smoking metal and Mike was standing there, clutching his abdomen. He was soaked in blood.

"I'm getting too old for this crap..." he muttered.

Dean smiled in relief and climbed over the counter, rushing up to him. He gingerly stepped over Springtrap and studied the man in confusion.

"Mike!" he said. "Oh shit, you're bleeding!"

Mike hissed sharply before nodding. "Yeah, kinda got that already..."

Always so sarcastic.

"Listen, you need to get out of here..." Mike told him, groaning weakly. "Springtrap's out like a light, but he won't be for much longer."

"But Mike - " Dean protested.

Mike sighed, rolling his eyes. "You need to go! I can handle them. I have before."

Dean hesitated for a few moments longer before he rushed from the store. Mike watched him go before he sighed and collapsed beside Springtrap. It was almost amusing how they laid side-by-side.

"What a night, huh?" Mike said, chuckling through blood-soaked teeth. "We should have been paid overtime for this."

He laughed weakly at his joke.

O

Dean ran through the mall, calling desperately for his friends. He passed a shop that housed television monitors in the window.

Suddenly, they all switched on and Dean stopped, frozen by them. They filtered only static, but he could swear he heard voices coming from them.

...It's me...

The televisions flashed the message a few times and Dean was greeted with brief, second images of nightmarish versions of the animatronics; sharp teeth, razor fingers and decayed bodies.

Dean backed away from the television screens, fear in his gasps.

Then, he could briefly make out the sound of a telephone ringing. Confused, Dean followed the sound and it led him toward the employee hallway. Dean moved slowly, cautiously toward an office; a corded phone was sitting at a desk, ringing away.

Answer it, Dean.

That voice. That same voice that had come from the puppet from his dreams. Dean was compelled to obey and disobey all at once.

He slowly and carefully picked the phone up, bringing it to his ear.

"H-Hello?" he said.

"Hello!" an eerily cheerful male voice answered. "Happy seventeenth birthday!"

Dean was lost and frightened. But he decided to play along. For whatever reason. "W-What? It's not my seventeenth birthday. Who is this?"

"It IS your birthday!" the cheery voice took on a brief, darker edge. "And don't think I don't know what game you're playing. You ran away! I had a cake, balloons and presents for you! Why did you run away?"

Dean swallowed thickly, not sure how to answer.

The voice was happy once more. "That's okay! You were afraid. I understand. It can be scary sometimes, but I'm your friend. I won't hurt you! No one can be hurt at Freddy Fazbear's! I can promise you that!"

A disturbing giggle followed and Dean looked around warily. He picked up the phone and walked toward the door, straining to see into the hallways as far as the cord would allow him to.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded, attempting strength in his voice.

"I'm your friend." the voice over the phone said. "Until the end."

The laughter that followed made Dean slam the receiver down with a cry of rage and disgust. Then, he could make out the sound of a music box. The same music box he had heard before starting it up and causing all of this.

Dean peered down the corridor and he could hear it louder now. As he walked slowly and followed the sound, he turned the corner and spotted Mangle still hanging from the ceiling.

His eyes widened and he gasped softly, but in his approach, his cell phone began to filter static.

Mangle heard the noise and lifted her head, staring at him silently. She made no effort to attack him as she had Andy. She only...stared.

Dean held the stare of the monstrosity in front of him, carefully moving around her. Mangle watched his movements, her good optic following him.

...I want my mom...

...He's a bad man...

...H-He's a really bad man...

Dean heard a young, female voice hanging in the air, through ribbons of static sound. Dean met Mangle's mismatched gaze and for a second, he watched the creature's jaw hang slack in an almost human expression of sadness.

Sadness.

That wasn't possible.

Follow me.

Dean looked over his shoulder and peered back around the corner when he heard a banging noise. Foxy was surging through the doors, letting out a furious scream.

Dean gave a groan. "Give me a goddamn break, will ya'?" he shouted skyward.

But he turned and ran down the corridor, Foxy hot on his heels. Everything hurt from constant running and his lungs felt like they were on fire.

He turned another corner and spotted double doors ahead of him. Light was shining through the cracks and he had hoped it was morning and he could escape from the animatronic fox.

Hurry.

The voice that had come from the puppet in his dream urged him on. Dean no longer cared if it was a trick or not. Anything to get away from Foxy.

He ran through the doors, immediately greeted by a bright light.

O

Grass.

Dean felt warm grass against his cheek. He opened his eyes and noticed he was lying on lush, green grass.

But he wasn't in the parking lot of Fazbear's Galleria. Instead, he was lying in a field of grass that was home to a single tree.

"Hello, Dean. You made it." the voice from the puppet was back, much more rich here, "You did well. So I think it's time I told you the truth."

Dean turned and a younger boy was standing there. He was probably seven years old with short blonde hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a black suit with white buttons and striped socks. So properly dressed.

But he looked odd. His skin was deathly pale and his face looked as though it was streaked with evidence of tears.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, wary. He looked around. "What is this place?"

The boy held out his hand for him to take and Dean reluctantly did. He was led down the hill nearby, where he spotted a diner just below. It looked isolated from the rest of the world. A single fragment of memory.

Dean followed the boy toward the building and he was amazed to see that it had a sign reading "Fazbear's Family Diner". He glanced down at the boy briefly.

"What is this?" he asked.

The boy's features filled with sadness. "Where it started."

Dean looked into the window, noticing children in the middle of a party. Then, before he knew it, he and the boy were now inside the diner. People passed them without a second glance. Children were eating cake and a man in an older Freddy Fazbear suit walked by.

Dean couldn't fathom what he was seeing. The boy was just calmly watching it all play by, as if he had done this many times.

Then, Dean saw the boy in the window, looking in at the party.

He glanced down at the boy at his side, wondering what sort of reaction he would see. But there was nothing but sadness there. The boy in the window was crying and clutching a music box.

Dean's eyes widened. He noticed that the music box in his hands looked exactly like the one he had found in the pizzeria.

A flash of memory.

And image of car headlights.

A man wearing a purple uniform stepping out.

The same boy failing to see the gleam of a knife.

Dean looked away and a muffled scream pierced his head. He looked down at the boy, who did not react to this image.

"I was the first one. The first of the Man in Purple's victims." he said.

The image around him changed to that of police scrambling to search for him. Dean saw another flash of memory. The boy's image printed in the newspaper and the headline of "SEARCH FOR MISSING SEVEN YEAR OLD BOY".

A name. "Daniel Bowers".

"Daniel..." Dean said, softly.

The boy looked up at him briefly before they were standing in a dark room, lit by a single bulb above. On the floor was the puppet.

"I hid away for a while." the boy told him, staring down at it. "But then they came here to this mall. And I followed."

Dean saw the mall for when it had been first opened. The garbage, rust and filth seemed to vanish and in place was a bustling galleria filled with laughing kids, parents, employees and most importantly, security guards.

The puppet was seen sitting in the prize corner of the pizzeria, watching people pass by. Dean frowned curiously, tilting his head.

"For a while, things were good." the boy continued. His features fell and he sighed. "I wasn't angry. Not like the others... I was just sad."

The puppet's tears almost looked like real human tears among the shadows of this new memory.

"The others..." Dean pondered. "Do you mean the animatronics?"

The boy looked up at him and nodded his head.

O

Dean noticed that the same man in purple showed up inside the pizzaria. He was wearing a badge that gleamed almost menacingly in the light.

"Then, HE came..." the boy continued.

Dean wished that he could see the face of the man, but he had his back to them. The man seemed interested in staring at a young girl across the way toward Kids' Cove. The girl looked up and smiled brightly, but then her smile disappeared and she looked frightened; her image was immediately replaced with an image of Mangle, who screamed with rage.

Dean gasped, jumped back with fright.

"Lucy Frost. She was the youngest." the boy said, shaking his head sadly. "Only six years old."

Dean saw an image now of the girl - Lucy - running down the employee corridor, crying and pleading for her mother. The man was right behind her, giving chase and wearing a Golden Freddy head.

"He only wanted to hug her." the boy continued. "But she was scared and ran. He didn't like that. Not one bit."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see what happened next.

...I want my mom...

...He's a bad man...

...H-He's a really bad man...

Dean saw only fragments.

The girl cornered and the man's shadow looming over her.

Another image of something being stuffed haphazardly into the ceiling by the man, who was now covered in blood.

Mangle screaming at him.

"Stop..." Dean begged, covering his eyes. "I don't want to see any more."

The boy seemed emotionless toward his pain. Instead of stopping the images, he continued to show each victim to him. Like a gruesome compilation of death and pain.

"Adam Barnes. Nine years old. He had cornered him in the bathroom."

Dean saw an image of a bathroom door being slammed. Saw a flash of Foxy lying there.

"Jacob Marlow. Ten years old. He had tried to hide from him in parts and service. That was bad. Very bad."

Dean was greeted with an image of a screaming boy being seized by the man who was dressed in a Golden Freddy suit. He had tried to gouge the man's eyes out with his fingernails and once released, he ran into the music shop where he was cornered behind the counter.

A haunting, ghostly scream.

An image of Bonnie followed, lying in a heap in the music shop.

"Anna Smith. Ten years old. She had fallen asleep in the party room. She was much easier for him."

What horrified Dean was an image of the child in question sleeping beside a plate of cake. Hands grabbed her from behind and dragged her screaming away.

Another flash of an image of Chica, leaned against the wall. Where he and the others had found her.

Dean began to understand now. Every animatronic they found had been left at the place of their death. They were caught in the cycle, trapped in an endless loop of pain and fear.

"I tried to help them." the boy said, with a heavy sigh. "I put them in a safe place. Where no one could hurt them."

Dean saw only a glimpse of the spirits that inhabited the animatronics. He saw them in their final stages. Bloodied, bruised and lifeless. Their haunting faces hidden behind the empty masks of Foxy, Mangle, Chica, Bonnie and Freddy Fazbear.

"It's an itch. A bad itch you can't scratch."

Another memory, showing Foxy lunging at two teenagers who had trespassed in the mall. Dean tore his gaze away as one of them was impaled with Foxy's hook. Their screams faded away into shadow.

Bonnie cackling as he pursued another man, who desperately tried to hide beneath a table. The table was flipped over by the robotic rabbit and the man screamed, raising his hands to his face.

Each and every memory was of an animatronic killing someone. Probably someone who was not deserving of their death.

"What about Springtrap?" Dean asked, after a memory disappeared before him. "How come I can't see him?"

The boy exhaled and spoke with greater wisdom than Dean would have expected.

"The one you call Springtrap wasn't always who he is now."

The memory changed now, revealing a security guard walking through the destitute mall. A flash of memory and a closeup of his name badge.

F. Smith.

He was walking around with a flashlight in hand. From Dean's perspective, this guard seemed kind and friendly, especially given the way he was sending a message through his phone. A warm smile lit his face.

Dean looked over the man's shoulder out of curiosity to see the message.

I MISS YOU DADDY.

The man chuckled and sent a message back.

MISS YOU TOO, HONEY. BEHAVE FOR YOUR MOTHER AND GO TO BED.

Another text was sent shortly afterwards.

JUST ONE STORY?

Smith rolled his eyes with amusement and dialed a number. Dean didn't heard what he was saying to the person on the other end, as the memory cut out in a swirl of clouds and smoke.

"There were good people who came here too. People like you, Dean." the boy continued, "People who though they could help."

The image of Smith had become distant in the smoke. One side of him was human, the other was the terrifying image of Springtrap.

"But their anger was stronger than his kindness..."

Dean watched the next memory unfold. Smith was running frantically through the darkness of the mall. He found himself cornered in the game room, where a Spring Bonnie suit had been discarded.

Dean wanted to warn him. "No!" he cried.

"It's just a memory, Dean." the boy reminded him.

Dean didn't want to look, but he could help but stare as the memory unfolded before him.

Smith climbed frantically into the suit, failing to notice the water dripping down onto it. He held perfectly still as the animatronics stepped into the room. His voice shook frantically and sweat beaded down his brow.

"Please..." he moaned, to no one in particular, "Help me..."

Suddenly, Dean heard the familiar snapping of the springlocks and the agonized scream from Smith. He couldn't look away as the man in the suit writhed and fell into a puddle of his own blood.

The animatronics simply watched in silence as the man was left on the floor, his raw screams burning forever in Dean's mind.

Smith reached out beseechingly, his arm soaked in blood.

"Please..." he croaked.

Dean saw nothing but those frightened, agonized eyes staring at him.

"They watched him die," the boy continued, without hesitation, "They watched him suffer for someone else's sins. And so it continues..."

Dean looked down at him as they were suddenly left in pitch darkness. The only light came from the eyes of the puppet at his feet. Dean bent down to retrieve it and he looked up, just as the boy disappeared.

He could still hear his voice.

"Be careful, the man in purple is here..." the ghostly, haunting sound of the boy's words emerged from the puppet.

Dean's eyes widened.

"He comes to play with your friends. You have to warn them."

Dean shuddered, holding the puppet close. He was terrified. What could he possibly do to help any of them?

The puppet's voice offered only the smallest of encouragement.

"It's okay to be afraid, Dean."

Dean watched as the world around him transformed before his eyes. He was now standing back in the corridor and the animatronics were gone.

The last words the puppet ever spoke to him were soft...sad.

We were all afraid.

O

Note - When I wrote the scene out of Dean being shown images from the puppet, I thought of it playing as a compilation to Marilyn Manson's "Sweet Dreams".