Chapter 37

A/N: Hey everyone! Welcome back! Glad to see that everyone enjoyed the last chapter. I know I enjoyed writing it. And while this chapter is shorter, I still hope this next chapter meets your expectations as well. Remember, I don't own FNAF or YJ.

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Telepathy/Flashbacks

Gotham, December 14, 18:00EDT

Henry paced back and forth outside of the theater. Periodically checking his watch. The worry churning in his gut growing stronger with every minute that passed.

Michael was late.

Now, he was well aware his youngest was more than capable of handling himself. He'd seen the teen knock Killer Croc unconscious on the news once.

Still, sometimes he couldn't help it.

Gotham was a dangerous city. And despite all of Michael's skills, he was just a kid. A kid who had a bad habit of putting other people's needs before his own.

Not that wanting to help others was necessarily a bad thing. It was just…Mike needed to put himself first sometimes. To remember that it was ok to be selfish.

Though…Henry supposed it was his job to remind him of that. He was Michael's parent now.

Which is why his worry continued to grow as he looked at his watch again. Thirty minutes. Mikey was late by almost thirty minutes.

Michael almost never ran late. If he did, then it would be by five to ten minutes at most. Maybe even fifteen on a really bad day. He would never be this late. Especially not for something he'd been looking forwards to as much as this. Not unless there was an emergency. And he would've called by now if there was.

Something was wrong.

Pulling out his phone again, Henry called his son for what could possibly be the fifth time. Praying that this would be the time he would actually pick up. That there would be some reasonable explanation as to why he was running behind.

To his relief, this time his call was answered.

However, that relief quickly turned to horror as he quickly realized that it was not his son on the other end of the line.

"Hello Henry."

Heart stuttering in his chest, Henry felt sick as his blood turned to ice in his veins. Body starting to tremble slightly from what he could only describe as utter terror. He knew that voice. How could he not? It was the voice of a man he had considered to be his best friend since high school. The voice of a monster that had recently haunted his nightmares. "Willaim."

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line, "It's good to hear from you again. I've missed you."

"Where's Michael?"

"So cold, Henry," Will sighed, actually having the audacity to sound hurt, "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Unable to keep the anger from his voice, Henry clenched his phone tighter, "Where is he?!"

The other end of the call was quiet for a few moments, making his heart race with fear that he had pushed too far and William had hung up on him. However, it didn't last too long before his ex-friend spoke again, this time his voice holding an edge that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, "And how exactly is that any of your concern?"

Henry almost sputtered at the man's audacity to ask such a question. "I swear to God, Will. If you so much as touch a hair on his head, I'll—"

"You'll what?" the other man sneered, "Protect him like you did Charlie?"

Henry drew a breath, pain shooting across his chest like he'd been shot. Even now, after all these years it still hurt to know that he had failed his daughter. That he had only just been a few rooms away while his baby girl had been slaughtered by his best friend on her own birthday. And to hear it straight from her murder's mouth…it made that wound feel fresh all over again.

Especially now as he stood there, failing yet another of his older children all over again as that very same monster snatched him from right under his nose.

As if he knew that pain he caused, Willaim sighed, "That was a low blow. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, Henry."

"You killed my daughter. And now you're taking my son. How the hell did you not mean to hurt me?"

"Your son?" Will growled, the gentle demeanor Henry had used to associate with the man vanishing in a heartbeat. "Michael is mine. Just because you lost your child doesn't mean you get to replace her with what belongs to me."

Henry knew he should be calling the cops. Hell, he should've been calling the League to let them know about what was going on. There were a lot of things Henry knew he should be doing in that moment. However, all he could feel was rage. "I'm not trying to replace my daughter. I'm just trying to replace you."

The other end of the call was silent. But Henry knew he hadn't hung up. He could tell by the shaky, deep breath coming from the other end. "So I was right," he finally hissed, "You were trying to take Michael away from me."

"You didn't exactly make it difficult."

"…Enjoy the time you had, Henry. Because you'll never see my son again."

No…No. Dear God no.

"Will, please," Henry pleaded, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. Please. Just let him go. I promise I won't tell anyone. Please—"

"Goodbye Henry," William said, ending the call.

Dropping the phone onto the icy tarmac, he crushed the device under the heel of his boot. Refusing to stop until the device was nothing more than splinters of glass and metal lying in the shallow snow. He would probably have Sportsmaster stomp on it a few more times before take-off to make sure it and whatever trackers it contained were completely obliterated.

Honestly, he wished it didn't have to be this way. It was only like this because Henry always insisted on making things difficult between them. Always overstepping his bounds or ignoring his ideas and input. Everything would be so much easier if, for once in his life, the man just listened. Maybe then he could finally see that everything William had done had been for their benefit. That he had made hard but necessary sacrifices in order to meet his goals. Sure, he had made mistakes. Nobody was perfect. But they were all easily rectifiable. Especially now that Michael had proven each and every one of his theories correct.

Perhaps when all this was over and he was one of the most powerful people in the world, Henry would come to his senses.

"Daddy? Is everything ok?"

Brushing his hair back, William put on a small smile, turning to meet the unique hazel-gold gaze of his youngest son. The boy was currently bundled in a coat a couple sizes too big, and it was clear he was cold given by his occasional shivers. Still, despite this, the child had scampered over to his side, looking up at him with the same wide, worried gaze he had always had instead of going to the warm interior of the jet waiting for them.

"Everything's fine honey," he reassured, kneeling down to pull the large coat tighter around Gregory's small frame. "But I appreciate the concern. Daddy's old friend was just being difficult, that's all."

Tilting his head slightly, the child's brows furrowed slightly, eyes momentarily flashing with a familiar anger. "You mean the bad man that tried taking Mikey away? Why do you care about him?"

The response drew a small laugh from the man. He had to admit, even now, it still threw him for a loop over how assertive the young boy could be. Probably because he had been expecting him to be meek and quiet like he had been in his previous life. It had been a surprising change, but one he appreciated nonetheless. "You'll understand when you're older," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead. "But don't worry, he won't bother us anymore." Rising to his feet, he gently nudged the boy towards the plane, "Now go warm up in the jet. I'll get your brother."

Seemingly satisfied with the response, Gregory happily turned away. Trotting off to go warm up in the waiting jet. Allowing the man to turn his attention back to the present issues at hand.

Primarily the issue of figuring out how quickly he would be able to remove any trackers the League had on his eldest. There was no doubt that the jammers would keep them inactive for the time being. But that didn't mean they wouldn't become an issue.

An issue he wanted to resolve as soon as possible.

Especially since he'd been more than a little cocky when he decided to pick up Henry's call.

There was no doubt that the man had already called the police in the moment he had ended their conversation. Perhaps even the Justice League as well. And while he had already ensured that their escape was secured. That didn't mean he wanted to lose his head start. He had made it this far without getting caught for a reason.

And it hadn't been because he'd made stupid, impulsive decisions like this.

Still, he couldn't help it. Henry might've been one of the few people William Afton actually cared about. But, no matter how fond he was of the blonde, in no way did that excuse his son labeling the other man as Dad in his phone.

Michael, his son, had labeled Henry, William's closest friend, as his father in his contact list.

It was only natural that he would want to teach the other man his place. To remind him that Michael was his. Michael was his son, his firstborn. Michael belonged to him. Not Henry.

Drawn out his thoughts by a soft groan, Willaim turned his attention back to the cause of his current problems. Crouching down to look back into the car, his brows furrowed as he saw his eldest shifting slightly in the backseat. Weakly moaning as the teen slowly began to regain consciousness.

The sedative had worn off faster than he had anticipated.

But it was no matter. He would be able to correct that issue once they got on the jet. If anything, William could find a way to take advantage of this insignificant setback. "Finally waking up?"

Michael gave another groan, bleary eyes fluttering open. "Wha—"

"Shh," he murmured, brushing his boy's hair back soothingly. Hoping to calm him before he could fully wake.

The longer he kept Michael relaxed under the haze of the drug the better. It would help keep the teen sweet and compliant. More willing to obey.

"It's ok," William hushed softly, pulling the younger man closer, continuing to massage his scalp to soothe him, "It's ok, baby. You're ok."

The gesture appeared to have worked. As before long, his son was contentedly leaning into the contact. A sleepy smile flickering across his lips.

Eager to take advantage of the boy's current disorientation and unwitting compliance before the drugs completely wore off and he began fighting him again, William pulled the teen from the car. Draping one of his arms over his shoulder and wrapping one of his own around the teen's waist. Allowing the boy to lean his weight against him as they began to make their way towards the waiting jet.

"Honestly, Michael," he chastised, "why is it you can't make anything easy?"

The teen gave him an unintelligible response. No doubt still too disoriented to form a coherent answer. Poor thing was only probably able to register that he sounded upset with him right now.

And he was. Just a little bit.

His eldest had made things so difficult with his continuous disobedience.

And he was going to punish him for it. But not now. Later.

At the moment, his present goal was to get them out of the city before the Bat caught their scent.

So, of course that would be the exact time Michael had to decide to be difficult. "…No."

Sighing in exasperation, William adjusted his grip on the still disoriented teen. Gently hushing him as they ascended the steps. "Shh, it's ok. It's ok," he cooed, brushing his son's hair from his face as he tried to move away from him, "I'm not mad at you, baby. I know you're just confused right now. Let's get you on the plane. You'll feel better once you lay down."

Michael made another soft noise of protest, but thankfully didn't fight him any further. Instead allowing himself to be led up the last steps and onto the jet.

"Gregory," William called, moving over to one of the benches, easing his eldest down onto the cushions, "can you get my special case?"

"You mean the one you told me not to touch under any circumstances?" the boy called back, his head popping up from behind one of the seats.

At least one of his children listened. "Yes, honey. That case. Can you bring it to me?"

The child nodded, scampering off to the back to grab the bag. William could hear the sounds of his youngest son searching for a moment, but before long the kid ran back out. Carrying the large case in his arms. "Here Daddy."

William reached out to take the case, however he was quickly interrupted by a sharp jerk against his side. "E-Evie?" Michael murmured dazedly, trying to push himself up.

He didn't get very far before William very nearly shoved his firstborn back down into his lap. "Thank you," he said curtly, dismissing the boy as he turned his attention back to the teen.

Or he would've had Gregory gone back to his seat like he was supposed to. "Dad…is Mikey going to be ok?"

"He'll be fine. But if I'm going to help him feel better, I can't be distracted."

This time, Gregory seemed to understand. Giving him a small nod before trotting off back to his seat. Leaving William alone for some quality time with Michael.

Opening the case, Will reached in and pulled out a vial and an empty syringe. "Just hold on a few moments for me, pet," he began filling the chamber, "this'll make you feel much better."

"No," the teen mumbled, seeming more awake than he'd been a few moments ago. Now beginning to try to move away from him with actual effort. "No…I don't want this."

Damnit. Looks like Michael's enhanced metabolism was stronger than anticipated.

Quickly pulling the pump all the way out, William merely pushed the end in until some of the drug squirted out of the end. Not bothering to check the dosage before plunging the needle into his son's neck.

They had supplies prepped in the unlikely event of an overdose anyways.

Almost immediately, Michael's struggles ceased.

"There you go. That's it," he whispered placatingly, playing with a few stray locks of dark unruly hair. Watching as the teen's eyes began to flutter, desperately trying to fight the sedatives coursing through his veins. "Go back to sleep." Stroking his son's cheek, William bent down, gently pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, "Shh. It's ok. Sleep now. Don't worry, all you need to do is just be a good boy and obey me. And everything will be alright. I promise, baby."

To his relief, Michael's eyes finally rolled back, body going completely lax in his arms as he slipped into unconsciousness once again.

Good. Assuming he doesn't start to overdose in the next five minutes, then that should be more than enough to keep him sound asleep for the rest of the trip.

William sighed, leaning back to look out the window, casually continuing to run his fingers through the sleeping teen's hair. A weight feeling like it had been lifted off his chest.

At long last, after months of stalking and planning, Michael was finally here, in his arms. Tucked against his side like he always should've been.

Finally, he could finish what he started.

And sure, there was no doubt he would have to retrain his eldest. Undo all the bullshit the League and Henry had been teaching in his absence. No doubt destroying all of his hard work.

Oh well, once William did what he needed to do. They would have all the time in the world.