Ups and Downs

by Blackmoondragon1415

'Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure, measure a year' A what-if plot based around the Henry and the Ink Machine AU on Tumblr by thelostmoongazer.

13. Ch12: Goodbye To A World

A/N: Hey all! Sorry about how long this took! This'll be the end of the arc concerning the Ink Machine, I'm hoping to get a few more things done and get into the next part of the story with hopefully a backlog of planning and writing to work from. Definitely will be a bit of a change of pace, though I think there's been a need for some slowing down and answering some questions.

Please enjoy, and if there's any issues or misspellings, please don't hesitate to bring them to my attention! And if you like the story, feel free to leave a review!

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Goodbye To A World:

The sight of Bendy being pulled into the ink was one that would be seared into Boris's mind for the rest of his life. Though the wolf had screamed and fought against the monsters holding him down and the tendrils pinning him to the floor, he only succeeded in carving grooves into the dirt.

Still, he tried. He tried with everything he had.

But it wasn't good enough, he wasn't good enough. Bendy…Bendy was gone, and Boris, his best pal, had simply watched it happen.

When the realization sank in, it was enough to drive the warped wolf to tears, inky drips trickling into the earth under him as he simply lay there sobbing. He wasn't sure how long. It could have been hours; it could have been a mere few minutes.

And then something changed. There was a sort of sizzling hiss at the back of his mind, not unlike when Sammy's connection had been cut, except this time it came with something new.

Fear and pain, blasting through the wolf's mind like a firehose. Pleas for help and despair and desperation clawed at Boris's thoughts, turning his exhausted slump into more frenzied scrambling in an effort to do something about these sensations.

But, even augmented and warped as he was, Boris couldn't keep up the burst of energy forever, and eventually just ended up lying in the dirt again with more tears pouring from his eyes. The emotions rose and fell, tearing at his heart as he tried to ride it out.

The worst part of it was that he was starting to, somehow, recognize the person making the pleas, feeling the fear and despair: Bendy.

"H-HENRY, HENRY, BORIS, ALICE, WALLY, TOM, HELP ME, HELP ME, PLEASE! PLEASE!"

And Boris wanted to go, wanted to be there, but he was still pinned, and could barely move himself in any direction let alone to where Bendy was. The realization felt horribly like giving up, though the wolf barely had the energy to try to break free. Instead, he could only be dragged along for the ride, his own despair mixing in with the rest.

"JOEY, HELP ME, HELP ME, HELP ME!"

NO! Boris wanted to scream, he knew he'd made some sort of howling noise that reverberated off the walls, but in the moment his whole attention was riveted to that one, internal shout and what it could mean. Bendy was in trouble, calling for Joey, but Joey wasn't going to help Bendy, he would hurt Bendy, he'd hurt him, turn him into that grinning ghoul and it was all Boris could do not to flail himself to pieces with how much he tried to get loose, the terror burning through his mind pushing his own hysteria to dangerous levels.

He screamed, fought, and scraped at the rocky dirt, cutting his stretched-out hands, slicing into his knees and feet, but even those pains didn't stop him.

What stopped Boris was a burning agony blooming in his chest, stealing his breath away in a gasp as his mind and body became overrun with the sensation. It swam in and out, but he could feel lines of pure pain crossing over his front, his mind growing swamped with both those sensations and the frantic thoughts of NO NO NO NO NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN-

But then it…stopped? As Boris rose out of the hysteria, he could feel the ground vibrating under him. Turning his head, he could just make out the Ink Machine stuck to the top of the weird, machine-like building, glowing a near-blinding white as ink ran down the front like a waterfall. The same light was coming from the two Machines on either side of the room, the glow building and building, before it simply faded. The Machines all still had a glow but it was less overpowering, coming from every seam, and rhythmically pulsing in the same manner as a heartbeat.

Boris had a moment to take in the almost transfixing sight before his innards abruptly seized, squirming around before there was a collective spasm and black, acrid ink rushed up his throat. The wolf barely got the time to take in the fact that he was no longer held down, Wally and Norman just…gone, the realization fleeting in the face of the seizing his body was doing as it fought to purge the extra, wrong ink. At the same time, Boris could hear crackling, pains zinging through his frame as it started to realign to proportions and a size that felt a little more familiar. Boris couldn't tell if it took hours or mere minutes, but eventually the strange force wringing out his body decided to cease, the wolf giving a soft thump as he fell into the dirt.

For at least a few moments, he lay there just trying to breathe through a raw and dry throat, trying not to move too much on account of the zings of pain still ringing through his body. It took Boris a few seconds to feel the wetness running from his eyes and realize that he was crying.

The wolf's sensitive ears perked up at the sound of liquid rushing from the direction of the Machines, from that gigantic pit filled with ink. Though it seemed like a huge effort, Boris was able to open his eyes and raise his head a little, his nose uncomfortably close to the puddle of ink he'd just ejected from his own body. But the new vantage point did give him a few of the strange, not-an-Ink-Machine building, and the rush of ink rolling from it to the lip of the rock.

It would have worried Boris if he had more energy, but for the moment the wolf could only lay there, boneless as the wave approached.

But instead of rushing onto the outcropping and washing over it, the wave balled up at the edge, rolling up and up in a gathering swell before sinking back down to the pool. Though, in its wake, there was a towering figure of white that was such a big contrast, and so suddenly there, that Boris couldn't help but wonder if he'd somehow blinked in those few seconds.

The strangest thing about them was that they weren't totally distinct at the edges, their frame wavering just enough that it almost looked ghostly. Though the longer they stood there, the more that problem seemed to go away, with the added bonus of new puddles and splotches appearing here and there. But, instead of black, these were a sort of glowing yellow.

In fact, there was even a bubble drifting out of the ground right near Boris's head, the sight distracting the exhausted wolf long enough for him to miss the moment when the white figure saw him, their frame noticeably pausing at the sight of the prone canine toon. All the distraction in the world could not have kept Boris from hearing the sound of his name said as though from a multitude, reverberating off the stone walls.

"BORIS…"

He couldn't help flinching at it, though in between closing his eyes and opening them again the figure had drawn closer, their arms shifting something that they were holding. Boris nearly didn't realize what it was until he recognized the small, gloved hand limply dangling from the monochrome huddle.

Boris barely had enough air left in his lungs to be able to speak, though his lips still formed the name anyway, his already itchy and worn eyes threatening to run over again as he tried to squirm himself upright, to see what had become of his pal. Is Bendy okay, was he okay, where had he been, please, please don't let Bendy be gone too!

The fact that the figure used the ink to draw over Bendy's old coat, wrapping it around the little devil's frame, did not alleviate much of Boris's worry. Despite the weakness, the wolf still fought to push himself up a little higher, to see what he could. The figure's continued approach definitely helped, though it wasn't until they practically walked right up to him and knelt, that he could see the little devil, looking so small in the robed figure's long arm. Their other hand reached out and gently stroked the side of Bendy's face, his features scrunching up like he'd just been asleep.

Though his eyes were bleary, very inkshot, and wouldn't open more than scant slits, a small shadow of a smile crossed Bendy's tear-streaked features at the sight of Boris. It was an expression that Boris nearly mimicked, though in his case it was somewhat ruined by the wetness that had finally escaped his eyes.

As he started to sob, something reached around and gently flipped the wolf over, breaking off his crying with a gasp as he found himself being lifted into the figure's other arm. It put him at a higher vantage point, though it also made him actually try to take in some details about them. They were covered in a robe made of a fabric that Boris distinctly recognized as 'different'; it didn't feel like what he remembered from Sammy, Norman, literally anyone else in the studio. It didn't even feel like his own overalls, though they kind of smelled the same, of ink. But there were all these other smells mixed in, of paper, paint, along with that strange metallic, electrical scent that he just barely remembered, even though the strange reverie, the warning, probably hadn't been that long ago.

Looking up into the face hidden by the hood of the robe, Boris felt himself flinch at the sight of the alien, multiple eyes staring down at him. What was also a little unnerving was how tall the figure was, easily holding the lanky, nearly six-foot-tall wolf like an adult might a child, which was something that Boris definitely wasn't used to.

What made the toon wolf jump was the hooded head briefly leaning closer to him, though at the sight of Boris's confused wariness, the figure pulled away.

"I am sorry, Boris. It was not my intention to…I was not trying to frighten you." The voice was quieter than the earlier rumble. Given that it was easier on the wolf's ears, he was a bit more readily able to look up into the face of the figure, his eyes picking out the tells of anxiousness and recrimination in the little crinkles around the multiple sets of eyes, perhaps the faint shadow of a furrow where there would be eyebrows.

It did tug at the wolf's compassion, though before he could act on it a scuffling and muffled sobbing down on the floor caught his and the figure's attention. As Boris turned his head, he immediately caught sight of a small, tiny shape scuttling about on the floor, stumbling its way over to the figure.

Even though Boris's voice was still near to nonexistent, his mouth formed Buddy's name, the wolf's frame leaning back a little though a collection of black tendrils met the tiny toon first. But while the wolf couldn't stop a faint, fearful jolt at the sight, the inky appendages moved with care, plucking up the minute devil's frame and raising him up almost like an extra set of arms.

But while the figure was doing their best to be careful, poor Buddy was definitely in a bit of a state. The tiny frame was shivering, watered-down ink leaking from the bandaged face as Buddy's mitten hands grabbed onto the tendrils like his life depended on it. Though the tiny devil's name was on Boris's tongue, that same thrumming voice from before cut through the air.

"My bright star, it is alright, I'm here, I'm here…" As they spoke, the hooded head leaned in between the pair occupying the tall frame's arms, the tendrils bringing Buddy close enough that they didn't need to lean too far to press the lower portion of their face to his small forehead. Even though they didn't have any discernable mouth, the motion was similar enough that Boris could think of it as a kiss.

"Shh, it's over. You're safe…"

It was funny in retrospect, that Boris knew he heard the words, but it felt like they took a moment to really sink in and register. For what they heralded to actually settle in his mind.

It's over.

Joey was…gone?

Almost as though they could hear him thinking, the figure's eyes looked to the wolf, something in their gaze almost confirming the notion. Boris, wasn't sure how that made him feel. If anything, he felt weirdly numb. Joey was gone, the man who'd created and tormented him and his friends, caused the disaster that killed so many people he knew and cared about, was just gone.

That was…good, he supposed. Perhaps he should have felt at least something more poignant or, well, more there than dull apathy, but for the moment it felt like that was all Boris could manage.

Joey was gone, the internal repetition not doing anything to dispel the haze, though it did bring to mind another question; what now?

Though, looking down at the still wane and quiet Bendy brought a possible avenue to the wolf's mind, Boris's eyes growing watery as he took in the ashen features of the little devil, as well as a few speckles of ink darkening the already streaked livery, particularly on the lower half of Bendy's face. They were going to get out, because that's what they promised they would do.

They would get out together.

There was a grinding noise that made Boris jump, the wolf peering over the figure's shoulder to see the Ink Machine that had been on the top of the building sliding along like there was a crank in the rocky ceiling. The chain was still attached, clanking somewhat as it lowered slowly down to the lip of the outcropping. As it came to a halt, the wolf's eyes caught the flickers of something moving, his head turning to the spot in the middle of the room where the other wolf and, and Henry, were still lying. Though there was a part of Boris that had to flinch a little at the sight of inky tendrils approaching the pair, the figure apparently controlling them was exceedingly gentle, carefully levying both bodies and moving them to be with the rest of the group. There was also more movement, another set of tendrils snaking to another fallen body lying prone on its back. The more he looked at it, the more Boris remembered the unfortunate toon, especially when the inkwell was propped up with the lower half of his face glimmering oddly in the light, particularly under the eyes.

The new toon fussed a little at first when the tendrils picked him up, whimpering and trying to weakly fidget out of their hold before the figure started to hum softly, the noise getting the inkwell's attention and bringing his struggling to a close. It was no tune that Boris could place, though the gentle, lulling sound was reminding him that he'd been struggling and fighting for his life for…he wasn't even sure how long it had been. Too long.

His head was starting to dip, the wolf more reflexively tucking himself into the white-robed shoulder, when he suddenly realized that he was a hair away from falling asleep and jerked awake. Boris happened to glance down at Bendy and seeing that the little devil's eyes were open and looking at something behind the wolf.

Boris may not have had the physical flexibility that Bendy boasted, but he was able to turn enough to see that the tendrils holding the inkwell had come to a stop behind him, the taller, and by now very groggy toon in their grasp quietly shivering, new wetness running from his eyes as he let out a slight hiccup.

"Shh, shh, Dewey, it's alright," the figure's voice hummed, not quite breaking their tune. "It's alright, my little one. I'm here. You're safe. You're safe."

The soft soothing tones made the soundless crying ease, though the occasional hiccups still rattled the tall, broad-shouldered frame. 'Dewey' just let his eyes close, less relaxing and more slumping into the tendrils that were now practically holding him up. Though, as Boris glanced back at the figure's head, he noticed that they were turned away from the little group they'd been amassing, looking at a globe of ink that was stuck to the wall of the outcropping. It was faint, and nearly grey, but Boris could just barely see a half of a white face, partially covered with gloopy, thick ink.

As he watched, the tendrils slid into the mass, wrapping around something comparatively small and, after taking a moment to settle around it, pulling it loose with a swift yank. The sound of a squelching rip was enough to make Boris wince, but he couldn't bring himself to look away, not when the small shape that had been trapped in the ink was drawn out, resting carefully on a few tendrils as it was brought back to the figure. Boris felt a sob catch in his throat, as the gloopier ink was dripping away it revealed more of the small shape's actual features, the wolf able to make out a long curtain of black hair, an equally dark and ragged dress, and a pair of off-white, ink-darkened arms ending in gloves with familiar little circles on the backs of the hands. The figure's head leaned towards him, gently resting on the crown of the wolf's skull as he started to shiver and cry despite his best attempts to stop it.

Boris had a vague memory of the figure turning, moving towards where the Ink Machine was, though his mind felt like it was miles away from his body. He really only felt like he was stepping back into reality when the figure walked on top of the hulking mechanical beast, their tendrils unfolding around and forming up a sort of bird's nest interwoven with the chains. They set him down next to Bendy, the other tendrils setting the rest down around them. The other wolf ended up right next to Boris, catching his attention as he took in the features of this other canid toon.

Similar, yet not quite. The biggest difference was the nose, visibly more rectangular even with the ink leaking from it. It did look like the other had some black spots on the sides of his face too, though with the ink dripping off his injuries, along with a good layer of dirt it was hard to tell.

What was also a little worrying was that the other wolf hadn't even moved once since he'd been set down, though with how injured he was it wasn't too strange. In a somewhat daze, Boris reached out, fingers brushing along the snout and stopping just at the bruise marring that side of the face. Immediately an image flashed in Boris's mind, of watching from the sidelines as a body was flung into the ink, of looking over the heads of a crowd cheering for murder as a toon that looked so much like himself was beaten and pummeled within an inch of his life.

He barely knew this wolf, but a part of Boris's exhausted, worn heart went out to him. Though there was a part of him that wanted to be careful, considering the other's injuries, he couldn't help the impulse to reach out and draw the battered toon close, feeling the dull, limp weight of the other's head clunking against his shoulder. He could feel Bendy leaning in on the other side, Boris trying his best to snake out an arm to give the little devil a hug despite the fogginess still clinging to his brain.

"Boris, Boris…" The soft hum took a moment to garner the wolf's attention, his head jerking a little as he came fully back into himself. He looked up, and ended up jumping a little at the sight of the figure kneeling barely a foot away from him. They did lean back a little at the outright jolt, but they didn't move away, seemingly waiting for the wolf to collect himself before speaking.

"Boris, there's something I need to do before you can rest."

"H-Huh?" The faint, worn grunt from the wolf did cause the figure to reach out, a comparatively large hand cupping the side of Boris's face as they leaned down a little to look him in the eye.

"It's alright, just listen. His…changes, have been reversed. But the groundwork for what he did is still present inside you. I want to neutralize it, make it so it can never be activated again. Do you understand?"

"Wh-What's inside me?" Boris tried to yelp, though it came out as a rasp. Even still, a small spark of adrenaline mobilized the wolf's frame, causing him to jolt just enough for a small shifting to go through Bendy. Even still, the figure shushed him, fingers gently carding through the fur around Boris's ears.

"It's alright, it's alright. I can fix it. Make it harmless. But I need you to give me permission, Boris. Please let me help you." Even with the alien features, the wolf could read, or at least thought he could read, a pure sense of compassion and slight worry etched into the star-dappled, multi-eyed face. And, while he was able to muster a slight bit of energy, it was falling flat just as quickly as it had arrived. Not to mention, whatever Joey had done, whatever he left, Boris wanted it out, wanted it gone.

But there was still a niggling fear poking at the wolf's brain, a memory of pain and exposure that kept him from just going with his first instinct and saying yes.

"Y-Y're not gonna, y'won't…?"

It was definitely a relief to see that the implied question left the figure looking a little scandalized at the very notion of what the wolf was asking, though Boris couldn't help but feel more than a bit intimidated at the intensity in their eyes.

"No, Boris. I will not have to cut or harm you to change what he has done. And, if I have anything to say about it, you will never be harmed in such a way again." Thankfully, the moment did not carry for too long, their eyes softening a little as their fingers gently rubbed along the top of his head. "Please, my songsmith, can I help you?"

It felt like it took Boris much longer than it should to perform a simple nod, though that might've been partially because of the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes and slipping down his face as he blinked. Still, the figure hardly looked bothered, their own eyes gleaming like stars as their thumb brushed at the newly formed tear-streaks on Boris's face.

"Thank you, Boris."

Moving slowly, carefully, their other hand reached out, so large that just two fingers could press comfortably to the center of Boris's chest. The contact alone made him jump, the wolf's ears flipping back as he tried to keep what the figure was doing within view. Their fingers felt a little warm against his skin and fur, though what was drawing Boris's attention was the figure's face. Though he did not get the impression that their attention was deviating from what they were doing, they did look up to meet his eyes, their star-filled expression beaming nothing but calm warmth that washed over his own twisting anxiety and began to quiet it down.

"Shh, shh, I'm here, you will be alright..." He couldn't tell if the hum was something he was hearing aloud or in his own head, the thought fleeting as a strange, heady sort of tiredness permeated his brain. The soft sounds of someone softly humming a sort of lullaby-esque tune was nearly enough to make his eyes close. The only thing that kept Boris from dropping off entirely was a sort of itchy pricking from somewhere inside his chest, almost like a kinked muscle, that made him fidget. He was tired, so very tired, it only occurring to the wolf then that he'd probably been awake, and frenetically tense, for far longer than he'd ever been before, even during the more frantic moments in the music department. He just wanted to rest…

Then the discomfort abruptly loosened, Boris reflexively stretching a little against the warm material at his back as his eyes happened to catch the figure's, the multiple points of light reminding him of the few times that Henry had taken him and Bendy onto the roof to see the sky. Though the presence of new, rainbow-like bands of color, almost like a smile, were both confusing and a little transfixing to look at. He could hear humming, a soft lullaby that teased at already heavy eyelids, the wolf yawning as the overlarge fingers gently brushed through the fur on his head. Just as he was about to completely drop off, Boris felt his head be raised just a little, a feeling of warmth pressing against his forehead for a quick instant. As he fell into a calm, empty black, he thought perhaps that he could still faintly see whorls of rainbow playing on the backs of his eyelids.

As Boris dropped off to sleep with a deep, finally-at-rest sigh, the figure carefully eased his head to lean comfortably against the back of their makeshift nest. A flicker out of the corner of their eye drew their gaze back to Bendy, the little devil's eyes half-lidded as he stared back at them.

Though the small toon hadn't really felt able to move all that much, he'd been doing the best he could to keep an eye on the interaction between Boris and, well, he supposed this was their new helper now. Friend? Maybe, though the way they'd been looking at him back with…with Joey, and just now with Boris, seemed a little too familiar and much to really fit that label. Besides, as far as Bendy knew, he'd never really spoken to them, even the memory they mentioned of 'scaring' him out of the studio feeling very hazy in his mind. And they still felt it was pertinent to keep an eye on him for thirty years? That felt just a little too caring for someone that Bendy'd never spoken to and only had seen once.

Or…had he? Though it was so strange to look at, the weird flickers of color that had danced across their face when they'd been speaking to Boris felt oddly familiar, somehow. Like something from a very old, faded memory.

But before he could fully bridge that gap, the figure spoke up, softly humming tones distracting Bendy for the moment.

"You should get some rest."

"D-Don'," Bendy's tongue felt unusually thick and unwieldy as he tried to form words, maybe he'd bitten it at some point back with Joey? Still, he tried to marshal both his thoughts and his efforts and forced himself through another go. "Wha' about…?"

He wasn't able to raise his hand up very high, but it was enough to point at the makeshift wrapping of his coat, and what lay under it. Though the pain came in muted waves, it didn't feel totally closed, or even remotely healed, yet. And if Boris had needed special care for whatever it was Joey'd done to him…

"That one is not complete. There is very little, if anything, to really nullify. And, I would want to avoid tampering with the mark itself for a while. You're in a fragile state and I don't want to hurt you more, Bendy."

Sound, but the fact that there was something there at all would have made some worry leap into Bendy's mind if he'd had the energy and didn't ache all over. As such, he couldn't help a faint frown, one that probably telegraphed his unease to the figure given that they then turned their attention to him fully.

"It will be alright, Bendy. I said that I would help you, and I meant it." The moment was punctuated by a slow, careful movement that had one of the figure's much larger hands gently picking up one of Bendy's, the small white glove nearly lost in the sea of starry black. However, as they raised his hand away, a faint flash of pain caused the little devil to wince, the movement causing the light to catch on a loose patch of ink ringing his arm. At first, the sight was confusing, before the memory of straps biting into his arms and legs, secondary in the face of the burning, caustic pain eating at his front, flickered into his mind and caused a wince to slip across Bendy's face. There were also small black stains on the fingertip of each glove, the pain there feeling like they'd been poked with needles.

When had that even happened, it was hard to remember…

Though, before the little devil could resign himself to bearing with the aches, the figure's hand moved to hold his arm, Bendy watching as a liquidy sheen rushed over his arms. As he watched his arm become encased, a faint flicker of movement off to the side made the small toon's eyes briefly dart to where Tom was slumped against Boris. The one-armed wolf's battered frame had a very similar sort of treatment, though much more extensive, forming like a shell over nearly his entire body. Even the side of his face was covered.

From what Bendy was feeling, the stuff didn't quite sting. If anything, it tingled, though a moment later it brought a strange cool feeling to the ragged rope burns, easing even the tired shadow of pain. Bendy couldn't help a faint, calm sigh, his world growing hazier considering that with the dull aches taken care of he was pretty much ready to go to sleep right then and there. But there was still something he had to ask about first, the sight of Henry's prone, still-emaciated form prodding some ashamed worry from the little devil.

He had to be sure, then he could rest.

"C'-C'n you help 'im?" The sudden question did get the figure to look up, though somehow they didn't need to clarify who Bendy was asking about.

"I'll try." They simply said, turning their attention to the malnourished, skeleton that barely looked like the man that Bendy had known. The large hands reached out, gently raising Henry's head a few inches from where it rested. Bringing their hooded head closer, a deep exhale rushed outward, blowing what looked like a cloud of glittering gold and silver. Lowering Henry back down, his part of the tendril-nest shifted around, turning into a low sort of cot which the comatose man rested a little more comfortably on. While Bendy knew he was hardly feeling one hundred percent, he desperately hoped that Henry's features at least had a less-agonized, drained edge, his gaze turning to their helper as they leaned back.

"He will need human help, but that should keep him comfortable. Enough to sleep." Their voice rumbled around as they turned back to look at Bendy, reversed eyes glimmering in their dark features. "You should sleep too, Bendy. It will be a while before we reach the top."

He had meant to ask about that, but the next second answered Bendy's question for him when the mechanisms holding the Ink Machine up suddenly gave a clunk, the whole thing briefly swaying as the sound of something grinding started up. Bendy felt the figure's other hand come up to the side of his face, the gesture nearly causing him to shrink back though the warmth soaking into his skin made the last bit of adrenaline melt away. He was tired, beyond tired, and if there was anything that Bendy really wanted to do, it was to put more temporal distance between him and what had happened.

The last thing Bendy heard was the clinking of the chains, the grinding noise changing as they entered the shaft. The sound was like a balm of hope to his exhausted, worn soul as he fell asleep.

---

As the Ink Machine started to rise through the much more narrow shaft, the group atop it dissolved into quiet. Boris, Tom, Bendy, and Henry were well under, Alice nearly still if it were not for a faint, shallow breath, and Dewey finally succumbing to dreamless sleep with a hummed lullaby. But there was one last toon that was awake, the figure's multi-eyed face turning to spot the tiny bit of moving black in their nest.

Buddy, for his part, did not flinch as they drifted a little closer, their form folding into a kneel as they focused on the smallest toon.

"My bright star…" Their voice hummed, little Buddy turning toward the noise as his face started to quiver.

Their inky-dark hands were enormous, though they were extremely careful in picking up the minute devil's body and holding him close, a finger gently brushing through the tuft of fur on his head. Though his arms and hands trembled, Buddy still tried to hold onto their robe, the shivers traveling to the rest of him as he began to quietly cry.

"Shh, I'm here, I'm here, it's over now…" They murmured, before gently easing Buddy away from their front. "And, my little one, I have something for you that I should have given you a long time ago."

A large hand came down to press to the minute devil's face, Buddy nearly pulling away before something warm emanated from their fingers, seeping into his features with a gentility that was immediately relaxing. It was like a hug after a long, long time in the dark.

It seemed to end almost too soon, though they finished the motion with a careful sweep that cleared the ink away from Buddy's eyes. The touch caused Buddy to give a reflexive blink, though that turned into more when he realized that there was shape and color now, instead of the earlier darkness.

He could see. He could see.

The minute devil's eyes darted around, taking in everything he could. Them, the nest they'd made, the chains winding into the air, the sleeping forms of the others….

The sight of the others nearly put a damper on that enthusiasm, Buddy blinking as his features drooped at the careworn exhaustion gripping everyone from Bendy to Dewey, even Henry laid lifelessly on the sort-of cot that They'd apparently made.

Everyone was so still that, if he hadn't been listening as they'd been eased to slumber before, he would have found it worrying. As such, he just hoped that they were all well and truly resting. They all definitely needed it.

His perch shifted, Their focus shifting to where a small form lay on her side against the nest. A few of the still loose tendrils gently arranged the prone angel, turning her carefully so the grinding of the mechanisms wouldn't cause her to roll over, either onto her front or onto her injured back. They leaned down, one hand keeping Buddy against Their shoulder as the other hand pressed to the open wounds on the angel's shoulder blades. Though the tiny toon intently watched, the apparent healing process wasn't anything particularly flashy. They seemed to clean something out, judging by how the area under the angel grew a little wet for a brief moment before the spare liquid, or more rather ink, was absorbed. From Their hand came a thicker, more cloying sort of ink, the black clinging to the angel's shoulders like a slime.

But it seemed like that was the most of what They could do, Buddy left blinking a little as They settled back against Their own side of the 'nest'. Their one hand was more than enough to cradle the tiny devil toon, the other coming up to rub gently over Buddy's newly healed brow, back and forth.

The careful motions were more than enough to calm the minute devil, Buddy reflexively stretching in a yawn as he settled into the front of Their robes. A faint, hummed snatch of a lullaby eased his descent into slumber, though before Buddy could well and truly drop off, there was a somewhat abrupt distraction in the form of a reddish light appearing on the wall of the shaft opposite them.

Any grogginess he might've felt was quickly chased away at the red and black, sharp-toothed face, looking more like a mask than a true set of features, that simply drifted up, slowly rising to be perfectly level with the lip of the nest.

"Oh, now this is touching. Glad to see you're in no hurry." The voice even felt vaguely menacing, like something reeling back in readiness to strike. Though They didn't move to chase the newcomer off, Buddy could feel Their hand shifting a little, coming up to block both his line of sight, and the red being's ability to see the tiny toon.

"Don't wake them up."

"Yes, don't disturb the children, I know. And the…" A pause, before the voice comes back with more of a sneer to the tone. "…pet project…"

"Don't. Touch him." Though Their voice was a hard bite, the response to it was almost flippant, careless.

"Yes, yes, and don't dare disturb your things. Even if they are a large part of what got us into this mess to begin with."

"He didn't do anything."

"Seems to be exactly the issue with a lot of these people, isn't it? Either way, you're already dead set on delaying our freedom for these, what's one more, right?"

"The bindings will break before morning anyway. There is no need to rush things any more than necessary."

"Thirty years. That's not a need?"

There was a long pause, Buddy unable to keep from tensing as he could practically feel the stand-off happening around him.

"…You have your obligations, your needs, and I have mine. Please do not tell me how to handle them."

"No, because you do a fantastic job of getting yourself entangled in the needs of others, don't you?"

Buddy could feel something, almost like a faint vibration, running through the form under the robe before They spoke again, voice deceptively calm.

"If I didn't like dancing to his tune, willingly or otherwise, what makes you think I will willingly dance to yours?"

In response to that, there was a low, annoyed growl that sounded more like a building fire, and it was all that Buddy could do to hope that things weren't about to get very, very dangerous.

"…Fine, have your dalliances. But, personification or not, franken-soul or not, you owe me. And I will collect." The fact that They might 'owe' this terrifying being anything was more than enough to put ice into Buddy's veins, the tiny toon trembling faintly in Their hold. But, now that the ultimatum had been laid down, the terrifying, fiery creature apparently saw no need to stay, and drifted away somewhere while Buddy had been hiding his face in his hands.

"Shh, shh, it's alright, bright star. It's alright…" Their voice hummed, the familiar, welcome sound easing Buddy down from his earlier hysteria. He huddled into the warm, living heat coming from under Their robe, his eyes fluttering as he quietly, and with little ceremony, slid off to sleep.

As the last of the toons slipped off to dreams, the multi-eyed, robed being resettled themselves a little more snugly into the side of their makeshift nest. While their fingers continued to gently stroke Buddy's head, their eyes turned heaven-ward, to where the chains of the Machine were steadily winding. They remained a silent sentinel, a guard, as the walls of the studio around them all glimmered with more patches of golden, glowing ink that intermixed with the black, little bubbles occasionally breaking loose to drift around the chains.

---

For Boris, his dreams were warm, safe things. He was firmly ensconced in what felt like a cloud, a soft series of noises playing in his ears that he was unfamiliar with, but at the same time they were lulling and calm. For a good while, his mind was quietly, mercifully blank, the wolf content to simply drift and sleep and rest.

But all things had to end, and though he did try to hold onto the quiet simplicity of his dreams, eventually there was nothing more to hold on to. They dissolved like mist, and Boris found himself leaning back against something with a slight, spongey consistency, and a faintly living temperature. There was a faint chill clinging to his fur, and dead weight on either side. One small, one large. And his nose was filled with the ever-present smell of ink, but there was also something else. A sort of metallic scent that definitely stood out from the reek of loose ink.

Taking in a deep inhale, and coughing as something in the back of his throat caught, Boris let his eyes flutter open, about to shift around to make himself more comfortable. But then he remembered what was on either side of him and tried his best to avoid moving.

Both Bendy and the other wolf were still sleeping, Boris looking with groggy slowness between the pair and though there was a slight flicker of worry, he had to conclude that they were both still healing.

Still sleeping, and not dead.

Though before Boris could muster up the energy to check, a rustling off to his left made him aware of the figure that had helped them earlier, sitting back against the lip of the strange nest they'd made. Their presence was still alien enough that it made Boris want to keep watching them in case something happened, but the look in those strange, multiple pairs of eyes felt entirely harmless. Soft and warm and inviting, just like the dream he'd just experienced.

It helped the image somewhat when he noticed that they'd picked up Buddy at some point, the devil toon tiny in their hands yet tucked carefully to their front like something precious. A finger carefully stroked through the tuft of fur on Buddy's head, the motion radiating the same gentle calm.

"Hello, Boris," their voice, big as the open sky, thrummed around the wolf. "How did you sleep?"

"F-Fine," Boris croaked, sounding downright paltry compared to this…being, this person. Were they even a person? Was it polite to ask? He felt so very out of his depth here, though the calm, gentle tone was easing any immediate spikes of anxiety. Besides, he did still feel rather tired, even with the nap he'd just taken. How long had he been asleep?

A faint stirring off to Boris's left quickly got the wolf's attention, his eyes snapping to where Bendy was starting to shift against his side. The little devil's head lolled awkwardly before more rolling into an upright position, eyes blinking blearily open and staring at nothing for a spell. But then, as Boris leaned a little to get a better look, Bendy's head reflexively swung in his direction, bleary eyes meeting the wolf's.

He hadn't meant to start crying again, but tears had started to slip out at the sight of the little devil, here and alive, after everything. Boris briefly fought with the desire to be as careful as possible and also want the smaller toon close, before he broke and tried to scoop Bendy up with as much gentility as he could muster.

The smaller toon grunted at the movement, prompting a raspy, worried apology from Boris that was semi-ignored as Bendy weakly huddled into the wolf's front. Just as the pair got settled, there was another noise that caught Boris's ears, a faint shifting coming from his right as the other wolf started to come to. As Boris turned his head to look, the other wolf's head lolled in his direction, the eyes fluttering open and meeting his.

For a moment the pair simply stared at each other, not knowing what else to do, before a rumbling, multi-toned voice emanated from the towering figure.

"Tom."

"T-Tom, who's-?" Boris croaked before comprehension dawned as he looked back at the other wolf. "Oh. You're Tom."

'Tom' nodded, before giving a gravely cough and bringing up a hand to knead at his head. His other arm came up to rest on his knee, Boris quickly catching sight of the unusual metallic appendage. Upon glancing up, and seeing that Tom had noticed him looking, Boris quickly swallowed and looked away.

He wasn't expecting the metal arm to very gently bop him on the side of the muzzle, Boris jolting up with a croaky squeak of a yelp to see Tom glancing his way, the other wolf having a faint grin on his face.

"Tom's been waiting for you to wake up," the towering figure hummed, gliding across the 'nest' to sit down on Boris's other side.

"H-He has?" Boris echoed, feeling Bendy shift to look around at the prosthetic-wearing wolf and give a quiet 'hi Tom'.

"Yes. He was made years ago in the studio. I talked to him, told him about you, Bendy, and Alice," the sonorous, multi-toned voice replied, the figure's other arm coming around to draw the still-slumbering inkwell toon against their side. Though he did give a sleepy murmur, the youngest toon did not wake up, instead huddling against the figure's shoulder.

"…How did you know about us?" Boris asked, unable to keep the question off his mind. He'd, never met this person before, surely if he had he'd remember, right?

Right?

"I was one of the three that helped make you."

Make, them? Himself, Bendy, Alice? That couldn't be right…

"H-How…I don't understand…" Boris mumbled, his ears already lowered to his skull though he felt his own body shift to fold inward, almost hiding from the sheer confusion of the moment. This, this didn't make any sense…

"Boris, it's alright. I will explain, and answer any questions you have to the best of my ability, I promise." The words were calming, centering, the wolf mentioned orientating himself around them as he tried his best to relax. The figure seemed to do the same before continuing. "Your creation was a three-part process. Henry started it when he first drew you on paper, making a general idea of your personality, how you would act and think. Your mind, essentially. Joseph, he put together the necessary spells to create your body out of the ink from the Machine. The ink that I…charged, so to speak. My job was to create your soul, to give you that spark of life that every living thing in this world has. In a sense, I drew from what Henry had, but also…provided my own touches, here and there."

"That seems…really complicated…" Boris found himself murmuring, a little taken aback by what felt an enormous amount of information. Honestly, he'd never quite expected to get this much by way of answers about his origins. He'd just sort of, accepted it when Joey had told him that he had made them…

"Making life is hardly a simple undertaking," the figure hummed, something like fondness in their voice as Boris felt a long-fingered hand gently ruffle the fur on his head. "And, I did not want you to be just some caricature, or something ripped from Henry's mind. I wanted you to live. To have your own thoughts, aspirations, dreams. Originally, Joseph had wanted you to have the stories he and Henry had made in your minds as if they were your own memories, but I thought that was unnecessary."

"Why?" The wolf asked before he could stop himself. Though, in his mind, it seemed like a legitimate question. Joey had been very protective and proud of the actual cartoons, and even Henry had taken some pride in having helped to animate them. Joey told them that that had been where they'd come from, but that had felt strange given that Boris hardly remembered being like his counterpart on the flickering screen.

And then there were all the…not-so-great moments that the wolf had seen, of Bendy being hurt and upset and how he would just stand there, of the at times cruel slapstick that happened mainly to the little devil, Joey's words about how the canid toon was the dim-witted, slow, and stupid one, often reinforced on screen as the wolf breezed in and out after food or some other flash-in-the-pan type of a want. Boris hadn't wanted to poke at it too much, sensing the pride the studio collectively took in their creations from how they cheered and got together to watch the finished products at the end.

Just shut up and don't say anything, don't cause trouble, don't be greedy…

"Because I did not wish for you to pine after a world that did not exist," that larger-than-life voice started, Boris snapping out of his melancholier thoughts to listen. "I felt it would be better if you started as anything in this world does, as a blank slate, and build up memories and experiences over time. Joseph, was not supportive of the notion, but I did insist on that. It was one of the few things he allowed."

"…Did he hurt you too?" Boris asked. It was almost unthinkable for someone like this to be hurt, by anyone at all, but…he wouldn't have thought Joey would…

The wolf couldn't help curling in on himself a little at the reminder, body language forcing itself small as though that could hide him from the specter of the terrible memory. But before the wolf could sink too far he felt one of Bendy's hands come up to clutch at him in a partial hug, along with Tom's metallic arm coming down to rest on his shoulder. In a final gesture of support, Boris felt that long-fingered hand come back, gently kneading around his ears. For a brief instant, a snatch of some music played through the air, soft and lulling, before the figure actually answered.

"He changed me. I haven't quite worked out if it's for the better yet, but…I have hope."

"A-Are you a god?" This came from Bendy, the little devil's voice a soft croak but his words were clear.

"…Perhaps." Came the thoughtful reply. "Before, I hardly had much of a thought about anything, nevermind who I was. I suppose, from a human's perspective, I fall under the category. But…"

The words had been growing progressively heavier the longer they went on, the figure seeming to consider their own form before they finished their thought.

"…I would not say that I feel, godly. I just am. I suppose, whatever that means now will come with time."

"Do you have a name?"

"…Not in the same way you do. My concept, my existence, was centered around the dreams and inspiration of man. Their cerebral depths and heights. I am…dreams, inspiration, thought, and creation. But now…I don't know how much that still applies. Or if it matters. Names do have meaning, but, from what I have noticed, the meaning does not have to be indicative of the person that has the name. Not like an object, or a concept. So strange…" A rumbling sigh, before they went on. "I suppose you can call me whatever you like. You can take some time to think about it if you wish."

Suddenly the multiple sets of reverse-colored eyes turned to the minute devil still huddled to the front of the robe, Boris's and Tom's gaze snapping to look as well. Just in time for Buddy to squirm, stretching with a yawn as he appeared to look around. It was only when the tiny toon's head turned in Boris's direction that he realized that Buddy's eyes were different. More normal-looking than the blank, white orbs they'd been before.

Though, unlike the usual black on white, the pie-cut pupils were ringed with bright blue, the sight so distinct that it nearly took the lanky wolf off-guard for an instant. But the shock was swept away as he waved, and Buddy waved back with a tiny smile, and Boris realized that the minute devil could see him.

There was a new wetness that clawed its way from the edges of Boris's eyes, running over as he gave a hard blink in an attempt to suppress it. He could feel Bendy's tail moving, though he didn't look to see if it was flicking or coiling close. For the moment, all he could see was the minute devil, all grins and wagging tails, who the figure was lowering into a hug between the wolf himself and Bendy.

"H-Hey Bud," the little devil murmured, voice a little wet as he weakly completed the embrace. Boris was a little too overcome to really say anything, attempts at words garbling in his throat before he gave up and just hugged the pair for all they were worth.

They were fine, they were both fine, they were going to be okay…

"Tom, I have a gift for you," the figure suddenly said, making the wolf in question straighten up though it got the attention of the other three as well. At their gesture, Tom came around to sit almost in front, kneeling as he peered quizzically up at them.

"I believe I was able to heal the damage done to your throat. You should be able to talk now, if you would like to try?"

T he news seemed to catch Tom completely off-guard, the other wolf staring up at the multi-eyed figure with incredulous disbelief etched into every line of his face. Then, with deliberate care, he placed his flesh and ink hand over his throat, and sat in silence for a brief instant.

Boris's keener ears definitely picked it up first, the lanky wolf straightening a little as he was able to pick up a sound that just barely stood apart from the clanking of the chains winding around them, echoing in the shaft they were traveling through. A soft, but independent hum that actually sounded like an honest-to-God voice.

And, once Tom realized that he was capable of that, the other wolf tested it a little. The humming grew just a bit louder, changing pitch a bit this way and that. A faint smile blossomed over Tom's features the longer he went on, and the more capable his new voice proved.

At least, until there was a slight catch that made the wolf cough, though Tom persisted for a few more moments. His tenacity paid off, though the brief, triumphant elation was dashed when Tom looked in the direction of the other toons, and apparently saw something that dashed the moment to pieces given that his face fell and he turned away.

The multi-eyed face of the figure also dimmed, a hand reaching out to Tom and cupping the side of the wolf's face. There was a brief, wordless bit of communication that passed between the two, a sort of melancholy pain that somehow transcended the need for talking. It was an image that struck something in Boris's split chest, the lankier wolf unable to keep from leaning a little in that direction, a worried frown on his face as he both took in the moment, and couldn't help remembering the sight of a human-sized shape flying through the air to land in an ink flooded cavern. Boris might not have been able to see every part of what happened, but from what he did, and what he could hear, he could read between the lines a little.

Enough that he couldn't help feeling a sympathetic ache in his heart, Boris scooting just a little closer and bringing Bendy and Buddy with him. But with their closer proximity, the figure had apparently caught sight of them. Their face turned to the three toons, the lanky wolf briefly feeling a shiver ghost down his spine at the multi-eyed, alien-looking gaze, and all the weight that sat there. But, the feeling vanished as a softness crept into their eyes, a careful hand reaching out to the trio.

Moving more on instinct, Boris edged into the hug, Bendy and Buddy being pressed in the middle as the figure's arms wrapped around the three of them. He could see Tom being drawn in too, the other wolf facing towards the side that the still-sleeping inkwell still occupied. It was hard to tell, as Tom seemed to remain still, but Boris could have sworn that a faint shiver traveled through the stockier toon's shoulders in time with a barely-there hitched breathing. The sound was so miniscule that even Boris's more sensitive ears had to strain to hear.

But, even if Boris thought he might've imagined it, the figure themselves seemed to cotton on to something, head leaning down as a soft rumble reverberated from under their robe. The lower half of their face pressed to the crown of Tom's head, and though it felt like Boris had blinked he thought he had seen a faint glimmer of light soak into the spot. If so though, it was very much a there and gone moment, too fast for him to really take it in.

Before Boris could even think to try asking after it, the figure started to hum a soft tune in the back of their possibly existent throat, something sort of slow and lulling that eventually blossomed into words.

The song itself was not in English, and while Boris couldn't really understand any of the words, the melody still retained that lulling, soft tone that tugged at the wolf's eyelids. It didn't help that whatever sort of body the figure had under the robe was giving off was enough that it felt like any old person, the gentle heat and soft song lulling Boris back into slumber.

But as the wolf slipped under, the little devil held to his front wasn't quite so easily sent off to dreamland. Though Bendy still ached, and did have tiredness itching at his bones, he had a question buzzing about in his mind that would not let him rest. At least, not until he gave voice to it.

Though there was a quiver of anxiety as the small toon craned his horned head back, never mind when the figure actually paused in their singing to look down at him, Bendy couldn't help his own curiosity.

"C-Can I ask something else?"

"Of course you can, Bendy."

"When, when I was upstairs, I heard that the workers had t', t'offer sacrifices t'the gods. Were those, those things I saw gods?"

"Humans worshiped them as gods, once upon a time. But they are not like I was. What you saw was a mermaid, an earth elemental, a sylph, an ifrit jinni, and-"

A tinkling, bell-like noise broke through the moment, Bendy's head creakily turning as something glowing zipped over the lip of their makeshift little nest and whirled in slow circles above their heads. Even though the light was strong enough that Bendy found himself squinting, he could make out the familiar features of a pixie-like little shape, the bright, pinprick eyes in the face glinting like little stars as they looked down at him.

"-A will 'o the wisp." The figure finished, aforementioned wisp briefly flitting down to their face, their path going around the back of their hooded head like a content cat.

"Hello. Are you ready to go home?"

More bells, though if Bendy were to be any sort of judge, it definitely sounded like a yes, I'm ready!. The wisp settled down on the figure's shoulder, the sounds of bells still ringing faintly from its comparatively smaller form.

"W-Where's home for them?"

"All over the world, really. Though they go where they like."

Bendy had had the notion in the back of his mind that there was one creature that hadn't been discussed, though the mention that 'they' could go where they liked made this roar back to the forefront of his brain with a vengeance. But as a tiny rivulet of ink started to run down his brow, the little devil was surprised when a large, star-dappled hand gently reached down to wipe it away.

"Bendy, what's wrong?" Their voice rumbled, practically dripping with the same caring that they displayed in their movements. Not that the small toon really had it in him right now to hide how he was feeling anyway.

"Wh-What about the last one? The, the one in the dark?"

At first, Bendy thought that he might not get an answer, as the figure went ominously quiet for a few moments. But, with a low rumbling that might've been a sigh, they did eventually reply.

"That was the Hide Behind. A dark creature that frequents this part of the world. Joseph trapped it before you were made, and would have used it to fuel his spell."

"What kinda a spell?" The little devil immediately asked, though from what he remembered, Joey had been rather explicit about what he wanted…back there. But still, a part of him wanted to hear what they would say.

"…Initially, when Joseph told me of his plan, he wanted to find a way to bring you and Boris to life, to bring the characters that he and Henry had made, and enjoyed, into the world. It would be difficult, but it was not undoable." Their eyes turned to consider the middle distance, aimed in the direction of the opposite end of the nest, but looking probably further back as they continued to speak. "He wanted to continue making the cartoons, and was purchasing the land that this studio now sits on to fuel both that and your creation, but then something changed."

"What changed?"

"Joseph suffered an accident. While he was finalizing the move he was struck by a car and badly injured. His body never quite recovered. And, that's when the plan started to change. Instead of having you brought into the world, he wanted to keep you in the studio. Instead of thinking about what he, Henry, and the others wanted, he only considered himself. I…did not understand at the time, what was happening, or what I was sensing from him. But, looking back on it now, I understand a little better…"

Another low, rumbling sigh, Bendy briefly seeing dark splotches edged in glowing gold soak through at the cuffs of their sleeves. But, with a quick glance down, and a seeming nudge of willpower, it was forced back. They continued to talk as if nothing had happened.

"He was afraid, at first. And then it turned into an obsession so strong that he felt he could control life, all aspects of it. That was why he tied me to this building, to the Machines. That was why he brought the others here. To create a world free from the things he thought were wrong with this one."

Now that did sound familiar, but what was really bothering Bendy was the question of how Joey had been wanting to go about that. Creating a world, that couldn't have been something small, could it? In fact, where would Joey have even gotten the idea that something could have been possible?

"How was he going to do that?"

"With me." Came the simple answer, though to elaborate the figure nudged Tom into the crook of their other arm, turning more in Bendy's direction, and a semi-transparent, star-dappled hand appear to tug the neck of the robe down just enough that the top of a ragged scar on the figure's front was exposed, at about where the top of a person's ribcage would be. It was dark, just like the rest of their 'skin', but it was ringed in that self-same glowing gold, the slight indent hinting that this was not a natural part of the body but a rather roughly done alteration. The figure let this stand for a few minutes before readjusting the robe, the mark tucked carefully out of sight.

"Originally, I was just to help him with your creation, but as his plan changed, he demanded more. To make this new world, he had to take a part of me. He had to become something more than a man."

The realization of what exactly Joey had ended up becoming, along with what that had to do with the entity sitting next to him, was chased from Bendy's mind as his exhaustion caught up with him again, the little devil giving a jaw-popping yawn that ended in a slight shiver. While the shaft was leagues above the room with the monolith in terms of temperature, there was still a bite of cold to the air. And, while it was good that he had some insulation, his short fur really didn't do very much, especially since it was partially ink-logged in spots. Though, before the little devil could really process what had happened, a blanket with worn, soft fabric was carefully arranged over his frame. And tucked around Boris and Lil' Buddy too, as he confirmed with a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.

The figure had started to hum too, a sort of lilting tune that tugged at the little devil's eyelids despite his best attempts. Seeing that the small toon was fighting sleep, the multi-eyed face flickered with fondness at the edges, a hand carefully reaching down to rub a line in the side of Bendy's face, mirroring the transition from white to black in his fur. Soft, simple motions, up and down, up and down…

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair…" Their voice hummed, the little devil feeling himself slipping away into a warm, unfeeling gray as sleep finally won out. "Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme…"

The little devil's breathing started to slow, mirroring that of the wolf and minute toon tucked in next to him. As it became more clear that he was under, the figure turned their attention to Tom, the wolf also having dropped off some time ago.

"Remember me to one who lives there…"

Carefully they tucked in the one-armed wolf next to Bendy, a star-dappled hand coming up to brush through the fur on Tom's head when the movement made him frown in his sleep.

"She once was a true love of mine…"

Between the lulling song and the gentle touch, it wasn't long before Tom was sleeping peacefully, the wolf tucked under the blanket with the other three. Though they kept a hum up in their throat, the figure's attention turned to that of Henry and Alice, the pair still quiet and still, but after a moment similar blankets had been draped over each of them. A mix of inky tendrils from the nest around them and semi-transparent hands carefully arranged it so that each was comfortably tucked in.

They took a moment to survey their handiwork before deeming that it would do for now, though as they settled back down, a faint movement at their other side caught their attention, their head turning to look just in time to see the inkwell toon's eyes start to blink open. A warm, rainbow-band grin drifted across their face as the pie-cut pupils stared muzzily around before focusing on them.

"Hello, Dewey," they spoke, their voice a warm hum as Dewey yawned, a hand automatically coming up to rub at his eyes. "How did you sleep, little one?"

A sleepy mumble was the inkwell's answer, Dewey giving another yawn though tiredness pretty quickly fled in the face of something new.

And to the recently created inkwell, everything was new.

Even still, there was a shadow of fear in Dewey's expression as their other hand carefully reached around to cup his face. As such, they halted, humming softly to the inkwell toon until the fear eased. At the somewhat desperate lean into their palm, the figure gathered the youngest toon close, keeping up the quiet song as they tried to soothe him. It took some time, the half-hourglass figure vibrating faintly as it shivered with nerves and upset, though eventually the shaking stilled, the inkwell settling into the touch with a deep sigh.

"That's it, you are safe here. My little one, my worthy soul. You are safe."

Not all of those words made sense to Dewey in the moment, but the tone was more than enough to calm him. Still, while panicking was definitely enough to tucker him out a bit, he didn't want to go back to sleep, he'd just woken up!

But, seemingly sensing the inkwell's restlessness, the figure carefully eased Dewey back from where he'd been nestled against their front, beaming a soft, caring gaze down at the youngest toon.

"My little one, would you like to learn to walk?"

---

It was Buddy that woke up first this time, the tiny devil fidgeting in his sleep at the weird texture of fur under his face. It was longer than his own, a little straggly and dry, but warm and soothing in its own way. For the moment, he didn't want to wake up, nuzzling into the fur as he tried to go back to sleep. Though at the touch the owner of the minute toon's bed moved, a voice groggily speaking out from over his head.

"Buddy…?"

The sound of his name tugged the aforementioned tiny toon back to wakefulness, blue eyes turning to look up at Boris as the wolf peered down at him with a quizzical exhaustion. The confusion melted away from the canid features as Boris's arm briefly tightened around Buddy's frame in a careful squeeze.

"Good t'see you, Bud."

Good to see him. It wasn't exactly a first, but apart from Them, no one else had ever said that to the tiny toon. It was something that made a burgeoning warmth flare to life in Buddy, the minute devil throwing his arms around Boris as best he could while trying to return that hug.

The shifting around provoked a smattering of noise from both sides, the voices definitely distinct from each other though the mood in both was the exact same. Both Boris and Buddy's heads flip-flopped to look to either side, just in time to see both Bendy and Tom muzzily arise from their own slumber. Boris barely wasted a moment in scooping up the little devil, though with as much care as possible given that Bendy's injuries were still a concern.

Tom was…something of an enigma to the lankier wolf, Boris looking in the stockier toon's direction with the intent to include him but not really sure how.

There was a brief distraction in the form of a rhythmic clatter that drew the quartet's attention, pulling their eyes to the last of their conscious band.

It was a sight, for sure. The inkwell was somewhat dwarfed by the figure's even taller frame, though they still displayed that same gentility as they led the toon around a clear patch of space, letting him take small, but growing-steady circles on his feet.

"You're doing very well, Dewey. I'm so proud of you," the figure's voice hummed, head leaning down to sort of tap against the ring crowning the inkwell's head. 'Dewey' grinned, sharpened teeth showing out of an otherwise innocent smile as he giggled.

It was weird to see even from Bendy's perspective, helped along by the fact that Dewey did not sound in the least like a kid. The little devil's first few memories were admittedly hazy, but he was pretty sure that Joey just let him figure out walking on his own.

Though, with the thought in his head of the inkwell impaled on a piece of metal, perhaps this was a better way to go about it.

It was in that moment that Dewey happened to take his eyes off his own feet, and realized that he had an audience. The giddy innocence vanished under a wave of anxiety, the inkwell's expression miring with tension as he went from standing a little ways apart from the figure to latching onto them, burying his face in their robe.

"Oh, Dewey, it's alright. They won't hurt you…" The figure's voice spoke softly, like wind, hands carefully coming around and rubbing lines into the inkwell's shoulders. The only answer the newer toon gave was a terrified whimper, clutching tighter at the white fabric. "Shh, little one, shh, it's alright, you're safe…"

"I apologize, he's still a little frightened." Came a very similar sounding, though much quieter voice, speaking from right above the quartet. Out of the four, Tom and Buddy were the only two that didn't jump, though it didn't take long for Bendy to figure out what that had been. Weird, magic, voice throwing things…

"It's okay," Boris was whispering back before he really registered what he was saying, and what he was answering. The wolf felt a quiet frown take root as he couldn't help processing the implications of the inkwell's behavior, and from what he did remember of being back down there.

Then the inkwell glanced down at the group, and immediately locked eyes with Bendy. At first, the recognizing glimmer was befuddling and a little worrying to the devil until he remembered that while it had just been for a second, they had seen each other back in the…back in the big room.

Bendy was able to offer a little wave, which did get a smile, though at Boris's much more visible wave, the inkwell's grin became tinged with that anxiety. It did prompt Boris's ears to lower a little, though the wolf did try to give the younger toon a reassuring smile.

"H-Hey, it's okay. We're not gonna hurt you, Dewey, promise. You're okay with us."

The inkwell did glance back up at the figure, almost as though trying to confirm the words, though after nodding in an answer they seemed to have a better idea of how to go about this introduction. The youngest toon was carefully led over to the rest of the group and gently eased to sit as the figure settled down next to them, a hand resting on the inkwell's shoulder in a bolstering gesture.

"S-So," Boris started, voice unsteady with nerves for an instant before he was able to master it. "You're Dewey, right?"

Dewey nodded, though in the inkwell's case it was a bit of an odd gesture given that he didn't seem to have a flexible neck like the rest of them. If anything it looked more like a tiny rocking that went through his upper body, but the meaning was clear enough.

"My name's Boris. Can you say Boris?"

"Buh, bo," the inkwell stammered, growing more and more nervous the more he wasn't able to put the sounds together, but before Dewey could get too worked up, the wolf offered a solution.

"It's okay, say it in bits, like this: Bo-r-is." The wolf pointed to his mouth to emphasize the way he pronounced the sounds, Dewey looking on with keen seriousness as he tried to copy the older toon.

"Bo-rr-is."

"Bor-is."

"Bor-is."

"Boris."

"Boris. Boris. Boris!" Dewey's grin went right back to that blinding innocence, rocking happily as he realized that he'd succeeded and was saying the wolf's name just as well as Boris himself was. The lanky toon couldn't help a smile of his own, carefully reaching out and patting the inkwell's arm.

"That's right, Dewey! You got it! Very good!"

At first, the contact and the words seemed to shake Dewey out of the earlier triumph, before he glanced to the wolf's face, reading the smile there and seeming to realize he'd done something good. After which, the grin came back in full force with the youngest toon's hand reaching over to give Boris a reciprocating pat on the arm.

"Do you want to try sayin' Buddy's name now, Dewey? I'll help you, don't worry." Boris gently instructed, pointing to the tiny toon still tucked close to him, and then himself. It wasn't totally clear if Dewey understood the whole thing, but after looking back to the figure, and getting an affirming nod, he turned back to Boris and nodded, expression changing to that same keen seriousness that nearly made Bendy want to laugh. It was actually kind of adorable to watch.

The pair, meanwhile, continued their lesson, with Boris launching into a more sounded-out version of Buddy's name and Dewey trying to verbally copy him.

"Bu-dd-ie."

"Bu-dd-ie."

"Budd-y."

"Budd-y."

"Buddy."

"Buddy." Dewey echoed, before the fact that he'd gotten the word pitch perfect registered and he started to grin and happily rock all over again.

"That's right, Dewey! You did it!" Boris quickly congratulated, and this time the inkwell didn't flinch as the wolf patted him on the arm. Instead, the youngest toon was downright giggly, though he immediately started to point in Tom's direction.

"His name?" Boris asked, getting a completely elated 'nod' from the inkwell as he eagerly waited for the answer.

"Tom." This answer did not come from Boris, but from Tom himself, the stockier toon's eyes quietly boring into Dewey as he spoke. The shift from more open to more firmly neutral did register to the inkwell, who grew a little nervous at the change. Though, thankfully, Tom did realize that he was being a little too intense, giving a quiet sigh and settling back. When the other wolf toon opened his eyes again, Boris couldn't help noticing a softer, if more exhausted edge to Tom's gaze as he looked back at Dewey.

"D-Dewey," Tom murmured, slurring a little as he pointed in the direction of the inkwell. At Dewey's affirming nod, he turned the gesture around towards himself. "Tom."

"Dewey," the inkwell replied, mimicking the stocky toon's gruffly quieter tones as he pointed first to himself, and then to the other toon. "Tom."

"Good." Was all Tom seemed to be able to say, Boris jumping in so the inkwell wouldn't feel like he was in trouble. He'd done what he was supposed to do, after all, he should be told he did good!

"Yeah, Dewey, that was very good! Good job!"

"Good job!" The youngest toon parroted, returning to a full grin as he rocked a little to burn off his happier energy. Even though, logically, Bendy knew that the conversation was liable to turn to him, as he was the only one with a name that Dewey hadn't tried to say yet, he still found himself feeling a flutter of anxiety as the inkwell looked down at him. Despite the fact that the kid held not an iota of malice in his face, there was a part of Bendy that had to take a deep breath and gear itself up for this bit of social interaction.

"O-Oh, I'm Bendy." Ah, right, he should sound that out or something, shouldn't he? "Ben-dy. Bendy."

"B-Ben-ny?" Dewey stammered a little, offering an anxiety-tinged grin of his own.

"…Close enough."

The relatively tender moment was interrupted as first Bendy, then Tom, and then Boris looked at something on a part of the shaft that was higher up, with Dewey and Buddy straining to see what the other toons had. It was hard to tell from the angle they were at, but as they went higher, and closer, they could make out more specifics.

Or moreover, they could read what was written in the glowing gold ink, a rather solemn declaration of: HIS DREAM, OUR EFFORT.

For Bendy, the presence of the golden ink here, in perfect view, was both a little confusing and worrying, though some of the confusion flew the coop when he noticed little Buddy looking from the literal writing on the wall to the figure still standing alongside them, multiple sets of eyes quietly staring at the words.

"D'you write on the walls?"

"The gold writing is mine…everyone else wrote in black."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone who still had the cognizance to. I could hear all their cries, though. Everyone's."

Everyone's cries. Everyone together, down in the dark, reaching for him…

"Bendy?" Boris murmured, the little devil snapping to at the sound of his name. He could easily read the worried furrow in the wolf's face, the lowered ears and wide eyes, even with a thirty-year gap. He'd been becoming increasingly reacquainted over the past few…days? It had to have been more than one day by now, though the thought was more than a little worrying for Bendy to consider.

"'m, I'm okay, pal, I'm okay," the little devil mumbled, though he still nudged his way into a hug from the lanky wolf.

"…There were other places that I wrote messages. I didn't expect them to be found, but sometimes, I felt a setting called for a few words." The figure went on, some of the inky tendrils rising up into what looked like a hoop. Golden light began to fill the space, almost like a mirror, the image quickly becoming clear as the toons looked on.

It was Henry's corner, with his desk, the cutout tucked behind it. Just how Bendy remembered it when he stumbled upon it before, that feeling like a lifetime ago. Except this time there were small bubbles of golden ink drifting in the air around it, somehow glowing in a way that didn't clash with the emergency light. Almost like the two light sources just weren't able to touch.

But the most glaring thing was the sentence, or a thought perhaps, written out on the animator's desk. A glowing phrase with a noticeably clear declaration.

HE WAS BORN HERE

"Wh-Who's he?" Boris couldn't help but ask, provoking a rainbow arc of a smile on the figure's starry face.

"Technically, the one I was referring to was Bendy, but you were born there as well, Boris. You, Bendy, Alice, were all first drawn on that desk."

"On Henry's desk?" The wolf echoed, the full meaning of the phrase and the image beginning to sink in as he stared at the animator's little nook, seeing everything in a new light.

"Yes. Henry was the one that made the designs for the toons," the figure replied, with no small amount of warm pride, though whether or not it was the notion itself or pride in the artist, it was hard to say.

"But, but I thought you said that you made our souls?" Boris asked, turning away from the portal as it disappeared in a whirl of gold.

"I did. But I got the inspiration from Henry and his work. Without that, I could not have done it. You would not have been you." The figure's reply came in softer as their eyes turned to the man in question, still quiet and unconscious under a blanket.

"…You know Henry really well?" Bendy rasped out, unable to stay quiet at this revelation that was slowly unfolding before them all.

"We've been together for quite a while. Keeping each other company, considering the circumstances. It's been hard for us both, but he's been a wonderful friend and ally. I only hope I was able to be the same to him."

"How did you meet him? How long ago?"

"…After the studio fell, I had a difficult time believing that any of the human souls could be trusted. I was kept in the vault, and, for the most part, content to stay there, away from everyone else. And then, Henry came. Initially, I was not so sure he could be relied upon, but…he helped me. He had many opportunities to run, but he chose to help, even to the point of being trapped and captured, as I was." The figure's words were still that same, softer solemnness, but there was a myriad of other emotions present in their eyes, going nearly too fast for the little devil to read. Though, if Bendy were to be any judge, he would have said that they almost looked…mournful? Ashamed might have been the better word, but it was there and gone before he could really take it in. "He was trapped in the very Machine we are sitting upon. But these Machines are also a portal to my end of the studio. We could talk, and we had nearly thirty long years to ourselves. We grew to know each other quite well."

The information on its own was more than enough for Bendy's mind to digest, but the fact that Henry had been apparently trapped in the Ink Machine was sticking just a little too much in his thoughts at the moment. Especially considering how the man had looked, both on the outside and underneath the ink. He'd been changed thirty years ago, after Bendy left, no-

"Was, was that because I…? You both bein' trapped for, for thirty years, was that because of-"

"Joey trapped us, Bendy, not you. Hardships aside, it wasn't safe for you to be in the studio. That is why, when I had the opportunity, I told you what would happen. You remember?" The figure quickly cut in, voice not unkind though it was firm in its assertion. At the same time, Bendy could feel Boris's arms wrap around him in a tight hug, the wolf easily hearing the anxious tone in the little devil's voice even in its current croaky and worn state.

And Bendy did remember, sort of, but some part of him hissed that that wasn't good enough, that he'd just caused trouble, burdened and stole time from Henry, stole everyone's lives with his selfish, SELFISH stupidity-

"Shh, Bendy," the figure hummed, a hand carefully kneading around his horns. Even with the paralytic guilt and shame coursing through him, the little devil couldn't help the faint flickers of exhaustion that had started to bubble up, causing him to let out a yawn.

"It's alright, my little one, you're almost out…"

Almost, out? Out of the studio? It sounded almost too good to be true, though for the moment Bendy felt himself clinging to the notion on the grounds that, all things considered, things had been going pretty well. Perhaps he could afford having this one bit of hope…

Even still, the faint sounds of the chains creaking and clinking as they made the behemoth of a Machine rise higher and higher in the shaft made him think of the elevator, and a certain mad angel's laughter as she let it plummet with the little devil and a certain wolf toon in it. But Bendy couldn't muster up the energy to be terrified anymore, and instead he resigned himself to the quiet darkness of sleep as a soft humming echoed in his ears.

Boris felt the small toon relax, though he couldn't help the flickers of worry that ate at his own insides. It wasn't helped as he looked up, and realized that he remembered where they were. He and Bendy had seen this before, when they'd been getting the parts and the ink for the crazy not-Alice.

However, his eyes had lit on a written addition over the open space where he and Bendy had stood, where they'd gotten that glimpse of the Machine as it had been lowered down through the studio.

SHE'S HEARTLESS

It didn't take a genius to figure out who 'she' was, though at the reminder, Boris couldn't help a slight shiver as his ears folded down, tail tucked in in an effort to look and be smaller, to hide.

"She's gone, Boris," the multi-toned, big-as-the-sky voice spoke, the wolf jumping a little as his pie-cut eyes snapped to the reverse-toned, alien ones. "She's gone, remember? She can't hurt you anymore."

"I know, I know…" Though his reply felt like it was filling in the right qualifiers, Boris knew the somewhat woebegone tone didn't exactly help in making people think he was okay.

Therefore, he wasn't very surprised when he felt Buddy's mitten-covered hands wrap around one of his arms, the tiny toon's face furrowed with worry when Boris looked down to meet his eyes. What did surprise him a little was Tom's shoulder gently knocking into his, the other wolf's arm coming up to rest over Boris's own shoulders. Before he could even try to look Tom in the eye, the feeling of Dewey's hand tentatively patting at his leg drew Boris's eye to the inkwell. The youngest toon's face was clouded over with some hint of anxiety, like he wasn't sure if he was going to be rebuked for what he was doing, but a much larger part of the emotion there belonged to a sympathetic sort of worry that Boris wasn't sure he'd earned.

He never should have trusted Joey, never should have listened, never should have taken the ink, never should have gone downstairs…

"Boris," their voice hummed, a hand reaching down to knead around his ears. "It wasn't your fault."

But it still felt like it. Words didn't mean much in the face of real action, real choices that Boris had made that had put him in those positions. Under the knife, atop the slab, in pain, screaming for the pain to stop…

What happened next, it was a little hard for Boris to say. His memories were foggy, but he had the distinct impression that he'd started to cry with deep, gasping sobs, his frame tucked close to robes that smelled of ink and paper as a voice softly whispered soothing words and hummed in his ear, until it all dropped away into a dull sort of doze.

With Boris and Bendy both asleep, the figure looked to the only three left awake, Dewey, Buddy, and Tom. Buddy was the first to nudge his way forward, the tiny toon clambering up and curling in the crook of the figure's arms, Tom slumping down next to them and tucking his head against their arm. Dewey was already tucked to the figure's opposite side, worriedly frowning up at them.

There was a faint crinkling of the eyes, but somehow even the alien, near-godly figure couldn't muster up a rainbow-band smile. Instead, they gathered their toons close, and turned their eyes skyward, watching the chains as they reached into the darkness.

---

There was a gritty feeling in Bendy's eyes as he woke up, the little devil reaching up to rub before the motion made something twinge in his chest. A quick glance down reaffirmed that yes, there was still a makeshift bandage in the form of his old jacket there, and while it didn't exactly feel like there was an open wound, it didn't feel too far from that.

A flicker of gold at the edge of his vision caught Bendy's attention, the little devil's head turning to see something new written on the wall they were rising past.

LISTENING AND ALWAYS WATCHING

"We're very close now, this is the Music Department's level…" The figure's multi-toned voice murmured from over Bendy's head. The words brought some level of orientation to the little devil's brain, though given everything that had happened his harrowing time in the music department felt like a very, very long time ago.

For the moment, Bendy didn't say anything, just stayed huddled in Boris's arms and let the sounds and sights wash over him. He registered Dewey and the figure getting up again with the pretext of making the inkwell more sure on his feet. As Bendy dully watched, a flicker of gold on the wall a little further up caught the small toon's attention, his eyes squinting a little as he tried to make it out. It wasn't until they'd risen a little higher that he was able to make it out.

JOEY LIED TO US

Yeah, to everyone except me. Bendy couldn't help the thought given that, well, Joey had said that he'd needed him to keep the studio running. He'd just not said a whole lot. And Bendy knew Joey, and had come anyway.

Joey's little monster…

The feeling of Boris's arms carefully squeezing Bendy's smaller frame didn't quite register at first, though as the gentle hug continued for more than a few moments the little devil found himself looking up at the wolf's face. Boris's own eyes glanced back down before he tucked more firmly around Bendy, eyes teary and a prominent frown taking root on his features. The hug was everything it had been all those thirty years ago, warm, encompassing, and in a strange way, understanding, though the feeling of the scar pressing into the side of his head ruined Bendy's momentary reverie.

Things weren't the same anymore. This wasn't thirty years ago. Boris and the others, they'd gotten hurt because of him. Because he'd run off and then he'd just come back and let Joey-

Blinking against a watery film drifting over his eyes, Bendy swallowed down a lump forming in his throat. Feeling Boris's arms shift a little, Bendy couldn't help slumping a little as a hand quietly brushing lines into his shoulders. Left, right, left, right, calm and slow like the wolf had back thirty years ago whenever Bendy got overwhelmed or upset.

Even though it wasn't thirty years ago, Bendy couldn't help the entirely automatic reflex; he curled up in Boris's arms and tried to cry as softly as possible.

The feeling of little Buddy's mitten gloves patting at his arm did register, but for the life of him, Bendy couldn't work up the energy to react, even after he'd cried himself dry and just lay limply in Boris's hold.

He was more than ready to just drop off again, and for the briefest instant, Bendy was sure that he had. Though, the waking dream was a quick flash of warmth, taking on the texture of a pair of sleeves as the little devil was carefully held with something warm and humming pressing against the crown of his head for an instant.

Bendy could hear the sounds of Dewey's shoes tapping against the top of the Ink Machine, the inkwell having gone back to walking in circles to get more and more sure of his feet. Probably a good thing, the little devil couldn't help but ruminate, considering that he wasn't even sure what they'd do when they got out.

Henry'd need a hospital, at the very least, wouldn't he? The thought did occur to Bendy but for the moment he couldn't do more than let it wash over him, along with the creaking and clattering of the chains as they carried the Ink Machine to the very height of its climb.

And, at long last, the top of the shaft could be seen. It was helped somewhat by the fact that despite the still prevalent splotches of yellow gold everywhere, but by contrast, the main Ink Machine room appeared somewhat blinding from below. Everything atop the Machine ground to a halt, everyone's eyes turning heavenward as they rose into the light.

The room's walls glimmered with light, smears of glowing gold on nearly every surface. However, while the catwalk was easily visible across the room, the Machine still remained suspended somewhat in the air, with no clear-cut way down so they could go to the ladder.

But just as Boris and Tom started to consider the drop, the tendrils of ink that had ringed the top of the Machine started to unwind, before snaking towards the catwalk and pulling the railing down like it was taffy. More tendrils joined it, creating a rough sort of rope bridge that ran across the gap.

"Boris, Bendy, could you take Buddy and go first?" The figure asked, a hand carefully resting at the wolf's back. At a flash of nervousness from Boris, they pulled the wolf closer with a brief squeeze as they tried their best to mollify the anxiety.

"It'll be alright, I won't let you fall. Just go quickly, we don't have much time."

Though there was still tension clinging to the lanky wolf's frame, the mention of time did inject some urgency into the moment, Boris carefully stepping onto the bridge and doing his best to hurry along while keeping ahold of both devils.

As the wolf disembarked the bridge and stepped to the side, Bendy caught sight of another bit of golden writing, this time on the side of the Ink Machine itself.

WHO AM I NOW?

Looking down, there was another message simply scrawled all over the floor of the catwalk itself, this time reading THERE NEVER WAS A CHOICE.

The next across the catwalk was Tom, the stockier wolf having picked up Alice's limp form and holding her to him as he carefully treaded across. The figure carefully eased Dewey over to the start of the bridge, though the inkwell shied away. Bendy could see the look of fear that flashed over Dewey's face, the white feather poking from the top of the inkwell's head flicking close to his head as he took a shaky step back.

"D-Dewey…" Bendy started, though his voice was far too quiet. Thankfully Boris heard, and he was able to pick up the slack.

"Dewey, it's okay, just come to us, we've got you!"

The wolf's call did bolster the youngest toon, though Dewey still looked behind him, at the figure as they approached with Henry held carefully in their arms.

"It is alright, I will be right behind you," their voice hummed, a few more tendrils backing up the words as they wound across and made the bridge a bit thicker and more steady-looking. Though Dewey didn't quite lose his fear, he did take the first step forward, inching his way over the makeshift bridge. The inkwell did glance over the side about halfway through, before pulling back and flinching, eyes slamming shut as he froze for a moment.

"Dewey," Tom's voice graveled, a slight slur marring the words though the stockier wolf's tone was ironclad, an arm reaching out to the youngest toon as he shifted his grip on Alice. "Don' look down. Just come here, okay?"

Though Dewey still kept a rather tight grip on the tendrils running above the main part of the bridge, he still opened his eyes, looking at Tom as he spoke. And, once Tom was finished speaking, the youngest toon took in a shaky breath and kept walking across the bridge.

The seconds seemed to crawl by like years, but eventually one of Dewey's hands shakily met Tom's, the wolf toon pulling the inkwell the last few inches until he was safely on the other side.

"Got you," Tom murmured, Dewey's other hand latching onto his shoulder with a tremble as the inkwell shakily bobbed in a nod, eyes a little teary but a wobbly grin forming underneath.

The figure, meanwhile, had come to the opposite end of the bridge, starting their own journey across. Their steps were purposeful, but careful, doing their best not to jostle the man cradled to their front. As they made it over to the other side, a faint fizzling noise came from the wall of the room, the group collectively looking over just in time to see a brightly glowing crack appear in the wood. It snaked up from the floor, going behind the generator and trailing through the wall like a looming specter.

"Wh-What's happening?" Boris asked, ears lowering worriedly as he considered the apparent damage to the studio itself.

"The studio can no longer hold the energy it was meant to contain. You will all have to leave… Myself as well, I have been kept here for far too long." The figure's reply was calm, but there was a firmness to their tone that caught the toons' attention.

"B-But I thought you said you've always been here?" Boris asked, faintly confused and a more than a little apprehensive by the words.

"Indeed, for thirty long years. Too much for one small bit of land. We will need to be quick." They carefully herded the toons, ushering them down the hall leading out of the Ink Machine's room. As they went, the Machine itself rose just a little bit higher on its chains, the glowing growing in brightness as fizzling came from the crack in the wall.

The pipe lying across the floor was pushed down as they approached, the floorboards deforming and reforming around it like water. The sight was mind-boggling enough that Boris hesitated before walking over that stretch of floor, like it might turn to liquid if any pressure was put on it. Tom was the one to carefully put a foot out, tapping at the wood and glancing back at the figure.

With a quiet nod from them the procession kept moving forward, though as they passed the board with the output from the Ink Machine written on it, Bendy couldn't help but notice that the list of numbers had been scrawled over, the words 'FREE' and 'FREEDOM' written over and over in the gold ink. And another crack was appearing, the jagged edges coming up from the floor next to the doorway and running all the way up to the ceiling. As they rushed though, the faint sounds of fizzling started to echo up, but the figure's presence blocked them from looking back.

As they reached the knoll where the inked message was written, there was another addition to it, penned in that same golden ink. It was a small change, but it definitely changed the tone of the whole message.

NOT ALL DREAMS COME TRUE.

And underneath that another crack had appeared, fizzling at the edges with multi-colored light. As the group passed, a shadowy shape began to appear next to it, a sort of human-looking shape with vague suggestions of a glowing pair of eyes. Immediately, for Bendy, it brought to mind the sight he'd seen in…back down there. With the people, the other studio workers, and with Joey…

Boris suddenly shifting his grip did get Bendy's attention, though his line of sight also let him see the skeletal frame still resting in the figure's arms. It made him, in that moment, really, really miss the grounding presence that Henry had, though the little devil fumbled between that desire for a safe harbor in this storm, and not wanting to cause more trouble, not wanting to drag anyone else down-

A faint whimper from Boris snapped Bendy out of the downward spiral, the little devil looking up to see the wolf's eyes also on Henry.

"He will be alright, once he is out. We need to hurry. The seals are breaking." The figure's voice was punctuated by another, nearby fizzling, their path out into the main foyer of the animation department showing that it had three separate cracks. One across the back wall, one on the ceiling, and the other a jagged line over the hallway that led down to Henry's workspace. There were also more shapes drifting into view, simply appearing near the glowing breaks in the studio's walls. Though as his eyes cast around, Bendy couldn't help noticing another addition in glowing gold to the studio's sign on the wall.

JOEY DREW NOTHING

The 'nothing' covering up the 'studios', but the message there was still plain as day. Or, at the very least, hinted that someone had an axe to grind and wanted to set something straight.

But, as the group fully came out into the room, one of the humanoid shapes appeared to key into their presence, a few pairs of shimmering eyes turning to them as echo-y voices began to speak.

"Lord…?"

"Are we saved?"

"Lord?"

The horribly familiar words crashed in on Bendy's ears, making the little devil's breathing stutter in his lungs as he weakly curled into Boris's frame. The wolf himself did his best to shield Bendy, though his own fear was starting to show in involuntary shakes. But before either could dissolve too much, the figure started to nudge in from behind, coming around to block the sight of the wolf, and more importantly, the little devil, from the small crowd growing in the foyer.

"Hurry, go to the door." The words hummed through the air like a downed wire, Boris's shaking legs pulling into motion as he hurried for the hallway. Tom and Dewey weren't far behind, though they immediately ran into a problem; the trap door was still open, and the door closed. There was no place to jump to in order to get to the door, and subsequently get out.

In askance, Boris cast around before looking to the side, catching sight of one of the posters for Sheep Songs. But, scrawled across it was a new addition, reading simply I'M SORRY LITTLE ONE.

"DEWEY, TAKE HENRY," The figure's voice boomed, shifting into something echoing and much, much larger than even the towering frame inside the white robe, mirroring the manner in which their too-tall frame extended outward as a wall between them and the foyer. But their voice could not cover the sounds of sizzling, of cracking, the arcs of light that spiraled off the walls as the wood seemingly splintered under the weight of the metaphysical weight had been forced to hold.

From underneath their robe, another set of arms extended outward, the hands coming together in a thunderous clap.

And the studio itself jumped to life at the noise, the trapdoor springing upward and the door flying open. Golden and silver light danced around the frame, sparking as the sizzling and crackling from the internals of the studio grew all the more louder despite their efforts to block it.

"GO!" Their voice boomed, rising above the cacophony of sound building in the room behind them.

But, just as the reverberating shout started to fade down, softer words were carried to the toons' ears, mirrored in the glowing streaks running from the multiple sets of eyes.

"I love you."

There was no time for an in-depth goodbye, not with the crashing and clattering and sizzling coming from all around. The toons instead dashed to the door as one, carrying both their own bodies and the less ambulatory down the few steps to the sidewalk and into the street.

As they threw themselves over the threshold, a loud crash echoed through the building, growing into a plume of dust and debris which shot through the roof over the Ink Machine's room. The crashing cascaded into more noise, the sounds of things shattering and booming as they finally broke under the long-upheld strain. As the building started to shake on its shoddy foundation, a rumbling could be felt under the asphalt of the street, causing the group to draw back and huddle together.

A great wind erupted from the very depths of the studio, the group buffeted by the gale that emerged from every opening in the crumbling building. At the corners of their eyes danced indistinct shadows and orbs of light, the wind not quite able to cover a chorus of voices, of happy laughter, crying, indistinct but discernable. Barely did these fade before lights beamed out from the crumbling building, a red one that rocketed into the sky and headed west, a gold light that whirled upward on a dizzying path, a silvery gray that spun like a tornado into the air, a green glow dappled with blue that slowly rose, small plants and blades of grass growing in its wake before it rushed out the back part of the building, for the mountain that stood tall on the horizon. At the same time, something dashed past the small group huddled on the pavement, a familiar chittering noise just barely audible over the still-blowing gale.

But the noise of the wind was joined by a new sound, a scraping and crashing like something was climbing up from the cavernous pit that the studio was rapidly becoming. The maelstrom kicked into a new gear as an enormous shape rose from the depths of the earth, its form fading in and out as it lifted itself further and further away from its prison.

From over Boris's shoulder, Bendy was able to see the vague suggestion of features in the otherwise shapeless figure, glimmers of multiple sets of eyes gleaming as the head rose up and grew indistinct, fading into the star-dappled sky overhead.

And then, with a few fading crunches and clatters as the ruined husk of the studio settled, the spell was done, reality reasserting itself and leaving the group huddled on the cracked asphalt of the street with small bits of debris here and there.

But, as the adrenaline faded, Bendy realized that the whole ordeal had ripped open something, Bendy could feel his jacket growing sticky against his fur and skin. But…he wasn't feeling like he was in pain, it was just…getting hard to think…

The last thing the little devil saw as everything faded into black, were the stars above. Briefly, just as his eyes slid closed, he thought he could see them swimming about in the sky.