Lol sorry for disappearing I was hit by the Miguel O'Hara disease

TW: gore (shocker), child abuse, William being literally the worst father ever

••• twenty-three years ago •••

  Michael Afton couldn't believe what he was seeing.

  Red.

  Red.

  Red.

  His mind ran blank as he stared at the limp form of his younger brother, dangling from the jaws of an animatronic bear. It still sung merrily, mouth twitching around robotic unenuncoiation, as if the weight of a child barely deterred its mechanisms.

  Red.

  It poured in tidal waves. Waterfalls of it, a lake beneath his red-stained sneakers. It was so much that it looked fake, but it smelt rusty and real, and he could taste the iron of it in the air.

  Michael couldn't believe what he was seeing.

  He just killed his brother.

  Evan Afton wasn't dead yet, but he didn't know that. Michael didn't know anything except for red, except for the hypnotic swaying of his brother's limp form, except for the grotesque shape of his crushed head. He didn't hear the screams from his friends beside him, or the horrified shouts of parents and staff members rushing forward. His ears rang until he was deaf to the world.

  Michael stood in a pool of his brother's blood, hands paused before him, outstretched from where he'd just been holding Evan up to the bear.

  It was just meant to be a kiss. Just a little fun.

  But the red.

  The red was everywhere.

  A shout bubbled from Michael's chest, and then, as if a switch had been flicked, he ripped himself out of his shock and charged forward.

  "Let him go!" Michael begged from behind his Foxy mask. He grasped Evan by the ankles and tugged hard. "Let him go!"

  "No, Mike!" A pair of hands grabbed his wrists and pried him off. "You'll make it worse!"  

  Michael turned to the adult with desperation. Henry Emily was already working on disengaging Fredbear before the young boy could plead him to do something, arms working swiftly at the side of the robot's chin.

  "Michael, listen to me very carefully," Henry said with a respectable attempt of calmness - it didn't stop the wild tremble in his voice. "Go into the kitchen and dial nine-one-one on the wall phone. Ask for an ambulance, tell them it's an emergency. An- Answer any questions they have."

  Michael watched in horror as Henry's arms began to be coated with blood. So much. So much red. It soaked into his button up and slicked his skin wet.

  "Michael!" Henry snapped. "Now!"  

  Michael's gasp tore through a whimper. He spun on his heels to do as told, racing through the shocked crowd that didn't depart the scene. They watched the body of Evan Afton sway in the singing bear's mouth with sick fascination. Michael wanted to scream at them to leave.

  Before Michael could reach the party room's exit, a man entered. He crashed into his legs and stumbled back, heart racing and apology on his tongue, before his entire internal system screeched to a staggering halt.

  The man wore a distinctive purple button-up and clean pressed black slacks. His green eyes stared out at the stage's commotion blankly, and then William Afton's face ran pale.

  His gaze dropped to Michael. The young boy flinched. The look on his father's face was stony, an impenetrable fortress of retribution and discipline. Michael would know. He'd tried to get past that wall for as long as he could remember.

  Even now, even with everything going on, that look made him burst into tears.

  "It was an accident," Michael sobbed. "An accident! I didn't mean to-"

  Michael's weeping apology was met with a sharp smack across his face. His head snapped to the side from the force of it, and another cry slipped from between his teeth. His mask went skittering across the floor. He staggered, brain spinning and foggy, before falling down to his knees. His wide eyes blurred with more tears.

  "You stupid boy!" William roared. He stormed past the disorientated, crumpled figure of Michael and joined Henry in dislodging Evan's body from the shut-down robot.

  Michael slumped to the floor. His breathing was short and choppy and difficult to hold. It felt as though something had taken his neck and squeezed all of the air out of him. It felt like when he'd once caught a garden snake and it coiled tightly around his wrist.

  His cheek felt like it had been pressed against a hot stove. Inside his veins, his blood sang with terror. Evan's blood still wept.

  "He needs an ambulance, William," Henry reasoned from the other end of the room. Michael blearily turned his head to watch. "Moving him might make it worse!"

  "He'll die either way," William snarled as he scooped his youngest into his arms. His shirt darkened beneath Evan's head far too quickly. "If he gets to the hospital, he'll have a better chance." William's cold stare latched onto his eldest and he jerked his head towards the exit. "Michael. Move."

  Evan looked like a corpse in their father's arms. Michael stared at him, at the thick blood drooling from his cranium, and his stomach turned violently.

  "I don't want to," Michael whimpered.

  "Now!" William snarled.

  Michael spared a look towards Henry for help, but the co-owner was too busy trying to placate a group of furious parents. His arms were entirely red.

  With no other option, Michael followed his ferocious father to his car.

  Michael watched the rearview mirror as Evan's body lay in the back while his blood ruined the seats. His breathing was shallow and raspy, but Michael was just relieved that he was breathing at all. He hoped Evan would breathe for a while yet. His hazel eyes dropped to the mask in his lap, splattered with blood.

  Michael made a vow to himself in that car, while his father shouted abuse, that he would never torment Evan ever again. No matter what his father said, no matter how he encouraged him for whatever convoluted reason it was. As far as Michael was concerned, his father could rot in hell.

  The next hour was a blur. He orbited the chaos while Evan slept in the centre of it. He waited in the sitting room as his father went off to smoke. He'd been smoking for a while. Michael preferred to be alone than to be with him.

  The door to Evan's hospital room opened. A nurse poked her head out and, bleary-eyed, Michael looked up. Her face read grim.

  "Where's your father, son?" the nurse asked.

  Michael feebly shrugged. "Is... is Evan okay?"

  The nurse's face twisted into a sympathetic smile. Michael felt his insides run cold. He was young, not stupid. He knew what that sad smile meant.

  "Why don't you come inside?" the nurse gently asked. "He's sleeping."  

  Michael hesitated. He glanced at the Foxy mask on the floor by his feet. "... how long will he be asleep for?"

  The nurse faltered. "A while. But he'll be able to hear you if you want to talk to him."  

  Michael looked up at the nurse again. "Really?"

  She nodded. "Really."

  Michael's gaze dropped as he contemplated it. Was he even worthy to see Evan? This was his fault, no matter how influenced he may have been by his father. It was him who tormented Evan, day in and day out. It was him who lifted Evan to Freddy. It was him who caused this.

  Michael stared at his hands, dry and stained red. He wasn't worthy, but he had to apologise. Evan was his younger brother. Despite everything, all they had was each other.

  Michael nodded slowly. "Okay."

  The nurse opened the door wider. Michael crept through, unsure and apprehensive, and paused upon seeing Evan with his head wrapped and hooked up to an array of machines that crowded around his gurney. He looked so small, so lifeless and pale and powerless.

  Their father wasn't even here to be beside him.  

  Michael shuffled onto the chair set beside the gurney. He stared at Evan and his eyes stung; what kind of older brother did this? He was a monster. A monster. A monster.

  He was just like their dad. A spitting image, through and through.

  He didn't want to be like their dad.

  "Can you hear me?" Michael asked quietly. His voice caught, rough and crumbly with tired sorrow. "I don't know if you can hear me."

  What was there to say? How could he repent for this grievous sin? Words were nothing in the wake of such cruel action.

  Michael picked up one of Evan's hands and held it tight. He bent his head and began to sob. "I'm sorry."

  The door to the room opened again and Michael flinched. William strode in with the stench of smoke clinging to his clothes, and sneered at the sight of Michael.

  "Get out," he demanded.  

  Michael took one last look at Evan before slipping from the chair for his father to take instead. Michael faltered at the door, gazed at his brother. He had a terrible feeling churning in his gut that this would be the last time he ever saw him again.

  William picked up the hand Michael was just holding. There was a wild look in his eyes, the type that sparked whenever his father had a terrible idea. He laced his fingers through his son's and squeezed.

  "I will put you back together," William whispered.

  Michael closed the door behind him.

••• present day •••

  The sound of Freddy falling to his knees, sending a deafening thud echoing throughout the ruins, startled Gregory and I out of our stupors.

  I whirled around and stilled at the distraught look on Freddy's face, imbued with the purity of Michael's anguish. He stared at the spectral light of Elizabeth with a look utter failure.

  "Lizzy," he whimpered. He covered his muzzle with his paws as though to stifle his emotional turmoil. "Lizzy, I'm so- I'm-"

  "Don't," Elizabeth murmured. She stepped forth, though it looked as though she were more floating than walking, and held Freddy's cheeks between her ghostly palms. They solidified beneath the weight of him. "Don't torture yourself any more than you already have."

  "But you were almost happy," Michael cried. "You were so close to being free."

  Elizabeth smiled gently. "Who says that I'm not happy now? I am with my family again." 

  Michael dropped his gaze with a doubtful shake of his head. "I- I failed you. I keep failing."

  "Stop that," Elizabeth chided. "Failure is simply the absence of trying. Nobody can say that you didn't try." She lifted his head and stared into his forlorn, blue eyes. "You set all those other souls free, Mike. I wouldn't call that a failure."

  He closed his eyes, wracked with grief. Elizabeth's attention turned to me.

  "Y/n," she greeted with a gentle smile. "I'm happy to see you. I feared William and his puppet would somehow subdue you, but you've prevailed yet again." She grinned, as though suddenly a real child again. "Your durability is incredible."

  "Oh." I shifted beneath the weight of a dead child's praise. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this was Elizabeth; the first Afton victim, the owner of the gravestone I visited bi-yearly, the sister I knew so much about but had never met. "Thank you."

  Elizabeth turned to Gregory, who was still watching her with a confused expression. He looked like he was trying to figure out a riddle but was being stumped on every rhyme.

  "And Gregory," she said with a weak smile. "It is good to have you back." She spied his wounded arm and frowned. She didn't seem to be surprised to see that he was a robot. "Though not in one piece. I see this place has already began to steal your body. We must be quick."

  "Quick?" Gregory asked. "Do you have a plan?"

  "I do," Elizabeth nodded. "William is currently in the system, but he's building himself a new body. We need to destroy him the moment he moves into it."

  "He's building himself a body?" I echoed. "Why? Doesn't he have way more power infecting everything here?"

  "William always wanted to be immortal," Michael said grimly. "And if he gets a body, then he may be able to leave this place."

  "His soul is a conflict of external powers," Elizabeth added. "Death is fighting to keep him down, but William keeps using the souls of the kids he killed to keep himself from dying." She clutched at her chest in grief. "He is using remnant - a child's life force. It's the most potent form of energy there is."

  A chill ran up my spine. "He could start to kill kids outside."

  Elizabeth nodded grimly.

  "Is that what happened to Kerin?" Gregory hesitantly asked. "He's my friend. He got taken here and- and he died."

  Elizabeth sent Gregory a pitiful look. "I'm sorry, Gregory."

  Gregory looked away. I stifled the urge to reach out and comfort him - I don't think my touch would be any soothing.

  "We need to move," Michael said. He rose to his feet and sounded somewhat stable once more, but his gaze kept returning to the ghostly form of Lizzy. "We do not have much time. Y/n has been compromised."

  "Compromised?" Elizabeth's bright eyes returned to me, and in my next blink, she was standing right before me. My body was too tired to startle. Her hand reach out to rest against my arm, before recoiling just as quickly with a gasp. "There is a darkness in you."

  "Dear old pa." I managed a weak smile.

  Elizabeth's expression grew more troubled. "He is trying to take control."

  My gaze slid to Gregory, who still couldn't meet my eyes. "He already did."

  "No," Elizabeth denied. My focus returned to her questioningly. "You are fighting him, and he is weak. He is stretched too thin. If it were not for Vanny and the virus, you would not be yourself at all. But he is growing stronger. It won't be long until he has enough power to take over you as well."

  Michael placed his hand on my shoulder. I shuddered at the thought of becoming part of his army of puppets. "He- he made me attack Gregory."

  Elizabeth glanced at Gregory. He clasped at Freddy's hand tightly, now unsure of her, too. My heart ached.

  "I can help," she said.

  "Yes," Michael begged eagerly. "Please, Lizzy. She's important to me."

  A weak smile pulled at my lips. I returned my attention to her curiously. "How?"

  "The human soul is a complicated matter, but the brain... that is where the essence of a person is," she explained. She takes a step back and gestures to the floor. "Crouch down."

  With some aches and effort, I kneel to her height. Elizabeth laid a hand against my temple and my skin prickled beneath her astral touch.

  "When he possesses you, he takes over your brain. But you fight him, and he is not strong enough to keep you docile for long." Elizabeth met my gaze. "You must let me in willingly. I will be the barrier to keep him back."

  I nodded slowly. I've been through crazier shit tonight than being possessed by my dead boyfriend's dead sister. "Will that get rid of him?"

  Lizzy smiled sympathetically. "I wish we were that strong. William is made of the power of children's slain souls. It is a force that should not be taken and cannot be removed lightly."

  I inhaled deeply. Possessed by both Michael's father and his sister. If I wasn't an honorary Afton before, I definitely deserved to be one, now.

  I could feel William thriving in the back of my head. He hated this. I enjoyed his torment.

  "This won't hurt Y/n, will it?" Michael worriedly asked.

  Elizabeth sent Michael a pointed look. "When tampering with possession there is always a risk. There are things not to be trifled with. But would you rather the alternative?"

  "Absolutely not," I answered. Michael's worried face didn't get any lighter when I offered him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine."

  Elizabeth regarded my composure with a contemplative frown. I tried my best to look steadfast and confident, but I could tell that she saw the wavering terror in my eyes.

  "I must warn you that when we merge, you might... see some of my memories," Elizabeth said slowly, poignantly. She tilted her head with a pointed, apologetic look. "You need to be prepared to see some nasty things. Things that happened to both Michael and I." 

  My resolve trembled. I didn't want to watch his death. I didn't want to watch her's, either. I held out my hand wordlessly and Freddy's palm slid into mine with a reassuring squeeze.

  I spoke before I could chicken out. "I'm ready."

  Elizabeth nodded her head. Her astral form trembled before slipping away to nothing, and a great, prickling pressure grew behind my eyes. I closed them on instinct. Michael's hand tightened.

  A gasp escaped me when colours pressed into the backs of my eyelids. I saw Hurricane, but the version of it from my youth. Blockbusters and music tapes and summers by the rivers. I saw Michael when he was young, I saw Evan, I saw an unfamiliar blonde woman who I could only assume was their mother, and I saw William when he wasn't a monster, yet. I couldn't tell if the bittersweet emotion that welled within my chest was from Elizabeth or I.

  But then the memories darkened. I saw Baby, and I saw her standing on the stage alone. I saw her reaching out to my pale, little arms, and then pain, excruciating pain, and a dimness that choked me. I saw Elizabeth watching the children she performed to, her ghost locked in the body of Baby, and I felt her bitterness and anger grow.

  And I saw Michael. Michael, my beautiful Michael, when his skin was still tanned and flushed, when his dark hair was still messy and soft. I saw his panic when he investigated her new location, heard the desperation in his voice as he tried to convince Baby and her possessed friends that he wasn't the one who murdered them, that he wasn't William, but they were all blinded by rage and he looked so much like him.

  I saw him be restrained by the scooping machine. And I saw him get disembowelled, and it was so red, and I heard his weak begs for Elizabeth to realise it was Michael, that it was her brother, and then I felt the cold horror of realisation of what she had done. I watched his hazel eyes grow foggy with death as Elizabeth tried to keep the others away from taking his hollowed body and wearing it to escape. She didn't succeed.

  And then all of the souls were released. Expect Lizzy wasn't, and she remained stuck beneath the new Pizzaplex for years. She was so lonely.

  When I came to I was beside myself, curled into Freddy's chest and sobbing. Michael's soothing whispers and rubbing hands did nothing to stop the memories playing behind my eyes - watching him die again and again, scared, alone, gored. And the guilt Elizabeth felt back then - and still did now - was a whole different kind of torture.

  "My superstar." Michael pressed his forehead to mine. "It's okay, Y/n. I'm right here."

  "It's not-" I cried, and held him with all the strength my weak body could handle. "It's not okay."

  "I'm here," he whispered. He touched his muzzle to my wet cheek and exhaled shakily. "I'm here."

  How could I have spent eight years thinking so lowly of him? How could I have thought he ever stopped loving me? Note and necklace be damned, I should've known. I should've looked for him. Then maybe I wouldn't have hurt for so long, and maybe he wouldn't have been alone with only Bonnie knowing his truth for years.

  'You can't change the past, Y/n, you can only live now,' Elizabeth's sad voice echoed in my head. It was softer than William's harsh snarls, a feather touch in comparison to his sharp agony. 'I'm sorry you had to see that.'

  It's not fair. None of this is fair.

  'Life rarely is.'

  Michael balled me firmer into his chest and whispered soothing words. My bleary eyes opened, and I startled upon seeing the ghostly form of Michael in Freddy's face. His eyes - his eyes, the prismatic hazel I fell in love with - watched me with worry, slipping in and out of blue, and my hand raised to caress his cheek. I'd missed his eyes so much.

  "Mike," I whispered in teary wonder. "Mike, I can see you."

  His hazel eyes (oh, how I loved his hazel eyes) briefly widened with surprise. Then he smiled softly and leaned into my touch. "You've always seen me."

  I laughed wetly, full of sadness and love and adoration, and I kissed his chin in joy. I could see him - not just Freddy. I could see my Michael again.

  Life is not fair, Elizabeth said sweetly, but at least we are all together, again.

  My brows furrowed at her cryptic serenity, and then my gaze was pulled to Gregory, standing apart and watching unsurely.

  My heart fell through the floor. I recognised the ghost that clung to him from all the photos I'd seen. "Evan?"

  His amber eyes - his hazel eyes - turned to me in puzzlement. Michael stiffened. 

  "No," he whispered in horror, in disbelief.

  "Who?" Gregory asked. He glanced between Michael and I. "Who's Evan?"

  I untangled myself from Freddy's arms. My heart battled between sorrow and joy. "You are."

  His bafflement only grew. "That's my real name?" 

  I knelt before him and offered my palm, and to my relief, he gathered the courage to place his one good hand in mine.

  "Your name is Evan Afton." I swiped his dark hair to the side with a shaky smile. His hazel eyes gleamed with sudden realisation. "You're their brother. Oh, Ev, I've wanted to meet you for so long."

  His gaze drifted to Michael, who was frozen still behind me. Gregory's face twisted with the struggle to remember, and then it was like something snapped behind his eyes. His hand ripped from mine and flew to his head with a look of terror.

  "You," Evan whispered.

  "Evan," Michael said his name with deep-suffering grief. My smile faded quickly at the turn of tension.

  "You," Evan spit. His little body drew up with fury. 

  Michael shook his head imploringly, in regret. "Ev, I'm so sorry."

  "You killed me!" Evan accused. "You don't get to say sorry!"

  My gaze shot between the two of them. My apprehension twisted with Elizabeth's, growing twice as large, twice as debilitating.

  "Evan, please, I never wanted that to happen," Michael begged. He shuffled forward with his hand outstretched, and Evan violently flinched backwards, his rage slipping into a teary-eyed terror. Michael grimaced at his expression, hand recoiling.

  "You're just as bad as dad!" Evan cried. Michael's shoulders fell, and his expression tumbled further into the depths of despair. "I hate you!"

 'Stop them, Y/n,' Elizabeth urged. 'We have to work together if we want to stop William.'

  What do I do? What can I even say? I couldn't insert myself to their conflict - their conflict that was far worse, far more ugly than a regular family's. What right would I have?

  'Please. You're part of our family, too.'

  I closed my eyes. I could hardly refuse when Elizabeth says something like that.

  "Evan," I softly called. His weepy, amber-hazel eyes turned to me. "You didn't deserve what happened to you. None of you deserved what William did to you. You three would've lived long, happy lives if it wasn't for him."

  Evan's gaze fell away. Michael's head bowed, and I placed my hand on his large, metal arm. It slid down to rest in his weak-clawed hand.

  "We need to work together right now," I gently reminded. "We need to stop him from hurting more innocent people, but we can't do that if we're busy fighting each other for a past we can't change. Our time's running out."

  Evan crossed his arms silently. Elizabeth's appreciation bloomed in the back of my head, flooding me lukewarm.

  "He's right," Michael croaked. "I am just like him."

  "No, you're not," I defended, voice a touch sharper than intended. I clasped his cheeks in my palms and lifted his forlorn gaze to mine. "Mikey, you were a kid and your dad manipulated you, he hurt you. And I've had to watch you torture yourself over what happened for years." I shuffled closer, my expression begging for him to understand. "You are nothing like him."

  Michael's gaze softened, but his eyes still held the intensity of self-loathing. I wanted to say more, I wanted to praise how good of a person he was until that feeling went away, but we'd already wasted too much time. The clock was ticking.

  "Ev." I turned my attention to him. He'd shifted away, facing the darkness with his shoulders hunched. "Ev, are you still my little buddy?"

  He peeked an eye around his shoulder.

  "This doesn't need to change anything," I softly offered. "We can still get chicken nuggets in the morning. You can still be our little badass Gregory, if you want."

  He lifted his head, eyes glossy and dripping. "I don't want to be Evan again."

  I smiled sadly. "You don't have to be Evan. You can be whoever you want to be."

  He turned to face me, arms still crossed protectively over his chest. He swallowed thickly and stared at the ground. "... I like being Gregory. It's better."

  Beside me, Michael deflated further. My hand found his and squeezed. 

  Elizabeth's grief - and my own - made my eyes sting. This little kid had been through so much, too much. "You can be Gregory."

  He sniffled. "And you're not going to lose control to him again?"

  "I'm okay, now," I reassured, and it was true. If you didn't count the ways in which my body was falling to pieces, that is. "Lizzy's super strong. He can't get past her." I glanced between my two boys - because no matter the revealations, they were still my boys. "But we need to go now." 

  Michael wordlessly nodded. He'd always known when to set his emotions aside. And I vowed to myself that when all this shit was over, I'd hold a gun to Dennis' head and demand that Freddy get therapy. And the others, if they can be salvaged. 

  Michael, Elizabeth and I turned our gazes to Gregory for his answer. He was the littlest of us, the most fragile. He didn't have Michael's age or life experience, he didn't have Elizabeth's old bitterness and the years she spent under the Pizzaplex, guiding the lost souls of children so they wouldn't end up like her. Gregory was a ghost in a robot body, but he was still just a little boy. 

  Gregory's amber-hazel eyes drifted to mine. He wiped away his tears and set his chin. His gaze burned with the very same fire I'd grown to cherish over the past few, traumatic hours I'd known him. 

  "Then let's go kick an old man's ass," Gregory said.