Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's over. Or so Michael hopes. He's honestly fucking tired of being him, the person, the ghost (now animatronic?), whatever he was at the time. Of solving all the damn paranormal events that were caused by the tragedies. The fire surrounded him for the third time.

He sincerely hoped that this would be the last time he would be surrounded by fire. Although it's not like he cares, he has to admit that he finds the light of fire fascinating and how it can destroy anything. Even those people or things that think they are superior just because they are unnatural like his father, William, or that damn smart doll, Eleanor.

Defeating Eleanor and destroying all her AGONY was too complicated, even for him. Someone with experience with killer robots. Because unlike robots possessed by someone. These had limitations. Since their programming prevented them from total freedom. These unlike Eleanor who had no programming constraints so that thing had much more freedom in its actions than the missing children.

Even other killer robots such as. Toy models or Funtime models did not have as much freedom as Eleanor had. Indeed, William, who was not constrained by programming, had less freedom of action than Eleanor.

He still remembered how his father's era had ended, when he had teamed up with Henry Emily, a person Michael was very fond of before he had done something that had angered him to the point of RAGE and PAIN. Never in his life had he felt so betrayed, not even when he found out all his father's secrets. Or when he found out that his sister, Elizabeth was just as much of a psychopath as his father. And that she knew all along that he was her brother, even before she murdered him with the Scooper.

He remembered how Henry along with his only daughter Charlotte. They had bound his soul to an endoskeleton preventing him from resting. Michael still remembered the recording Henry left him when he found his little friend and trusted companion. Helpy.

"I'm sorry if you are listening to this message, Michael. If you do that means that this plan was the best thing for the world, and you staying alive means that the people of the future will have a chance with you with them. You know what the Remnant can do, we have both studied the consequences of what the Remnant can accomplish. We have seen it. We have experienced it, but you are the one who has the most experience dealing with those things even though they look alive. They are not alive, they gain consciousness, but they do not have a soul. Not like trapped souls like those poor children, like my daughter, like your brother and sister..."

Michael's feelings became complicated as he listened to the tape recording that was specifically for him. "...So, the plan that we are carrying out right now does not, give us the guarantee that everything ends here. That everyone rests. You have to make sure that if life goes on... life as Ennard, as the animatronic Toys, even after everything we've done here tonight. You take it upon yourself to finish what we started, and you will continue to study the Remnant and its consequences... And that if your father returns from hell, you will force him to return permanently."

Michael could hear a great sigh from the man (of which he had no idea what to think of what he was hearing beyond rage and pain, but mostly Michael was just fucking tired. hadn't he done enough?) as silence hung over the recording the only thing, he could hear was the fire crackling around the recording. "Your part isn't done until you're the last, and I can't guarantee it unless I can keep you alive. Make sure your father's mistakes die with him. It is your responsibility as his son. For all those victims your father murdered, for those victims who suffered the consequences of his actions, like your sister, my daughter. You Michael Afton it is your responsibility to be the last one and end it all once and for all. End of recording."

But despite what Henry had done to him. Michael didn't blame him. He couldn't blame the man, as much as it hurt Michael knew Henry was right. It was Michael's responsibility as William Afton's firstborn son.

Laughter rang out from Foxy's metallic throat which contains his soul. Michael could feel the fire burning through his metal suit. The one he had grown accustomed to. He could feel his own Remnant and the AGONY inside his metallic body screaming in panic as they urged him to escape, but as easy as it is to breathe (even if he was no longer breathing) suppressed the instinct that took over his body as he tried to look for any way out, he could find.

But he knew it. His animatronic body along with his own Remnant were going to be destroyed and consumed by the fire that surrounded him. The damn The Mimic was the hardest threat to corner in his whole shitty, misfortune-filled life. They were given plenty of time to evolve, to adapt, to copy. He honestly still found it disturbing when this thing copied him perfectly. When Michael was a corpse and even his voice (and as creepy as it was to hear his voice in that damn thing. He found his voice to be damn sexy. No wonder he was popular with the ladies even when he was a depressed adult), but he ignored it in favor of trying to figure out a way to defeat that animatronic with a conscience.

He can still hear The Mimic screaming in pain somewhere in the Pizzaplex subway. The mall and pizzeria were located in the same place as the pizza simulator. The morons who took over Fazbear Entertainment decided it was a great idea to build Freddy Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex on top of the remains of the last pizza place that burned down. Considering the situation, though. Pizzeria Simulator is no longer the last pizzeria to burn down which is pretty ironic if you think about it.

Seriously what do these fools expect would happen by building their stupid mall on top of a place that didn't have a good reputation? And it had all kinds of rumors warning people to stay away from this specific location, but nope. The idiots couldn't build their damn pizzeria in a better place. It had to be this very place, a place that was plagued by rumors that people had disappeared and that probably those same missing people had been murdered.

"Foxy." A childish, feminine voice sounded over the communicator he had set up himself so he could communicate with the people he had been helping at Pizzaplex. "Foxy. Can you hear me?"

She was Cassie one of the people he had the pleasure of knowing. She was a kind and brave girl. Because despite her fears she was facing some animatronics that were contaminated by the virus that The Mimic achieved thanks to the consequences of the Remnant. The AGONY.

Vanessa (a woman who was a night guard and whom The Mimic was able to possess her body to a certain extent before she was released with the help of Gregory and Freddy Fazbear) along with Gregory cleaned up any virus that may have infected the Fazbear Entertainment company's networks thanks to the antivirus that Michael was able to create with Vanessa's help after they both studied for months that darn virus.

M.X.E.S. A security program intended to contain and clean any network viruses that have been infected by The Mimic, but also has a second role. To stop at all costs anyone who helps The Mimic or falls into his machinations. As was the case with Vanessa. Vanessa's curiosity was what caused The Mimic to possess her body.

Then Gregory, Vanessa, and his assistant Helpy were in charge of eliminating any virus from the networks and the virus contained in the Glamrocks animatronics. Michael had to go subway where The Mimic was hiding. Unfortunately for him, his confidence in his animatronic body was shaken by the new force he was exerting against him. Even though it was stronger and faster, it was not as agile and skillful when he was just a corpse.

You would think that being an animatronic would make you much more skilled than being a corpse, but nope. His size and build not to mention his new weight played very much against what he was normally used to when he was just a corpse. So, fighting a conscious being like a mimic AI that could acquire large amounts of AGONY, was much harder to fight being an animatronic. Since the bastard was able to infect its systems somehow.

If only for Cassie and Roxy, who somehow was with her and not Gregory and Vanessa. Michael didn't want to know what The Mimic would have done with him, fortunately, Michael's quick thinking along with his experiences allowed him to formulate a plan to take The Mimic down once and for all.

Unfortunately, the plan Michael came up with didn't work out as well as he had hoped, for some reason, the damn thing had perfectly understood Michael's thoughts to the point that it gave him the creeps, but he should have known that from the beginning because The Mimic had copied his behavior and to some extent his thinking. The only saving grace is that The Mimic could not copy his personality and all his thoughts despite his perfect imitation of his movements and voice.

That thing could not copy people's personalities since it did not understand something as complex as human emotions. So even though it understood his plan. That thing could not save itself, but the bastard at least made sure that if it was going to fall, someone would fall with it.

And between Cassie and him. The choice for Michael was easy. Since Roxy was currently unavailable due to the extensive damage the thing caused to the werewolf animatronic, they had to leave her behind so she wouldn't suffer more extensive and irreparable damage.

Michael had to stay so that The Mimic wouldn't hurt Cassie. And even though he doesn't know the girl very well, he was with her long enough to want to protect her from any harm this thing could do to her. So, for Cassie to escape from the Pizzaplex subway, he had to confront the mimic endoskeleton.

The battle against The Mimic was not so difficult the second time. Michael adapted to being able to take on The Mimic. He couldn't fight the way he fought when he was a fucking corpse (since his fighting style revolved around the traps he set while evading any physical damage). So, he had to change and form a new fighting style to suit his animatronic body. To adapt to using his claws and pirate hook

Use his new strength, speed, his weight. And even use his mouth full of teeth if necessary. Something that made Michael uncomfortable, but he did not hesitate to use them whenever necessary to be victorious. And he did not hesitate despite the threat of death, even though he knew that this battle could be his last.

Even though Michael was aware that he could die again, he did not waver, despite his doubts, despite his fears. He went ahead, faced every challenge he was given, and adapted. And Michael could safely say that he was very good at adapting to any situation no matter how unexpected.

He adapted in Sister Location. He only died for ignoring his instincts and trusting that his sister would not harm his brother (How wrong he was). He adapted when he died and became a rotting corpse (A true anomaly among ghosts). He adapted when he first came to Fazbear Entertainment. Evading up to 10 very aggressive animatronics that tried to kill him (even when he was almost killed by the damn puppet). He adapted when it was time to fight his father. William and his stupid hallucinations.

And finally, he adapted to end up like everyone else. In a stupid animatronic. Which felt more like a prison than a relief. Not to mention that the AGONY inside him whispered dark thoughts in his mind (soul?), so he had to learn to ignore that damn corrupt substance inside his body.

And even though controlling AGONY from within him was much more difficult to control because of his programming, he adapted to it and managed to persevere in the face of yet another one of the many adversities that life kept giving him. He adapted to it and managed to persevere in the face of yet another of the many adversities that life kept handing him. Michael was thinking that he was simply cursed.

"I'm fine. Young girl, don't worry. The captain won't give up easily." Foxy's metallic voice rang through his larynx. One thing he could never get used to was the new way he was forced to speak in this stupid way and although he could avoid talking like that. The effort required to do so was simply not worth it.

"You can find a way out, can't you, you're not trapped down there with no way out?" Cassie's voice came out of her communicator and Michael could detect the concern in her voice.

Michael said nothing. Because as much as he wanted to lie to her and assure her that everything was going to be okay on his end. He couldn't, not when he knew he was trapped in this part of the mall with no way out. The only way he knew was the elevator that was located behind the security guard's room. But that exit was used by Cassie to escape while he kept The Mimic busy.      

Michael found it ironic that he was burning in the very place where he once hoped to die for real and be able to rest the hell away. Now here he was in the very subway where he once wished he could rest in peace, but now doesn't want to.

Not when Michael was able to start a family again. They were an odd bunch and he was sure everyone in it was traumatized to some degree, but despite their dynamic. It was a family.

One he didn't think he'd ever have again. Gregory's snotty and stubbornness. Vanessa's cynicism and care. Glamrock Freddy's care and protection. The excitement and kindness of Glamrock Girl. Roxy's self-centeredness and nervousness. Monty was also loved despite being a jerk. Their new addition Cassie was Gregory's friend. And last but not least, his most trusted confidant who has been with him since Henry created him for him. Helpy.

His one hand clenched tightly causing his joints to creak. His eyes darting everywhere in search of a way out desperately hoping for any salvation, he spun down one of the tunnels before running into a dead-end wall and shattering any hope he had of getting out.

"Foxy! You're coming out of there, aren't you!" He could hear Cassie's voice crack as if she were about to cry.

"Don't worry about me. Find Gregory and Vanessa, even if the fire consumes me. I can be repaired, girl. You can't. Get to safety and for nothing in the world go down again." He answered without telling her a lie, even if he didn't tell the whole truth. Foxy could be repaired, and his AI could be activated, but Michael Afton was going to die once and for all. When his Remnant was destroyed by flames.

"No!!! There must be a way to help you. Roxy was destroyed because of me... no" the cry is heard through the communicator. "I don't want you to be destroyed because of me again too. Foxy, there must be a way to-" Cassie couldn't finish the words she was about to say because Michael interrupted her.

"No! You are not to go below under any circumstances. That's an order from your Captain Foxy. Grr. Otherwise, I will force you to clean my entire ship until you are satisfied and then I'm going to make you walk the plank. Grr." He tried to reassure him in his stupid Foxy voice. He really hated talking like that. It was pretty embarrassing. "If you want to help then find Vanessa, she'll know what to do. I'm counting on you comrade."

He could hear Cassie wiping the brats. "Fine, but you'd better hold on until we get back to you Captain." He heard the determination in Cassie's tone of voice seep into her communicator and Michael smiled at the girl's bravery. She was much braver than he was at that age. He could admire that about the girl.

"Good luck young girl" He sighed sadly as he cut the communicator link so they couldn't communicate with him again. Michael doesn't want them to hear his ultimate fate. He moved closer to the wall before putting his forehead on the wall and kneeling with acceptance of his fate.

Michael could hear the fire getting stronger, his sensors began to alert him to the rising temperatures, but he ignored them. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the fire that seemed to be consuming everything. He was trapped with no chance of getting out of this place.

He could feel the urge to cry, but he did not. He would not allow himself to cry, not again. Besides this was what he deserved. For his sins. For murdering his brother. Even though he did his best this time to avoid being consumed by the flames, it seemed fate had other plans for him.

He closed his eyes. Imagine having a chance where everyone could be happy. He always wondered where it all started to go wrong. Where all the misery started, all the suffering Michael had to go through. He wondered if he was the cause of it all when he killed his brother, but he knew better.

Elizabeth had died before his brother Evan, so he did not start this whole cycle full of AGONY. William was always a disgusting being from long before, he wanted to understand what made William such a depraved, sadistic, and cruel human, but Michael can never know, he can never understand William's motives for being so obsessed with immortality.

As Michael thought about his life before his death, he could feel it. He felt no pain, his nerve endings had long since ceased to exist and even though the Glamrock animatronic suits were meant to look a bit like humans they too felt no pain, instead the CPU informed them of any damage to their bodies.

Although Michael could see the alerts that the CPU was informing him about the damage Foxy's suit was experiencing from the intense heat of the flames that threatened to consume it, it was his AGONY that began to scream in pain and rage that alerted him that his final hour was approaching. It was his AGONY which began to scream out in pain and rage that alerted him that his final hour was approaching.

He opened his eyes to look at his one hand which was beginning to melt. Michael tried to clench his fist, but something in its mechanism failed and although it closed a little, he could not close it completely. A bitter smile crossed his face involuntarily.

His end was drawing near. She could only pray that it would end here. That he would fulfill what Henry had asked of him, being the last supernatural entity (although there was Helpy left, but that tenderness wouldn't hurt a fly) there was no more reason to stay, he had accomplished his goal. At last, he would rest.

And even though Gregory and Vanessa were angry with him. Michael was sure they were better off without him. They were strong enough to go on without him, even if they were hurt by his "death". They would understand the reasons why he did it. Why did he sacrifice himself again, even if it wasn't Michael's obligation to do it again?

He had already lived longer than he deserved. Michael doesn't know how many years he has been living and at the same time not. He died five four days after his 18th birthday. On the fifth night working at Sister Location. After he died, he has been undead longer than Michael has been alive. Approximately more than 45 years although he lost the exact total count of his age.

Not that it did him much good to "live" any longer. He had not been able to mature beyond his mental maturity before his death. The moment his brain stopped functioning was the moment he stopped maturing. Although he was able to gain more knowledge and adapt to strange situations. He did not gain more wisdom. Perhaps for that reason, the other spirits continued to act like children even though they were past that age.

Michael didn't know, even with years of studying Remnant and AGONY. There were still many things he didn't know about these substances. And that something inside Michael told him it was better not to know. Because to be honest the only reason Michael studied Remnant and its consequences was so that he could eliminate this very substance and be able to counteract it if necessary.

But if Michael had to choose which of the two substances, he hated the most then he would answer AGONY, over and over again. Even though Michael had been exposed to this corrupt and evil substance. It didn't matter how much time he spent studying the damn substance. It always chilled his whole soul and his instincts were on high alert.

That's why Michael hoped it would all end here. Once and for all. That this would be the end of all the tragedies that were happening in Utah. Hurricane. And that there was nothing supernatural or paranormal that would cause more tragedy. At least in this town that has been exposed to the consequences of the Remnant.

He was beginning to feel weaker. He closed his eyes again, letting out a sigh. He only hoped that this time he would rest in peace. He had done enough; he deserved his damn rest. Michael had done more than anyone else. Despite what he felt, he knew it wasn't his obligation despite how much he lied to himself about the guilt that had never left him over the years.

He could have just walked away, left town, and not looked back. He could have started a life away from all these tragedies. He doesn't know what would have happened if he had made that decision, but right now it didn't matter because he didn't. He didn't leave. He didn't leave. He didn't look back and decided to forget everything. He didn't start a life.

He stayed and died for it. He went ahead and corrected all of William's mistakes. Elizabeth's mistakes. Henry's mistakes. And despite all the difficult and distressing times Michael had to go through. He accomplished his goal, his one goal.

It was time for him to leave the world of the living and move on. To stop clinging to hope and accept that this was his destiny. Everyone met this fate and he was not going to be able to escape it. No matter how hard he fought.

At least now no one could tell him he was useless. Because Michael did more than anyone could have managed to do. He was the one who extinguished the darkness that plagued the town as corny and stupid as it sounded.

He did well. And he was satisfied with that, the only thing he regretted and will continue to regret even after his death. It was that he couldn't stop it all from happening, that he didn't get to see Charlie, Elizabeth, and Evan grow up and become adults as they formed a life. And he wished they had had a good life. Not deserving the tragic lives to which they were tied. They didn't deserve it, not like he did.

But it didn't matter when Michael wished it had ended differently. One without bloodshed. It was just an illusion that was not destined to happen. Because the truth was that he was going to die and rest once and for all, as they all did before he was the last coffin.

Michael with the last gasp felt the fire consume him completely before his consciousness.

.

.

.

When Michael came back to consciousness the first thing, he felt was the rain and the cold sensation. He could hear the sounds of a downpour falling on him. Drenching his whole body with force. He shivered.

He was confused for a few seconds about what was happening. His mind tells him that it should not be possible to feel something like rain. The first reason was because he was too deep in the ground. A place where water could not reach. Because it was designed that specific way. Because neither Henry nor Michael wanted something like the rain factor to ruin the results.

The second reason why he should not be able to feel the rain, the uncomfortable feeling of clothes sticking to his skin, or even the coldness of his skin, along with the icy night wind. It is because he stopped feeling any sensation of touch the day he died and became a walking corpse. Being an animatronic had not brought back the sensation of touch either, and being out in the rain would certainly be a danger to him. But the system didn't detect any alarms, which was odd.

Unless his entire system had been destroyed by the fire and he was just going along out of sheer determination and spite, Michael didn't think so, so he opened his eyes up, and the building that came into view was recognized.

Michael could feel the heavy feeling in his stomach as his heart began to pound inside his chest. Only after that did he begin to realize that it was all wrong. He has no stomach and no heart so he couldn't have felt that.

But the building in front of it shouldn't exist either. Or at least not in that condition. As far as he knew Fredbear Family Diner ceased to exist a long time ago and was abandoned. Since no one wanted to buy the building after what happened to the missing children.

Michael looked at his hands when he felt something in his right hand. It was a screwdriver, one that looked very dangerous and could kill someone if he wasn't careful. He hesitated because he had such a dangerous tool in the middle of the night on a very rainy day. He stood at the back of the restaurant, almost in the same spot where Charlie had been killed by his father.

His hands began to shake. He didn't know if it was from the cold and the anxiety that was building inside his stomach from not understanding shit about his current situation. Michael wasn't even as bewildered as he was the first time he woke up as a corpse. But still, it was annoying to wake up again in a new place from which you had died.

As much as he wanted to stand still in disbelief as he looked at his human hands as if it was an effect of the hallucination or an illusion in which he was trapped by some kind of spiritual entity, Michael had to get out of the pouring rain because his body was beginning to warn him that staying in the rain any longer would be dangerous. Michael had to get out of the pouring rain because his body was beginning to warn him that staying in the rain any longer would be dangerous.

Even if this was all an illusion or a hallucination caused by a figment of his imagination, he didn't want to risk staying outside the Fredbear Family Diner building any longer. He certainly didn't want to run into a madman trying to kidnap him or worse yet William trying to kill him just like he did Charlie.

Just to make sure William wasn't going to jump off the corner of the alley into the trap he caused when the spring locks malfunctioned, imprisoning him in what he once considered a child murder weapon. Becoming Springtrap, which is rather ironic.

He saw nothing, he just breathed a sigh of relief that he didn't know he was holding back before heading to the back door of the restaurant he grabbed the handle to try to open the door. To no avail.

No matter how hard he pulled and pushed, the door wouldn't open at all. Leaving Michael frustrated and bitter as he was freezing to death. He tried to kick the door down, but no matter how much force he put into it, it wouldn't budge, making him click his tongue in frustration.

Michael looked at the screwdriver in his right hand. If he couldn't open the back door, then he's going to try to get in through the front door, and in case he can't either then he's going to break one of the damn windows with the screwdriver. I just hoped he didn't get that far.

He began to move toward the front door of the edition that Henry and William had built. His muscles tensed as he looked for any sign of warning or danger in the dark alley. He didn't want to be taken by an unpleasant surprise again. He doesn't know what's going on, but he's certainly going to avoid dying again.

He knows whatever the place was. For a moment Michael got nervous wondering if this was some kind of personality hell for him. He just hoped that when he turned around, he wouldn't run into a familiar corpse. He certainly wouldn't know how to feel if he ever made the case.

Fortunately, when he turned and arrived at the place where Charlie's body was supposed to be found, it was empty of a bloody and dark scene. Michael smiled in relief, he was not there when little Charlie died, but he certainly asked all the details of the girl's death. He felt responsible for her death.

Because even though Charlie invited him to his birthday party. He denied it too depressed by Evan's death. And going back to the place where Evan died was something he couldn't bear. Not that William would have let him go to the birthday party considering what was planned for Charlie.

Still, Michael felt guilty about Charlie's death. Maybe if he had gone so he could take care of her then she wouldn't have died and Henry wouldn't have become the depressed, bitter, senile old man he was. Then maybe. Henry and Charlie would have been able to live a happy life, away from all the misfortune that has plagued the Afton family.      

Not that it mattered now. That didn't happen, Henry and Charlie were dragged into the Remnant's disgrace. The only one of the Emily's (Ex Emily?) who wasn't dragged into all this bloody hell was Henry's ex-wife. I didn't remember much about the woman other than that she separated from Henry after Charlie's death.

And as much as he tried to remember what the lady's face looked like, he couldn't for some reason. Michael only knows that she existed and that she was once Charlie's mother and Henry's wife. He didn't remember if he was close to her or if they had a bond beyond being Henry's wife.

He shook his head to stop thinking about something useless that wasn't going to do him any good when he turned down the last alley of the Fredbear building to meet the front door. He expected to find the alley empty, but instead, there was a girl with white skin, though somewhat tanned as if she had spent hours in the sun, and long brown hair wearing a green jacket.

Like Michael, the girl was soaked in water from head to toe. No girl looked to be older than 11-13 years old. Someone who was entering the adolescent phase the girl was banging on one of the windows. She appeared to be screaming, but what she said to Michael escaped him because the ruin of the rain was dulling her from this distance.

He did not hesitate to approach her to help her.

"Open up. It's not funny. It's freezing out here...hello?" Once Michael was close enough, he could hear what the girl was trying to say. The girl didn't seem to notice him so focused on asking for help. Which was quite dangerous, because anyone could easily stab her and run away being a fairly easy kill to get.

Michael pushed away those morbid thoughts that came unexpectedly into his mind, not wanting the girl to die of hypothermia. Michael spoke from a considerable distance so as not to activate the girl's fight or flight instincts.

"Hey. I think you should stop banging on the window you'll only hurt yourself more" Michael commented with an amused smile as he hid the screwdriver behind his back not wanting to cause panic in the girl in front of him.

The girl gave an involuntary scream when Michael frightened her even if he didn't do it voluntarily. She turned in his direction. Bright green eyes met Michael's eyes. He didn't know what color they were now that he thought about it.

When Michael was alive, he had eyes as deep blue as the color of the ocean. When he died and was a corpse, they were a creepy purple. He never liked the color of his purple eyes; he hated that color especially since it was William's favorite color much to Michael's chagrin. And lastly, when it was Glamrock Foxy his eyes were a piercing gold. And sometimes when he was really angry, they were a bright white accompanied by black sclera.

The green-eyed girl looked at him for a few seconds before they sparkled with recognition causing Michael to raise an eyebrow in confusion and intrigue, though he hoped he was wrong.

"Michael!" She let out a sigh of relief. "I want to know what you're doing here, though. I'm so happy to see you. Please tell me you have a way into the restaurant."

Now that he thought about it, this girl looked familiar, but as far as Michael was concerned, he had never met anyone like her. Maybe he had seen her in the crowd. Even then she shouldn't have known her name. So... Who the fuck was this girl? Who knew him somehow?

No matter what, this was not the time to ask him these kinds of questions. Besides he didn't want to look any more suspicious in case he was mistaking him for someone else. "I don't have a way in. So, I'll try to break in." Michael told the girl with sincerity.

She frowned. "I couldn't do it, the door was totally closed and no one seemed to hear me. I don't think you'll make much difference." She began to shiver before her eyes lit up as if she had remembered something. "Maybe the back door is open, then..."

Michael didn't let her finish and interrupted her, "That one is locked too. I tried it and I couldn't open it. If I can't open this door. Then I'll take extreme measures. Much better than freezing to death in this damn rain" He frowned before starting to walk to the front door of the restaurant.

"Extreme measures?" The girl raised an eyebrow at him as she narrowed her eyes in intrigue. She didn't try to stop him, though.

But before Michael could try to open the front door, or at least attempt to. The very door that Michael was about to try to open slammed open. That startled the girl who started walking beside him and even surprised Michael.

His instincts warned him, but he reacted too late. Caught off guard by the surprise of a woman pouncing on him unexpectedly and so suddenly. A heavy blow struck him in his sternum, knocking out what little air Michael could breathe before his back and head hit the concrete with a thud.

The pain soon set in as his vision blurred due to the suddenness of the blow. Michael coughed a couple of times before he realized what was happening. Someone was attacking him. He doesn't know who it was, but years of experience made him act fast.

Before the woman could pin him down, he threw his head forward with all his might before smashing his forehead against the nose of the woman who had attacked him. She screamed in pain and for a moment he could hear a sound out of place, but Michael wasn't sure too busy to break free from the woman's strong grip. Without waiting for her to recover he kneed her in the stomach causing the woman to double over and fall backwards out of his body.

Michael took the opportunity to roll over and stand up quickly. The muscles in his legs were tense, he felt the adrenaline bombarding his whole body (he hadn't felt this effect in a long time) keeping him active and numbing the pain before he even looked at the person who had attacked him.

She was a fairly young woman, a teenager if he had to guess. The long orange stick was soaked and sticking to her face. She was holding her nose which was bleeding from the hard blow Michael had given her. Her green eyes were glaring at him with hatred and fury. That made Michael flinch.

Not because of the number of feelings that emanated from those familiar green eyes. But because Michael knew that look as well as he did when he looked in the mirror. He was familiar with that kind of hatred that hid pain deep inside. He didn't like it.

"What the hell's wrong with you, you damn bitch?" Michael spat on the ground as he glared at his attacker. "Why are you attacking me like this? Who the hell do you think you are, woman?" he grimaced as her head began to prick his forehead. He wondered how bad the blow this woman must have hit him.

"What the fuck is wrong with me, what the fuck is wrong with you?" She snarled as she pulled her nose back together in a jerky motion making the same sickening snapping sound as before. She wiped the blood from her nose before her eyes landed on the screwdriver Michael dropped during the impact. "What the hell were you thinking of doing with that screwdriver, Michael Afton?"

What the hell was this crazy fucking woman talking about? Fuck it already hurt Michael's head before, but now he felt the pain grow worse because of the confusion he was going through. He squinted to get a good look at the teenage woman's face and he was confused as to who she was before his eyes widened in recognition.

But that wasn't possible? That woman wasn't her, was she? The woman in front of him was too old to be his little sister. Elizabeth. There's no way it could be her.

Michael looked at the screwdriver a few feet away from him. If he could grab it then he could keep her away in case the madwoman pounced on him again.

"What the hell Elizabeth?" The girl took a step forward puzzled by the unexpected situation. "Why did you attack Mike like that?" She stepped forward, interposing herself between the two of us.

Michael looked at the girl with surprise. One because of the name he called the woman who had attacked him moments ago and two because of the affectionate form of the nickname the girl called him. Michael looked at the girl who looked too much like Elizabeth and even called herself the same name frowning as he realized she had realized he planned to get the screwdriver.

"Charlie back off and let me handle this" Elizabeth spat, calling the brown-haired girl by name and making Michael stop his discreet movement in surprise. Before Michael looked closely at the face girl named after Charlie. Now that he thought about it, she looked like Charlotte too.

What the hell was going on? This had to be a strange coincidence, right? Elizabeth couldn't be that teenage woman looking at him in silent anger as if he had committed murder. Which he did, but that was a long time ago no one should remember that anymore, least of all a teenage girl. And Charlie couldn't be that girl, could he?

"I won't move until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you. Mike was just trying to help me." She looked up at Michael before her eyes landed on the sharp screwdriver that was just a short distance away from him. "He wasn't going to hurt me, were you?" She looked him in the eye.

Michael looked at them in disbelief and was about to yell at them angrily, but he took a deep breath and tried not to swallow water because of the heavy rain. They had to get out of there before any of the three of them got sick. "Of course not, idiots. I was going to use the screwdriver to break the damn window if we couldn't get in through the door."

Charlie looked at him in disbelief at the plan he was considering but then remembered that this plan was much better than freezing to death in the cold night because of the rain.

Elizabeth didn't seem to believe him. "Yeah, because it's totally normal for people to carry around screwdrivers that could take your eye out in case of emergency to break windows on rainy, dark days," She said sarcastically.

She wasn't wrong, but it's not like Michael knew why he had that kind of object on his person. He wasn't planning on hurting someone with it... right?

He hesitated unsure of what to say. His emotions wanted to scream at Elizabeth, whom he was beginning to think was his sister but much older. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong to think that he would dare hurt Charlie (since he would never do it) and that he would rather die than do it.

But his rational and logical side. The experienced told him that this situation seemed very familiar and the knot formed around his stomach and he could feel the bile begin to rise in his windpipe, but he forced it down to be a very important question.

"Charlie today...is it your birthday?" Michael asked with fear in his voice. Making both girls look at him confused.

"What's with that question? We should get-" Charlie started to speak only to be interrupted by Michael by a loud shout.

"Just answer the damn question. Charlotte!" Michael snapped.

She flinched and looked at him in disbelief before swallowing and answering. "Uh... yes. It's our birthday. Sammy's and mine. You wished us both today at school, don't you remember?" She looked at him with concern looking at his forehead.

His suspicions were practically being confirmed, however illogical they seemed. It was the only logical and reasonable explanation Michael could think of for what was happening to him, but lest he spiral downward something caught his attention. "Who is Sammy?

Now both Elizabeth and Charlie looked at each other in confusion. Despite Elizabeth's anger towards him, he could see the concern mixed with confusion. Charlie began to approach him with increasing concern for her well-being.

"He's a twin brother. Mike, how many fingers do I have here?" Even though Charlie's arms were shaking from the cold she held up two fingers on her hand before they became a blur and formed four with two hands before becoming six with three hands.

And had he heard correctly? Did Charlie have a twin brother? He couldn't remember. He tried to think if Charlie had a brother, but try as he might he couldn't remember Charlie having a brother. As far as Michael knew she was an only child. Michael shook his head to get the pain out of his head, but he couldn't help but massage his forehead with his hand to try to dull the pain, to no avail.

Something was bothering him about all this. Michael looked again at the sharpened screw he had held in his hands a few moments ago. Why did he have that tool on his person? Why did he have something so dangerous that it could probably kill someone if he were to embed it with enough force in the skull? Why was this situation so familiar to Charlie's death, but so different?

Charlie was at the window trying to call for help. To no avail.

It was nighttime. It was raining hard so any fingerprints were probably going to be washed away. He was near the alley where little Charlie had died. He had a dangerous weapon in his hand. Elizabeth looked at him angrily for just a few seconds as if he was planning someone's murder.

He could have easily tricked Charlie into killing her in the same alley where William had murdered her. He... he wasn't planning anything malicious, was he?... Was he?

"Mike. Are you okay?"

Michael could feel Charlie grab his shoulder trying to talk to him, but he barely heard his words properly before his stomach decided it couldn't take whatever this body had eaten before vomiting all over Charlie's shoes.

"Eww. Gross" Charlie instinctively backed away from the area where Michael had vomited.

When he finished vomiting, he closed his eyes to eliminate the image of a stiff and cold Charlie lying on top of the grave looking quite peaceful.

Michael could see another pair of arms grab the screwdriver with mild disgust from the vomit that had carried him before those same arms lifted him to hold him and keep him standing. He instinctively put his hand around Elizabeth's shoulder.

"Come on, we better check your head, little brother," She commented as she started walking towards the front door before stopping in surprise as the animatronics came out of it and locked onto their target.

Michael opened his eyes recognizing the damn creepy animatronic that Charlie had possessed. His muscles tensed instinctively to move in any direction in case he did.

Puppet sparked electricity because the water was ruining his systems, but once he saw Charlie, he went straight to her before carrying her like a schoolgirl so he could take her inside the restaurant.

"Hey. Put me down, I can walk," Charlie complained pouting, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she did nothing because the animatronics Henry built for her outweighed her in strength.

Elizabeth and Michael could only stare in disbelief at what just happened in front of us before we both looked at each other both feeling a chill down our spines. It seemed she didn't like Puppet just like he didn't like that creepy thing. He didn't understand why Henry built that thing, which most likely would cause nightmares for the children.

They both had their reasons for Puppet not liking them, but neither of them knew what those reasons were. The only thing they could make between them was a mutual agreement not to talk about it, before both Michael and Elizabeth entered the Fredbear Family Diner building, both looked at the building with disgust and bitterness.

Michael noticed but didn't say anything. Elizabeth noticed, but she didn't say anything either. They were both uncomfortable and knew they were going to have to talk about what had just happened. The only thing he could expect was for Charlie to gossip about the fight he just had with Elizabeth. The last thing he wanted was to be scolded and punished by adults.

This fucked up old thing in time was going to be a pain in the ass. Michael could tell the only thing he could hope for was that this time, it wouldn't end up as screwed up as the future (past?) and he wouldn't make a mistake again. In the meantime, he was going to try to figure out why the hell he was so different from how Michael remembered him, although the first thing would be for the headache to stop.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth Afton was exhausted; after a long time, they had finally done it. It wasn't a perfect ending, and there were many sacrifices, but they had truly managed to beat her damn psychopathic brother, Michael.

She lay there, the flames licking her body as the building they were in was currently engulfed in flames. Michael grimaced in pain as he clutched his pierced abdomen, trying to prevent the blood from escaping. His eyes, full of malice, glared at her with fury and hatred before he grimaced and smiled cruelly.

"Heh... you damn bitch, couldn't leave the past behind, huh? Elizabeth. Tell me, how does it feel to have won for once in your life? Do you feel sadistic joy, or perhaps just bleak relief?" Michael wheezed, his voice heavy and hoarse, showing signs of amusement despite dying. "How many people did I kill because of you, huh? Elizabeth. If only you had stayed away like I warned you, and not involved them, then they wouldn't have died. But that doesn't matter to you, does it? As long as you defeat me, you'll sacrifice several people." Michael chuckled sadistically before coughing up blood and grimacing in pain.

Elizabeth glared at her brother. She didn't want to involve them, but they insisted, so she accepted them to help her stop Michael, but she was naive. Michael showed a cunning beyond what she believed possible. She knew Michael wasn't the smartest person; she didn't want to sound arrogant, but she was much smarter than Michael. So luring him into a trap shouldn't have been so difficult.

And she wasn't wrong, it's just that things didn't turn out the way she supposed they would. Michael's monstrous battle instincts, his level of adaptability, his agility to escape, and his incredible perception to detect danger, were all things that played against her plans to stop Michael. And her friends paid the price for it, along with her.

The only thing that saved her was the Remnant that Bonnie injected into her body (her brother Evan's soul possessing the animatronic). It prevented her from dying and trapped her soul in her own corpse. It was very strange for her to be a zombie. She didn't have to worry about eating or sleeping, although it was difficult not to be corrupted by the AGONY. She really hated that substance.

Sammy, Evan, Cassidy, Gabriel, Marcus, Marylin Schmidt, Jeremy Fitzgerald, Charlie (the soulless robot), John, Carlton, Jessica, Susie, Fritz, Mary, Henry, and Dad. And even a guy whose name she didn't know, but they called him Player with his strange doll named Poppy. Each and every one of them fell victim to Michael and his henchmen.

Eleanor, Cat and Rat, Catnap, the Toy animatronics controlled by Puppet (the real Charlie). Each of them followed Michael's orders, whether by their own will (Catnap and Charlotte) because he promised them something (Cat and Rat), or out of obligation (Eleanor). Defeating each of these monsters was absolutely difficult. Especially Catnap and Charlotte.

Elizabeth didn't know where Michael got the damn purple cat with the creepy smile. But no matter, the satisfaction of killing him along with Sammy, Marylin, and Player was something satisfying. Despite that, the deaths of John and Jeremy Fitzgerald, along with the destruction of Charlie in Rat and Cat's ambush, left her feeling sad.

Defeating Rat and Cat wasn't as difficult as the other henchmen, but they still managed to hurt Fritz and Mary Schmidt. Only Fritz survived the two.

Defeating Charlotte and Eleanor was very complicated for them, and both Marylin and Sammy died in that battle, but seeing Eleanor and Charlotte die, with Charlotte begging for Michael's help, only for him to abandon her, was something that left her both satisfied and sad.

But defeating Michael was very difficult. He was a slippery bastard; they tried to take him to a place where they could kill him, but in the end, they were tricked when they realized that the place where they planned to take Michael was the same place where he planned to kill them all, including her.

Evan, Cassidy, Player, Poppy, and she did everything possible to defeat him. Ultimately, they managed to defeat him, but Cassidy paid the price of Michael's ambush. Evan should be somewhere in the building waiting for the fire to reach him so his soul could rest. The player and Poppy set the fire from outside. So as far as Elizabeth knew, they were the only ones, along with Fritz, who had survived this damn nightmare.

"I knew I should've gotten rid of that damn doll when I had the chance," Michael sneered disdainfully. "Now I'm paying the price for letting her live. Heh... I'd probably say something cliché like I'll be back, but you made sure that didn't happen. Even if I don't die from the Remnant." Michael glanced at the fire, which was getting stronger. "The fire would destroy it. Just like I destroyed William's Remnant. Hahaha." Michael laughed cruelly before starting to cough.

Fury filled Elizabeth's chest at the mention of her dad. "Shut up! Don't say dad's name like that." Her voice sounded hoarse and feminine, low but unsettling.

"Ah, yes, you're still daddy's little girl despite your age," Michael mocked. "You can hate me all you want for what I did, but you and I aren't so different, Elizabeth. And you know it, even if you deny it."

"I'm nothing like you," she spat with anger.

Michael rolled his eyes, not bothering to continue. "Whatever. Keep fooling yourself. You know, I used to admire you, but you left me behind. Everyone left me behind; I was the black sheep of the family. That's why I sought a place to find joy. And well..." Michael laughed madly. "And to think I'd find happiness in a very unexpected place, but it's normal for a... what did you call me again?" Michael laughed as he made the dramatic pause that made her roll her eyes. "A psychopath. Right, sister?"

Guilt hit Elizabeth's stomach before quickly disappearing, refusing to feel it. It wasn't her fault her younger brother became a murderer. They may not have been the happiest family, but they were a normal family, and Michael destroyed it out of envy. They could never have expected that quiet Michael would turn into a monster.

Elizabeth shook her head with sadness. "You only became what you are. You could have sought help. Anyone could have helped you, Michael, but you didn't. And you even corrupted poor Charlotte." Elizabeth frowned at him. "You caused everything to end this way."

Michael said nothing. There was no remorse in his eyes despite everything he had done. Although she could see sadness and resignation. She didn't understand why Charlotte was a sore spot for Michael after what he did to her. What he thought confused her a lot, despite playing cat and mouse all these years.

Chapter Text

Michael Afton was drenched in his clothes, a shiver running through his body from the cold rainwater. He tightly gripped the sharp screwdriver in his arm, anger and bitterness consuming him. The rain from the downpour drummed in his ears, muffling most sounds.

His day hadn't been the best, with his parents busy as usual. His father spent most of his time at work, rarely paying attention to his children, especially him. Michael couldn't understand why his relationship with his father was so distant. Even Evan received more attention than him. And don't even get him started on Elizabeth being the favorite. And his mother favored Evan much more than she did him.

His relationship with his siblings wasn't the greatest either. Sure, they didn't get along badly, but they weren't the closest either. And even though Evan was his twin brother, he preferred to get along better with his stupid friends rather than his own flesh and blood.

He had few friends, with Charlie Emily being the only person he could trust with his problems, but today he was angry with her for leaving him when he needed to talk to her. Why did she have to choose to hang out with that stupid guy named John when she had him? If it weren't for his idiot brother Sammy, then she wouldn't have met up with him.

He shook his head, not knowing how long he had been standing in the rain, but his head was starting to hurt. Honestly, he didn't want to be at the stupid Emily's birthday party anymore. Who cares about them, he certainly didn't. It's not like Charlie was his best friend.

As far as Michael was concerned, she could stick with those idiot friends, he didn't need Charlie, he didn't need anyone. Yet he was still angry with Sammy for making his Charlie leave to talk to that Dick Johnny.

Maybe the next time he talked to Charlie in private, he would let her know who the dominant person in their friendship was. She always had to be on his side and support him in everything he desired, because that's what friends did. She should know better. He was always there for her. Because if she wasn't there for him.

Then who will help him from this suffocating life of his?

Michael grimaced in pain and rage, his hair sticking to his face, obstructing his view, so he used his hands to push his hair strands away from his face, yet he could barely see through the downpour falling on him and the darkness of the night.

He began to walk, wanting to get away from his father's restaurant and the idiot Henry. The pain in his head increased along with the fury of his emotions. When he turned the corner, he ran into one of Henry's sons. At first, he thought it was the idiot Sammy, and a furious smile spread across Michael's face, only realizing it was Charlie when he had stabbed the screwdriver into her abdomen.

Despite the horror his mind grasped and the overwhelming guilt that struck him, his body didn't stop. And even though he was horrified by what he had done to his best friend. The satisfaction and adrenaline of the act felt quite incredible. At least this would teach her not to leave him, Charlie was his, and if she wasn't Michael's, then she wouldn't be anyone else's.

Even though he was prepared to let her go, fate gave him a chance to control her, to show her the truth. And make her his friend, his confidante, his right hand. It wasn't easy but in the end. Charlotte Emily. It was his and his alone. Her soul was trapped in a puppet that Michael controlled.

.

.

.

Michael Afton. Mike Schmidt, Fritz Smith, Egg Benedict, The Anomaly, Glamrock Foxy. He entered William's pizzeria and his old friend Henry Emily's with the help of his ¿older sister. Elizabeth. Honestly, this time travel stuff was starting to give him a worse headache than Michael already had, that blow to the head he took was more brutal than he thought.

He probably got a concussion, he just hoped the concussion wasn't too severe.

Just as he entered, he could see Charlotte being lowered by Puppet before the animatronic began to spark and hit the ground abruptly, causing a metallic sound throughout the restaurant that startled both Elizabeth and Charlie.

"Oh. Crap," Charlie commented upon seeing Puppet fall flat on the ground before she shook her head and turned towards us, for Charlie to come closer and look at us with concern, especially at him.

"I'll go get Dad. I'll also bring something for us to change into, continuing with wet clothes will only get us a cold." Charlie said, but he was worried that there wouldn't be anything to change into the wet clothes. Michael sighed before looking around and grimaced at the movement not to mention the annoying noise plaguing the restaurant, not helped that he was soaked to the bone, and hoping not to die frozen from the cold.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth gave him a suspicious but concerned look, just like him. She too was soaked to the bone, strands of her blonde hair sticking to her face, not to mention the bruise that was beginning to form near her nose.

"Not thanks to you," Michael commented annoyed before sighing. "But I would appreciate being able to sit down, my head is killing me with pain." He paused briefly before continuing. "An analgesic would be very helpful."

It was strange for Michael to feel pain again, to have the nerve endings in his body functioning again was quite strange. And he doesn't know whether to feel annoyed about being able to feel again, or relieved because he was no longer a corpse or an animatronic. However, one thing Michael can agree on is that it will be quite strange to get used to having his living body again.

A choked sigh escaped his mouth as he ran a hand through his hair, grimacing in discomfort from the pain caused by the action. He still couldn't believe he had gone back in time. Michael looked around before his gaze settled on Spring Bonnie and Fredbear.

He froze.

His muscles tensed, and his eyes widened as he remembered everything that had happened with those two damn animatronics. He closed his eyes, trying to shake off the images that were flashing through his head; he really didn't want to deal with the traumatic crap right now.

"Come on, let's find a chair where you can sit so we can check if you have a concussion," Elizabeth said with an annoyed sigh.

"I wouldn't be dealing with one if you hadn't thrown yourself at me like a missile," Michael said still annoyed by that unexpected attack launched against him.

"Well, I wouldn't have thrown myself like that in the first place if you weren't about to do something to Charlie," Elizabeth replied sharply.

Michael furrowed his brow at the accusation. "I wasn't going to do anything to Charlie, I already told you," he said through gritted teeth. "I was about to open the door before we froze to death in the rain."

"How did you end up outside the restaurant in the first place? You were inside just like everyone else. Not to mention, you were carrying a screwdriver," Elizabeth said, helping Michael sit in the chair they had approached.

"I needed some time alone," He lied, looking away. Before squinting. "I used the screwdriver to open the back door of the restaurant; I just happened to have it with me when I got stuck outside before I found Charlotte."

"What's up with that?" Elizabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What's up with what, Elizabeth?" Michael asked, annoyed.

“Since when did you start calling Charlie Charlotte, did something happen between you two?” Elizabeth commented with narrowed eyes looking at Michael's face, who shifted into a more mealy position in his seat to relax the headache.

Michael remained silent, unsure of what to say about Elizabeth's question.

For Michael Afton, Charlotte Emily was just a kid he had to take care of while Henry Emily was busy with William Afton. He and she were just acquaintances on their parents' part, they didn't get along badly, but he rarely talked to her, mostly because of the age difference between them. Charlie was more of a friend to Elizabeth and Evan than to Michael Afton.

For Mike Schmidt, Charlotte Emily was just the soul inside Puppet, and she caused him several headaches when he worked as a security guard for two days (sixth and seventh night). The suspicion that Puppet was the one who gave life to the Toy animatronics to get revenge on his killer, unfortunately, didn't happen, and instead, he was the victim of the AGONY of the Toy animatronics.

Not to mention the big disaster of the bite of 87, by Mangle on one of the security guards and colleague. Jeremy Fitzgerald. Just another trauma to add to his collection. Honestly, Michael still doesn't know how he didn't go crazy or let himself be consumed by the corrupt AGONY in his body.

The only thing that saves Charlotte from his bad opinion of her. Is that she helped him at the pizzeria to simulate capturing the other animatronics, especially with Molten Freddy. Damn… he hated that damn amalgam of the bear with all his might (which wasn't much at that moment), especially because of his history with that thing and with the damn creepy and sadistic jokes that damn thing threw at him.

"It's nothing important," Michael finally said, to stop prolonging the silence.

Elizabeth sighed. "Sure. I'll let it go for now."

Michael could feel someone approaching when he turned to see who the person was. He didn't recognize the boy approaching them. Although the resemblance the boy had to Henry Emily was quite astonishing, Michael wouldn't go so far as to say they were very alike, like him and William (much to his dismay), but the boy had an impressive resemblance, now that he noticed it. Both Charlotte and this boy have very beautiful emerald eyes.

Michael doesn't remember the color of Charlotte Emily's eyes, although he does remember seeing those emerald eyes light up recently when he found her outside the window.

"Elizabeth, thank you for finding Charlie." The emerald-eyed boy then turned to look at him. "Ah, and it looks like you're with Michael. That's good." Then he handed us some clean clothes. "Charlie sent me to get there, saying that you two got pretty soaked too. And it looks like she was right," The boy said, giving Elizabeth and him a worried look.

Elizabeth smiled, lighting up at the clothes. "Thank you, Sammy. I've told you before that you're one of my favorites."

The boy is now called Sammy. Blushed embarrassedly as he scratched his neck before huffing. "Yeah. Although you only say that because you got something from me. We all know Evan is your favorite."

Elizabeth patted him on the head. "That doesn't change the fact that I really like you. You're a good kid, Sammy," she said before looking at Michael with a furrowed brow. "Don't do anything weird while I'm gone, I'll go change." She said, starting to walk away before giving Michael a sidelong glance. "You should do the same, we don't want you catching a cold or something worse."

Michael frowned as he watched her walk away.

Sammy looked confused as he watched Elizabeth walk away, giving her a strange look. "She's been acting weird since I asked her about Charlie," Sammy said with an uncomfortable look at Michael. "Do you know why she's acting like that? She almost seemed worried that something was going to happen."

Michael shrugged. "Must be that time of the month," he said with a straight face.

Sammy blushed before stammering, "D-don't joke about that..." He was quiet for a moment before blushing even more, almost like steam was coming out of his ears. "Y-you're joking, right?" Seeing that Michael didn't respond, Sammy sighed before crossing his arms. "You know what? Never mind. You should listen to Elizabeth and change. Don't be stubborn, otherwise, I'll call Dad."

Michael sighed, smiling for the first time since he arrived in the past. "I guess we don't want Mama Bear coming out of the cave," he joked, making Sammy roll his eyes and smile softly.

Michael got up shakily, almost tripping slightly. He was about to fall if it weren't for Sammy reacting and grabbing him by the shoulders, not caring that Michael got him a little wet.

"Are you okay?" Sammy asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Don't worry, just a slight dizziness from getting up too fast, but it's nothing. Thanks for catching me anyway, Kiddo," Michael said.

"Kiddo? We're almost the same age," Sammy raised an eyebrow, giving Michael a strange look.

"Eh. Details, don't worry about it. Kiddo," Michael brushed off Sammy's comment. "By the way, Happy Birthday, hope I didn't get you too wet."

Sammy blinked at Michael in surprise. "You already wished me... although this one seems more sincere," He started with a louder tone that Michael could hear, before speaking in a whisper that Michael could barely hear. Then Sammy shook his head. "Thank you, and don't worry, you didn't get me too wet. Do you need help getting to the room so you can change?" Sammy asked, looking at Michael, especially his trembling feet, whether it was because of the cold or because they were unstable, he wasn't sure.

Michael was about to say no, but he thought better of it. He was still getting used to his new body, and the recent fall wasn't making things easier, so a little help wouldn't hurt.

After all, when was the last time Michael had the luxury of receiving help like this?

"Yeah. I'd appreciate it," Michael said with a sigh, giving in this time.

Sammy smiled ironically before helping him to one of the private rooms of the restaurant, which Michael honestly forgot existed, or he wasn't sure if they existed or not, but it wasn't something to worry about right now.

It didn't take them long to get there before Michael let go of leaning on Sammy's shoulder. Before entering the room to change his clothes. Fortunately, there was already a towel in there, so he wouldn't have to ask for that. He wondered if Sammy had put it there, or if it was someone else.

Although honestly, Michael didn't care. Without wasting much time, he thanked Sammy before entering the room and closing the door.

Instead of changing as he should have done first, logically, Michael leaned his back against the door before sliding down against it. Until he was sitting with his knees near his chest.

Then, after making sure no one would enter the room, he rested his head against his knees and allowed himself a moment of weakness that he had been holding back for a long time.

The crying, he made it as quiet as possible so that no one would hear him being so weak and make them worry about his health; they were tears of sadness, frustration, and happiness.

Sadness because all this brought back memories from before the tragedy when everything was normal, and although they weren't the happiest family, they were a family, and now more than ever he desperately wanted to remember everything about those days, but over time he forgot about those days, and all that remained were traumatic memories and his stupid mistakes.

Frustration because of all the confusion and discomfort of his body; it was strange to be so puzzled by your body. He hadn't analyzed it closely before because he was worried about being in the rain, but now that Michael had a little time to think. The touch felt strange, even more so the smell. He honestly felt a little nauseous from the strong smell of pizza. Not to mention the salty taste of his tears.

Happiness, because all this didn't seem like a dream; it seemed real, and although things were different from how Michael remembered them, he honestly didn't care. He was happy, ecstatic to have a new chance to do things right, to avoid all these tragedies. To have a happy ending, like those stupid fairy tales that Elizabeth liked (the one who was younger than him, since Michael isn't sure if the older Elizabeth likes those things).

Even if he knows he doesn't deserve this new chance, he doesn't care. He wants to be selfish and cling to this opportunity. Michael will give everything to prevent any tragedy from happening again, even if he has to die to achieve it, although the perfect thing would be to achieve it and not die to enjoy life.

He doesn't know if he will succeed, but he will try. Damn him if he escaped and let everything go to hell. Maybe he stopped considering himself Michael Afton years ago, but Michael Schmidt can return to him if that means he can save everyone.

But that's easier said than done because Mike doesn't want to be Michael Afton anymore, at least not the stupid Michael Afton who intimidated his brother. He'll be the best Michael Afton he can be. How hard can that be without arousing suspicion? He doesn't know, but he doesn't care.

Mike touched his chest, realizing that his breathing was becoming more difficult, so it would be better to change. Despite the difficulty from the dizziness and the slight blurred vision he was experiencing, he did it quite quickly. This was nothing compared to the first few days of regaining his body after Ennard was expelled from him.

The headache was nothing compared to the AGONY he experienced when Ennard tore out his entire stomach. The worst part was that it didn't really hurt for just a second, but it continued to hurt because the Remnant injected into his body by the Scooper was keeping him alive. He only felt relief when he passed out.

Fortunately, when Ennard was in his body controlling him like a puppet, he was mostly unconscious. That doesn't take away from the fact of the other trauma that generated the times he was conscious; it was absolutely terrifying not being able to control what you do.

It was much worse than mind control, as Michael could still see and hear everything they did with his body. At least in mind control, you don't remember what you do, or that's how they portrayed it in some children's stories and cartoon series. Nothing like what Mimic did with Vanessa, as that was more like a type of possession than mind control.

Setting that aside, the worst was when Ennard came out of his body, there were still some nerves in his body functioning, and the absolute agony he felt during all those days was an absolute nightmare. He only felt relief when his nerves stopped working; he had never been so grateful that day because a part of his body was not functioning.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized he was taking longer than usual to come out, so if he took any longer, people might start to worry. And he didn't want to start worrying anyone (he knows he doesn't deserve anyone's concern, even when he longs for it).

Michael is afraid to see his brother, Evan. Afraid to see him and break down and cry and hug him and apologize over and over again. Afraid to approach Evan, he didn't want to hurt him again accidentally. Afraid that, upon seeing him, Evan sees him with hatred, telling him he despises him. Afraid of making mistakes with him again.

But Michael was good at being afraid and still not letting it paralyze him. And using that fear as momentum. Like he did when he was a security guard at the pizzerias, like he did when he faced William, turned into Springtrap.

So Michael took a deep breath before praying to any God that existed to help him by giving him wisdom, not to ruin everything again, or worse, make a worse mess of this new opportunity.

Coming out of his thoughts, Michael opened the door, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

Chapter Text

Michael stepped out of the small room where he had changed. He could still feel the cold seeping into his skin, despite the dry clothes. Outside, the rain continued to fall heavily, a constant symphony accompanying the echo of his thoughts. He had barely taken a few steps before noticing that Sammy was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a curious expression on his face.

"Everything okay?" Sammy asked in a relaxed tone, though his eyes showed genuine concern.

Michael nodded, shaking his damp hair as if that could clear his mind. "Yeah, I just needed to change."

Sammy observed him for a moment before frowning slightly. "Why were you wet? Well, you, Elizabeth, and Charlie, to be exact. What were you all doing outside in this rain?"

Michael paused, trying to maintain his composure. It was a minor detail, but he couldn't afford to make mistakes in his explanations. He knew Sammy didn't suspect anything out of the ordinary, but any inconsistency could raise unnecessary questions.

"Charlie got trapped outside," he explained, his voice carefully measured. "I was already outside when it started raining, and I saw her. I went out to help her."

Sammy raised an eyebrow. "You were already outside? Why?"

Michael looked away for a moment, remembering the confrontation with Elizabeth. He couldn't tell Sammy the truth, so he opted for something that sounded reasonable.

"I just needed some air," he responded with a shrug.

Sammy looked at him with some disbelief, but didn't insist. "And Elizabeth... did she go out for the same reason?"

Michael shook his head. "No. She came out looking for us when she realized we were outside."

Sammy nodded slowly, processing the information. "That makes sense. It was my idea to ask Elizabeth to help me find Charlie, but I didn't know you were outside too."

"Well, now you know," Michael responded in a dry tone, though not intentionally.

Sammy seemed to notice the fatigue in his voice and slightly changed the subject. "I'm glad you're all okay, anyway. With this weather, anyone could catch a cold."

Michael forced a small smile, not knowing what else to say. Sammy's presence was a constant reminder of how different this reality was. To him, Sammy didn't exist; he was a new face, a relationship that had never formed. And yet, in this timeline, he seemed to have a natural connection with everyone else, especially with Charlie.

They both walked together toward the main dining area. The warmth of the restaurant contrasted with the storm outside. In the distance, Michael could see Elizabeth and Charlie sitting together, chatting confidently as if they were lifelong friends. Charlie, with her hair tousled from the humidity, was laughing at something Elizabeth had said, and the latter seemed to enjoy the interaction as much as Charlie did.

Michael observed his older sister for a moment. Elizabeth was fifteen here, much older than the nine-year-old girl he remembered. There was something strange and painful about seeing her so natural, as if she had always belonged to this timeline.

Sammy noticed the direction of his gaze and smiled. "They seem to get along well, huh?"

Michael nodded silently, but his mind was elsewhere. For an instant, Charlie's laughter reminded him of the girl he had known in his other life, the one who always seemed so fragile yet so strong at the same time. Here, she was full of life, completely oblivious to the tragedies that Michael knew could unfold if he didn't do something.

Suddenly, Evan appeared running from the other side of the room, stopping right in front of them.

"There you are, Michael!" he said with a radiant smile. "Why are you always disappearing?"

Michael had to contain the wave of emotions that invaded him upon seeing his brother. This Evan was completely different from the one he knew: full of energy, carefree, and happy. The image was a painful contrast to the memories he carried with him.

"I'm not disappearing," Michael responded calmly, trying to maintain his casual tone.

Evan tilted his head, clearly skeptical. "Yeah, sure. And why have you been acting so weird lately?"

Michael observed Evan with a mixture of pain and relief that threatened to overflow the careful control he had maintained over his emotions. His brother was alive, breathing, smiling. There was no fear in those eyes, no terror, no empty and broken gaze that had haunted Michael for decades.

"I'm not being weird," Michael replied, keeping his voice neutral despite the lump forming in his throat. "I'm just tired."

Evan didn't seem convinced, but before he could insist, Sammy intervened with an understanding smile. "Give him a break, Evan. The poor guy got completely soaked in the rain. I'd be exhausted too."

Michael shot a grateful look at Sammy, who simply shrugged as if it were no big deal. It was strange to have someone defending him for no apparent reason, especially someone who, in his original timeline, didn't even exist.

"I guess you're right," Evan admitted, though he kept looking at Michael with that inquisitive expression that was so familiar and painful to him. "But still, you've been acting strange for days. Like you're somewhere else."

If you only knew how literal that is, Michael thought bitterly.

The three of them walked together toward the main area of the restaurant. Michael could hear the cheerful music playing from the speakers, mixing with the laughter of children and the constant sound of arcade machines. It was an atmosphere that should have been nostalgic, even comforting, but instead it provoked a sense of unreality that churned his stomach.

Sammy began talking about something trivial—a video game he had played recently, or maybe it was about school. Michael really wasn't paying attention. His mind was too busy trying to process everything: the fact that he was in 1982, that Evan was alive, that Elizabeth was older than him, that Sammy was Charlie's twin brother, and that he existed.

"Michael? Are you listening?" Evan's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Michael blinked, realizing they were both looking at him expectantly. "Sorry, what?"

Evan rolled his eyes, though there was amusement in his gesture. "I was asking if you wanted to go play arcade games later. Sammy's coming too."

"I said I might go," Sammy corrected with a smile. "I still have to help Dad with some things."

Michael was about to respond when his gaze landed, almost by accident, on the main stage.

There they were.

Fredbear and Spring Bonnie, illuminated by the stage lights, with their shiny suits and permanent smiles. For anyone else in that restaurant, they were simply entertainment, friendly characters designed to make children happy.

For Michael, they were tombs.

The world around him seemed to fade, replaced by a torrent of memories he hadn't invited but came anyway.

Evan's birthday. His seventh birthday, if Michael remembered correctly.

Elizabeth had already disappeared by then. Three months, two weeks, and four days since the blonde-haired little girl had ceased to exist. Three months, two weeks, and four days since the Afton family began to fall apart.

Mom had become distant, locked in her own world of pain. She barely spoke to Michael, and when she did, her words were sharp, full of bitterness she didn't know how to express. But with Evan it was different. With Evan she was gentle, protective, desperate to keep safe the only young son she had left.

Jealousy had coiled in Michael's chest like a poisonous snake. Why did Evan receive all that affection? Why was Michael treated as if he were invisible, as if his pain didn't matter?

And Evan... Evan wouldn't stop crying. All the time. About everything. The animatronics, the nightmares, the shadows in his room, the strange sounds from the basement where Dad worked. He cried and cried and cried until Michael felt like he was going to go insane.

"Shut up!" Michael had yelled at him more than once. "Just shut up for once!"

But Evan never shut up. And Michael never stopped tormenting him.

The pranks had started as something small. Hiding his Fredbear plushie. Telling him horror stories about the animatronics coming to life at night. Putting on a cheap Foxy mask and jumping out from behind doors to scare him.

But the week of Evan's birthday had been different. Michael had been so angry, so frustrated, so desperate to release all that poison building up inside him. And his friends—those stupid teenagers who thought they were cool—had been more than willing to help.

"Let's give the crybaby something to really cry about," Michael had said with a malicious smile, and if he was lucky, it would help him overcome his fear of those stupid robots.

The Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy masks. Evan's screams as they chased him through the restaurant or outside it. The tears running down his face as he begged them to stop.

And finally, Evan's birthday had arrived, my little brother or little nuisance. The crybaby of the family.

Our father knew that Evan was afraid of the animatronics. The crybaby wouldn't stop sobbing about it, not even when he wasn't near the restaurant. Especially this week.

All week. Running back and forth in his room at who knows what hour of the night. Crying. That constant crying drove me crazy. So, of course, I had to vent somewhere, right? My friends and I played pranks on him all week, and today we have a really good one.

If he's so afraid of those stupid, ugly, disgusting robots, why don't we help him?

I'm doing him a favor.

I'm doing EVERYONE a favor, especially if he shuts up for once after this!

I put on the mask. My friends grabbed theirs. It's based on the animatronics Uncle Henry was working on, new ones that were supposed to join Fredbear and... whatever Dad's is called. I don't give a damn about the restaurant, but if Evan gets scared, it's really funny.

We have to find my brother at the party anyway. Dad said I had to watch him. "Make sure he doesn't get trapped in the security room with the springlock suits again, he could damage them if he messes with them." I don't care if Evan gets hurt, to be honest, I've screwed up a bit, if you want my opinion.

It's pretty easy to find him, just follow the sobs to the rhythm of the music. We made our way through some groups, past the red tables and absurdly bright colored balloons toward the back and...

There he is.

I can see him.

Huddled under a table. Crying. The black and white striped shirt he's been wearing all week is covered in dirt and grime from the floor. He looks at us as one of my friends moves the table aside to reach him. He starts crying harder, and I see him looking at and talking to his Fredbear plushie while looking at the stage with fear and nervousness.

My friends notice too.

"Wow, your brother is such a baby, isn't he?"

I laugh. "He's hilarious. Why don't we help him get a closer look? He'll love it!"

"Fredbear—"

"Whoa! Talking to a stuffed animal? That's pathetic." The guy in the Bonnie mask grabs my brother by the collar firmly and pulls him out from under the table.

"Yeah, yeah," mutters the one in the Chica mask, disinterested. He picks up Fredbear and turns it over. "This thing is ugly. Why does he like it so much?" He looks at his friend in the Freddy mask, who simply shrugs.

I laugh at my brother. "Because he's a weirdo!" I get closer. Foxy's jaw almost touches his nose. He seems too scared to scream. "I told you not to bring your stuffed animals out in public anymore. It's embarrassing. You embarrassed me." I hiss. "I warned you, but you didn't listen. So now I'll just have to make sure you never embarrass me again."

"No!" he shouts, struggling helplessly against the guy holding him with the Bonnie mask. "Give it back! Don't hurt him!"

"Aw, are you gonna cry? Don't worry, I'll make it quick." I mock Evan.

"No! Don't hurt him!" he begs me.

However, I decide to ignore him and walk away from him and take Fredbear from my friend wearing the Chica mask. I examine it closely. "Wow. Up close it's even uglier. And it smells like trash. You know what happens to trash, right, brother?"

With his energy depleted, Evan slumps and whimpers. "No. No, please."

"It gets thrown in the trash."

I see the trash can nearby and walk over and toss Fredbear in with the rest of the garbage, while making a disgusted and mocking gesture, then look amusedly at my brother who is now complaining harshly. He really was pathetic.

He opens his eyes wide, they almost pop out of their sockets from how much he's opened them. "No, please!" he screams. God, what an annoying voice that kid has! Why is he so afraid of a robot bear? Well, yeah, it's a bit weird, but... literally half the time it's just Uncle Henry in there. The man is kinder to us than our own father.

"Come on, guys, let's take this little man! He wants to get closer!" I respond, and we all grab him. One for each limb. The creepy portrait of Fredbear practically stares at us as we start carrying him and he starts to get scared.

We practically drag him across that disgusting arcade carpet, covered in gum and whatever. We're almost at the bear.

"FREDBEAR! NO!" Evan screams.

I sigh with embarrassment. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. This is good! Now you can get yourself some human friends."

I watch as he looks disconsolately at the trash can where I just threw Fredbear, I just mock him silently. As if he couldn't get a cleaner one.

"Nooo... give it back!" Evan shouts. "Give back my best friend! How could you throw him away?!"

The teenager in the Bonnie mask snorts. "Getting so upset over an object? How sad."

The teenager in the Freddy mask laughs. "He gets even weirder when he's near the real animatronics. I don't know why."

The teenager in the Chica mask looks with disgust. "Wow, your brother is such a baby, isn't he?"

I laugh discreetly at my brother's expense. "He's hilarious. Why don't we help him get a closer look? He'll love it!"

"No, I don't want to go!" he screams.

Evan struggles as if his life depended on it; he almost elbows me in the face several times, the little bastard. Even the strongest have trouble holding him, and I swear... did he just try to bite me?! My God! Calm down for once!

"You heard the little man! He wants to get even closer! Ha, ha, ha!" I shout to my friends, and we climb onto the stage.

The animatronics are playing some silly song with a banjo or whatever, in full robot mode, with no Uncle Henry to stop us and no father to...

Whatever. Evan is practically pissing himself with fear right now.

Let's have more fun with this.

"Hey guys, I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!"

My friends get the message and start lifting Evan up to the bear.

"ON THREE!" I shout.

Everything around us practically ceases to exist as we bring Evan closer, inch by inch, to the bear's mouth that opens and closes with the song.

We pull back, tricking him.

"One..."

As I count, we bring him closer, he scratches my arms and so we reinforce our grip.

"Two..."

What the hell, I'm getting impatient! Let's go for it!

We put his head in the bear's mouth when it opens. I signal for us to pull back when the mouth closes, but...

Tears fall from Evan's face onto Fredbear's jaw.

It slams shut, trapping his head in the—

Crunching.

The sound had been horrible. A wet and nauseating crunch that resonated throughout the restaurant, silencing the music, silencing the laughter, silencing everything except the screams.

Evan's screams. The mothers' screams. Michael screamed when he finally understood what he had done.

The blood. There was so much blood. Soaking Fredbear's golden suit, dripping onto the stage, staining Michael's hands when he finally let go of his brother.

Evan's body had fallen to the floor like a broken doll, his head crushed, his eyes wide open in an expression of terror that would never disappear.

And Michael had stood there, paralyzed, staring at his blood-covered hands as the world crumbled around him.

"What did you do?" His mother's voice had been a broken whisper. "What did you do, Michael?"

Evan had died five days later in the hospital. He never woke from the coma.

Two weeks after that, when Michael came down the stairs one morning, he found the house empty. Silent. His mother had disappeared, and only a brief note remained that said: "I can't anymore."

Years later, William had told him indifferently that she had committed suicide as if it weren't important. As if she hadn't been Michael's mother.

As if it all hadn't been Michael's fault from the beginning.

"Michael, are you okay?"

Sammy's voice penetrated the fog of memories like an anchor, dragging him back to the present. Michael blinked, realizing his breathing was irregular, that his hands were trembling at his sides.

He could feel the nausea forming in his stomach, the paleness spreading across his face. Fredbear was still on stage, moving innocently, not knowing—unable to know—what it represented to Michael.

Not here. Not now. Not in front of them.

"I'm fine," he managed to say, though his voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

"You don't look it," Evan commented, his face full of genuine concern. "You look pale. Do you want to sit down?"

Michael looked away from the stage, forcing himself to look at Evan instead of the golden bear. He's alive. He's here. He's okay.

"Just... the headache," Michael lied. "The hit was harder than I thought."

Sammy nodded understandingly. "You should rest. Do you want me to tell my dad to check on you?"

"No, that's not necessary," Michael responded quickly, perhaps too quickly. He softened his tone. "I'll be fine after sitting for a while."

Evan and Sammy exchanged a worried look, but neither insisted. Michael thanked them silently as he followed them to an empty table, moving away from the stage and the memories that threatened to consume him.

He sat heavily in the chair, feeling the weight of decades of guilt pressing on his shoulders. Evan sat across from him, still with that worried expression that made Michael's chest hurt.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Evan asked again.

"Yes," Michael forced a smile. "I just need a moment."

Sammy, sensing the discomfort, decided to change the subject. "So, after the cake, do you want to come play arcade games? They have a new Pac-Man game."

Michael was about to accept—anything to keep up appearances, to act like the Michael he was supposed to be—when a familiar figure emerged from the restaurant's back office.

William Afton.

Time seemed to freeze again.

His father walked toward them with that kind smile Michael had seen a thousand times before. The same smile he had used to deceive, to manipulate, to kill.

Michael's muscles tensed involuntarily, every instinct screaming at him to flee, to fight, to do something.

Fazbear's Fright pizzeria. Thirty years after it all began.

Michael had accepted the night guard job without really knowing what he would find. He only knew that something was calling him there, something that needed to end.

And then he had seen it.

Springtrap.

The Spring Bonnie suit, rotten and shattered, with William Afton's corpse still trapped inside. Thirty years of decomposition, of agony, of pure evil concentrated in a single form.

"Hello, Michael." The voice had been raspy, distorted, but unmistakably his father's. "Did you come to visit me?"

The nights had been hell. Springtrap stalking him through the dark hallways, whispering horrible things, laughing at his suffering. The hallucinations—Phantom Freddy, Phantom Chica, products of the AGONY that infected that place—had only made things worse.

"You can't run from me, son. We're family. Family is forever."

Michael had survived. Night after night, he had used every trick he knew to keep his father away. Audio systems to distract him, ventilation seals to block him, pure determination not to get caught.

And on the last night, when Michael had finally had enough, when the hatred and desperation had become too much, he had made a decision.

"Rot in hell, William."

The fire had started quickly. Michael had sprayed gasoline throughout the building, lit the flame, and run. He had heard Springtrap's metallic screams as the flames consumed him, and for a moment—just a moment—Michael had thought it was finally over.

He had escaped by the skin of his teeth, with burns on his arms and smoke in his lungs. He had thought he had succeeded, that he had finally killed the monster that had pursued him all his life.

But years later, at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place, when Michael had descended into that underground labyrinth following Henry's orders, he had seen him again.

Scraptrap. William had survived. Somehow, that damn bastard always survived.

And it was only then, in the final fire that Henry had orchestrated, that William Afton had finally died. Or at least, Michael had believed he had.

"Michael?"

William's voice—this William, the one from 1982, the one who hadn't killed anyone yet—pulled him abruptly from his thoughts.

Michael looked up, meeting his father's eyes. For a moment, just a moment, Michael thought he saw something in that gaze. Curiosity? Suspicion? But it disappeared so quickly that Michael wasn't sure he had seen it.

"Hi, Dad," Evan greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the tension Michael felt in every muscle of his body.

Michael forced himself to relax, to control his breathing. He couldn't afford to raise suspicions. This William hadn't committed any crimes yet—at least not that Michael knew of—but that didn't mean anything.

Is he different? The question echoed in Michael's mind. Elizabeth and Evan are different. Does that mean he is too? Or is he the same monster waiting for the right moment?

He had no answers. He only had uncertainty and a hatred so deep he had to keep it buried under layers and layers of feigned indifference.

"Michael," William greeted him warmly. "Elizabeth mentioned you had an accident. Are you okay?"

Every word from his father felt like poison in Michael's ears. He had to make a conscious effort not to look away, not to show the contempt he felt.

"I'm fine," he responded in a neutral voice. "I just hit my head. Nothing serious."

William studied his face for a moment, and Michael felt as if he were being dissected under a microscope. He couldn't show weakness, not in front of him.

"Good," William finally nodded. "But if you feel worse, let me know. We don't want complications."

As if you ever cared, Michael thought bitterly. But out loud, he only said: "I will."

William seemed satisfied with that and walked away to talk to Henry, who had just come out of the kitchen. Michael watched him leave, feeling how the tension slowly left his body, leaving him exhausted.

"Your dad is great," Sammy commented. "He's always very attentive to everyone."

Michael almost choked on those words. He had to cough to disguise it, forcing himself to nod vaguely without trusting his voice to respond.

"So, are you coming to play or not?" Evan insisted, clearly wanting to return to the previous topic.

Michael was about to respond when he heard female voices from the entrance. He looked up to see two women entering, both carrying a huge chocolate cake decorated with colorful candles.

One was Mrs. Emily, smiling as she chatted animatedly.

The other was his mother.

Clara Afton.

The air left Michael's lungs all at once.

He hadn't seen his mother in decades. In his timeline, she had disappeared two weeks after Evan's death. She had committed suicide, according to William, though there was never a body, never a funeral. Just a void where a person had once been.

But here she was. Alive. Smiling. Real.

Clara Afton had brown hair tied back in a practical ponytail, wore a modest but elegant dress typical of the early '80s. There was a warmth in her brown eyes that Michael had forgotten existed, a gentleness that had been eroded by pain and loss in his timeline.

"Children!" Clara called cheerfully. "It's time for cake."

The children in the restaurant ran toward the prepared tables. Michael remained frozen in his chair, unable to move, unable to process what he was seeing.

Clara noticed and approached with evident concern. "Michael, honey, are you okay? Elizabeth told me you got soaked in the rain."

The concern in her voice was genuine, maternal. It was something Michael hadn't experienced in so long that it physically hurt.

"I'm fine, Mum," he managed to say, and the word felt strange, unfamiliar on his tongue. How long had it been since he had called someone "Mum"?

Clara frowned, clearly not convinced. She raised a hand and placed it gently on his forehead, checking his temperature. "You're pale. Are you sure you don't want to lie down?"

More than you can imagine, Michael thought. But out loud, he said, "I'm just tired. I'll be fine after the cake."

Clara studied him for another moment, her maternal expression full of concern. It was a look Michael didn't remember seeing since he was a child, since before Elizabeth disappeared, since before everything went to hell.

"Well," Clara finally relented, though she clearly wasn't satisfied. "But if you feel worse, you tell me immediately. Understood?"

"Understood," Michael promised, though he wasn't sure he could keep it.

Clara gave him a reassuring smile before walking away to help with the cake. Michael watched her go, feeling an emptiness in his chest that he didn't know how to fill.

The restaurant lights dimmed, and the familiar melody of "Happy Birthday" began to play. Michael forced himself to join the chorus, moving his lip,s though the words felt hollow.

He watched Charlie and Sammy standing in front of the cake, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of the candles. Both were smiling widely, happy and full of life.

They should be dead, that dark voice in his mind whispered. Charlie should be cold in an alley. Sammy shouldn't exist.

But he pushed those thoughts away. He couldn't afford to think that way. They were alive. All of them were alive. And Michael would do whatever it took to keep them that way.

The song ended with applause and laughter. Charlie and Sammy blew out the candles simultaneously while the children cheered. The cake was cut and distributed quickly.

Michael accepted his slice mechanically, though just thinking about eating turned his stomach. He sat in silence, watching everyone celebrate around him.

Evan was laughing with his friends. Elizabeth was chatting animatedly with Charlie. William and Henry were discussing something about the business. Clara was helping serve cake with Mrs. Emily.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

And Michael knew he didn't belong here. He was a ghost from the future, an intruder in a timeline that wasn't his, carrying memories of tragedies that hadn't happened yet—and that he would do everything possible to prevent.

I can make this work, he told himself as he looked at the cake without touching it. I can keep them safe. I just need time.

Time to observe. Time to plan. Time to make sure William—this William—never had the chance to become the monster Michael knew.

And if that meant pretending, lying, hiding everything he really was, then so be it.

Michael Afton had survived many worse things than a birthday party.

Though, honestly, at that moment, all he really wanted was a damn nap and to wake up to discover that all of this wasn't a dream he would end up waking from.