Chapter Text
Michael woke up wrapped in blankets, nestled in his bed.
A mug of now-cold tea was on his bedside table. He blinked, eyelids heavy. He was disoriented, and groggy. Michael lifted his head and rolled over. He jumped and fell of the bed.
Michael groaned in pain, backing up against the wall.
The Helpy knock-off was in his bed, eyes glowing in the dark. It stood and danced a little jig, keeping its eyes firmly on Michael. Hells, that thing was creepy. Why on earth was it sleeping beside him? Had it been watching him the whole time? How long had Michael been out for, actually?
A few moments later, Father entered the room. Michael startled again. How'd he know Michael was awake? Michael regularly checked his room for cameras and the like, and the only way Father could have known was if he had seen. It felt like he had a bloody sixth sense.
"You're awake."
Thanks, Sherlock. "Y-yeah..."
Father knelt and picked him up. He laid Michael's trembling body back in his bed with ease. "You fainted," he stated. Michael resisted the childish urge to roll his eyes.
Was this the brilliant inventor that had discovered how to live forever? Caption Obvious?
Father took Michael's arm and wrapped two fingers around his wrist. He frowned, then dropped it. "If you don't take better care of yourself..."
Michael wiped his arm to get rid of Father's touch. "Yeah, yeah." Go away, he said in his head. Leave me alone. Please.
Father, of course, did not. He picked up the mug and brought it to Michael. "Drink."
Michael was not going to get poisoned this way. He hoped Father wouldn't force it in him. He hoped fainting meant Father would go easier on him. Michael hoped a lot of things. "I'm not thirsty."
"I put some medicine in here to help you."
Michael drew the blanket over his knees. He rested his chin on it and pretended to give in. "Fine..." He brought the mug to his lips, and poured a little down his cheek. The dark blue blanket absorbed it. Michael crossed his fingers and prayed Father thought he actually drank it.
"Hm." Father hummed.
"Thanks... Can I go back to sleep?"
Father wiped some hair out of his face. "I'll leave you be."
And thank god for that. Father shut the door behind him, and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. Little Freddy trotted up to him again. Michael stuck his tongue out at it. How he longed to just break it apart. It's lavender casing was way uglier than Helpy's. It's nose annoyed Michael for the crime of being smaller than Helpy's. It's stupid eyes were more ovalish, and all the inconsistencies made Michael want to tear his hair out.
Maybe he simply missed Helpy.
Michael's brain finally woke up and his hands shook.
The Funtimes. William was creating the Funtimes. Pretty, dazzling machines for child murder. Technologically beyond anything he had been doing with Henry, and yet many design flaws because they hadn't been created for entertainment.
No. They had been created with the sole purpose of luring and murdering children. To collect the coverted life essence, the agony and purest form of soul.
To collect remnant.
And if William was building them... Than somehow, Michael had failed.
_
Charlotte was alive.
Evan was alive.
Cassidy was alive.
Michael was, by some miracle, still alive.
Michael didn't know how the other missing kids were doing. He hadn't even met or seen most around town yet. He hoped they were okay, but if William knew the secret of remnant then it did not bode well for them.
However, if a child had gone missing it would have been the talk of the town. Crimes like that just didn't happen in Hurricane. At least, until along came William MacKiddie Killer. If someone had died or gone missing, Michael would know. Everyone would know.
But how else could William have found out about the existence of remnant?
Michael wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up in a ball, and let the dam break. He wanted to sob- not scream, he didn't have the energy for that. He simply wanted to let go of himself and cry like a young child, cry because of what had happened, so fast.
He had been so close. That was the worst part. Michael actually believed, for one wonderful moment, that he would be rid of William Afton in a few short weeks. That the world would be rid of him.
Michael should have known better than to get his hopes up.
With remnant, Michael had failed the one task Old Man Consequences had given him. With remnant, all his plans were for nothing. With remnant, William would come back from anything Michael threw at him.
With remnant, he would live forever.
And Michael didn't know how to stop him.
_
"Michael. Michael. Micha-"
Michael jolted. He'd fallen asleep. He hadn't been drowsy, had he? Why had he drifted off? He didn't have time to rest. He needed to figure out how to stop William as soon as possible.
The Funtimes were for collecting. If William was only collecting- no, Michael had to stop calling it that. William was murdering children and stealing their literal life. It wasn't remnant collection. It was murder.
Michael really, really hated that word.
Evan stared blankly at him. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah. No. Ugh, I..."
Evan looked down. "I drank your tea last night."
"What?" Michael checked the empty cup on his bedside table. His stomach sank. "No..."
"Sorry. It was cold."
"No, I- Father- William made it. Could've had anything inside. What if it had killed you? Please don't just drink anything laying about, if you'd been poisoned..." Michael didn't know what he'd do. How he'd live with himself. "Please don't. And especially don't eat or drink anything William makes."
Evan gave him a deadpan look. "William isn't going to poison you. He likes you. You know this."
Michael shifted at the reminder. The blanket rubbed against him, sticky and wet, and Michael remembered he had poured tea on it. He pulled the sticky covering away with a grimace.
"Also what do you think we've been eating while you're in detention again?"
"What?"
"You haven't made dinner in ages. William does it and he makes us all sit down and eat super early. We have to tell him about our day. Then he goes to fetch you."
"Oh." Michael hadn't spared a thought to cooking or feeding his siblings. He shoved down the sense of self-loathing that threatened to consume him. He could feel sad about himself later. More important things on hand. "And... It's all alright when he does it?"
"It is fine."
It sounded like a perfectly normal family thing to do. It didn't sound like William.
"He puts your dinner out but you don't take it."
"I'm busy in the workshop, I've got things to do." To be truthful, Michael just hasn't noticed. He had a thought. "Hey, if I was hogging all the space where'd you sleep last night?"
"William banished me to my old room."
"He what?"
"He says I'm not supposed to stay here anymore. That I'm old enough and he stopped with the nightmares, so I shouldn't inconvenience you."
"If anything, he's inconveniencing me," Michael muttered. "Right. You'll be back here tonight. Who else am I suppose to steal the blanket from?"
Evan crossed his arms. "You. Suck."
Michael grinned and shrugged, pushing the tea stained covers further away. He would wash those later. Maybe pouring tea on them was a little overkill.
Evan looked at him. "What happened?"
"Hmm?"
"You didn't go to school and you're laying in bed... In the middle of the day..."
"...Evan, what's the time?"
"It's four."
"In the afternoon!?" Michael sat bolt upright. He did some quick math in his head. He was working in the garage in the late afternoon, sometime long after six. William showed him the blueprints. He, embarrassingly enough, fainted. This meant he was out with a brief moment of awareness when William came to bother him, for nearly a day.
Michael had been feeling tired very easily as of late, being quite drowsy and struggling to focus. But he'd never been asleep for almost twenty-four hours.
He'd missed school. He'd missed detention. In fact, Jamie and Matthew should be still stuck in it right now. Michael rubbed his face, and groaned.
"William sent me to wake you up. He says you're sick."
"I'm not," Michael said automatically. He shook himself. "Sorry, I just got some... Bad news. I'm worried."
"About what?"
"The usual." Michael gave a dry laugh. He was usually worried for their safety, and lived in constant fear of their death. This was his normal.
It was all he knew, anyway.
"Something's different. Are you actually going to tell me?"
"It's not important, don't worry. I'll take care of it. I always do."
Evan gave him a long, hard look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah right."
Michael spluttered. "Hey!"
"Come down. They're waiting downstairs." Evan grabbed Michael's empty mug and waddled out, pausing to stick his tongue out at Michael. Michael pulled a face, but a smile streched across it anyway. He shook his head.
If Evan grew up to be a teenager, he was going to be a menace.
_
Michael's mood took a fall of a cliff and into the depths of the ocean as soon as he hobbled down the stairs. Evan was sitting at the table, drawing. Elizabeth was on Father's hip, babbling excitedly to him with a huge smile on her face, while he stirred a pot of something that smelt pretty damn good.
"Nice of you to join us and get some air." Father put Elizabeth down almost as soon as Michael walked in. She cut herself off mid-sentence and seemed to shrink. She stared up at Father who didn't notice her, then sank into a chair around the table.
A fresh tablecloth covered the wood, blue to match the walls. Elizabeth folded her arms and rested her chin on them. Michael avoided her eye. The birthday thrill had worn off fast and she'd gone back to ignoring him at best, sending foul looks his way as the worst of times.
Father strode across the room and raised his hand. Michael flinched but Father simply checked his temperature. Father tsked. "You're too cold."
Michael didn't really know what to say to that. "Uh, alright?" Faher's hands were hot, so that was likely why.
"Have some water. Evan, bring your brother some water."
Evan did as told. When Father's back was turned, he mimicked him, making crocodile hands as if they were talking. Bring your brother some water, he mouthed, exaggerating his expression. Michael snorted. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Father attended to his pot. Michael glared at his back. He was speaking to Evan, but whatever.
Michael shivered. He did feel cold. He downed the glass of water with shaky hands and set it on the table. He couldn't stop staring at Father.
Were Father's hands already stained with blood? Was there some poor child's body growing cold out there while Michael slept his life away? Did Father already discovered everything about remnant, enough to keep him alive?
How much had Michael failed, and how far had he fallen?
"Can I go work on my new project?" He asked hesitantly.
Father faced him and frowned. "You just woke up."
"I feel rested."
"You're sick."
"Not really."
"Michael..." Father sighed. "Fine, do what you will. I don't want you fainting again, or I'll have you on bedrest. I've already spoken to your school."
"Yes, Father."
"Go. I'll be with you shortly."
Michael scurried away.
_
The quietness of the garage was welcome. Michael closed the door carefully behind him- his past self might have slammed it but Michael wasn't going to risk William's ire. Michael dropped into the chair at the desk and held his head in his hands.
He hated remnant. So much. Why couldn't William just die?
Michael stood up. Not even a second later, he was clinging on to the wall for support. His head spun. Why was he so dizzy just from standing up too fast? He certainly wasn't old, or getting there. Michael slammed his fist into the side of his head a few times to reorientate himself. It didn't help.
He heard a noise behind him and his eyes flickered to it. "Are you kidding me?" He said aloud.
Michael scowled at Little Freddy. "You look so stupid." He told it, like it was anything near life. It just danced. "Oh dance alll you want. You'll never be Helpy. You'll literally never be as good as Helpy."
Little Freddy, apparently, did not care. It focused its eyes on him for a few more moments, then whirred and waddled to the box on a workbench. It opened it with some difficulty, its small body not meant for handling large objects. The creepy dumb clown stared up at him. Michael walked over. "That's it."
He grabbed Little Freddy, and began searching. The small animatronic's legs wiggled and thrashed, its eyes glowing purple. Michael found an empty box and shoved Little Freddy in, using an odd piece of rope to wrap it shut.
Way better. Now he didn't have paranoid feelings of someone watching him.
Wait.
Michael looked back. The burnt clown seemed like it was in a different position than before. Michael could not be sure. His eyes may be playing tricks on him. Or it could be moving.
Michael really hoped it wasn't moving.
The being-watched feeling did not dissipate. Michael eyed the clown and sneered. "I don't like you," he decided.
It, of course, did not respond.
Michael ignored it and rifled through the paper and blueprints laying haphazardly on various surfaces. Please let Father not have taken them to his office. Please.
Instead of what he was looking for, he happened across a blueprint of Little Freddy. Or rather, Little Freddi, as the name read. Michael frowned. Maybe it was more advanced than he thought- he could barely make sense of its blueprint. Mimic 2? Some sort of complex AI too. Well, it still couldn't be as good as Helpy. Nothing would be as good as Helpy.
Michael groaned. Cameras and audio recording. Why the hell didn't he think of that? Of course William would never give him a normal gift. He desperately thought of anything incriminating he might have said around Freddi. Nothing immediately stood out, but William one hundred percent knew just how much Michael hated his little birthday gift.
That's why Freddi was following him everywhere. William was watching him.
A shiver rolled down Michael's spine.
First William, then Henry, now William again. Michael was constantly monitored, always watched. Privacy meant nothing to the adults in his life. From now on, Michael was going to assume he was being watched unless he'd checked again and again to make sure. He could not risk William finding out.
Michael went back to searching. He sighed in relief when he found the now-familiar blueprints of the Funtimes. Then his heartbeat skyrocketed.
Balora- graceful as always. Not drawn to scale- for obvious reasons- but drawn accurately. 6.2 feet tall. Terrifying.
Funtime Freddy. Michael really hated this one. Design more or less the same as he remembered. But no Bon-bon.
Circus Baby- no finished blueprint. Just William's sketches and plans. Michael swallowed. He felt as through Baby would reach through the paper and tower over him, whispering words in some strange mockery of his sister's voice. Or what Elizabeth might have sounded like, if she had the chance to grow up.
But she didn't, and Baby didn't exist yet.
It was just some lines on paper.
Michael paused. He looked at the blueprints again. Funtime Freddy's stomach cavity was smaller. Sized more for birthday cake than children. His blueprints were missing Bon-bon and his audio lures. Balora's audio activation sensers were non-existant. There wasn't a design sketch or any kind of draft for Funtime Foxy.
They were... Normal.
Not death machines. Not child murdering animatronics. Hell, Baby was missing her claw. They were all typical, run-of-the-mill Afton designs.
Michael blinked owlishly.
Nothing for the collection of remnant.
Michael had never been more happy to be wrong.
Alright. William probably didn't know. He was only building and creating new animatronics with no nefarious purposes. Well, none in the line of child dismemberment. William was always up to something nefarious. Michael was sure of it.
Michael had a chance.
Michael needed to speed up his plans.
William wouldn't create new animatronics for nothing. There was a method to his madness. Some strange method, but a method nonetheless. Last time he did this there was a pizzeria to go with them.
Michael considered Henry's reopening of the rebranded diner.
Oh dear.
William was likely going to open up a rival place. Where children would be attracted to. And just because his animatronics weren't doing the killing didn't make anything safe. Michael wasn't sure he even knew what safe was anymore. William was a man scorned, with a grude against his former best friend. The last time he'd been nearly this upset with Henry was after the diner closed, after his son died.
When he killed Charlotte Emily.
Michael's time was running up. He needed to take out William as soon as he possibly could, before it was to late for all of them. He needed to kill him fast.
He turned to the clown. It's cracked mask remained fixed on him, eyes glowing faintly. It had no power. It should've had no power. It shouldn't be doing that. Michael brushed aside his discomfort and unease. "And you're going to help me."
Michael grabbed some tools. There always was a rabbit at Fazbear Entertainment. If Father wasn't going to make it, then Michael would. Maybe he wouldn't get the satisfaction of doing the job himself, but he'd ensure with this animatronic that his father was never ever coming back.
Michael best get to work.
Death waits for no man.
And it was finally coming for William Afton.