A/N: Hey, so, here's another on of those one-shots for that crazy AU I have in my mind. Yeah. This time it'll revolve mostly around Springtrap. Also, to avoid confusion, the androids aren't exactly the animatronics from the games. It'll make sense later. Probably.

Disclaimer: All I own is this massive AU. Nothing else.

Springtrap remembers what it was like before.

She remembers actually having a name before, remembers her father calling her that affectionately every chance he got. She remembers calling Goldie and Mari their names before. She remembers having fun, running around in the big hallways and playing with the lab equipment. She remembers it being full of innocence, ignorant to to the world's issues. She remembers being a kid.

Springtrap remembers when it all went downhill.

She remembers pain. She remembers trying to get used to the rabbit ears and tail that were artificially planted on her. She remembers trying to get used to the colder body temperature and aches that came with metal being inside her being. She remembers that, in spite of all the pain they endured, Goldie was still determined to attain their youth. She remembers escaping the labs, hiding in the rooms with their parents' help. She remembers all of that.

She, regretfully so, remembers when she snapped.

Springtrap can't really pin what triggered it. All she knows is that she's ripping apart one rabbit ear despite the pain, scratching at skin till it bled. She remembers the scientists trying to get her to stop, and she felt so much rage in that moment. She attacked. The damaged she caused still haunts her dreams, the images to much to bare once she realized what she'd done. She remembers the crimson liquid splattered on almost all the surfaces, the groans and moans of people clinging to life filling the silent room.

She remembers she felt a sick sense of glee at it. The way their arms and legs were bent at unnatural angles, lacerations littering their slowly paling skin. The fear in their eyes at the monster they created, tears of terror pooling in their eyes and spilling. She remembers mocking them for trying to play God, mocking them for their mistakes in doing so. She remembers laughing, laughing so crazily it seemed unreal at that moment.

She was put in solitary confinement after that. That's where she met him.

He was nice, always nice to her.

He didn't seem bothered by the fact that she almost massacred a large amount of people. He said her actions were justifiable by law, not that she could see any fault in that claim. He gave her illusions in her soul of how the outside world was when he was alive. He gave her sensations of things she never knew existed, and it excited her. The first time she used what she calls 'Personals' was when she came back from another test.

She stumbled in, collapsing down on the plush and considerably comfortable bed she was given when he came. "What's wrong?" He had asked, sitting on the side and running a hand through her short, messy, dirty blonde locks. She didn't say anything for a while, and when Springtrap finally spoke she said the following,

"I don't like it. It-It makes me feel, feel red. And, they feel black. I don't like it."

"You feel red?"

"Mh."

"And the scientist feel black?"

"Mhhm."

"...Alright. Can you elaborate?"

"...Red makes me think bad things. Like I should hurt them. Black is...it's...it's like they want me gone."

Springtrap looked up at the man, and saw him smiling. When she questioned him about it he merely chuckled and said not to worry.

The first time she actually got visited by the others in a long time-way past childhood-she had only had so much human contact. She had reverted back to using her 'Personals' because the scientists begun to understand what she meant. So when Goldie had walked in-when did he change that much? she wondered briefly-and stopped right in front of where she was chained and kneeled she knew something was up. "You're blue," she said, glancing behind him to see two other figures, a third's shadow peeking from the corner. "You're all blue. Like, like you're being slowly dripped in tar. What's wrong?"

She vaguely noticed how none of them questioned what she meant, which relieved her mind just a bit. Her focus went back on Goldie and he reached slowly for her chained wrists. Her main instinct was to back away from the other, he smelled so much like a dusty room and black, but she didn't move. When she finally realized that he unlocked them she rubbed the pained body part and looked to where the other stood. His hand reached out to her, the gloved hand that made her feel pink and yellow and taste sickly sweet honey, and she carefully took it.

"We need your help, Springtrap."

And just like that she tasted something she only knew thanks to the man,

Ice cream.

She didn't mean it. She didn't mean any of it.

She didn't mean to hurt her little cousins. She didn't mean to lure them in the trap. She didn't mean to be standing her with the exploding material right behind her, waiting for someone to arrive. But the feelings of blue and black and yellow made her do irrational things. She would anything to get rid of those feelings. Green was the main thing she felt at the moment, and when Goldie stomped into the room with anger and confusion and betrayal the lingering taste of rust came to rear its ugly head full force.

As she spoke the words became jumbled in her brain, and she felt monochrome twisting and twirling inside of her, the other colors getting lost within it. The taste of rust shifted to something even more disgusting, and she only kept talking to keep it from getting to her. The whole situation made her feel like she was a snow globe, and her mind and body and soul were the 'snow' inside of it, shaking and falling and shaking and falling in slow motion. It hurts, she thought. It hurts. Goldie was practically screaming at that point, running up and grabbing her arm.

She screamed, trying to get away, the monochrome becoming mixes of others. The taste was like eating too many sweets, the lingering sugary goodness making a mess of the taste buds. "NO! NO!" She yelled, and struggled when the other had simply hugged her, not letting go. He said nothing of relevance, just shushing her and saying things like, "It's okay" and "You're fine". It hurts, she wanted to say. It hurts and feels weird and help please I can't take it anymore. She eventually tired herself out, the sweetness fading and the mixes settling down into a color palette. She went limp in the arms of the taller one, and barely managed to register being picked up and jostled, footsteps muddled in her hearing.

"It's alright now," Springtrap heard him say. "Your colors got screwed up. So don't do that again."

She could only nod.

"You know doing that won't take it away. You do know that, right?"

Springtrap looked up to see Bonnie sit beside her, chin resting in his hands. She looked at the thing she was doing. She was currently trying to untangle some wires from a couple of puppets Mari gave her, and so far she was only tugging at them. "How long have you been here?" The purple haired bunny clicked his tongue and looked at her from the corner of his eye, red staring into her green ones. "Long enough to know I can't bear seeing my older cousin struggle any longer." Without asking he grabbed the mess she made and began working on doing it himself.

The older female looked on curiously for a bit, thoughts forming. "You're white."

The other looked at her for a second before going back. "Yeah, well I don't feel white."

"Then what you do feel?"

"I don't. But I hear."

Piquing her interest Springtrap leaned on the table a bit, a small smile on her face. "What do feel then Bonnie?" Bonnie shook his head and took apart one of the six dolls from the strings. He seemed to be thinking before he replied. "I hear a clock."

"A...clock?"

"If it makes you feel any better about this, I sure Clyde taste lemons."

"Lemons..?" It sunk in a bit before she ended up laughing. She didn't catch it, but if she did she would've noticed Bonnie smiling.

Springtrap remembers a lot of things.

Some makes her feel pink and yellow, others red and black or red and blue, and in rare cases monochrome or mixes. But it helps in odd ways.

Besides, no one questions why she feels colors, or taste weird things, or why they connect to her emotions. Springtrap likes to think being this way is better, because she can express herself. But if there one thing Springtrap remembers, it's a little chat she had with a doctor way back, when she first started her 'Personals'.

"Tell me something, young lady."

"..."

"Why?"

"'Why'?"

"Why do think that feeling colors is possible?"

"Do I need a reason for something I can't control?"

And I've finished. Here's a note: In case you couldn't tell, Mari is the Puppet/Marionette, and Clyde is Toy Bonnie. And yes, Bonnie, Clyde, and Springtrap are cousins. I told you this before, a lot of things won't make since. But that's fine. Because once(if) I finish my other stories, I might just work on writing a story for this AU. Who knows?

Until next time!