A/N: Hey there, guys! Guess who's not dead and celebrating the return of FNAF with it's seventh game! Shout out to Demonic Irken (who wrote a bunch of stories that could very well be a prequel to this and whose characters I borrowed the names from, go check him out ) and SupremeFredbear(go check them out, too) for inspiring this little nightmare AU I've cooked up! This one's for you guys!

Mike B. Schmidt's eyes slipped halfway closed, almost all the way before snapping back open to stare frantically at the screen again. The lights flickered slightly, making him glance quickly at his-he felt- countdown to either certain doom or escape. Forty-seven percent at the time of five thirty-five? Doable.

He sat back in relief, the monitor shaking from the sudden movement. The only sounds in the office were familiar now, though he half wished they weren't. If he got too lax, that damn purple rabbit or stupid fox might dash in here faster than Vlad rejected his child in that one episode of The Immortal and The Restless. He rubbed his tired eyes, blinking once and then twice when he felt a chilled, little hand on his arm.

"GAH! Oh, sh...I mean, jezzus, kid," Mike breathed, out in a calmer whisper. He hoped the freak robots hadn't heard. "Don't do that, I may just wind up joinin' you on the other side if you keep poppin' in like that."

"Sorry, Mister…" The sad voice sighed, it's form being that of a child but with a few key differences.

First off, sometimes-not always, but sometimes- Mike caught him becoming transparent. It happened gradually, the kid becoming wispy before disappearing completely for a millisecond and coming back just as opaque as before. Second, not that anyone in the restaurant would look long enough at a single child, but it was quite obvious that his brunette hair was tinged with red that-sometimes, always sometimes and never all at once- would spill down his face. Finally, there was what appeared to be those fake little gold teddy bear ears that Freddy's sold in the claw machines, along with a little violet hat to go with them.

Then they would move...and you'd question your sanity just a little.

"Mister! The cameras!" The little boy squeaked, pointing at the one marked 'CAM 2B'. "Bonnie's moving!"

"Huh? Oh, right!" Mike broke out of his reviere to wheel his chair to the left door to close it. "Thanks, Benny."

Benny hugged himself tightly, rocking on his heels. He could barely remember being here when he was alive, back when he could still hear his friend's voice in his head. Before it went black. He could remember flashes, calling voices and maybe even his own voice talking to someone named 'Aaron'. Then it was all hurt and now…

The little boy sniffled, whipping his face on his sleeve to hide the tears.

"Hey, now. Don't worry, I won't let them get us," Mike smiled, wheeling back over to pat him on the...well, hat. "You don't have to worry."

It was reassurance for the boy as much as it was for himself, he still had ten minutes left to go and it was the home stretch. Benny was fidgeting again, tears finally escaping. He tried to think back to a time when he was happy, but he could only remember flashes of sorrow and pain. Where were those happy days Mike was always asking him to remember?

"Sh. No, don't cry again," Mike whispered, glancing between his tiny friend and the monitor. "It'll be okay. I'll fix this. I promise."

"...Mister Schmidt?" The child asked, making Mike wince. "Do you think I'll ever see my family again?"

Mike felt his heart clench, his throat clogging up with unspoken words. He was about to answer when a loud 'BAM!' on the still-closed door. It was a miracle Chica hadn't attacked yet, let alone Freddy or Bonnie but this one….

Oh, this one.

"Foxy!" Benny cried, hiding behind the terrified night guard, who watched as ten percent slowly ticked down to zero with each 'BAM'!"

"God, no…"

Three… two… one…

Zero.

Suddenly the clock chimed, making both boys snap their heads around to the clock. Six o'clock A.M. and with not a moment to spare.

"Yay! You did it!" Benny cheered, gasping as he faded slowly in the face of the sun. "Mister?"

Mike turned toward him with a smile on his face, "Shhh. It's okay, tomorrow's another night. I'll see you then, kay?"

"Yeah!" Benny smiled, the light returning to his eyes as he was going, going, gone. "Bye, Mr. Schmidt!"

"Bye-bye, Benny." Mike got up from his chair, smiling up at the ceiling above him. "Sweet dreams."

The next day, Mike knelt next to a gravestone in the cemetery on East Side. It was cracked in places, the weeds growing up around it in clumps too thick to pull out. It's rounded oval shape was being protected by what appeared to be a tiny stone bear in the front , one that had been clumsily spray-painted yellow after a drunk night of mourning and regret.

The twenty year old brushed his fingers over the letters, tracing them as he did most days he visited. He turned towards the others haphazardly scattered next to the little stone, spaced unevenly but still maintaining a sort of group picture in his head.

'Gabriel', said the first one.

'Fritz', mentioned the second. He smiled. He had to tell HIS Fritz that later.

'Susie', the girly scripture declared.

'Jeremy', the forth one decreed.

Mike looked down at the one he was tracing the name of. Then looked to his right, biting his lips at 'Elizabeth' scrawled onto the thick slab. Grass had grown above it, shielding it from view, but it did exist. Then, sobbing a little, he looked at the fifth one… all dirty and with scratches almost obscuring the name.

Benjamin Michael Afton.

Tomorrow is another day.

"I will fix you." Michael whispered. "I promise."