Withered Memories FNAF Fanfic

Curious

AUTHOR'S NOTE; 

HERE IT IS, WE ARE NEARING THE END GUYS... IT'S A LITTLE SAD :( I DON'T KNOW IF I'M READY! BUT FEAR NOT, A SECOND BOOK IS IN THE WINGS. HOPEFULLY I CAN EXPLAIN THE HISTORY BETWEEN SPRINGTRAP AND LUNA, AND SPRING BONNIE AND BONNIE. 

AND THIS NEW DARKNESS... IT'LL STICK AROUND FOR THAT TOO. 

THAT BEING SAID, I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY CHAPTERS I HAVE LEFT FOR WITHERED MEMORIES BUT I CAN TELL YOU THIS; THE END IS COMING. 

She threw a sidelong glance at the wall of ice behind her, taking in the frozen stance of Springtrap and Puppet, poised for battle, before turning her back on them and walking resolutely away. There was no reason to linger here. Whatever the reason that she had been frozen out- it must have been a good one. This wasn't for her to see. 

 Tears stung her eyes as she smiled at her dearest and nearest friend and she had to take a deep breath to settle her nerves. Without a second thought, she threw herself into his 'arm' and let Bonnie's warmth give her security. 

The day had been too exhausting this time and she could feel the need for sleep clinging on the edge of her consciousness. She needed his warmth- it didn't matter that it had turned out to be him who had stabbed her. There would be time for that later. For now... he didn't have a clue that she knew, and she preferred to keep it that way. 

He hugged her like his life depended on it, and she returned the sentiment as the strange dream world started to collapse around them. The wall of ice was the first to go, melting away like the vapors of smoke in the imaginary fire from before. Next, the air warmed, the last tendrils of cold slipping away. The memory had finally released her. 

She sighed with relief, letting Bonnie lead her gently away and back to her family. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Springtrap watched Luna run into Bonnie's embrace from behind the layer of ice, and then watched as they vanished into the darkness of the Pizzeria.He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. He could feel Puppet's eyes on him, but he hardly managed to care. 

In a moment Puppet could have his undivided attention, but right now, something inside him was breaking. It was Vincent. Vincent was breaking... and he could feel the misery and sorrow seeping inside his own mind. It hurt, and that was saying something. He hadn't felt something so strong and irrational in a long time. 

Puppet frowned, still poised in front of him and ready to fight. He knew something was off with the animatronic, but couldn't fathom how or why. He could sense something in Springtrap though, something he never in a million years thought he ever would. Empathy. 

Springtrap's eyes had dulled to the point where the lights inside were barely visible, his one good ear drooping lowly. His shoulders slumped and his expression soured. But, even with the threat of his own demise, he looked past the Puppet Master, his focus on Luna and Bonnie as they faded from the dream realm and returned to reality. 

Puppet was astounded. He was confused. These two things were not emotions he felt often. Sure, when Foxy showed wild loyally to Luna- to the point of attacking him for her sake, he had been surprised. Even Chica had wandered for hours, searching for her. Freddy had protected her from the violence of the others and shielded her from the truth. And Bonnie... the most loyal of all, would lay down his life for her. That was... odd in and of itself, but this... this was very out of the ordinary. 

So yes. Puppet was astounded. He was confused. And for the first time in a century, he wasn't sure how to proceed. He had wanted to save Vincent from Springtrap, but only if he could separate the two. If Vincent had failed his tests, he would be dying here tonight too. That fact, among others, had been chosen long ago. He had thought that he had made the decision with a sound mind and the best of intent, backed by many trials to prove that it was the best course of action...

But now the Puppet Master wasn't sure if Springtrap should be eliminated. Doubt filled the Puppet's brain and he mulled it over. Springtrap was eyeing him now, the light still dead in his eyes, but his attention was finally back where it should be. He already looked defeated, his face pulled in a mask of deep loathing and dismay. 

Sure he was bad. He was downright evil. But was he really any worse than the other animatronics? They killed based on character analysis though. Could Springtrap do that? Would he...? Or would the blood on his hands be fresh with innocence? He couldn't allow that, he knew that, so he had to be sure. 

Indecision making him sluggish, he tried desperately to make up his mind as quickly and accurately as he could, but he feared that Springtrap could sense his hesitation. 

Springtrap snarled and slowly got back into a fighting stance. This time though, Puppet noticed, he was standing defensively. Puppet's frown deepened. 

Springtrap was supposed to be the manifestation of hundreds and hundreds of years worth of evil and dark energies that leaked from the land and the building as a result of horrendous and heinous acts of the past. He was supposed to be the vessel that collected all the sorrow and anger that had seeped into the world in this area. This was a land of massacre and bloodshed, untold greed and countless atrocities and thousands of innocent lives ended prematurely over a period of thousands of years. 

How could he possibly have enough light in him to hesitate like this? How could he be anything but complete darkness? It wasn't possible, and yet... here he was, pining after a human girl, scared for the end of his own life, prostrating himself and accepting his fate? Was it Vincent alone? Were they beyond separation now? What did this mean...? 

Springtrap was staring him down now, bitterness burning in his eyes, but they shone no more. They were dead, dull, and defeated. Just as they had been when he had left Springtrap alone with Luna in the trap corridor.  This wasn't evil, this was...broken. And broken could be fixed. 

Everything The Puppet Master had striven so hard to prove was worthless now, he knew that. He had been mistaken. Never before had this curiosity happened- and he was thousands of years old. He lowered his hands, letting the power drip away. He couldn't destroy this beast. This wasn't the one that he had been looking for. How he had missed that...he couldn't be sure, but he wouldn't be putting Springtrap down today. 

It was a shame that Vincent had to suffer with him, but his untimely death had proven... difficult to manifest into an unoccupied vessel. There was enough hatred in his tormented heart to harbor Springtrap, and so he had latched on and held on tight. Vincent's own soul, it would seem, was still pure enough to begin washing the blackened mess that was Springtraps,' somehow.   

Hopefully it would be enough. If it started to go the other way... he would step in. 

Springtrap, sensing the power dripping away did another curious thing. He sighed in relief and lowered his hands. The two of them stood facing each other, and then both turned away and walked in opposite directions. Silently, without a scratch, both of them had come to an understanding. 

Puppet still had something to hunt. 

Springtrap did too.