(( BONUS CHAPTER STUFF FIRST!

I've written another nsfw-oneshot for Dead Set lmaooops it kind of happened. I'll have the link in the comments below. ;)

*note: I am now editing on a phone and don't have access to the link but I'll post it on this chapter tomorrow morning :)

Oh, also I got a Google+ since a lot of y'all seem to use that so feel free to add me. 19VincentPurpleGuy87 as always. Since my tumblr doesn't really work so well I'm going to update Google+ with sneak-peaks and things, instead.))

Scott leaned back in the chair and sighed, his eyes closing. He let out a deep breath. It wasn't that he was over-stressed, just... his environment was over-stressing. The bank he'd contacted wanted to get in contact with the police before letting him into the account, to confirm that the business was indeed signed over to him. Since William couldn't sign the official forms to give Scott all ownership, the police were the only proof that the business was his.

He should have been contacting people; pizza ingredient suppliers, the people who supplied the party hats and table cloths, the people who made Freddy Fazbear's banners, their signage suppliers, the merchandise team, who made little plushies, shirts, pens, water-bottles - the usual. There were hundreds of people he needed to contact and hundreds more he needed to come into contact with - suppliers for Freddy Fazbear's animatronic problem, for example.

And he should, he knew, to get rid of the problem before it became too hard for him to handle, but right now his heart wasn't in it and his mind was buzzing with more pressing matters. Matters of his degrading sleep habits, his ever-pressing grief about William, and Vincent's worrying behaviour.

Things were starting to add up, little comments and looks, things Scott had noticed since Linda pointed out almost two weeks ago. He still loved Vincent very, very dearly, and if he was a psychopath (which Scott was increasingly inclined to believe), he was a very high-functioning one - it wasn't like he abused Scott mentally or physically, he was very respectful of Scott's limits. And yeah, so maybe his emotions did seem a little... fake, but... if that was the worst it was going to get... he could do this. For Vincent's sake, he wasn't going to let something stupid like the Hollywood-dripping-blood image of a psychopath cloud his judgement. He knew Vincent, and the Vincent he knew was a loving, caring man.

But if he fakes his emotions, does he fake love? Scott asked himself, and his heart sunk to his stomach. No, he can't. If he was playing me, why would he keep me around for so long? He could get anything from me if he wanted it, if he really were a violent psychopath. All the nights we've spent cuddling on the couch, the breakfasts-in-bed and the muttered sweet nothings. That can't be faked. But psychopaths can't fall in love, can they...?

Scott leaned forward in his chair, opening William's old work laptop. He opened a new window on Firefox, and then paused. Quickly, he went into settings and selected 'Private Browsing'.

Sighing, he clicked on the search bar. He shut his eyes, his fingers making their way to the keys as he cautiously began to type.

The door burst open, "Scott!"

Scott yelped, slamming the lid to his computer shut. "Damnit, Fritz, knock before entering!"

"I'm sorry, Boss, but-" Fritz stopped to pant, his ginger hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, "It's Foxy!"

Scott instantly alerted, standing up out of his chair, "What happened?!"

"I-I-I," Fritz's glasses almost slid off his short nose, "You better come and see."

Scott charged past him, heading towards the Pirate's Cove.  He was just about to step into the room when he caught a shifting shadow on the wall, the unmistakable silhouette of a fox snout raising, as if to sniff at the air, "Fritz!?"

Fritz came panting to Scott's side, doubled over with his hands on his knees, "You don't understand, I shut it down, I did! It's not like the others, it must... It must have AI or something, because it restarted itself and zapped my hands away. Before I knew it..."

Scott glared, "Fritz, listen to me. I want you to get me something from the backstage - a stick, a broom, an axe, I don't care, just something long and preferably strong. Understand?"

"But what are you-"

"Do you understand, Smith?!" Scott snapped at him, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the shadow on the wall move to face the loud sound it had just heard - a.k.a, Scott.

Fritz's eyes widened and he paled. He scampered off towards the backstage.

Scott took a long, deep breath, and took a step forwards, into the entrance to Pirate's Cove.

Foxy turned to face him almost immediately, soft gears clicking against each other as his head tilted.

Scott met the animatronic's eyes, letting out the breath he'd been holding. They stared each other down, Foxy well aware that it could kill him at any moment.

"What are you doing awake after six?" Scott whispered at him, trying to keep his voice from shaking, memories starting to flood his mind. "You're different from the others. You're rogue."

For just a second, Foxy's figure seemed to blur and flash before his eyes. All of a sudden he was back in a room with the fox, its jaw covered in blood and its hook draped in the intestines of his former Boss. It looked at him, and that same deathly groan from Bonnie earlier leaked from its mouth. It took a lurching step, its foot crunching Boss's rib cage as if it were a bird's nest, advancing on him, blood leaking from its eyes.

Somewhere in Scott's mind, he became acutely aware of a sharp pain in the palm of his left hand.

The night turned to day, and Foxy's blood soaked form was suddenly normal again. Scott found himself back in the present, pinching himself hard.

He gasped and released his death grip on his other hand, the shock of reality stunning him for a bit. He was barely aware of his body trembling, the force of his flashback so real, he'd almost been able to taste the stench of blood on his tongue.

"Boss!" Fritz re-appeared, holding a metal mop that's handle was broken, the end shattered into sharp, jagged edges. "Use this!"

Scott looked over at Fritz, half dazedly, wondering why Fritz was calling to him.

Fritz's eyes widened in horror and he dropped the mop. "O-oh my G-God, it's moving by itself, it's moving by itself!"

Scott wheeled around just in time to duck as a hook swung past where the back of his head would have been. He yelped in fright and made a run for it, hearing the animatronic's heavy footsteps one pace behind him, "Fritz! For goodness' sake, help!"

Fritz just stood, his mouth open, his arms trembling. "It's not possible!"

"Agh!" Scott made a dive for the mop at Fritz's feet and grabbed it, spinning himself around just in time to send the serrated edge straight through the glass of Foxy's eye, right through one of his major systems and out the other side of his head.

The amber fire in Foxy's eyes died.

"Scott!"

Mike, Vincent and Jeremy had all run to Pirate's Cove, obviously having heard the screams and the smash of the mop handle stabbing through Foxy's head.

Scott ignored them, suddenly indescribably filled with an incredible amount of anger. "Aagh!" He grabbed the mop and pulled it out of Foxy's head, lifting it up, and with a massive swing of his arm that almost took Jeremy's eye out, plunged it back through the fox's skull.

"Die!" He screamed, pulling the mop out again and slamming it down into the fox's chest. "You've been nothing but a curse, and I don't know what you are but I don't want you here!"

"Scott!" Vincent ran forwards, trying to pull Scott back, but he just writhed out of his grip, grabbing the mop handle once again and tugging it free from the huge hole it had made.

"I hate you!" He shrieked, and with one final yell, he threw the razor-sharp mop handle deep into Foxy's neck. Wires and whole metal cables were severed clean in half, and Foxy's head rolled off of his shoulders.

Scott slumped, almost collapsing into Vincent's arms. He snuffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. "This time," Scott muttered, "Stay dead."