Hey guys!

Here's my second Fnaf fic. Again with my head cannon Marion, as the puppet, and the purple guy. Here's a little background so it makes a little sense:

Marion was once the purple guy's lover. We'll call him Vincent. They had a kid, but when Marion found out about Vincent's 'hobby' of killing kids she sacrifices her self to the spirit kids to be their protector in the form of the puppet. Vincent's spirit became trapped in the Spring Trap suite and he has been fighting with Marion since then to break the curse. He's also very slightly insane.

Make sense? Yeah it's ok if it doesn't. It's an AU to the story line.

Ok. Hope you enjoy.

"I hope you're proud of yourself."

A grin the size of Canada stretched itself wide, white teeth gleaming like mother of pearls in the jutting stream of ugly light pouring in from overhead. A broken light film had fallen part way from its position and a tame white light spilled over, highlighting parts of the decrepit restaurant that hadn't seen light in eons. Flimsy wall paper that peeled back like drying skin, curling away from the thick rouge stains splashed over posters and children's old art works. The scribbled faces of once beloved characters stared with solid blank eyes, every face peering over the tops of their neighboring child's heads to the door of the party room- as if these lifeless sketches could sense the dark presence looming nearby.

Maliciousness rolled off the shoulders of this figure like tidal sized waves, leaking animosity and a blood like lust that could put the most hardened criminal in prison to shame.

Eyes of indigo flashes with piqued interest, eyeing from across the way a single standing form. These dead eyes had grown so used to seeing them, cherishing and reveling in witness to their misery and rage. Seeing them stand so rebelliously pumped hot blood through the openings of his cold dead heart. He felt the razor like burn in his veins. It was kin to the heat that over took him so long ago; back when he was human and subjected to that annoying plight known as a conscience. Who amongst the damned needed a moral compass anyway? That was his motto.

Of course, the figure staring back at him would argue otherwise but he knew this spit-fire spirit far too well to think for a second he was being congratulated.

Permanent purple tear lines decorated the pale mask staring at him, but from where he stood he could smell the salt of tears building and cascading. Painting pale rivulets on a face he craved to see. He could just imagine how cinched that face must be, agony braided in their shadowed gaze. He longed to take a peek below the mask, to expose what was meant to stay hidden.

"Never been more pleased." The wicked spirit leered.

Of course he could sense the rage festering beneath the puppet's otherwise stoic nature. He could feel it like the rays of sunshine he used to feel on his face… back when his spirit had a body to inhabit. What used to be a careful game of touch and go had manifested into an all-out battle royal. Sensing her was second nature to him now. She used to think she could inhibit his power, to pull the strings she needed to get him to break the rules of the game and so that he remained under constant lock and key; but Vincent was no fool. He had caught onto her tricks and struck back with a force even she hadn't expected him powerful enough to wield. The darkness and shadows that haunted this establishment followed him like fumes of perfume and now he couldn't hide his power from anyone even if he wanted to. He was much too malevolent a spirit for any of it to be contained.

The puppet had her mask but what did the supposed 'purple guy' have? A coffin of jumpy metal braces and wires. Some resting place he had. No thanks to the brats who put him there.

"Hmph." The puppet's derogatory glare watered the cursed killer's mouth. "You have no heart."

"Never said I had one." He retorted gaily.

The puppet's silver gaze narrowed, darkening beneath the shade of her mask.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe that security guard you brutally murdered had family to return to? A wife or a child dependent upon him?"

The killer merely shrugged, barely lifting a single shoulder in response. "Who cares? The bastard was in my way so I disposed of him the best way I knew how."

The puppet's head tilted forward, a give in the stoic being's cinderblock countenance.

"You stole a life."

"And?"

The puppet's hands curled, sharp talons digging dangerously into each slender palm. "You ruined a family."

The spirit smirked. "And your point is?"

The puppet was silent for a full thirty seconds before she spoke, her voice lowered and heavy with emotion.

"You snuffed out a breath of life. An innocent life."

The killer rolled his eyes and in this momentary pause of being, took to leaning against the doorway. It wasn't stated anywhere in the rules of the game that he could not enter the party room but this was the puppet's domain. He'd be a fool to think he could enter without some kind of retaliation. Her box was located in the farthest corner of the room, a prime spot to watch both the room and the door for intruders. Back when the room was filled with children the puppet used to pop out from it, her music playing for all the cheery boys and girls who couldn't get enough of the newest addition to the Freddy Fazzbear crew. Now instead of a celebrated character she stood as a beacon of light in a dark and murky world that knew only darkness and bloodshed. A world he had created and was inevitably cursed, by the evil dwelling so actively inside.

"Nice try hunny."

He tipped back the blood stained hat on his head, watching the way the puppet's eyes glistened with recognition and loss. The article had belonged to the security guard he killed just an hour before. He had taken it as a sort of trophy, hardly bothered by the red stain that soaked through it.

"But like I said, I never claimed to have a heart. So it's pointless trying to appeal to what isn't there." He flicked his long calloused fingers through the fallen bangs of his eggplant locks, grunting softly. "Besides I can't possibly be held responsible for every rooky mistake a security guard makes. It's not my fault they venture into my territory. The safe room is off limits for a reason you know."

His logic was sound but the puppet was hardly convinced. Technically that security guard shouldn't have gone to the safe room. It was forbidden and the man had been warned, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him and he paid for it with his life.

"If he just followed the rules it wouldn't be his blood on my hands." He said, the light tenor in his voice dancing like a feather in the wind.

The puppet snarled and the killer felt something eager blossom in his gullet.

"I love it when you get angry like that babe." The man dragged his hand over the scruff of his face, indigo eyes beaming with a sultry gaze. "It makes me want to do such wicked, wicked things with you."

His tongue lapped the space between his thumb and forefinger, the crude gesture meant to stir the pot he loved bringing to a boil. The puppet's fingers jumped out from their closed fists, each talon sharpened and painted in the darkest shade of black he had ever seen. They looked eager to crush his bones, to split him open so that his entrails spilt all over the floor. The rage burning behind her mask filled the killer with delight.

"Maybe sometime tonight we can get some quality time in." He made a show of licking his lips and hummed her name softly. "Marion."

The puppet made a sound of disgust. "You are as revolting as always Vincent. Why don't you crawl back under the rock you spawned from?"

The man named Vincent laughed, his baritone chuckle vibrating deep within his chest cavity.

"If only. But alas I am a man with responsibilities to uphold."

He daringly stepped his foot past the threshold of the party room, watching as the anger rolling off her thrashed about like a wild tiger, hissing and roaring in protest to the monster encroaching on its territory. He leered, darting his tongue out once more to leave a slickened trail over his lips.

"With promises to keep."

The puppet matched his step, thrusting her side forward. She stood aggressively, shoulders hunched and fingers splayed, ready for an attack. It was the game they played. Forever a battle between the forces of good and evil.

"Don't even think you can get away with taking another life. I'll tear you limb from limb before you even think about touching the new security guard tonight." And that was a promise.

Vincent openly laughed. Laughed at her and the puppet's outrageous claim. Oh please, like she could possibly stop him. They were evenly matched. She could barely hold her own against him now that he had come into power. His position allowed for the flexibility he needed to continue his 'work'. Just a few more deaths, just a couple pints more of spilt blood and this cursed nightmare can be lifted. He just had to bide his time. Especially with the puppet so hot on his heels.

"Marion it isn't the security guard I want to touch but I suppose if you swing that way I can make anything happen." At the puppet's snarl he flashed a sinfully handsome grin, just the way he knew she used to like. "Just say the word and your wish if my command."

"I wish you would just die already."

Vincent shook his head. It was subtle but he heard the strain in her voice. Just how much of her will had he already broken? He could tell. It wouldn't be long before he had her back. It wouldn't be long before they were returned to their human bodies, souls rightfully returned so they could continue their horrid existence by law of the living and not by the hell that encompassed their every waking moment. This magic, this curse, which trapped them here was driving the killer past the point of insanity. An eternity of repeating the same activity night after night grated on his so-called 'artistic spirit'. He needed a fresh canvas with which he could paint his demonic picture, the space to try new and exotic ways of diminishing the good from this world.

Of course he'd also have to play the part of parent. Heh, who knew a few tumbles with the new girl on the job would open up a whole new world of opportunities? No one would suspect a hard working daddy of the vicious act of murder. Heck, Marion herself hadn't caught on until after Gem was born, but of course that stupid phone guy had to get involved and Jeremy nearly ruined everything when he stabbed Vincent clean through the heart. Took bad for them he'd taken their precious female night guard with him, turning her into the puppet. It was hilarious. With Marion's sacrifice they thought themselves safe but they were wrong. Dead wrong if they thought they'd finally put an end to his massacre.

Besides, he rather looked forward to taking on the role of father- much to Marion's displeasure. But on the side he'd make sure to keep his… talent… in working condition. Would he leave Fazzbear's Pizzaria? Maybe not. Victims were easy to come by here and to have owners who just swept everything under the rug made things just that much easier. What a fantastic life it would be. A pretty little wife, a brat of his own, and a perfect alibi.

"So sorry you feel that way love. But I promise this nightmare will be over soon. You, me, and Gem can come home and finally be a family."

The puppet scoffed. "Not after the things I've seen, not after what you've done. We can never return to that kind of life. I refuse to believe that you would ever amount to anything as a provider or as a man."

Vincent's lips pursed, one hand falling to his side and clenching into a fist. She obviously struck nerve.

"Pluck at my heart strings little canary but you can't deny that all I've done has been for you and our boy."

"Stop that!" She shrieked. "Stop referring to my son as if you know him. You don't know him and you're nothing but a convoluted nut case if you think you know what's best for us."

"Our son," he forced out every syllable. "Has a wonderful mommy. She's smart, and caring and she'd do anything to protect him. Even give her own life."

Marion absolutely hated the coolness the spring trap prisoner spoke with. Every frosty word sent chills racing down her back, a sharp pang of fear and worry hitting her dead center in the heart.

"But sweet, sweet little Gem- He needs a daddy." He said, nodding his head in recognition of his own taunting words.

Marion sneered, a gloating smile painting her hidden features. "He already has a father."

Vincent's face immediately fell, his condescending smirk sinking faster than a wounded battle ship as sharper angrier angles became more visible for her to see.

"Mike Schmidt is no father figure." He openly snarled. "That idiot couldn't protect you in life. What makes you think he's capable of raising my family?"

"Oh and you are?" Marion attempted to dig at Vincent right where it hurt, the one place she knew could always rile up him where nothing else could. "I believe Mike is the one Gem calls daddy. Not you." She crossed her arms, feeling rather than seeing the slow tick of time crawling by. "Mike opened doors for a better future for myself and Gem. Where we could be happy and safe."

"And I take it you thought I couldn't provide that" Vincent snapped. "Woman I turned my life around for you."

Rage burned with magnificent fury in her eyes. "By murdering innocent children?! By murdering me!"

He made a display of rolling his eyes, brushing his bangs back under his bloodied hat.

"I mean, I bent over backwards to ensure you had the best chances when you were with me." He threw his arms up into the air and laughed boastfully. "I was heading on up in my career at this dump you know? So you, Gem, and I could have a good life but… you were just too impatient. But I suppose a good broad knows what she wants and when she wants it." He winked condescendingly at her. "Guess I chose right in the gene department."

Marion scoffed once more. "I saw good things in Mike. Qualities I thought were healthy for Gem. You are not. You are sick Vincent. Sick in the soul and sick in the head if you think for a second I'd ever let you near my son."

Her eyes hardened with conviction, meeting his stare.

"You could never be the father he needs. And I'm going to make damn sure you never get the chance. If I can help it you'll never see the light of day again."

Vincent threw his clenched fist into the door way, his indigo gaze raging fiercely in her direction. His jaw was tightly clenched, spelling doom for the poor soul destined to walk through the doors of the restaurant that night. The cleaning crew had already disposed of the remains and there was no doubt in their minds the night guard had already been replaced. Perhaps with another naive intern.

Marion's words had struck Vincent vicious at the core. He wanted nothing more in his human life than for some semblance of stability and a family was just that. With it he could depend on their dependence of him to keep their dark world in control. He would be wanted and respected. Maybe even loved. Yeah that would be nice but Marion was being stubborn. And Mike Schmidt was in the way.

He'd have to do something about that cod.

"Marion you will not keep me from completing my task."

He straightened his hat, shoving a single hand into his pocket as his spirit levitated from the ground. The clock was close to running out. It was just a matter of time before the next unwilling spirit made its maiden voyage into the afterlife via Vincent express.

"I'm going to finish what I started. Don't think for a second that I would hesitate to put you in your place if you continue to try and stop me."

The puppet huffed, tilting her chin up at him. The sound of her music box began its gentle chime, filling both their ears with its eerie ring.

"Just you try mother fucker."