AN: Here's one of my greatest hits from ao3. I thought I'd give you a taste of the newer stuff I write by posting it to here too. If you're interested in stories like this, please check out my ao3 account (under the same username).

Dwight had barely made it out, the noxious smell of the Clown's gas still lingering in his nostrils. He'd been the last one alive, just barely dodging the swipe of the blade as he plunged into the hatch's abyss.

As relieving as it was, the sudden change from plunging into darkness to standing in the foggy forest was always a bit disorienting. Still, an escape was an escape, and he was glad the disgusting monster hadn't gotten his grubby hands all over him.

With a sigh, Dwight trekked through the trees, fog thicker than usual. He walked aimlessly, knowing he'd eventually make it back to the campfire. He always did.

It was taking longer than usual. Concern rose in his mind, as he considered walking in another direction. Something seemed off.

As if just on queue, he saw it. The warm glow of the fire cut through the endless fog, guiding him to safety. Dwight quickened his place, eager to leave the endless forest behind him.

He could see them now, just barely, shapes outlined by the firelight. He was almost at the forest's edge, close to breaking through the soupy mist.

"That was a close one, I can't believe I ma-"

As he broke through the fog and his sight became clear, Dwight stopped in his tracks. This couldn't be right, it had to be a trick of his mind, this couldn't be real.

The campfire was surrounded not by his fellow survivors, but by the killers instead.

Dwight froze, as heads turned to look at who'd been speaking. They were all staring at him.

Dwight stuttered, unable to spit out and apology for interrupting their peace. His breathing became erratic, quickly becoming overwhelmed by how much danger lay before him.

So forcing his trembling legs to move, Dwight spun around and bolted back into the forest.

What the hell!? What the hell was that!? Sure, it was easy to deduce that he'd arrived at the killer's campfire (and now proving that such a thing existed), but how had he ended up there?

Slowing his pace, he soon caught sight of the orange glow once again. There, it must be his campfire. Surely the entity would now send him where he belonged.

Breaking through the mist only broke his hope.

He was back again, back in the last place he wanted to be.

No no no no no! Why did it send him back, why!?

The Trapper was now watching him with keen interest, no longer facing the fire, but now seated facing towards the poor panicked survivor. Beside him, the Wraith, also seemed to take keen interest, soulless eyes now gazing into his.

He had to try again, he couldn't stay here, not with the creatures who killed him over and over and over again. Who knows what they'd do to him, with no friends to help him and no exit in sight.

The Trapper got up from his seat, and without another moment of hesitation, Dwight ran back into the fog.

He sprinted through aimlessly, no longer looking ahead for the light. His hope was dwindling fast, tears trickling down his cheeks as despair sunk in.

The entity wasn't letting him leave.

His run was quickly stopped as he ran face first into something firm yet soft, the impact knocking the wind out of him. Regaining his bearings, Dwight looked up at what he'd collided with, only to freeze in fear.

He'd ran face-first into the Trapper's chest, the massive killer now towering over him, only a foot separating the two of them. Dwight began to shake, whole body trembling in reaction to the man before him. He was a deer in the headlights. He couldn't move, unable to turn his eyes away from the mask.

In the corner of his eye, his saw movement, his eyes breaking away from the smiling skull to see what it was. The Trapper's arm, hand moving towards him. The image of his skull being crushed with those massive hands flashed in his mind.

With a newfound rush of adrenaline, Dwight broke his trance, limbs allowing themselves to move as he turned to bolt away. But getting no more than a couple steps away, he felt a furious force yank him back by his wrist, causing his breath to hitch and for him to almost lose his footing.

Stopping dead in his tracks, he resisted the urge to cry out, heart pounding in his ears. He tempted a tug, but the huge hand around his wrist refused to give way, keeping him rooted in place. So with great hesitance, he slowly turned his head around to look up at his captor.

The Trapper was frowning, the full expression unreadable thanks to the mask, but Dwight had the sense he was irritated. He hadn't harmed him yet, just simply grabbed his wrist in near-crushing grip, holding him in place.

"Stop running, it's annoying."

Caught off guard, Dwight's stance relaxed, looking up at the mask with mild surprise. He, he didn't expect him to say that, nor really much of anything at all. The killers were never really talkative, well, at least not in trials.

"You not gonna be able to leave anytime soon anyways."

Shakily, he nodded, already experiencing that reality. He knew it was fruitless, trying to escape, but being able to avoid the killers for a little longer felt worth it.

To his surprise, the Trapper let him go, seemingly trusting Dwight wouldn't run for it the moment he was free. Despite his primal urge screaming to take flight, he stayed put, too afraid of what would happen if he disobeyed.

Uncertain of his fate, he looked up fearfully into the eyeholes of the mask, standing before him in anxious silence, rubbing at his sore wrist.

The Trapper made another move towards him, moving his hand much slower than before. The young man braced himself instinctively, but otherwise made no move away from the murderer. The massive hand was pressed gently against his back, the owner now standing beside him.

"Come on, let's head back to the fire."

With a swallow, he nodded again, resisting the urge to recoil from the touch. Dwight reluctantly allowed himself to be guided towards the campfire, eyes darting to those surrounding the fire and his guide.

He was brought to the large log where he'd seen Trapper seated previously, the Wraith watching him with wide eyed curiosity. The large man reclaimed his seat, and motioned for him to follow.

"Don't worry, Philip's not gonna hurt you."

Philip?

He looked back at the Wraith, who wore an oddly warm smile, before reluctantly taking a seat between the two. He'd never really considered that all the killers might have names, apart from ones like Myers and Krueger. Then again, nobody really knew the other killers well enough to know their names.

The Wraith suddenly moved towards him, the sudden motion causing him to jump and yelp, only to realize he was giving him a pat on the back. He sighed, both in relief and embarrassment, as "Philip" gave him a concerned look.

"Careful Philip, he's a more jumpy than most."

Wraith nodded in understanding, before looking back down at Dwight, expression now a comforting smile. He smiled back, albeit with a more nervous one, before noticing the looks around the fire.

Many of the other killers were glaring at him, clearly irritated by both his noise and presence. One of them, the Pig, got up from her seat, and sauntered up towards the trio.

"Why are you letting the survivor stay Evan? Just kill the bastard to send him back."

She drew her blade, and Dwight began to panic. The realization he was now even closer to the danger, with no chance of getting away hit him, and he found himself trembling again.

Noticing his distress, Philip put a protective arm across him, glaring up at her. The Trapper simply sighed, before responding to the name.

"You want to risk angering the entity? There's no reward for killing him out of the trial. So, Amanda, if you want to harm him, you'll have to go through me first."

Dwight suddenly felt much safer next to the huge murderous man, a newfound appreciation that he'd run ran into him instead of one of the others. His body stop trembling, and he found himself shuffling slightly closer to the Trapper.

Amanda huffed with frustration, but left without another word. The others seemed to get the memo, and soon went back to their own business and conversations. With the threat gone, Philip lowered his arm, a look of relief coming over him.

A familiar white mask however, kept its eye holes on him.

Another long sigh came from who Dwight assumed was named Evan, who turned his attention towards the small survivor beside him.

"You alright?"

Dwight nodded feverishly, his anxiety slowly being replaced with a sense of security.

"Y-yes. Thank you."

A rumbling chuckle sounded from Evan, before his large arm wrapped around him, easily encasing half of his torso. Instinctively Dwight recoiled from the killer's embrace, but soon allowed himself to be tucked within his hold. It was oddly comforting.

"So, what's your name boy?"

"D-Dwight."

"Well Dwight, just stick with me and Philip, and we'll keep safe until the fog thins out."

He glanced at Philip, who had shuffled closer to them, making the space between Dwight and the two killers even smaller.

"Thank you, Evan."

Another deep chuckle sounded from Evan, and he released his hold on the survivor. Glancing up at him, he could see a smile gracing the killer's scarred lips.

He was human. There was a strange comfort in that knowledge, that behind the mask, he was just human like him, albeit much bigger.

Maybe all the killers once were.

He turned back to the Wraith to find him beaming at him, seemingly glad to have Dwight here. Now having the survivor's attention, Philip extended his arms out to him, gesturing for what he assumed was a hug.

"Oh, okay."

With his permission given, Dwight quickly found himself enveloped in the Wraith's embrace. Long arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him up against Philip's chest. At first, Dwight froze, still fighting against his primal urge to struggle and scream, but soon he relaxed. His own arms attempted to wrap around the Wraith, but with minimal success.

Dwight realized he missed this, the surrounding sensation of a hug, as an aching feeling in his chest was soon apparent. It had be so, so long ago since he'd been embraced like this. The heart and body hungered for the affection, and he found himself gripping the Wraith's cloak tightly.

Killer or not, he missed this.

Eventually, the arms around him loosened their grip, and Dwight was freed from his embrace. Philip was still smiling at him, but it had shifted. The eagerness had been replaced with warmth, as he looked down at him like a proud parent would their child.

Dwight smiled back.

With that, they returned to gazing at the undying blaze. The crackling of the campfire was an oddly pleasant sound, a comforting and ever present ambience.

After a few moments of comfortable quiet, Dwight felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned back to Philip, who seemed a tad nervous, but glad he got the survivor's attention once again.

"Hm?"

Philip pointed at Dwight, then patted his own lap.

"You, you'd like me to sit in your lap?"

Wraith nodded, slowly, seeming a bit embarrassed by the request. Dwight held back the urge to chuckle. It was so strange, seeing a killer be nervous, worried about simple human emotions.

He felt evermore safer around him.

"Sure."

A happy gasp with a wide smile, as the Wraith quickly adjusted himself to make sure he'd be seated comfortably.

So he got up, stretching a little, before taking his seat in the Wraith's lap. It was certainly more comfortable than the log. Long arms gently wrapped around his waist, putting Dwight in a loose hold.

Evan turned his head to look at the pair, a single laugh puffing out as he saw what they were doing, a grin visible in the mask's jaws.

"Happy Philip?"

Philip nodded, still beaming, and another chuckle came from Evan. He moved closer, closing the space between the killers, until the two were basically touching.

The Trapper had also basically evicted from his spot, meaning he was kinda stuck sitting in Philip's lap. He was okay with that.

"You doing okay kid?"

"O-oh! Yeah, thank you."

"Glad to hear it." He ruffled Dwight's hair in a friendly manner, almost engulfing his head with his massive hand. "Told you Philip wouldn't bite."

Philip growled, and Dwight knew it wasn't directed at him. Evan laughed again.

One of the arms around him moved away, and soon he felt fingers running through his hair. The action was soothing, strokes gentle and rhythmic, tension starting leave his body. It was relaxing.

It wasn't long before a wave of fatigue began to wash over him.

There was no true indication of the passing of time, nor of night and day, but there still seemed to be a cycle within the entity. When everything seemed dimmer, and the urge to yawn suddenly came over you.

Here too, on the other side, there was a cycle of rest. Killers left or got comfortable, one or two already passed out.

The Shape however, continued to stare at him from across the bonfire, no signs of fatigue in his posture. Dwight broke the gaze, hoping Michael hadn't noticed he'd been staring back. He probably did though.

Trying not to think about that, Dwight leaned back and relaxed, head resting upon Philip's chest. The killer hummed, ceasing his hair stroking to wrap the arm around him once again, this time both arms held him a little tighter.

He felt him shift beneath him, and looked up and around to realize he was in the middle of an oddly adorable scene.

Philip was leaning slightly into Evan, head resting on his massive shoulder, eyes half lidded. Evan had an arm wrapped around the slimmer killer's torso, head tilted towards Philip. Both wore a content smile, slowly relaxing as exhaustion took over.

They looked like a married couple, with him being their son.

Dwight felt his eyelids droop, as he gave into a yawn. It was funny, how within the embrace of two ruthless mass murderers, he felt the safest he'd ever been in his hellhole.

So snuggling into Philip's embrace, Dwight allowed the exhaustion to take him over, the world and his thoughts going dark as he fell asleep.