This is part 12 of my Chucky transfers his soul into a human at the end of Seed au. This fic doesn’t have Glenda in it, I noticed that I’ve been featuring Glenda in most of these fics and barely mentioned Glen. That wasn’t intentional, but I enjoy exploring the connection between Chucky and Glenda because they’re so similar, but Glen deserves more love, so they’re the only twin present in this fic. As with all of the fics in this au, until they’re fourteen Glen and Glenda will be referred to by he/him and she/her respectively, and in this fic Glen is a baby (around six months old but his age isn’t mentioned). This fic is more about Chucky’s childhood, but Glen is still important, I hope you enjoy it :).
Something was up. It had to be. Tiffany has been acting suspicious all day, rarely speaking but giving Chucky a strange look whenever he asked what was going on. But now, she was approaching him, carrying a sleeping Glen. Carefully sitting down, she passed the sleeping baby to his father, trying not to wake him.
“How long has he been asleep?”
“Two minutes. Glenda went down no problem, but you know how Glen is, he needs to be cuddled or else he won’t sleep.”
Chucky raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“So you decided to give me nap duty? That’s very generous of you, Tiff.”
“You’re taking this better than I expected.”
“Trust me, if Glen wasn’t here I would have said a very different word. Two hints, it starts with ‘s’ and rhymes with ‘city’.”
There was a moment of silence as Chucky began to gently bounce Glen, because that sometimes helped him to sleep. It did the trick, and Glen sighed contentedly, nuzzling into his blanket as he drifted into a deeper sleep.
“It’s funny, I never imagined myself as a father, but now I can’t picture being anything else.”
Tiffany wrapped an arm around his shoulder, suddenly seeming curious.
“Hm, not even the Lakeshore Strangler?”
“That was ages ago, I don’t even remember how to do it properly.”
“What about Chucky the Killer Doll?”
“By the time the twins are five, I’ll have had enough of dolls to last a lifetime. I dread to think of the mountains of Barbies that’ll clutter the house. Is it possible to convince Glen and Glenda that dolls don’t exist?”
The couple shared a laugh, then looked down at their son. More silence. Finally, Tiffany asked a question she’d been waiting to ask all day.
“You never talk about your own parents… what were they like?”
It all made sense now. The strange looks, the tense way she’d acted all day, waiting until Glen was asleep then making Chucky hold him. She had him pinned down right where she wanted him, he’d usually make an excuse and run away, unable to have this type of conversation. But he couldn’t risk waking Glen up, babies need sleep. So he had to sit there and answer her questions, despite how much it pained him to do so.
“What is there to say about Peter and Elizabeth Ray? Mom stayed at home to look after me, dad had some sort of office job. Can’t remember what, he was gone most of the time. Why do you want to know?”
Tiffany sighed, exasperated.
“I talk about my parents all the time!-‘
‘-Shut up, let me finish what I’m saying. I talk about my mom and how she raised me and my sister on my own. You know about how I never knew my dad but that he made my mother distrustful of men for the rest of her life. I’ve been open and honest, why haven’t you? I just wanna know more about you, what were they like? What did you inherit from them? Do you have your mother’s eyes? Your father’s smile? Was there anything special you did together? Crucially, did your parents have any illnesses that the twins could’ve inherited? Such as mental illnesses?”
This was gonna be a difficult conversation.
“To start, no, my defective genes won’t mutate our children. And I think that the twins have an equal chance of inheriting insanity and bloodlust from the both of us. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I can’t remember what they looked like, not really. My mom had dark hair, I remember that. One of them must’ve had blue eyes, but I can’t recall which one. I was seven, there’s only so much information you retain aged seven.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes and groaned.
“You’re so boring! Is there really nothing? Nothing at all? I know it’s difficult but please try. Let’s talk about your father, what was he like?”
That was a sensitive subject.
“My old man was… nice. He was a fine, upstanding citizen, a strict follower of the law, a Catholic. I can remember the many hours I spent in Sunday School learning about how everything I grew up to do would send me to Hell. He read to me every night. Not just the kid stuff, sure, he read Peter Pan, but he read me more adult literature as well. Moby Dick, Great Expectations, Grimm’s Fairytales, the really dark ones where kids die. Titus and Andronicus, that one Shakespearean tragedy where a lady eats her own son in a pie. Honestly, he was just setting me up for the serial killer lifestyle.”
“Were the two of you close?”
That took some thinking. But after a moment, Chucky had a response.
“He loved me. All parents should love their kids, but there was never a moment that I doubted my father’s love for me. In his last moments he tried to save me. If I’d taken his advice my life could’ve been totally different. I regret that I didn’t try to save him, there must’ve been something I could’ve done.”
“Finally we’re getting somewhere! Now, how about your mother? Can you tell me about her?”
If Chucky’s father was a sensitive subject, his mother was a minefield waiting to blow up. He tried not to think about his mother, it made him feel emotions that he hated feeling. Guilt, remorse, self-pity. But that chapter of his life had come to a close, he was a father now. It was time to get over his trauma.
“Mom was so kind. She baked cookies when I came home from school, she took me to the movies and played pretend with me when we got home. If J wanted to be Peter Pan, she would be a pirate or an Indian. If I was a knight, she was a dragon, or a damsel in distress. She didn’t deserve her fate, she didn’t deserve to have me for a son.”
Tiffany’s curious look grew tender.
“Do you regret killing her?”
Chucky swallowed a lump in his throat. No, he wasn’t a kid, he wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t. He wasn’t- he was crying. But he couldn’t help it.
“It was a split second decision, I was panicking and the pocketknife was right there in my hand. She was suffocating me, I couldn’t breathe, stabbing her was the only thing I could think of. I didn’t know it would be fatal. How could I? I was a child. A stupid, barbaric, ignorant child. I had no self-control, I was violent, I was spoiled, I was a little brat and I took out my rage on innocent people. She didn’t deserve to die. It worked out in the long run, but I regret it every day, especially now that we’re parents.”
There was silence, slightly interrupted by Chucky’s quiet sobs. He hadn’t cried in years. Not since he was a child and he’d realised that he’d killed his mother. Briefly before he’d been found, he shed a few tears, barely allowing himself to mourn before he’d been forced to pretend that murder was all part of his plan. In a way, the tears were healing, so he let them fall. Tiffany patted him on the back sympathetically.
“Is that why Glenda’s middle name is Elizabeth and Glen’s middle name is Peter?”
Chucky smiled slightly and looked back down at his son, stroking his soft little cheek with the tip of his finger.
“Yes. I wanted them to live on somehow, and I want to give the twins the life I never got to have growing up. From what I remember of them, I think they would’ve liked it.”
There was more silence, but it was a nice kind of silence, calm and content. Then Glenda cried in the distance and Tiffany sighed.
“I almost forgot. Glenda can’t sleep for more than half an hour without her brother. I swear, they’re inseparable. Should I take him?”
Chucky shook his head and stood up.
“No, I’ll carry him, you get Glenda to sleep and I’ll try and put the little guy down without him waking up.”
Satisfied that they’d made some major breakthroughs, Chucky and Tiffany went into the nursery, mentally preparing themselves to deal with two grouchy, overtired babies.
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