Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Philza is lonely.

There it is; a fact of life. He has been alone for so long now. He wasn’t always; once he had his wife, and long, long before that his parents, but now it is just him. Alone, in this little house in this little village at the edge of the woods.

His mother and father are long lost to time, and his wife- his first and only love- died several years ago.

He gardens now, selling his vegetables for the few coins they garner in his village or, sometimes, the profits he can gain by taking the path through the woods to the city. It’s a quiet life, simple and honest work.

It does nothing to ease the ache of loneliness.

Today, Phil kneels in the green bean patch. The morning air is cool and damp, the earth perfectly damp for pulling weeds.

The beans are coming in well, he muses, picking a pod and neatly snapping the ends off. It tastes crisp and fresh. Perfectly ripe. Phil gathers a few more as he works.

A shadow falls across the garden. Phil glances up, reaching to tilt his hat back. Hand freezing partway there.

The figure standing over him is a woman, clad in black, veiled. Strange, but most likely she’s only passing through, traveling somewhere.

“Can I help you?” he asks, standing, suppressing a groan as his joints creak. He’s getting too old for this.

The woman leans on the fence, tilting her head. Her wide-brimmed hat and black veil conceal her features completely.

“Oh, it’s nothing you can do for me,” she says. “No, I’m here to ask what I can do for you.”

Phil frowns. “I- excuse me?”

“You’re lonely,” she says. “I have a spell that can give you what you have longed for.”

His breath catches in his chest. What you’ve longed for, what you’ve longed for- “You’re a Witch?”

She hums, sounding amused. “I suppose that is what you’d call me, yes.”

“You can give me what I’ve wanted.”

The Witch chuckles softly. “That is what I said.”

“The spell- it can bring my wife back?” Phil asks, a terrible kind of hope swelling in his chest.

The Witch gives a noncommittal hum, dipping her head in a motion that could be a nod.

That’s all Phil needs to hear. He straightens, brushing dirt off his pants. “What do I need to do?”

“In three days’ time, a blue moon will rise.” The Witch speaks quietly, a chill breeze sweeping over the garden. “Go to the woods, and gather the cow as white as milk, the cape as red as blood, the hair as yellow as corn, the lyre as pure as gold. Find these items, and I guarantee, you shall have what you want.”

“Strange things to ask for,” Phil says before he can think better of questioning a Witch.

She laughs, a delighted, amused sound. “I suppose so, but that is what you have to find. Remember now, the third midnight, be back here with all those things.”

He blinks and the Witch is gone, leaving behind a crow’s feather fluttering to the ground. Phil barely notices that.

He needs- he needs supplies. Food, and water, and his hiking boots and a scarf, perhaps.

He’s going to get Kristin back.

~~~

Technoblade is, objectively speaking, not having such a great time.

Okay, so maybe it would have been a better idea to keep his head down and listen to the orphanage matrons. They’re all demons in disguise, the lot of them, but at least in the orphanage he had two meals a day and a bed.

And okay, gruel and thin vegetable soup are crappy meals- and okay, it was a tiny pallet that could barely, even generously speaking, be called a bed; but it was better than this. Better than getting sent into the woods to walk back to his ‘home’.

Techno saw through that excuse right away. They just want to get rid of him. Send him back to his ‘grandmother’ which is a load of crap. He didn’t even have parents, there’s no way that old hag is his grandmother.

He pulls his red cape tighter around his shoulders, the woods are cold this early in the morning and the cape does little to ward off the chill. But it’s one of his only possessions, and certainly his favorite, and he’s managed to keep the other kids from stealing it, hide it from the hag.

Somewhere in the wood, a wolf howls. Techno ignores it- it’s far off, and if he has to, he can climb a tree. Wolves can’t climb trees.

They want him to go back to the old lady’s house? He’ll show them. He’ll show them all.

Technoblade is fourteen. He’s going to make his own life, and he doesn’t need anyone’s help to do that.

~~~

“Boy!”

The shrill voice echoes down the stairs, and Wilbur sighs, wiping his arm over his eyes. Pushes himself to his feet, scrubbing soot off his hands as he starts up the stairs, out of the kitchen.

The mistress is waiting at the top of the stairs. She glares down at him. “Took you long enough. I want the floors polished, the fireplace scrubbed clean, and lunch on the table before noon.”

Wilbur recites his mum’s lessons in his mind- be good, be nice, be good, be nice- “Yes, ma’am,” he says, lowering his head.

“We’ll not be returning for dinner. The King’s Festival is tonight and I expect you to be waiting up when we return to put the horses away.”

The Festival. Gods, going to the Festival would be a dream come true. To see all the King’s finery, the people flocking to hear the music and the stories…

Wilbur keeps his head bowed, curling his toes into the carpet. “Could… could I go?” he whispers.

The mistress laughs, high pitched and mocking. “You want to go to the Festival?”

“Well- it’s open to all, the heralds said-”

The mistress sighs harshly. “You’re filthy, brat. People would laugh at you, you think you have any right?”

Wilbur’s eyes sting with tears, but he keeps his head bowed, keeps his weakness hidden. “I still want to go,” he whispers.

“Hm.” The mistress is quiet for a minute. “No. Perhaps, if you didn’t have so many chores, the answer would have been yes. But the kitchen needs a good cleaning, you know.”

“The- the Festival is three nights, surely I could go for one of them-”

“My answer is no,” she says sharply, and Wilbur can only bow and scurry away before she slaps him.

Back in the kitchen, Wilbur tucks himself into a corner and cries.

He misses his mum, it’s been so long since she died. He’s almost thirteen now and he was just little when she got sick, when he spent days sitting beside her and hoping she would get better. But she didn’t, and now he lives with the mistress and her two stuck-up prideful sons.

Wait, there’s an idea… his mum said, she said that if ever he needed anything, all he had to do was ask. Even when she was gone.

Wilbur makes up his mind. Later today, he’ll go to the willow tree. The willow tree, the wishing tree… He’ll find a way to get to the Festival, no matter what it takes.

~~~

“What’re you doing in the barn?”

Mama’s so loud and she sounds angry, that’s not good. Tommy cuddles Henry closer, huddling in the straw.

“’s looking for food,” he whines. “’m hungry.”

“It’s hardly my fault there’s nothing to eat.” Mama tugs him out by his ear, ow ow ow that hurts. Tommy whines, but Mama doesn’t let go of his ear, she tugs him outside and drops him.

Tommy lands on his hands in the dirt and sits there, pouting. Mama’s being mean and he doesn’t like it.

She sighs, sounding upset. “You’ve got to go to market,” she snaps. “In the next town over.”

But that means going through the woods, and Tommy doesn’t like the woods. It’s scary.

Mama drops a little bag in front of Tommy. “Get up,” she says, tugging him to his feet. Practically smacking him to get the dirt off his pants. “You’re going to go through the wood to the next village and buy something to eat. There’s five coins in that bag, that should be enough.”

“I don’ wanna go,” Tommy pouts. “’s a long walk.”

Mama does her upset sigh again, shoving his shoulder. Tommy stumbles forward, holding the little bag in one hand and Henry in the other.

“Go,” Mama huffs. “Hurry, now.”

So Tommy goes, because Mama said so, even if he doesn’t want to go. Maybe he can pretend he got lost and come home right away? But no, Tommy is so hungry, and Mama said he could go get food.

He starts walking towards the woods, he’s scared to go in there but he has Henry so it’s okay, right now. And he’s a big boy, he’s five now! Big boys don’t cry, that’s for babies.

~~~

The Witch watches with a quietly pleased smile.

There are rules, there are laws of the universe that even she cannot break, no matter how much she longs to. Not even for Philza.

But! She’s found another solution, another way to keep him from being so lonely.

Now, if only he can work it all out…

Chapter Text

Okay so. Techno was definitely wrong about the wolf. Possibly very, very wrong.

He knows better than to talk to strangers- especially strangers in the woods- which turned out to be an excellent decision in this case, as that stranger is apparently a werewolf. Which Techno didn’t even think were real.

“Come on down, little boy,” the man laughs, “you can’t hide up there forever!”

Techno tries to pretend his heart isn’t racing, clinging to the higher branches of the tree. “Pretty sure eating me would be cannibalism,” he calls back.

“But I’m a wolf, and I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, that’s not really an excuse.” Techno glances at the next tree over, trying to judge the distance. Wondering if he would make it if he jumped. “If you’re looking for an easy meal, try a couple miles further into the woods, there’s an old lady down there who’s real easy pickings.”

Okay, so it’s a low move to sell out poor old granny, but she’s not his grandmother. Techno’s pretty sure the hag isn’t anyone’s grandmother.

The wolf laughs, a sound that makes Techno’s stomach flip. “You know I can just climb up there and get you, right?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Techno growls, ignoring the way his panic ramps up.

And oh- oh, crap, the ‘wolf is actually starting up the tree. Techno tries to scramble higher.

The werewolf is grinning, and the tree is shaking, and Techno’s praying desperately that he’s not about to die-

He hears an arrow fly, hears a wet thud, and the ‘wolf stumbles back with a pained snarl. Techno holds his breath as a man appears, lowering a small hunting bow.

“That wasn’t very nice,” the ‘wolf snarls.

The man’s gaze flicks up to where Techno is clinging to the tree, smiling faintly. Then he’s glaring at the ‘wolf again with that stern expression.

“You’re chasing a kid, mate, one of us is in the wrong here and it’s not me.”

The werewolf growls, shaking out his fur, but the man raises his bow again and the creature bounds away into the wood. Techno lets out his breath in a quick puff.

“It’s gone,” the man calls, slinging his bow over his shoulder. “You can come down now.”

Techno clambers to the lower branches, but stays up in the tree, watching the man warily. He knows too much about how people can be to trust a stranger in the wood.

“It’s okay, mate, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The man backs away, holding up his hands. “My name’s Phil, what’s yours?”

He narrows his eyes. “Techno.”

The man smiles, nodding slightly. “Come on down, Techno, it’s okay. The werewolf’s not coming back.”

The ‘wolf isn’t what he’s worried about anymore.

Techno drops the last few feet to the ground anyway, glaring hard at Phil. The man just keeps smiling.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks.

Techno lifts his chin, scowling. “Running away.”

Phil raises his eyebrows, looking a little surprised. “Really? You’re awfully young to be wandering out here by yourself.”

“I’m fourteen,” Techno snaps. “And I can take care of myself, I have been for a long time.”

“I’m sure you can,” the man says, tone soothing and kind rather than mocking, like Techno might have expected. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

“And, what, you want to save me? Drag me back to the orphanage?” He glares hard.

Phil’s expression does something funny, settling back into that gentle smile. “No, mate, I’m not gonna take you anywhere you don’t want to go. I just want you to be safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” Techno repeats, but with less conviction.

He can. He can, he doesn’t need anyone’s help. He’s four-flipping-teen, he’s a big kid.

Phil nods. “Is there anywhere in particular you’re planning to go?”

Techno… hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. His indecision must show on his face, because Phil starts talking again.

“You could come with me,” he suggests. Like it’s that simple, like Techno can just willingly give over his trust. “I’m looking for some things in the wood, but once I find them, I’m going back to the village I live in.”

“Are you inviting me to live with you?” Techno asks sharply, glaring. “Because I’m not doin’ that. I don’t need somebody to fuss over me and coddle me all the time.”

“Not if you don’t want to. I just-” Phil sighs, kneeling. “It’s not safe for you out here, mate. I only want to make sure you’re going to be safe.”

Techno straightens, pulling his cape tighter around his shoulders. “I’m fine.”

Never mind that it’s cold out here, never mind the fact that he doesn’t have a weapon to protect himself and he’s sore and tired.

He doesn’t need anyone.

He doesn’t, because if he stops long enough to want it then he’ll never get moving again. And it’s a harsh world, you move or you die, and he doesn’t plan on dying. Not ever.

“Okay,” Phil says after a few more seconds of staring.

He reaches into his bag and takes out a sheathed knife, and Techno steps back, flinching when his back presses against the tree trunk. But the man doesn’t take the knife out and stab him- instead he flips it so the hilt is towards Techno.

“Here,” Phil says quietly. “Take this, so you can protect yourself, all right?”

Techno does, hesitantly. “What do I owe you?”

The man’s expression does the funny twisting thing again. “Nothing,” he says at last. “Just- keep yourself safe.”

He’s weird.

Techno takes the knife and turns around, starting off in the opposite direction the werewolf went. He goes, without a word, because he knows that if he stays looking at Phil too much longer then he’ll say yes and he is okay by himself. He doesn’t need to be looked after.

For the first time in Techno’s life, it feels like a lie.

~~~

Phil watches the boy go, worry curling in his chest.

Someone has done a terrible job of taking care of that child. He shouldn’t be out here alone, let alone insisting that he doesn’t need or want any kind of help.

And yes, maybe Phil should have tried to bargain for that cape- a cape as red as blood- but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He isn’t about to take something from a child who has so little already. He can’t do that even for Kristin.

Forgive me, my love, he sighs.

He thinks she would. She wouldn’t want him to so anything to harm a child, even to bring her back.

(He goes on, blissfully unaware of the Witch watching him with a fondly exasperated smile.)

Chapter Text

Wilbur loves the wishing tree.

It’s always warm there, always sunshiny even when it’s raining outside. There are flowers and berry bushes and a little stream.

Best of all, he can climb the tree and pretend he can feel his mum holding him.

Today, he leaves with his treasure clutched in his arms and a big grin on his face.

He’d never quite believed that the tree was actually magic, but the proof is right here. The proof is the golden harp in his arms, the long hooded cloak he’s wearing that will make him unrecognizable in case he runs into the mistress at the Festival.

He’s really doing it, isn’t he? He- Wilbur, a nobody from nowhere with no family- he is going to the King’s Festival.

Wilbur walks with a spring in his step. It’s a nice afternoon for it, not too warm and not too cold, either.

He’s halfway there, he thinks, when he sees a man coming along the path. Wilbur stops short, instinctively lowering his head and hunching his shoulders. The man doesn’t look dangerous, but you never know. Especially in the woods.

“Hello,” the man calls. “Where are you off to?”

Wilbur grips the lyre tighter. “I’m going to the Festival,” he says, trying to make his voice sound older than he is. Even though he knows he’s too short for that to work.

“Oh, I see.” There’s a brief pause. “That’s a lovely instrument.”

Wilbur’s arms tighten reflexively around it. “…thanks?” He doesn’t want the man to take it, he can’t let him-

The man sits on a tree root, letting out a sigh. “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to sell or trade it.”

“No,” Wilbur snaps, remembering himself right away, curling back in on himself. “It’s mine,” he says, softer.

The man just nods. “It’s fine,” he says under his breath, like he doesn’t mean for Wilbur to hear. “I can figure this out.”

Wilbur takes a cautious step closer. “Why do you want it, anyway?”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, he’s just trying to be nice.

“Huh?” The man glances up, looking a little startled. “Oh. Well, it’s- it’s complicated.”

Wilbur huffs, edging away. “That’s not an answer.”

“I suppose not.” The man glances up with a weird, sad smile. “I’m trying to collect some things I need for a spell. To bring my wife back.”

…oh, that’s- kind of a nice thing for him to do, actually.

Wilbur holds the lyre tighter, anyway. “Maybe… maybe you could borrow it? After the Festival.”

The man sighs, sounding terribly old and tired. “I appreciate the offer, but that’ll be a bit too late. Thanks anyway.”

“Oh.”

See, the thing is, Wilbur would like to help. But this is his chance to do something great, to make something of himself. For people to see him.

“Um… well, I need to keep going.” Wilbur shuffles awkwardly. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“It’s okay, mate.” The man gives him another tired smile. “Have fun at the Festival, eh?”

“…I will.”

“And travel safe!” the man calls after him.

Wilbur tries not to dwell on the encounter while he walks, but it stick with him. The man was so nice, and he seemed so sad…

Oh, well, there’s not really anything Wilbur can do.

~~~

When the boy is out of sight, Phil sighs heavily, dropping his head in his hands.

Gods, that was another one of the four things he needed, probably the hardest one to find, and he just- let it go.

He’s not taking things from kids, though. There are lines that have to be drawn. And, actually, isn’t there something wrong with the fact that he’s run into two children today, in the woods, far too young to be out here alone?

The third midnight seems such a short time away, even if it’s only late the first afternoon.

Finally he heaves himself up and starts walking again.

(The Witch watches, and longs to reassure him that all is going to be right, in the end.)

Chapter Text

Tommy’s so hungry.

He’s still looking for the other village but he can’t even find his own any more. He looked in the bag a little while ago and there isn’t any money in there, there’s not even one coin. There’s just a bunch of pebbles and Mama lied to him, she said there was money in there for him to get food.

Tommy doesn’t wanna keep walking, he’s hungry and he’s tired and he wants to lay down and go to sleep.

He stomps on leaves and sticks, listening to the satisfying crunch under his shoes. Scrubs his arm over his eyes, clutching Henry as close as he can so he can’t drop him. That wouldn’t be very nice. And then Tommy would be all alone out here!

Tommy sniffles. He wants to go home, he wants his Mama and his little room and his blankets, even if they’re scratchy.

He hears more crunchy footsteps and looks around for a place to hide. There’s a little hole under a tree there and Tommy ducks, curling up in the tree roots.

He holds on to Henry tight-tight-tight, so he doesn’t get scared. Not that Tommy is scared. But Henry might be.

“Oh,” a voice says. “Oh, hello.”

Tommy whimpers, ducking his head. Something rustles, and he peeks out between his arms to see a man kneeling down in front of him. He has a nice smile, Tommy thinks.

“It’s okay, little one, I’m not going to hurt you.” The man holds out his hand. “Why are you out here all by yourself?”

Tommy whimpers, he shouldn’t talk to strangers but he’s cold and hungry and scared. “’m lost.”

“Aw, mate. You must be so scared, huh?”

He shakes his head, pressing his nose into Henry’s soft white fur. “Mama sent me to the next town for food but I can’t find the path ‘n’ she forgot to give me money, just some rocks.”

Tommy holds out the bag, and the man takes it with a frown, looking inside. After a second he puts it down, looking at Tommy again. “What’s your name?” he asks, his voice sounds nice and soft, not like Mama.

“Tommy.” He rubs his eyes with his hand.

“Hi, Tommy, my name is Phil. I think we live in the same village, your mother sells milk, right? From the cows?”

Tommy perks up, they have cows! “Uh huh!” He holds up Henry.

“Aw, is that your friend? What’s his name?”

“Henry! He’s the bestest cow in the whole world.” Tommy grins, scooting a little bit out of the hole in the roots.

“I’m sure he is,” Phil says, smiling. His smile is nice. “I own the little vegetable garden a couple of houses away from yours. Why don’t you come with me, I can make sure you get home safe.”

Tommy knows the vegetable garden, he doesn’t like eating vegetables but sometimes that’s all there is and he has to. He doesn’t remember seeing Phil before but he knows the garden and Phil knows the cows, so that’s good enough.

“Okay!” He crawls out of his hidey-hole and sits on the leaves on the ground, playing with Henry’s ears. “I’m hungry.”

“Aw, mate, I bet you are.” Phil puts his bag in front of him and starts looking through it, Tommy wants to look too but that would be rude, he thinks. After a minute Phil holds up half a loaf of bread. Tommy stares at it. Is that all for him?

“Take it,” Phil says. “That’s for you to eat.”

It’s yummy. When Tommy finishes the bread, Phil gives him some water in a glass bottle to drink, and then Tommy curls up with Henry in his arms and yawns.

“’m tired,” he announces, in case Phil didn’t notice.

Phil smiles a little, but it looks sad. “You’ve had a big day, huh?” he says softly. He holds out his arms. “C’mere, I’ll carry you so you can take a nap for a little while.”

Tommy cuddles up against Phil’s chest and the man ties his big coat around him, making a kind of little bag to carry Tommy in.

“How old are you?” Phil asks, his voice is nice and quiet and rumbly under Tommy’s ear.

Tommy holds up all five of his fingers on one hand. “Th’s many,” he mumbles.

Phil hums, playing with Tommy’s hair a little. “Oh, you’re just a baby,” he whispers, like Tommy’s not supposed to hear.

“’m not… not a baby,” Tommy mumbles, but he’s really sleepy. He’s so sleepy that he barely has time to get comfy before his eyes close.

~~~

Phil gazes at the little boy in his makeshift sling, small head resting on Phil’s collarbone.

Gods, he’s so tiny. He looks a lot smaller than five years old, he’s still sucking his thumb- who lets a child this young outside by themselves, let alone sends them into the wood?

Phil presses his lips together as he stands, cradling Tommy with one arm, rubbing his back gently. He’s going to have words with the boy’s mother when they get back to the village.

Which ought to be sooner rather than later, especially with a vulnerable child in his arms. Phil tucks his coat a little more securely around Tommy and keeps walking.

(The Witch gazes at the pair, satisfied that things are finally going according to plan.)

Chapter Text

It’s late when Phil finally reaches the village, and he hasn’t got a single one of the items he was looking for.

He wants nothing more than to go straight into his home and collapse by the fire to sleep, but he needs to take care of Tommy first. So Phil sets his shoulders and walks a little further down the road to the dairy.

It takes a minute for the door to open to his knock. The woman’s smile is thin, tired.

“Can I help you?”

Phil adjusts his grip on the tiny child in his arms, giving the woman a good view of Tommy’s tangled blond curls. Her smile quickly turns into a scowl.

“I found your son in the woods,” Phil says, voice icy, but quiet not to wake Tommy. “I don’t suppose you’d care to explain why.”

She glares, stepping back into the house. “I don’t have a son.”

“Really?” Phil asks, genuinely shocked that she’d try that tactic. “Mate, I live a couple houses down, I see him running around your place all the time.” He says nothing about the fact that he’s seen Tommy running around barefoot and dirty, and usually in the same ragged clothes.

“I never wanted a kid in the first place.” The woman scowls. “And I can barely afford to feed myself, why take care of the little leech?”

There are quite a lot of things Phil would like to do and say to Tommy’s mother, but he doesn’t- he can’t, not with Tommy asleep in his arms. He tries to satisfy himself with a hard glare. “You’re despicable,” he hisses.

And with that, the woman slams the door in Phil’s face.

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He glances down at Tommy, still sleeping in his arms, and Phil’s heart breaks a little. The poor thing is alone now, abandoned by the person who should’ve taken care of him.

Phil never really considered whether or not he wanted kids, but, well. This little boy needs someone to take care of him, and Phil’s not much inclined to hand him over to someone else who might not be good to him.

So instead he turns, and goes home.

Tommy stirs as Phil carefully unwraps his coat, yawning and snuggling a little closer. “’s it time to wake up?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, mate, we’re home,” Phil says softly. He’s just realizing he’ll have to tell Tommy that his mother doesn’t want him, even after sending him into the woods alone to die. “I’m gonna make you some food and let you take a bath, okay?”

Tommy rubs at his eyes, sitting up a little straighter. “Don’ like takin’ baths.”

“Oh?” Phil sets Tommy on the kitchen table, running his fingers through tangled blond curls. “Why not?”

“’re always cold.” He rubs his eyes again. It’s cute. “’n’ Mama scrubs too hard ‘n’ it hurts.”

Gods, how long has this child been suffering his mother’s neglect- and borderline abuse? Phil swallows back anger and sorrow, those emotions will do Tommy no good right now.

“Well,” he says softly, “I think you’ll like this one. But how about we eat some food first, okay?”

“M’kay.” Tommy puts his little head down on his stuffed cow.

Tommy seems content to sit there and play with his toy while Phil makes something simple for dinner, just washes off some of the vegetables he harvested today and digs out a jar of dried salted jerky.

Tommy eats the jerky happily, but stares suspiciously at the fresh green beans. “…don’ like veggie-bles,” he mumbles when Phil nudges them closer.

This is not a fight Phil particularly wants to have tonight, but the boy needs to eat vegetables. “Just a few, Toms,” he says gently.

“Why?”

“Because they’re good for you,” Phil says after a second.

“But why?”

“They’ll help you grow up to be big and strong,” Phil says.

Tommy tilts his head. “’re they magic beans?” he asks after a minute. “To make me get really tall?”

You know what, if that’s what it takes… “Yup!”

Tommy eats his green beans without complaint.

The bath takes a lot more effort, and by the time he’s done, Phil and the bathroom are both completely soaked. But Tommy’s clean, and dozing off again, having worn himself out sometime between insisting Phil give Henry a bath, too (which he did, if only because the toy looks as though it’s carrying diseases) and letting his hair be washed without wiggling.

Phil puts Tommy in one of his spare nightshirts- it’s as good as a dress on the small boy, gods he’s just little- and lets him sit in the middle of the bed with Henry, now clean and white, in his lap while Phil changes his own clothes.

He comes back to find Tommy curled up under a blanket, snoring away, and oh if that sight doesn’t just melt Phil’s heart.

He puts out the lantern and lays down, pulling Tommy close to his chest. He’ll have to child proof the house, eventually, but for now the best Phil can do is keep Tommy so close that he physically can’t get into trouble.

~~~

So. Phil may have underestimated Tommy’s ability to make mischief.

The house isn’t on fire, and nothing is broken, but that is about all Phil can name as positive about the morning. It’s going to take him days to get the dirt out of the rug.

Tommy skips along beside him now, not at all perturbed by the prospect of another trip into the wood. Which is good, because Phil has to keep trying to find the things he needs.

He has until midnight tomorrow, and the time seems impossibly short, but he is going to try.

…even if taking the energetic five-year-old (he is five, and if Phil ever sees his mother again-) with him may not have been the best idea Phil’s ever had. At least Tommy’s not at home, where he could destroy a great deal of Phil’s possessions if left unattended.

Four things to find. Phil can do this.

Phil cannot, in fact, do this.

He gets more and more frustrated as the day goes on with no sign of any of the things he needs for the spell. The spell that could bring his wife back to him.

Tommy’s sleeping again, curled up against Phil’s chest in his makeshift sling, stuffed cow sandwiched between them. Phil can’t find it in himself to resent that this is all he’s found in the wood- Tommy clearly needs a caretaker, and Phil is in a position to provide. And the kid is adorable.

He realizes he’s slowed his pace, absorbed in playing with Tommy’s curls. Phil shakes his head.

Kristin. He’s doing this to get Kristin back. That has to come first.

(The Witch watches, and is amused.)

Chapter Text

At first, the night goes well.

Wilbur goes to the Festival, and plays music, and even earns a few coins. When he gets hungry, he tucks the lyre under his cape and buys a meat pie and a berry pastry. It’s the best meal he’s ever eaten.

It’s while he’s sitting on the edge of a fountain, finishing the last crumbs, that Wilbur realizes just how late it is. He’s going to have to hurry if he wants to get home before the mistress’ carriage.

Wilbur is exhausted, and he just wants to lay down and sleep, but he can’t. He needs to go home, so he stands up, holds his lyre tighter, and starts back through the woods.

It should have been a straight path back home. It should have been easy.

But it’s dark, and Wilbur is, like, eighty percent sure he’s lost.

He’s starting to get desperate, and maybe a bit scared, too. It’s dark and the wood all looks the same and he’s out here with nothing but his cloak and his lyre, and if he ever does find his way home the mistress is going to beat him within an inch of his life.

…maybe he’ll just stay out here. That would probably be safer. Right?

A wolf’s howl echoes up in the distance, and Wilbur flinches. Yep. Nope. Definitely not safer out here.

He hurries along, keeping an eye out for anything familiar. It would probably be safer to try to stay quiet, but his footsteps are already making a racket, so Wilbur starts humming under his breath. Just to keep himself company.

Wilbur must lose track of time, because he blinks and he’s in the branches of the wishing tree.

…oh, that’s nice. There’s a soft breeze blowing, warm and gentle, and the tree’s long leaves brush gently against his face. A small brown bird settles on his knee, its eye catching the gleam of the moonlight.

Wilbur smiles sleepily, petting it with the back of one finger. Its feathers are soft.

He’s tired, and he’s in his mum’s wishing tree, so he’s safe.

Wilbur falls asleep.

He doesn’t go back to the house in the morning.

There’s water in the little crystal clear stream that runs past the willow, and there are berries to eat on the bushes, and the morning sun filters through the trees and hits just so, warm and gentle.

So Wilbur stays in the wishing glade and practices playing his lyre some more, and chatters to the birds that gather to hop around him and perch on his shoulders and in his hair. He swears he recognizes a few of the older crows as ones that used to play with him when he was younger, when his mum would sing and birds would flock to her call. She always said they told her things, even though Wilbur couldn’t hear them.

It’s been a long, long time since he heard his mum sing.

Eventually, Wilbur knows, he’ll have to go back to the house. Where the mistress will probably give him the worst beating of his life, and he’ll be stuck washing floors and cleaning chimneys for months.

But not yet. For now, Wilbur has two more nights of the Festival to enjoy.

Wilbur plays some more, and sings a little bit, and earns some more coins. He buys more food for another of the best meals he’s ever had.

He stays even later tonight, having made up his mind to go back to the wishing tree to sleep. The crowd is thinning by the time Wilbur leaves, starting back to the woods.

A familiar shrill screech reaches his ears, and Wilbur whips around, fear pounding in his heart. It can’t be- surely it’s not-

The mistress is glaring at him, red-faced and shaking with anger, and her sons are starting towards him. Wilbur doesn’t stop a second longer, sprinting into the trees.

Branches and brambles snag at his cloak, roots rise up in his path but Wilbur avoids them all, running light-footed over dead leaves and sticks. His cloak catches on something, the clasp at his throat coming open too easily and leaving the fabric behind.

He’s dead, he is so dead if they catch him-

Wilbur doesn’t see the man standing in the path until he smacks right into him and falls backwards, landing hard in the litter.

“Oh,” the man says, sounding startled.

Wilbur scrambles forward, clinging to his lyre with one hand and gripping the hem of the man’s coat with the other. “P-please,” he gasps out.

“What’s wrong?” the man asks, voice sharp but not angry.

Wilbur still flinches. “Please,” he manages again. “They- they’re gonna kill me-”

A quick intake of breath, hands pulling him to his feet- quickly, but not harsh at all- and dusting him off. “Okay,” the man says, “okay, mate, I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

He wraps his arm around Wilbur’s shoulders, tucking his coat around him. Wilbur curls into the offered warmth.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The man squeezes his shoulder gently. “What’s your name?”

“Wilbur.” He tucks both arms around his instrument again.

“I’m Phil.” The man starts walking, still away from the big town, the way Wilbur was going anyway. “Where are you going?”

Wilbur’s mind stalls.

He can’t go back. The mistress was angry, really angry, and he probably will actually die if he sets foot in that house again. And he can’t just live at the wishing tree forever, as much as he wants to.

“…I was going back to my mistress’ house,” he admits at last, softly, “but it’s her sons chasing me.”

“Oh.” Phil is quiet for a few minutes. “Why don’t you come home with me, mate?”

Wilbur’s stomach twists. “I don’t want to impose-”

“You wouldn’t be.” Phil rubs his arm, the touch is so gentle. “I’ve the space.”

He doesn’t want to put himself so trustingly into the hands of a stranger, but Wilbur is so tired, and he’s cold, and Phil sounds familiar- Wilbur is pretty sure he’s the man he met on the road yesterday. So for now- for now, at least, he’ll go home with him.

Chapter Text

Phil’s newest companion turns out to be the boy with the lyre he’d met yesterday.

So okay, yes, he technically has one of the things now. That’s if Wilbur agrees to let him have it, and Phil isn’t gong to push. He’ll ask again tomorrow night, if the boy is still here then, but- but even for Kristin, Phil can’t bring himself to consider stealing a child’s possession.

In Phil’s small cottage, Wilbur tugs his shoes off and sits down in front of the fire with a contented sigh. Phil unwinds Tommy’s sling and settles the sleeping boy on the sofa. Wilbur watches, eyes wide.

“You have a kid?” he asks, sounding curious.

“Well- technically, I suppose he’s mine now.” Phil keeps his tone low, smoothing back Tommy’s messy curls. “His mother abandoned him.”

He hasn’t explained that to Tommy yet. It’s a conversation Phil is not looking forward to.

“Oh.” Wilbur falls silent, playing with the edge of his shirt. “…my mum died.”

Phil’s heart aches. “I’m so sorry, mate.”

“It was a long time ago.” He hunches his shoulders. “Haven’t got anybody now. ‘s just me.”

Oh, he’s going to regret saying this, but the words are out of Phil’s mouth before he can think. “You can stay with me,” he says softly. “As long as you want.”

Wilbur eyes him warily, but his whole body is slumped in sheer exhaustion. “…I don’t know,” he whispers at last. “I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s okay,” Phil says, and resists the urge to ruffle his hair. “You can take as much time as you need to make up your mind.”

He leaves Wilbur to sit there and think, and makes another simple meal. By the time Phil’s setting food out on the table, Tommy is awake and chattering curiously to the older boy. They seem to be getting along well (which is good, Phil thinks, and immediately squashes those thoughts. Wilbur hasn’t made his decision yet).

Gods, he’s getting attached fast. He sighs.

“Boys,” Phil calls, “dinner.”

Tommy comes running in with a little yell, throwing himself into Phil’s waiting arms. “I’m hungry!” he announces.

“I bet.” Phil hums, picking Tommy up and setting him on the edge of the counter. “Sit still, I’m just gonna clean your hands.”

Wilbur follows, still quiet, and washes his hands in the sink without being told. Phil keeps stealing glances, wondering who would choose to work a twelve-year-old child so hard. At least he has an explanation for the bruises- Wilbur’s hurried explanation about a ‘mistress’ and what she would do if he went back was enough for Phil to put the pieces together.

He hopes Wilbur decides to stay. If he doesn’t, Phil will help him find a safe place to go.

One way or another, Phil’s going to make sure this boy is okay.

He doesn’t get much sleep that night.

Partly due to the still-unfamiliar warmth of Tommy curled up against his chest (he’d begged, and Phil hadn’t had the heart to say no- or another place to put him), and partly because he can’t stop worrying that he won’t find everything in time.

He has to. He needs to get Kristin back.

But if he does somehow fail- if by some terrible chance he can’t do this- at least Phil has Tommy now. And possibly Wilbur, too. He thinks… he thinks he could build a new life with them. He thinks he could learn to be happy.

He thinks he already is happier than he has been in years.

Phil wakes at dawn after a few hours of fitful sleep and goes to pack his bag for the day. Wilbur, who’s sleeping on the couch, stirs when Phil comes in.

And then he’s awake in a second, blinking away sleep and standing as if at attention, hands clasped behind his back.

Phil gives him a gentle smile, hoping to relieve the tension. “Good morning, mate,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna get some breakfast together, you can go back to sleep if you want.”

“Oh.” Wilbur relaxes, looking conflicted. “Uh- are you going back into the woods today?”

Phil hums, stretching and popping his back as he moves into the kitchen. “Yep. You can do whatever you’d like- stay here if you want, or I can set you on the path back to the city for the Festival.”

Wilbur wavers. “…can I come with you?”

That takes Phil by surprise, but he nods. “If you like. I’m not gonna be doing much in particular.”

“You’re looking for the other things for the spell.”

“Yeah.” He’s a little surprised Wilbur remembers. That he cared to remember.

Wilbur doesn’t say anything else, just follows him into the kitchen and hovers awkwardly in the archway.

Until Tommy patters out of the bedroom, and he throws himself at the older boy. Then Wilbur seems to brighten, and busies himself amusing the five-year-old. Phil has to remind himself again that this might not be going to last, because it feels so easy and natural.

By sunrise, the three of them are out the door and back off to the woods.

One more day.

Chapter Text

Techno is in a lot of trouble.

Again.

For starters: he’s hungry. He ate the last of his food yesterday, and wandering around has only made him hungrier. He wouldn’t be wandering, except he’s lost. Hopelessly lost.

But the worst thing is that he’s pretty sure the ‘wolf is following him again.

He needs a plan. He needs a place to hide, or better yet, a way to trap the thing long enough to kill it.

If he can kill it.

Yeah, he’s got the knife the guy- Phil- gave him, but Techno’s never hurt anyone before. Let alone killed someone. And a werewolf is still a person, even if this is a particularly barbaric one.

So yeah, hiding is probably Techno’s best bet. Hiding and praying to whatever higher powers might exist that he doesn’t get found and eaten.

For a while, Techno thinks he might just be okay.

He sits up in a tall tree all morning and afternoon, gripping the knife in one hand and picking at his tunic with the other. He’s got to be careful of his clothes if he wants them to last until he can get new ones… which he has no idea how he’s going to do, but oh well.

The sun’s going down when Techno hears footsteps, and holds his breath.

Crap. Shit. It’s the ‘wolf.

“Come on out, little boy,” he croons, a menacing note to his tone. “Where are you hiding?”

Techno doesn’t scare easily, but he is scared now, clinging to the tree with all his strength. Praying to all the gods above and below that he goes unnoticed-

“There you are,” the ‘wolf snarls, and Techno screams.

Just briefly, as he loses his grip and falls to the ground. He gets his feet back under him quickly enough, knife out and ready to swing at the ‘wolf- it’s looming over him, fur bristling, saliva dripping from its mouth and a terrifying light in its eyes.

Holy fucking shit it’s big.

It lunges, and Techno holds the knife in front of him with as much courage as he can muster-

The ‘wolf staggers back with a pained howl. Techno’s knife is sticking out of its chest, and there- there is a lot of blood.

Techno’s heart is racing, and he backs against the tree- maybe he can climb back up, maybe he can-

The ‘wolf lunges again, and its teeth graze his shoulder, slicing through his shirt and into his skin. Deep in, and Techno yells, kicking out with one foot and managing to hit the knife. The ‘wolf lurches back with another pained sound.

They stare at each other for a minute, and Techno keeps his hand clamped over the wound on his shoulder. It’s not that bad, it’s not as if the ‘wolf took a chunk out of him, just got its teeth in really.

The ‘wolf makes as if to rush him again, and Techno braces.

And then he hears a different sound, the twang of a bowstring and the thud of an arrow.

The werewolf goes down, an arrow through its eye. Techno stares, hardly able to believe what he’s seeing.

Then there are hands on his arms, turning him to face-

Oh, that’s the man from before. Phil.

“Are you okay, mate?” Phil’s gaze is searching his face, his own expression concerned.

Techno nods, a maybe slightly hysterical sob bubbling up in his throat. He nods again.

“Thank the gods,” Phil breathes. Then his tone shifts. “You’re bleeding.”

Techno looks at his hand covering his shoulder. Automatically he says, “It’s just a cut.”

It’s not, but he knows from firsthand experience that admitting to weakness is as good as asking for trouble.

“It’s hardly the worst I’ve had,” he lies, the shakiness in his voice is probably from leftover adrenaline anyway.

“Okay,” Phil says. “Why don’t you come back to my house anyway, and I’ll take a look? Just to make sure.”

Techno considers that for a few seconds.

On the one hand, there goes his freedom.

On the other, he’s hungry. And bleeding.

“Okay,” he says, because there really isn’t anything else to say.

It’s not till a few minutes later, a fair distance away, that he really registers the two other children running along ahead of them. One looks about his age, and the other one is a lot smaller.

“You- you have kids?”

“No,” Phil says after a second. “Or maybe yes. I’m not a hundred percent sure yet.”

That’s a funny thing to say. Techno giggles a little, high-pitched and shaky.

“All right?” Phil asks, sounding concerned.

Techno nods. “Just- I feel all shaky.”

“Adrenaline will do that to ya.” Phil’s hand settles warm and steady on his uninjured shoulder. “Let’s get you home, mate.”

Chapter Text

Phil is decidedly worried about Techno.

So much so that it’s not till Phil is ushering the kids through the door of his house that he remembers why he was in the wood in the first place, and his heart twists.

Kristin.

It’s the last night. He has only the lyre and the cape and they both belong to children, and he can’t take things from kids. Not even for her, and it feels like a kind of terrible betrayal.

Phil ignores the grief in his chest and closes the door behind him, gently nudges Techno over towards the kitchen.

“Let me take a look at that cut,” he says gently, while Wilbur and Tommy start doing something… rather noisy, over in the next room.

Techno keeps his hand clamped over his shoulder, scowling. “It’s fine.”

Phil sighs. He doesn’t think he’s going to win this one. “I just want to clean it up, mate-”

“I can do it myself.” The teen lifts his chin defiantly.

Well, as long as it gets done… “Okay.” Phil grabs a rag and a roll of bandages, gestures to the sink. “Wash it out and bandage it, alright? I’ll give you some privacy.”

Techno looks startled, and then confused, and Phil gives him a reassuring smile, backing out of the room. He doesn’t know what Techno’s been through, but he can guess that it hasn’t been good, if he’s hesitant to let someone else take care of his injuries.

For now, Phil will give him space. They can work on trust later.

He goes back into the living room, where Wilbur’s entertaining Tommy, doing something with the toy cow and some sticks. Phil is honestly surprised that the older boy had stayed with them all day, even when they were near enough the city that he could’ve gone to the final night of the Festival.

But there it is: Wilbur stayed. Wilbur is still here, laughing as Tommy clambers all over him with no regard to personal space.

And for a second, Phil allows himself to imagine this as a new normal. Him, with kids, and he’s surprised that he thinks it could work. He could be happy like this.

The moment’s broken when Techno comes in, cape clutched around his shoulders and still wearing what seems to be a perpetual scowl.

“What do I owe you?” he demands, voice scratchy.

“Nothing.” Phil sits on the arm of the couch, ignoring the bad example he’s setting for the boys (they might not even be around here all that much longer, it’s their choice).

Techno glares. “I’m not stupid. Nothing in life comes free.”

Your cape, Phil could say, but he won’t. It’s not going to do him any good, anyway, without the other three things, and he’s not going to try to trick the kid into giving him something.

“Stay,” he says instead. “At least until morning.”

“What’ll I owe you for that?”

“Nothing,” Phil repeats. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, out of the cold. Out of the woods.”

“I slept in the woods all night before last!” Wilbur chirps. “At the wishing tree. It was my mum’s special spot.”

“Oh?” Phil thinks back, trying to remember if he’s ever heard of a wishing tree. Certainly not near this village… maybe in his younger days, maybe something to do with a fae?

Ah, well, that’s a problem for another day.

Techno’s still glaring at him, a deep scowl on his face. “Nothing is ever free,” he repeats.

Phil wishes there were something he could say to persuade the obviously traumatized, frightened teen that there’s nothing to worry about. That he is safe here, no matter what.

“Stay the night,” Phil says. “If you insist, then you can do some chores or something in the morning.”

He’s not going to make Techno do chores- he’ll probably try to stop him if he tries, actually- but it makes the kid less tense, so it’s worth it.

“Fine,” Techno spits after a minute, but without much actual heat. He backs into the corner, arms folded tight over his chest.

“How about some dinner?” Phil asks after a second.

“I’m hungry!” Tommy yells, scrambling over to grab Phil’s leg. “I wanna eat!”

“Okay, then, we’ll eat.” Phil scoops him up with a smile, rubbing Tommy’s back.

Phil puts some more effort into dinner tonight- he can afford to, it’s the last night and he’s got no hope left for finding everything, he might as well give the boys a good meal.

Altogether, by the time they finish eating and Phil gets the dishes cleaned and put away, it’s nearing midnight.

Wilbur’s outside already, sitting in the garden, playing his lyre. Singing quietly under his breath to Tommy, who’s quiet, leaning against his knee. Techno sits on the step, his expression softer now.

Phil stands in the blue-cast moonlight, his own mood mellowing with the sound of Wilbur’s voice. It takes him a minute to recognize the feeling, to identify the fae magic the boy is unwittingly using. Though at a guess, he’s only half- not nearly strong enough to actually entrance a person.

The new knowledge only serves to convince Phil that he wants to keep him close and safe and protected, for as long as he can.

For a while Phil just stands there, in the moonlight, listening to Wilbur sing. Watching over the boys.

And then a light flashes, and the Witch is standing just past his garden fence.

Her veil is pinned up, exposing the lower part of her face. She smiles as Phil starts towards her, as the boys go silent.

“I see you’ve found the things you needed,” she says.

Phil pauses, taken aback. “What?”

“The cow as white as milk, the cape as red as blood, the hair as yellow as corn, the lyre as pure as gold.” She gestures. “It’s midnight.”

Phil glances over his shoulder to see Wilbur coming over, holding up his lyre.

“It’s okay,” the boy says. “You- you can take it.”

Phil shakes his head. Not even for Kristin, he can’t. “That’s yours,” he says softly. “I’m not taking it from you.”

“But you said you needed it- you need it to bring your wife back,” Wilbur says, looking conflicted.

Techno clutches at his cape, staring at Phil with a strange expression. “You- is that all you wanted me here for?” he asks hoarsely.

“No.” Phil turns fully to face him, kneeling. He softens his tone. “No, Techno, not at all. I was never even going to ask, I swear it.”

“Take it,” Techno snaps, pulling his cape off and trying to shove it into Phil’s hands. “Why not?” Everyone else takes what they want, his tone says.

Phil takes the cape, but only to loop it back around Techno’s shoulders, settling the red cloth carefully on his shoulders. He tips the teen’s chin up, gazing into dark, scared eyes. “No,” he says softly.

“This is your one chance,” Wilbur says, and when Phil turns, there are tears on his face. “To get your wife back, isn’t that what you want?”

Phil looks around, gazing at the three children- at Techno clutching his blood red cape with wide eyes, at Wilbur and his golden lyre that he’s trying to push into Phil’s hand, at Tommy hugging his white cow plush.

Reaches up and touches his own hair, the color of new corn.

The Witch’s demeanor softens.

“It was never about her,” Phil realizes. He turns to look up at the Witch. “Was it?”

She smiles- warm, and soft, and strangely loving. She shakes her head, bending to tuck his hair back off his face in an almost tender gesture.

And oh, Phil’s heart aches as he lets go of his last fragile stubborn hope of getting Kristin back. She’s been gone a long, long time; and somewhere deep inside, he knows he always knew it was not meant to be.

Phil tucks Tommy into his arms, under his chin. Carefully draws in Techno and Wilbur too, holding them all three safe and close.

They’re just children. Hurting, frightened, lonely children.

“It was about you,” he whispers. Cupping Techno’s face and smiling at him, pressing a loving kiss to Tommy’s head, gently brushing away Wilbur’s tears. “It was always about you.”

(The Witch smiles, and leaves them, satisfied in her plans fulfilled.)

Wilbur smiles, shaky and uncertain, leaning into Phil’s arm. Tommy, bless his little heart, is falling asleep right here on Phil’s chest- it’s well past his bedtime, and Phil will have to set a bedtime for them, won’t he. There’s so much to do-

Techno stares at him with something like fear in his eyes.

Phil carefully passes Tommy into Wilbur’s open arms. “Will you put him to bed?” Phil murmurs.

Wilbur hoists Tommy up with some small difficulty, and the five-year-old doesn’t so much as stir. “’s he my brother now?”

He looks so hopeful, and Phil nods, heart warming at the thought. Gods, he’s going to give these boys the world. “Yeah, mate,” he says softly. “You can be brothers.”

Wilbur smiles brightly, and carries Tommy inside. Phil gives Techno his full attention, holding the teen’s wrists in a loose, careful grip.

“What’s the matter?” Phil murmurs.

Techno takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes. “I can’t stay,” he breathes.

“Why not?” Phil keeps his tone careful and gentle.

“I can’t,” he whispers brokenly. “Please, I- I can’t bear it if this isn’t real.”

Phil’s heart aches. “Oh, mate,” he murmurs. “You’ve been on your own for a long time, haven’t you?”

Techno’s breath hitches, and he looks ready to crumple. He gives a tiny nod.

“You don’t have to be alone any more.” Phil cups his face with one hand, brushing his thumb carefully over a scar on the teen’s cheekbone. “Never again.”

Techno stares for another minute, finally collapsing into Phil’s arms. Phil rocks him gently, running his fingers through the teen’s straight, scraggly pink hair.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re home now, Techno. You’re safe.”

After a while the teen shifts, sniffling. “I lied,” he whispers. “’s not just a scratch. The wolf bit me.”

What?!

Chapter Text

Techno doesn’t know why Phil looks so worried.

“It wasn’t all that bad,” he says while the man practically carries him inside to sit on the kitchen table. “It stopped bleeding before we got here.”

Phil glances up when Wilbur appears in the doorway, frowning. “’s something wrong?” the younger boy asks, a yawn interrupting him.

Phil looks between them. Techno just stares at Phil.

His head feels funny.

“Wil, I need you to trust me,” Phil says, hurrying over to place his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders. “Can you do that? Please?”

“’f course.” Wilbur rubs his eyes, standing straighter.

“Stay in the bedroom with Tommy.” Phil squeezes his shoulders. “Close the door and don’t open it until I say so, no matter what you hear, all right?”

Wilbur looks scared… that’s not good, Techno thinks. He’s having trouble thinking very clearly right now. He feels too hot and too cold and all of him aches.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Phil’s saying, turning Wilbur around and ushering him back into the other room. “I promise, mate, it’s all going to be okay.”

Techno’s shoulder hurts. He tries to reach up and hold it but his hand doesn’t want to cooperate.

Then Phil’s standing in front of him again, still looking worried. He holds Techno’s face in both hands- it’s nice, his hands are cool against Techno’s burning skin.

“I need you to trust me,” Phil’s saying again, speaking urgently, quietly. “Okay, Techno? I know you don’t know me very well yet, but I promise you that you’re going to be okay.”

His voice shakes a little bit, and Techno is starting to feel scared. His shoulder is throbbing, all the way down through his body.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” he asks, meaning his voice to come out stronger than it does.

Phil’s gently putting Techno’s cape aside, pulling down his shirt. Unwrapping the messy bandages Techno tried to put on around the wound in his shoulder. Phil’s hands are shaking slightly. “How much do you know about werewolves?”

“I- dunno?” Techno frowns, thinking hard. “Head’s all fuzzy.”

Phil cups Techno’s face with one hand. “Werewolf bites- they change people,” he says, voice still shaking.

And- and Techno realizes what that means, and he’s suddenly terrified.

“No,” he whimpers. “No, please, I don’t want-” I don’t want to be a monster.

“You’re still going to be you,” Phil says, urgent but steadier now. “Techno, I swear on my life, you are going to be okay.”

Techno can’t stop shaking. Phil picks him up, holding him so carefully, like he deserves it, like Techno is worth gentleness. It’s so nice and Techno is so scared and he hurts so much that he can’t help putting his face down on Phil’s shoulder and starting to cry.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmurs. “It’s okay, Techno. You’re gonna be okay.”

He sways gently as he walks, in a rhythm that Techno finds oddly soothing. He still can’t get his arms to work, or he would reach up and wrap them around Phil’s neck.

Phil puts him down on the couch and moves away, and Techno whimpers, begging wordlessly for Phil to come back.

“It’s okay,” Phil says again, he keeps saying that. He walks away, getting blankets out of a big wooden chest in the corner of the room and arranging them in a pile on the floor. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

~~~

Phil isn’t sure if he’s reassuring Techno, or himself.

He settles the teen on the blankets on the floor, gently throwing one over his shaking body. Lingers there a minute, gently brushing Techno’s hair back.

While Phil doesn’t have any firsthand experience with werewolves, he’s read books by people who have. What he knows about the turning process is that it’s long and painful- and that it doesn’t always work.

Techno might die tonight. Phil doesn’t want to imagine it, and he certainly isn’t going to tell Techno that it’s a possibility, but he can’t help being worried. And scared.

They’ve all had a long day, but Phil’s finding that he’s not tired anymore. He leaves Techno in his blanket nest in front of the fire, and goes into the kitchen to fill a bowl with cool water and get a bunch of clean rags.

He reenters the living room to the sound of pained whines, choking sobs. A violently trembling teenager curled up in a knot in the blankets.

“Easy,” Phil says as he hurries over and drops to his knees beside Techno. “Shh, shh, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Ph’l,” Techno whimpers, one hand flailing at him. “Hurts.”

“I know,” Phil says, taking his hand and only wincing slightly at the strength of Techno’s grip. “I know, mate. Just hold on, you’re gonna be okay.”

Phil sits there for the rest of the night, trying to keep Techno comfortable as the boy writhes and whines in pain. He doesn’t scream, and Phil wonders just how much willpower Techno has, to be so quiet despite it all.

The first light of dawn is coming through the window when Techno goes tense, a long drawn-out whimper escaping his throat. Phil hears the first crack of bone, and then Techno’s rolling over, bracing himself on his elbows with a choked, agonized wail.

“Breathe, Techno, breathe,” Phil says, like a prayer, like a plea. “Don’t fight it, I know it hurts. I know. Just let it happen.”

Phil can hardly breathe himself, the kid- his kid, now- is screaming as his body reshapes itself, bones snapping and clothes tearing and fur growing in to cover his skin.

“You’re okay,” Phil keeps saying, not knowing if Techno can hear him through the agony of the shift. “Don’t fight it, Tech, you’re gonna be okay.”

It feels like the shift takes far, far too long; but finally it’s over and there’s a gangly werewolf pup lying in the blankets, panting heavily.

He made it.

Phil gently lifts Techno’s head into his lap, smoothing russet fur. Hazy dark-red eyes blink at him, closing in what Phil can only assume is exhaustion as Techno goes limp.

“There you go,” Phil says, relief bleeding through his tone. “You’re okay, mate, you did it.”

A tail thumps twice, Techno hooks his front paw over Phil’s ankle. Other than that he is still, just panting for breath.

“You did so well,” Phil says, not even attempting to keep the pride and love out of his voice. “Oh, you were so brave, Tech.” He keeps stroking Techno’s head, rubbing gently behind his ears.

Techno whines in the back of his throat, eyes closed.

“Are you tired?”

Another whine, a weak movement of his head that might be a nod.

Phil settles him carefully in the blankets, draping a thick comforter over the ‘wolf. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

Techno thumps his tail again and lays there, stretched out on his side, breathing evening out. Phil heaves himself up, knees creaking and back popping as he stretches.

He pauses in the kitchen to splash water in his face. Gods, he’s exhausted, and he can only assume he’s going to get even more tired as the day goes on.

Well. He’s heard that comes with having kids. Though Phil seriously doubts very many people have had to stay up all night with a child going through a werewolf turning.

He hears muffled crying and realizes- oh, gods, he forgot about Wilbur and Tommy-

Phil hurries over to the door, achy joints forgotten. “Wilbur,” he calls, flattening his palm against the door. “Are you awake?”

After a minute, the door swings open a crack. “Phil?” Wilbur sniffles.

He kneels, trying to smile reassuringly. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“I heard screaming.” Wilbur’s clinging to the door, teary-eyed. “’s Techno okay?”

“He is now.” Phil reaches through the small opening, cupping Wilbur’s face and brushing tears away. “Did you and Tommy sleep okay?”

Wilbur nods. “Tommy’s still sleeping. I covered his ears.”

“Good. You did so good, Wil.”

Wilbur opens the door farther, coming out and falling into Phil’s arms. “I was scared,” he whimpers.

“Oh, baby. I know.” Phil rocks him gently from side to side, tucking Wilbur’s head against his shoulder. “It’s over now, everything’s okay.”

“’s Techno gonna live with us too?” Wilbur asks after a minute.

Phil had been going to let that be Techno’s choice, but now- now that he’s spent the whole night nursing the teen through a painful and dangerous transition, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to let Techno go.

“Probably.” Phil kisses the top of Wilbur’s head. “Are you hungry? We can get some breakfast.”

Wilbur hums, cuddling into his arms. “M’kay.”

Phil stands up, keeping his arm wrapped around Wilbur’s shoulders. “Techno had a long night, so we need to be quiet and let him sleep, okay?”

“’kay.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur helps him make scrambled eggs for breakfast, and Phil makes a mental note to visit the butcher’s soon. He’s pretty sure he read that somewhere, that werewolves need to eat more meat than humans do.

Tommy’s up and bouncing by the time they finish making the eggs. Phil manages to distract him with breakfast for a while, but all too soon Tommy’s bouncing his way right into the living room.

Phil hears the five-year-old suck all his breath in in one big gasp, before whipping around to stare at Phil. “Papa, there’s a dog in there!” he announces, eyes wide.

Phil has to sit down for a few seconds. Tommy called him Papa, and Phil- Phil doesn’t know how to handle that, emotionally.

Tommy’s tugging at his shirt now, and Phil shakes himself out of his stupor and squeezes the boy’s hands. “That’s not a dog, Toms,” he says gently, “that’s Techno.”

Tommy’s eyes go impossibly bigger. “Techno can turn into a dog?” he says, hushed.

“Not exactly,” Phil says as Wilbur goes to look into the living room. “Wil, come here for a minute, please?”

Wilbur hesitates a few seconds, then comes back across and lets Phil pull him in with one arm.

“Techno got hurt,” Phil says gently. “A werewolf bit him, and-”

“Wait,” Wilbur says, sounding a little panicked. “Wait, does- does that mean Techno’s a werewolf now?”

Phil nods. “He’s not dangerous,” he says. “Some werewolves can be, but most of them aren’t. Techno won’t hurt you.”

“Can I play with him?” Tommy asks, bright-eyed and excited.

“Not right now.” Phil smooths his golden curls. “He needs to rest. We can ask him later if he wants to play, okay?”

Tommy pouts, but he doesn’t ask again. “C’n I get Henry and play outside instead?”

Phil glances at the window, it seems like a nice day. “Yes, but you need to stay in the front yard, okay? Inside the fence.”

“’kay!” Tommy wriggles out of Phil’s hold and runs back into the bedroom. Then out the front door, into the yard. Phil moves to the window, watching for a minute to make sure Tommy doesn’t leave the yard.

Then he turns his attention back to Wilbur, who looks a little pale, arms wrapped around his stomach. Phil moves to hug him, keeping his hold gentle.

“Is Techno okay?” Wilbur asks, gripping Phil’s shirt. “He- he’s who I heard screaming, right?”

“Yeah, mate, he’s okay.” Phil rubs his back gently. “The change hurts a lot, that’s why.”

“I’m not scared,” Wilbur says, voice muffled in Phil’s shoulder. “Is- is that weird?”

“No, it’s not. There’s nothing to be scared of,” Phil says. “He’s still Techno, even when he’s a wolf.”

Wilbur announces that he’s going to look after Tommy, and Phil gladly takes the chance to lie down on the couch and take a nap.

He’s a light sleeper, so he’s not surprised when he wakes up a few hours later to soft whimpering. Phil sits up, stretching his back, and slips off the couch to kneel beside Techno, who’s rolled over onto his stomach, still in wolf shape.

“Hey, mate.” Phil keeps his hands in his lap, even as much as he wants to reach out and rub Techno’s head. “Feeling better?”

Techno whines, paws scrabbling at the blankets. It takes a minute, but he gets his paws under him. Takes his first shaky steps as a wolf.

Phil doubts Techno will appreciate it, but he gives him a soft smile and says, “Hey, look at you. You’re doing so well, Tech.”

Techno glares, huffing through his nose. If he weren’t a wolf right now, Phil’s pretty sure he’d be spitting something about being independent.

But Phil can see the way his legs are shaking, like he’s about to fall over. “I bet you’re hungry,” he says gently. “How about some scrambled eggs, huh?”

Techno woofs, and immediately gives another glare.

“It’s okay,” Phil says. “I know you’re probably frustrated with all this, it’s a lot to adjust to.”

Techno follows him into the kitchen, slower, unsteady on his paws, but he’s walking. Phil counts that a win.

He fills a bowl with water, first, setting it on the floor. Techno sits down, giving him another long stare.

“I know, I’m sorry, but it’s the best I can do,” Phil says apologetically. “Just- try to bear with it for now, okay? We can talk about what to do differently once you change back.”

~~~

Techno spends the rest of the day and most of the night as a wolf.

It’s kind of humiliating, eating out of dishes on the floor, but he’s starving, so figures it’s better to suck it up and eat.

What’s worse is how Tommy wants to play with him like he’s a dog. And how he has the balance of a newborn deer. And how part of Techno’s brain thinks he should just curl up on Phil’s lap and cuddle.

He doesn’t, but he kind of really wants to.

Techno tolerates it all, even when Tommy starts tossing a stick like he expects Techno to run and get it. He doesn’t, even when the five-year-old starts crying to Phil. All the man says is, “He doesn’t have to play if he doesn’t want to, mate” and that’s that.

He wakes up near dawn the next day with a weird feeling in his stomach. At first he thinks he’s going to throw up, but then he feels bone crack- oh gods oh gods that hurts-

He’s not aware that he’s whining and yelping in pain until he hears Phil’s voice, steady and soft.

“-t’s it, you’re doing so well, Techno. I know it hurts, I know, you’re gonna be okay. Just let it happen.”

A whine turns into a groan as he finally becomes human again. It hurts, it hurts so much, and he chokes off a scream as his spine snaps back into place.

“-it, you did good, baby, you did so well,” Phil murmurs.

A blanket drapes over him, warm and soft. Techno’s arms give out, and he faceplants into the blankets under him, groaning. Phil sets a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently.

Techno whines, curling his hands under him. He aches all over, he’s so tired, but at least he’s human again.

Except, well, he isn’t going to stay like this, is he?

“I know, I know it hurts.” Phil keeps gently rubbing Techno’s shoulder. “Just breathe, Tech. You’re okay.”

He coughs, clearing his throat. When he speaks, his voice comes out raspy. “’m I g’nna change again?” he manages.

Phil’s hand freezes for a second. “Yes,” he says after a second. “I- I only know what I’ve read in books, but- yeah, werewolves always change on full moon nights. Other than that, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Techno sobs, glad that his face is hidden in the blankets. Phil must hear him anyway.

“Aw, mate,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I d-don’t wanna be like this,” he hiccups. “Phil, I do-on’t wanna be a monster.”

“You’re not,” Phil says quietly, fiercely. “Techno, you’re not a monster. You don’t have to be like the ‘wolf that bit you.”

Techno wants to trust Phil but he doesn’t know how. It’s been so long since he trusted anyone, since he was able to.

Maybe, it starts like this: groping weakly for Phil’s arm, holding on tight as the man gently wraps the blanket around him and lifts Techno to sit in his lap, head resting against his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, it starts with sitting in Phil’s arms, exhausted and aching and scared, and letting himself cry.

Chapter Text

The weather in this region of the forest is unpredictable.

Case in point: a storm is rolling in.

Phil enjoys storms, but it does mean that the boys can’t go outside to play, thanks to the pouring rain. Which means being cooped up inside all day with an energetic five-year-old and a newly oversensitive fourteen-year-old. All in all, a recipe for disaster.

“Look, Papa, look!” Tommy yells, bouncing into the kitchen with a handful of wood chips. “I’m gonna make a bed for Henry!”

Phil can’t help noticing Techno’s flinch at the volume. He ruffles Tommy’s hair, smiling. “I’m sure Henry will like that a lot,” Phil says quietly, hoping to get Tommy to lower his voice.

Tommy grins, bouncing a couple of times and spinning around before running back into the living room, yelling for Wilbur. Techno curls up tight in his chair, breathing heavily, clamping his hands over his ears.

Phil kneels in front of him. “Hey,” he murmurs, keeping his voice as low and gentle as possible. “You doing okay, mate?”

Techno shakes his head slightly without moving his hands. Phil winces sympathetically.

“How about we go in the bedroom where it’s a little quieter?”

A tiny shrug. Phil gently guides him up by the elbow and into the bedroom, where Tommy’s screeching is less audible. Techno relaxes a little, letting his hands drop to his sides.

“Better?” Phil asks.

Techno nods. “’m really tired,” he mumbles.

“I bet. You had a long night, huh?” Phil resists the urge to reach out and brush back the teen’s hair. “You can get some rest, if you want. I’ll make sure Wilbur and Tommy give you space.”

For a second Techno looks like he’s going to say no, but he yawns, nods slightly. “M’kay.”

He curls up on his side in the bed, and Phil tucks him up under a quilt. Techno’s asleep even before Phil finishes settling him.

He lingers in the room for a minute, smoothing Techno’s hair, briefly moving his shirt down to check the now-healed bite on his shoulder. The teen’s face twitches slightly, and he curls deeper into the blankets.

Phil can hear muffled crying through the walls, and he heaves a sigh, going out and closing the door behind him. In the living room, Tommy’s sitting in the middle of the floor, sobbing into his cow plushie. Wilbur glances up as Phil comes in, and he scoots back a little.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?”

He wails louder, holding up his arms. “I wa-ant my ma- mam-a!”

Phil’s heart sinks, but he hurries over and gathers Tommy up in his arms, bouncing the little boy gently. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Shh, it’s okay.”

“I wanna go-o see my mama,” Tommy sobs. “I wan- wanna go ho-ome-”

“I know, Toms. I know, I’m sorry.” Phil sits down, rocking Tommy in his lap. “She left, sweetheart. I’m sorry, she’s not coming back.”

“You’re lying!” Tommy hits Phil’s chest, his tiny fists probably won’t even leave bruises. “You’re lying, Mama w-wouldn’t leave me-e-”

But she did. The cow barn down the road is empty, the house is cold. Phil’s almost glad she walked away, because it means he doesn’t have to try to explain to Tommy that he just isn’t wanted.

“I’m so, so sorry, baby.” Phil keeps rocking, trying to soothe Tommy’s sobs. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna take care of you now.”

It takes quite a long time to get Tommy calmed back down.

And just when he finally is, thunder booms and Phil automatically prepares for a fresh round of tears. Except that Tommy doesn’t start crying again, he just jumps up with a little gasp.

No, it’s Wilbur who shrieks, scrambling to Phil’s side and clinging to his shirt with both hands. Phil wraps one arm around him as there’s another crash and Wilbur whimpers, barely audible.

“Listen, listen!” Tommy bounces up and down, his previous troubles apparently completely forgotten. “It’s the giants!”

Wilbur hides his face in Phil’s shoulder. “The giants?” Phil asks, a little amused by the five-year-old’s antics.

“The sky giants! They stomp around sometimes and go boom, boom, boom.” Tommy stomps, as if demonstrating.

It’s charming, and a little sad. Phil hopes that’s just something Tommy made up, not something he was told, but he doesn’t want to question it right now. He’s just gotten Tommy to settle down.

Wilbur lets out another whimper at the next crash of thunder, fingers digging into Phil’s side. Phil holds him a little tighter.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s just thunder, mate, you’re okay.”

There’s another, smaller crash from the bedroom, and after a few seconds Techno shoots across the room and slams into Phil’s other side.

“Aw, mate.” Phil wraps his arm around Techno’s head, trying to cover his ears.

He wouldn’t have expected it to be the older two huddling against him in the warm firelight, scared of the storm, but here they are. And there’s Tommy, shrieking with delight and clapping his hands every time thunder booms.

“Come play with me, Wilby!” Tommy bounces over to pull at Wilbur’s hand.

Wilbur yanks his hand away, twisting back into Phil’s side. “Not now,” he says, voice muffled in Phil’s shirt.

Tommy looks hurt for a few seconds, and then his eyes go wide. “Oh, are you scared of the giants?” He plops down in front of them. “I use’ta be scared, too. But I made up a bunch of stories about them ‘n’ now I’m not scared anymore!”

Phil knows that eventually he will have to explain the concept of lightning and thunder, but for today, what matters is keeping the boys calm and preventing another meltdown. “Why don’t you tell us a story about the giants?” he murmurs.

“They live in a big castle on top ‘f the clouds!” Tommy crawls into Phil’s lap, staring up at him with big blue eyes and a cherubic expression. “’n’ the lady giant is really nice, but the man one likes eating people’s bones. An’ they have a golden harp that sings songs all by itself, and a goose that lays golden eggs!”

“Wow,” Phil says softly, smiling a little. Oh, he’s going to have his hands full with this little one, and he genuinely cannot wait to see what Tommy can come up with.

He once again wonders how anyone, let alone Tommy’s mother, could have hurt him. Could have ever imagined hurting this bright, energetic boy.

Techno shudders violently at the next clap of thunder. Tommy twists, patting his arm lightly. “’re you scared, too?” he asks, so soft and gentle.

“’s so loud,” Techno whimpers. Phil can feel the hot damp patch on his shirt where Techno’s been crying, he has nothing but sympathy for the teen. His senses were amplified literally overnight, he must be in so much pain right now.

Phil gently turns Techno’s head, pressing one of the boy’s ears against his side and pressing his hand harder over the other. Techno relaxes slightly, so Phil hopes it’s helping. That’s all he can hope for, really.

Wilbur lifts his head slightly, reaches across Phil’s lap to hold Techno’s hand. Tommy wiggles under their arms so their joined hands rest on his back, so he can curl up against Phil’s chest.

And eventually, Phil will have to get up and make dinner, and he’s sure there will be tears and possibly tantrums to deal with when that happens, but for now-

For now he just sits in the warmth of the fire, with his sons in his arms, and the storm raging outside is powerless to touch them.

Chapter Text

A month goes by, very slowly.

Phil works out the sleeping arrangements- takes the doors off the closet and makes up a little pallet for Tommy in the space, and gives his big bed to Wilbur and Techno. His couch isn’t incredibly comfortable, but he can manage, until he finds the time- and some help- to add an extra room to the house.

Techno’s first full moon falls during the second week. Phil puts the younger two in the bedroom again and holds Techno while he cries and struggles his way through his second shift.

It doesn’t seem as painful this time, thank the gods, and when it’s over Techno goes into the bedroom and curls up with Wilbur in bed.

Tommy wakes up at night, sometimes, crying for his mother. Whenever it happens, Techno is the one to come and get Phil, to hover anxiously while the five-year-old sobs. It’s a softer side of him that he hides during the day.

Phil learns more about his new sons.

Techno comes from an orphanage, where he got passed around from one house to the next like an unwanted toy. He’s quiet, reserved, unless he’s sleepy-tired- when he likes to cuddle- or scared, when all barriers are down and he just clings to Phil like a lifeline.

Wilbur is sunlight, like the merry warmth of midsummer. He sings and his voice is enchanting, soft and sweet with traces of fae magic. He helps with the chores- not that Phil expects him to, but he tried once to stop him and didn’t have the heart to do it again.

Tommy- gods, Tommy, what a lively little thing he is. Having never met another five-year-old, Phil’s not sure what he would’ve expected, but gods does he have a lot of energy for someone so small. He’d run and play all day if Phil let him, and Phil doesn’t exactly know how to start schooling a kid this young, so he does let him.

It’s mid-autumn, and Phil has had his boys for just over four weeks, when Wilbur approaches, trembling, hands clasped in front of him.

“Can I… can I ask you something?” Wilbur asks, voice whisper soft.

“Of course, mate, anything.” Phil keeps washing dishes, figuring the best way to make him less nervous is to not focus on him too intently.

“Um. I, I wanted to ask if, if maybe we could-” Wilbur whines softly, curling his hands up to his chest.

“Hey.” Phil dries his hands, squatting to get down to Wilbur’s level. “It’s okay, mate,” he says softly. “You can ask me for anything.”

“I wanna go see my mum’s wishing tree.”

Ah. Phil hums, clasping his hands. “I don’t know where it is, but we can try.”

Wilbur still doesn’t look at him. “It’s my special place, I always find it when I look, and I just- I want to go see it-”

“I hear you, Wilbur. We’ll go look for it tomorrow or the next day, okay?”

It’s cool, but not cold, when they set out to look for Wilbur’s wishing tree.

In honesty, Phil doubts they’ll find it, but he can tell how much Wilbur wants this. So they’re at least going to try, even if it does mean walking through the woods all day, mostly carrying Tommy because he’s too small to walk far.

And yet, it’s early and they’ve been walking less than an hour when Wilbur gasps, takes off running.

He’s headed straight for a spot of wild beauty that doesn’t fit with the rest of the woods, a spot surrounded by a ring of blue-capped mushrooms.

Phil stops the other two boys before they can follow, heart thudding wildly. Wilbur crashes right past the boundary and turns around to look at them, frowning.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Tommy strains, trying to wriggle out of Phil’s grip, but Phil stops him quickly before he can cross the mushrooms. “We can’t,” he says softly. “It’s- Wil, this is a fairy ring.”

Wilbur pales. “Wait, but- but I though fairy rings were dangerous.”

“Not to fae. Your mum or dad must have been one.”

“…oh.” Wilbur bites his lip, rocking on his feet. “So- so do we have to go home now?”

Phil debates that for a minute.

On the one hand, he can’t really risk letting Tommy play around here. It seems the ring isn’t inhabited, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe for someone without fae blood. Which means he should take the boys home.

But on the other hand, this is Wilbur’s special place. This is a place that was special to his mother, too.

“I don’t know, Wil,” Phil says at last. “It’s not really safe for Tommy to play around here.”

“I can find the way home, please?”

Wilbur stares up at him with those big brown eyes and Phil can’t find it in himself to say no outright.

“We can stay for a little while, alright?” he offers, as a compromise.

Wilbur runs around in his fairy ring, and Phil corrals Tommy away from the edge, and Techno sits against a tree and reads his book. Wilbur tries to offer them some berries, which Phil gently turns down- fae food is fae food, regardless of who gives it.

Late that evening, when they’re home, Wilbur comes in and leans on the counter while Phil’s making dinner. Phil turns towards him slightly, wiping his hands.

“Yeah, mate?”

Wilbur ducks his head, wavering; then, just as Phil’s about to ask him what’s wrong, steps closer and hugs him tightly.

“Thank you,” Wilbur whispers. “Thank you for today.”

“Of course, Wil.” Phil hugs him, rubbing his back gently. “Anything you want, you can ask for.”

Chapter Text

The knock on the door comes early that morning, while the boys are still asleep.

Phil drags himself up off the couch, groaning as his back twinges. He’s really got to get started on that new room.

He takes a second to smooth his rumpled clothes before opening the door. “Sam,” he says, inclining his head politely. “You’re early.”

The carpenter shrugs. “You asked for a consultation. Thought I’d get-” He pauses, tilting his head. Maybe it’s Phil’s imagination, but is he… sniffing? Sam’s expression hardens. “You smell of ‘wolf pup and magic.”

Phil blinks, it’s a bit too early to deal with the realization that one of his neighbors is, evidently, not quite human. “…you can smell that?”

“I can. Phil, where did you get a werewolf pup?”

“That’s… a long story.”

“Never mind. How newly turned are they?” Sam must notice Phil’s confusion. “I’m a werewolf,” he says. “The smell of new pup is unmistakable.”

“He’s my son,” Phil says. Sam’s a good man, but Techno is Phil’s, and he’s not giving up his child.

“You’re protective of him. That’s good. I’m not going to try to take him from you.” Sam shifts, clasping his hands behind his back. “You asked me here to help. I can help him, too.”

Phil doesn’t know Sam well, but they’re neighbors and it’s a small village- everyone is at least acquainted with everyone else- and he certainly didn’t know the man was a werewolf.

But Phil doesn’t know if he’s doing what’s best for Techno, and he’d never forgive himself if he did something to hurt his son.

“Why don’t you come in,” he says, stepping aside.

Sam doesn’t budge. “You don’t have children.”

“Adopted.”

“One of them is fae.”

“And?” Phil lifts his chin slightly.

“Fae are not safe.”

“He’s only a half,” Phil says. “And he’s my son. If you’re going to threaten him, then you’re not welcome here.”

Sam raises his hands, taking a step back. “I wouldn’t threaten a child.”

“Sounded to me like you were.”

Sam has the decency to look apologetic. “You know as well as I do what fae are capable of.”

Phil does. He inclines his head. “Why don’t you come in, then?”

Sam talks to Techno a bit. Phil doesn’t listen, though he’d like to; and later, Sam talks to him, privately, about how to care for ‘wolf children. It’s mostly what he’d expected- plenty of meat in the diet, space to run and play when in shift, specific teas to help with the pain and things to avoid.

“What did you think about Sam?” Phil asks Techno later, sitting down on the big bed beside him.

The teen’s expression twists uncomfortably. “Dunno,” he mutters.

Phil hums, reaching out to lightly run his fingers through Techno’s hair. Techno doesn’t flinch from the touch, not anymore.

“He’s only trying to help you,” Phil says gently. “You know that, right?”

His face twists again. “I don’t like this,” he whimpers. “Being this. I don’t want to be.”

“I know, mate, I’m sorry. It’s… if I could change this, I would.” Phil smooths his hair again.

Techno glances away. “I know,” he mutters. “I… I guess Sam was okay. But he wants… he wants me to think about-”

He stops, swallowing harshly. Phil leans slightly closer, resting his hand on Techno’s arm.

“He wants me to shift,” Techno says at last, his face looks as though he’s bitten into something sour. “Like. Just- and I don’t want to.”

“Did he explain why?”

“He… he wants me to just. Accept that I’m like this now. And I don’t want- it hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Phil pulls him into a hug, he doesn’t miss the way Techno stiffens for a second before relaxing into the contact.

“Phil, I don’t wanna be a monster,” he whimpers.

“You’re not a monster, Tech.” Phil stares at the wall, trying to blink back the burn of tears. “Not all werewolves are- Sam isn’t, is he?”

“…Sam was nice,” Techno says grudgingly.

“I promise you, there are a lot more like him than the one that bit you. And you-” Phil twists to face him, cupping Techno’s face to make him look up. “You get to choose what kind of person you’re going to be,” he murmurs.

“I’m not a person anymore.”

It’s barely audible, hardly a whisper, and it shatters Phil’s fucking heart.

“You are,” he says. “You are, Techno. Werewolves are still people, just- just a little different.”

“Don’t wanna be different.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But you are. I can’t change that, as much as I wish I could.” Phil sighs softly. “You don’t have to be okay with all of this right away, Tech. Just- try to trust Sam, please? He only wants what’s best for you.”

Techno glances away. “I… I can try,” he whispers.

Phil kisses the top of his head. “I love you,” he murmurs, “I’ll still love you, no matter what.”

Chapter Text

There are bad people in the world, Philza.

Yes, even here. There could be bad people anywhere.

No, not everyone is. But you must always be careful.

Phil comes around slowly. He has a splitting headache, and this terrible sickening sense of something being wrong.

It takes him far, far too long to remember; and when his slow-working brain finally does put together the pieces, he can only roll onto his side and groan, rather than scream with anger and frustration and fear.

They took them. They came and they took his sons.

It was midday, and now it is dark outside. Phil leans heavily against the counter and presses a damp cloth to the throbbing bruise on his skull and stares out into the night.

They came, in the middle of the day, and they left with his boys.

Phil didn't even see their clothes or their faces. He has no way to track them, no way to-

A knock on the door startles him, but he is still too dazed to do much more than groan, letting his head pitch forwards.

Gods, why- who would take them? Techno and Wilbur and Tommy are just kids, they’re all so young, and he can’t- gods Phil can’t-

The door opens behind him, and Phil wonders if whoever took his sons has come back to kill him. He doesn’t think he could fight, not like this. Not with the headache that will not let up.

“Phil? Phil!”

He blinks, dazed, at someone- at Niki, he thinks?

The woman grabs his face, forcing him to look at her. “What happened?” she demands.

“Th- they took them.” Tears spill down his face. “My sons…”

“You’re hurt.” Niki tilts his head to the side. “Gods, what happened to you?”

They took his sons.

~~~

Wilbur and Tommy are crying.

Techno’s head hurts, but he tries to sit up straight and look for his brothers. His hands hurt too, his wrists and his face and-

Wait.

He shakes himself, realizing that he- he is not human right now, actually. He’s curled up, paws and tail and fur, and there is- there is a muzzle on him and he can’t open his mouth.

Techno curls up tighter, squeezing his eyes closed, maybe if he doesn’t open his eyes he’ll find it was all just a bad dream. Maybe he won’t be wherever-he-is with stuff on him that hurts and his brothers crying-

“The mutt’s awake,” says a mean voice, a kind of angry one.

Techno can’t help it, he blinks. There are bars around him and it’s dark outside the cage. He’s not cold, he doesn’t really get cold anymore, but he bets it’s cold outside cause there’s a big fire burning.

He’s- he’s in a cage.

So are Wilbur and Tommy, but it’s a different one. Bigger. They’re holding on to each other at least, even though they’re crying.

The cage Techno is in is really small. He probably couldn’t stand up if he tried, and he can’t try because there are chains on his legs.

He whimpers when one of the mean people kicks the cage, it’s loud and it makes the chains shift and hurt him more. The man laughs and does it again.

“Think it’s a baby?” one of the men asks.

Kicker- he’s tall and his jacket is really bright green- hums, kneeling and looking Techno in the eyes. Techno whimpers again, tucks his tail up against his belly.

“Not sure,” the man says after a second, “still, ‘wolf pelt is ‘wolf pelt. Who knows, maybe they’ll pay more for a softer fur.”

But- but Techno’s not a wolf he’s a person-

He tries to shift back but it hurts and he can’t. He feels like crying, like Wilbur and Tommy still are, but he can’t cause ‘wolves can’t, apparently.

The man laughs at him. “Aw, is the baby scared?”

He is. Techno is so, so scared, and he just wants his dad.

Chapter Text

Wilbur thinks they’ve been traveling for a long time. It’s hard to tell, because they keep the cage covered most of the time.

Not right now, though. Now, it’s dark out, and one of the men is shoving dry bread through the bars.

“Eat up,” he says, kicking the cage as he walks away.

Wilbur hugs Tommy closer. Tommy’s not crying so much anymore, but he still clings to Wilbur constantly. He’s scared- so is Wilbur, but Tommy must be so much more scared, cause he’s just little.

Wilbur breaks the loaf in two pieces and gives the bigger one to Tommy. He doesn’t need to eat as much- Tommy’s littler, and besides, Wilbur’s used to being hungry.

“Make sure you give the mutt its share,” a man in a green coat says.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding, right? We’re not wastin’ meat on that thing-”

“Meat’s good for the pelt. Makes it shiny. Nobody’s gonna pay for a mangy fur like that.”

Wilbur freezes.

No- they’re not gonna- they wouldn’t do that, surely? They’re talking about- about-

“Don’t see what use anybody’s got for a pelt that small. Even a full-grown ‘wolf’s pelt isn’t enough for a blanket.”

“Eh, some dumb noble will buy a ‘wolf-skin coat for their brat. Pelt’s big enough for that.”

Wilbur clenches his jaw to keep from puking. He’s scared. He’s so, so scared. They’re going to kill Techno when they get to the city, they’re going to kill him and take his fur and-

He- he has to at least try to be calm. For Tommy. Because it’s not going to help Tommy if Wilbur panics.

“Don’t see why we couldn’t go through the woods,” one of the other men says. “Be quicker, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, no. Couldn’t pay me enough to go in there,” says the man in the green jacket. “That place is haunted. To say nothing of the werewolf infestation.”

“So we could get more pelts outta this trip-”

“You ever tangled with a grown ‘wolf?”

The second man goes quiet. “No.”

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

Tommy pulls on Wilbur’s shirt, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Wilbur shakes his head slightly, putting his finger to his lips. They have to be quiet. The men don’t like it when they talk, and he doesn’t want them to hurt Tommy. Tommy’s just a baby, practically, he needs to be- he should be safe. He shouldn’t be out here, in a cage, hungry and scared.

Wilbur’s going to keep him safe. He has to try.

~~~

I can’t wait until we have children.

What? Why are you looking at me like that?

Don’t say things like that. Of course we will.

Phil’s head hurts.

He hears a voice, he thinks Niki’s, still, but he can’t make out the words.

His boys. Where are his boys, where did they take them, what are they doing to them-

The door opens and closes. Phil forces himself upright, out of bed. Stumbles, off-balance and dazed, through the house.

The wood, he needs to get into the wood- he doesn’t know why.

He thinks he hears people calling after him, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He needs to get to the wood, he needs to find them, his sons- they must be so, so scared.

Phil crashes into the shadowed coolness, and the shouting gradually dies away into the silence of the wood.

He needs to find his sons. He found them in the wood before. He can find them again.

Chapter Text

Tommy is asleep, curled up in Wilbur’s arms, when their cages are dragged into the King’s throne room.

Wilbur tries to meet Techno’s eyes, but his brother is curled up tight. He’s shaking. He looks scared- of course he’s scared, they’re going to kill him-

Wilbur isn’t scared anymore. Wilbur is just numb. This is probably going to be the last time he ever sees Techno, and Wilbur feels nothing.

“What’s this, then?”

The King is a tall man, taller than anyone Wilbur’s ever seen. He sounds bored.

“A werewolf pup, your Majesty.” Techno’s cage is dragged across the floor. Techno whines, paws scrabbling at the muzzle.

“Werewolf, hmm? And the other two?”

“Magic, maybe. Maybe not. We thought we’d bring ‘em along and leave it for your Majesty’s experts to determine.”

“Hm.” The King flicks his hand, and a man in red and black robes comes forward. “We shall see if you’ve earned your pay.”

The man in the robes goes to Techno’s cage first. Then he comes over to them, and Wilbur hugs Tommy as close as he can, trying to hide him. Or at least, protect him.

“Well?”

“Werewolf,” the man says, voice strangely flat. “The boy is something, too. The littlest one, human.”

“Hmm.” The King gestures again. “Take the pup to the kennels. Halo, take the boy, find out what he is. I don’t care what you do with the little one.”

Wilbur screams when they open the cage and pry Tommy out of his arms, when they drag him away. Tommy’s crying and calling for him. Techno is whining so loud it’s like a scream.

“Wilby!”

“Tommy- Tommy, Techno- STOP!” Wilbur screams, thrashing. “Let go of me, let me go, let us go home-”

The man in the dark robes puts something over Wilbur’s head, and suddenly he can’t hear anymore. Nothing except his own screaming.

They drag him away, and Wilbur fights as hard as he can, but he’s only thirteen. He’s not strong enough. He’s too weak to protect himself.

~~~

When Wilbur and Tommy disappear, Techno stops struggling.

There’s no point anymore. They’re going to kill him, and even if they didn’t, he’s not strong enough to save his brothers.

Techno wants to go home.

They lift the cage and carry it away, and Techno just lays there and doesn’t try to fight.

They take him to a place where there are a lot of dogs barking. Techno whines, trying to get his paws over his ears, why does it have to be so loud?

“Hey, Cass, got a new one for ya.”

A big man, with a bushy black beard, comes over, wiping blood off his hands with a rag. “’s a pup,” he says. “Th’fuck am I s’posed to do with that?”

“It’s a werewolf pup.”

Techno shudders at how the man’s gaze sharpens, the nasty look on his face. “You don’t say.”

Techno shudders again, curling up as tight as he can. The man comes right up to the cage, looking at him in a very ugly way.

“I am gonna have so much fun breaking you,” the man says, low and mean and- gleeful.

Techno just shuts his eyes and hopes it’ll be over soon.

~~~

Tommy’s scared. He wants Wilbur and Techno and his Papa. He wants to go home, he wants Henry and his bed and his blankets and all the yummy warm food Papa makes.

The person carrying him puts him down too hard, in a big dark room. Tommy scoots away, curling up tight-tight-tight, trying not to cry. He doesn’t want to cry. He’s a big boy, and big boys aren’t supposed to cry.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with another kid?” It’s a lady’s voice. She sounds mean.

“Dunno. ‘is Lordship don’t care what ‘appens to ‘im. Keep ‘im, toss ‘im out on the streets, I don’t give a fuck.”

The lady stands in front of Tommy, folding her arms. She looks mean, too. “I don’t need another goddamn kid. Fuckin’ brats.”

Tommy whimpers, trying to hide his face in his arms- like if he can’t see the scary people, they can’t see him. He’s not dumb, he knows it’s not like that.

“Put ‘im out on the streets then. See if anybody cares.”

They push him out into the cold. Tommy falls down, right in a puddle, and for what feels like forever he just sits there trying not to cry.

He wants to go home.

~~~

Phil falls.

There is nothing to catch him- he can’t even catch himself. He just falls, hitting the ground so hard the breath leaves his body.

He lays there for a long time, in the dark stillness of the wood. Sick and shaking, far too cold but far too tired to care. Wind moans in the branches; somewhere, a crow caws.

“Philza,” says a voice, a woman’s.

He tries to lift his head. The Witch is kneeling in front of him, veil pulled up slightly. Her mouth is twisted in worry.

“They took them,” he says, pitifully weak. “My boys. They took them.”

“You’re hurt.” The Witch cups his face, fingers skimming the place on his head where he was hit. “Who did this? Philza, who took them?”

“They’re gone,” he whimpers. “They t-took my sons. Please, I need to find them.”

“I know.” Her lips press together in a thin line. “How much will you risk to get them back?”

Phil answers without hesitation.

“Everything.”

The Witch smiles, small and cold. A pain starts in Phil’s back, in the area of his shoulder blades, and he writhes from the heat of it.

The last thing he’s aware of is blood streaming down his skin, and the croaking of countless crows.

Chapter Text

five

weeks

later

Phil woke fully for the first time yesterday.

He’s still unable to fully comprehend… any of this. That his boys are still missing. That five weeks have passed in a haze of confusion and pain, here in this little woodsy cottage.

The gigantic wings on his back, black-feathered and sleek.

“I have to go,” he repeats, for what feels like the tenth time in the last hour. “I need to get to my boys-”

“Yes, you do.” The Witch puts another bowl of stew in his hands. “You need to regain your strength first. Eat.”

Phil eats, because she’s right- he still feels so weak, so tired. He cannot search for his sons like this.

They’re missing, they’re gone, they could be dead-

“They’re alive.” The Witch’s voice startles him. He looks up, wondering if he said something aloud, if… if she just knows, somehow, what he’s thinking.

“Your sons,” she says, still very quiet and grave. “They’re alive.”

“Are-” Phil’s voice catches, and cracks. “Are they safe?” he whispers. He- he needs them to be safe, he needs to know he’s going to find them-

The Witch does not answer. Phil loses his breath.

“No.” His hands close tightly around the wooden bowl. “No, they- they have to be safe-”

“They will be. You’ll find them.” She’s staring at him, he thinks, though he can’t see her face through the veil still hanging from her hat. He can feel the intensity of her gaze on him. “You will find them.”

“But they’re not safe now.” A fierce anger and terror and love overtake him, the wings on his back flaring as if by instinct. “I need- I have to-”

“Wait.” The Witch holds up one hand, and Phil sinks back into the blankets, almost as if pressed down. “A little longer, Philza.”

He hasn’t questioned how she knows his name. Somehow he feels it’s unimportant. She is a Witch; she knows things, things she shouldn’t.

“You will find them,” she repeats. “They will be safe again. You need another day, that’s all. One more day, and then you’ll be ready.”

“If they’re hurt- or in danger-” Phil nearly sobs. “I don’t want them to be suffering.”

The Witch is silent. Phil does sob then, dropping the empty bowl to let his head fall into his hands.

His boys, gods his boys- they must be so scared without him, so hurt- what’s happening to them? Where are they?

“I need to get to them.”

“I know. You will.” The Witch places her hand on his arm, for just a second. “Tomorrow night. You’ll be ready then.”

At nightfall the next day, Phil spreads his new wings and he flies.

He didn’t see the Witch today. The murder of crows always hanging about the cottage were mostly absent, save for a few that pulled Phil’s hair or the sensitive new feathers to guide him to eat, to drink something from a glass bottle left beside his bed.

One flies ahead of him now, circling back for a few brief seconds every now and again as though to be sure he’s still following. He does follow it, if only because he has no idea where to go, how to find his sons, except by following a Witch’s crow that seems far more knowledgeable than it should.

It’s leading him towards the City.

They- the people who took his sons- they took them to the City, then, but why? Why would they want children-

And oh. Oh, no.

Phil’s heart seizes with sudden terror as he realizes- Wilbur’s fae blood and magic, Techno’s new-found ability to shift-

Sam had known. Sam never would have told, Phil knows, but if Sam knew then it’s possible that someone else, some traveler or passer-by, could also have recognized those scents, ‘wolf pup and magic, and decided-

Please, Phil begs, to gods he hardly believes in, please let them be alive. Please let them be safe.

He follows the crow to a dirty little alley in the poor district of the City, where the unwanted and the penniless and the struggling hopeless live. He follows the crow to a little lump of tattered blankets and filthy matted hair, and for a long few seconds he does not understand.

Then the bundle shifts, a small face- thin and dirty and wildly uncertain- appearing in the gap. And Phil knows that face, those eyes, that precious little life.

“Tommy,” he gasps, stumbling the last few steps to where his littlest, his baby, is starting to cry, holding his arms out in a plea to be held. Phil obliges instantly, gathering the tiny little thing up to his chest and holding him as close as he can, regardless of knobbly knees and sharp elbows and his baby’s ribcage. “Tommy, darling, I’m here, I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m here.”

Tommy wails, broken and raspy and so, so pain-filled. Phil collapses to the ground, clutching him close, his wings shifting to wrap around Tommy and blanket him in warmth. To shelter him, keep him safe, protect him.

For a long little while, Tommy just cries and cries and cries, tiny fists gripping Phil’s shirt with all his strength, and Phil just holds him. Even when his sobs die away into hiccuping little whimpers, Phil doesn’t let go of his son. Only holds him closer, shaking out a blanket from the satchel the Witch left him to wrap around himself, to make a sling Tommy can rest in, bundled against his chest.

“Pa-apa?” Tommy hiccups as Phil stands, supporting him with one arm. He looks down at those teary blue eyes, too large in Tommy’s thin face, and his heart just shatters all over again.

“I’m here,” Phil whispers, leaning his head down awkwardly to kiss Tommy’s forehead. “I’m here, little love.”

Tommy takes a big breath, and goes limp, curling up in the blanket. One hand still curled around Phil’s shirt. “I w’s scared,” he whispers.

“I know.” Phil tucks him up closer, so Tommy’s head can rest over his heart. “I’m here now. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to you baby.”

“Th- they hurt Techie,” he whimpers. “’n’ Wilby w’s scared too.”

“We’re going to find them,” Phil whispers. “We’re going to go find them, and then we’re all going to go home, and I’m never going to let anything bad happen to you ever again.”

As he walks, he pulls a small loaf of bread from the satchel, breaking it in half. “Small bites,” he says softly, putting the half of it in Tommy’s little hands. “Go slow, so you don’t get sick, sweetheart.”

Tommy hiccups, nodding. Phil rubs his back gently through the blanket, starting to follow the crow again.

~~~

Wilbur is so cold.

He’s learned that the bars of his cage are iron, and that even half-blooded fae are hurt by the metal, though not as much. The burns on his hands still hurt so badly.

He curls up on his side on the wooden bottom of the cage and wishes he could still cry. He can’t anymore. He’s too numb, too exhausted, too cold. The metal wrapped around his wrists keeps draining his magic away, stealing it, making him so, so cold.

He wants… he wants Phil. He wants his dad to hold him and make everything okay.

A bird, a crow he thinks, hops down onto the table beside him. He thinks it’s the same one that’s been appearing every day for… for a while, now. He doesn’t know how it gets in. There aren’t any windows down here, and the Sorcerer keeps the door shut and locked up tight when he’s not in the room.

Soon, soon, the bird croaks.

Wilbur thinks his magic, or maybe just him being part fae, must be the reason he can understand it. Like his mum could.

He just stares at the crow, eyes half-closed. He can’t find any strength to try to answer.

Dadza! the crow caws, as if trying to get his attention. Dadza’s coming!

Wilbur doesn’t know who that’s supposed to be.

He’s so, so cold.

The door locks clatter. Wilbur knows this means the Sorcerer is coming. He tries to react in some way… to react at all, but he can’t. He can’t move anymore. He can’t even feel scared.

The clanking sounds cease. The door creaks open, and Wilbur just waits. Waits for the searing touch of cold iron, the cuts and the burns and the bruises as the Sorcerer pulls him apart to see how a half-fae works.

Instead, he hears a gasp. A strange rustling sound, quick footsteps.

“Wil,” someone breathes. “Wilbur, baby-”

He forces his eyes open again- when did they close?- and blinks at- at-

“Oh my gods, baby, what did they do to you?” Phil’s hands curl around the bars. Phil is there, staring at him, he looks so- so upset, so hurt.

Wilbur lets his eyes slip shut again. He’s so tired.

“No, no no no, don’t close your eyes-” Phil’s voice pitches up, frantic. “Wilbur, open your eyes, look at me baby-”

Dutifully he forces his eyelids up. It’s so, so hard, they feel so heavy. His everything feels heavy.

Phil’s fumbling with the locks on Wilbur’s cage. The black feathers behind him shifting and rustling as he works.

Wait… why, why does Phil have feathers…?

Something snaps. Wilbur still can’t react, even as the cage squeals open. Even as hands lift and turn him, pulling him out, gathering him close to something solid and warm.

“Wil, I need you to stay awake for me,” Phil’s saying, carrying Wilbur across the room and setting him down on a wooden table. Wilbur slumps, unable to hold himself up, he’s so tired- “Stay awake, mate, keep lookin’ at me.”

Wilbur tries. It’s so, so, so hard to do, because he’s so very tired, but he keeps forcing his eyes back open after every long blink. Watching- and feeling- as Phil messes with the cuffs around his arms, trying to pull them open.

Finally he hears a horrible screeching, tearing sound, and then- and then-

Wilbur takes his first true deep breath in a long, long time. The feeling of exhaustion is immediately a little less, though he still wants to collapse and sleep for a month.

“There you go. Breathe, sweetheart, keep breathing.” Phil cups his face, lifting Wilbur’s head so Wilbur is looking right at him. “Gods, Wil, what did they do to you?” he breathes.

A little whimper crawls out of Wilbur’s throat. He hurts so bad, and he wants to sleep, and more than anything he just wants to go home. He tries to reach for Phil, fingers opening and closing weakly.

Phil takes his hand immediately, pulling him closer. The feathers shift again, wrapping around him a little bit, as Phil gathers him up into a hug.

Wilbur’s pressed against a knobbly lump he can’t identify, until it shifts and wiggles and Tommy’s head pops out of a blanket tied around Phil. Wilbur wants to reach for his little brother, but he’s too weak to move. He can only lay there, head resting on Phil’s shoulder, and look at Tommy as the dirty, too-thin little face scrunches up for an instant before Tommy just bursts into tears, reaching for him.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Phil sways gently, pressing Wilbur a little closer. “It’s okay, Tommy, Wilbur’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna go home soon.”

Where… where’s Techno? Shouldn’t they get Techno first?

“It’s gonna be okay,” Phil repeats, sinking to the floor. He sets Wilbur carefully in his lap, keeping Wilbur leaned against him. He’s wrapping another blanket around himself, tying it tightly before lifting Wilbur into it and adjusting the blanket some more.

Wilbur whines in discomfort, and Phil hushes him again, carefully maneuvering him and tightening the blanket until Wilbur’s laying against Phil’s back between his… wings? his head resting on Phil’s shoulder, legs hanging down by Phil’s sides. Tommy’s stopped crying, though he’s still hiccuping around his thumb in his mouth.

“Okay,” Phil breathes, standing up and checking the makeshift slings again. “Wil, you comfy?”

Wilbur doesn’t have the energy to lift his head, but he hums tiredly. He still hurts, a lot, but Phil’s here now. It’s so, so much better already.

“Okay,” Phil repeats. He squeezes Wilbur’s ankle gently, then leans down, kissing Tommy’s forehead. “Let’s go get your brother.”

~~~

Phil’s still following the crow, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

At least he has two of his sons now, at least two of them are- are- well, they’re not safe. He can’t say that, not yet. Not when Tommy is underfed and dirty and slightly feverish, not when he found Wilbur nearly unconscious in a fucking cage.

All he needs now is to get Techno in his arms, and they can go home. With all his boys back together in his sight, in his arms.

The crow leads him to the dog kennels.

Phil feels sick. He moves quickly to the cage the crow’s landed on, pressing Tommy as close as he can, and sinks to the ground.

The pup curled up in that cage looks skinny and scared, curled up to the bars, fur matted. There is no spark of recognition in those eyes, but Phil knows him.

“Hey, Techno,” he says softly, so softly. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m here now. Dad’s here. Let’s get you out of there, okay?”

Techno cringes away, pressing his whole body against the bars, whining high-pitched and scared. Phil’s heart aches, but he carries on, wrenching the door off the cage and reaching in for his child.

Techno whines again, mouth clamped tightly shut. He’s painfully still, and Phil wishes he didn’t have to do this, but he does.

“C’mere,” he says softly, holding out one hand to Techno. “It’s Dad, Techno. Come here, baby, I’m gonna take you home now.”

Techno doesn’t move. Techno doesn’t react at all as Phil gently pulls him out of the cage, gathers him up to his chest.

Techno doesn’t even make a sound, and Phil-

Gods, what did these people, these absolute bastards do to his sons?

“We’re going home,” he whispers. Tommy stirs at the words, snuggling closer and gripping Phil’s shirt with his free hand; Wilbur hums, weak and near-silent; Techno is utterly still in Phil’s arms, the only indication of life his rapid breaths. “I’m here now. Nothing bad is going to happen again, I swear it.”

He can’t use his new wings, not with his precious burdens, but Phil does not mind walking. He can endure anything, for his sons.

He turns and follows the crow, silent as the shadows.

Chapter Text

The crow leads him back to the Witch’s cottage.

Phil was always told to beware of magic. That nothing good could ever come of it. Magic, and those that use it, are dangerous after all.

But Tommy is starved and sick, Wilbur is so worn out that he hasn’t moved once since Phil picked him up, and Techno is shaking, still in wolf-shape in another sling Phil improvised.

His boys are suffering, and Phil has no place else to go.

The Witch isn’t there when Phil ducks into the dark interior of the cottage. He lets Techno down first, watching heartbroken as his son scrambles to hide under a chair, whimpering and shaking, ears pinned to his head.

“It’s okay,” Phil says softly, chest aching. “It’s okay, Techno. You’re safe now.”

No answer. Phil didn’t really expect one, though. Techno still hasn’t shifted back, and Phil hopes to be able to persuade him to soon, but for now it’s fine. If what he needs to feel safe is to hide, is to stay shifted, then Phil can wait.

Wilbur is next, the teen never stirring once as Phil lowers him to lie down on the lumpy couch. He’s also skinny and pale, and there are thick bands of ashy skin around his wrists where the cuffs were. Gods, what were they doing to him?

He takes a moment to just gaze at Wilbur, to smooth his matted curls. Until Tommy stirs, curling up tighter with a little whimper.

“Hey,” Phil whispers, bringing one arm up to cradle Tommy closer, pulling the blanket back with his other so he can see Tommy’s face. He looks like he’s about to burst into tears again, face screwed up and hands fisted in Phil’s shirt. “Hi, little love, you’re okay. Papa’s here.”

Tommy sniffles, pushing his face into Phil’s shirt. “’re we home?” he whimpers.

“No, baby, not yet.” Phil sways side to side, a little, trying to soothe him. “But we’re in a safe place now, we’re gonna stay here for a little while. Just until you and your brothers are feeling a little better, at least.”

“Oh.” Tommy lifts his head, blinking up at Phil. “Are Wil an’ Techie sick?”

“A little bit.” Phil feels Tommy’s forehead, wincing slightly at the heat radiating from him. “You’re sick too, Toms.”

“Am not,” Tommy protests, immediately sneezing and disproving his point.

“Yes, you are.” Phil laughs a little in spite of himself, shifting Tommy higher against his chest. “But you’re gonna be just fine, we’ll get you all cozy and taken care of.”

He’s uncertain how far they can impose on the Witch’s hospitality, but the crows led him back here after all. He can only take care of his sons, and hope she won’t be upset with him.

Wilbur is sleeping, and Techno’s still cowering under a chair, so Phil decides to handle Tommy first. He gives him the other half of the small loaf of bread, and a glass of water, and a quick wash, and tucks him into bed with a damp rag draped over his forehead. It takes a few minutes to get him settled, but Tommy is just too tired to stay awake very long.

Next, Wilbur. There’s nothing Phil can do for him besides putting him to bed beside Tommy, taking a moment to lightly wrap up his wrists.

Then, Techno.

“Hey, mate,” Phil says softly, crouching a few feet away from the chair Techno is still cowering under. “Techno, it’s me, it’s Phil. You recognize me?”

Techno whines, paws scrabbling on the wooden floor. Phil keeps his hands on his knees, doesn’t reach for him, as much as he wants to gather him up and hold him close.

“You’re safe,” Phil says, quiet and calm and achingly loving. “Techno, you’re safe now, I promise.”

Another whine, shorter and softer. Maybe he’s imagining it, but Phil thinks that perhaps Techno’s ears prick up a bit.

“You’re safe,” Phil repeats. “Wilbur and Tommy are here, they’re safe too. You’re not going to be hurt anymore, Techno. I promise you that.”

He hesitates then, waiting while Techno scoots slightly closer, still whining almost under his breath, one tiny paw-step at a time.

“You can shift,” Phil says at last.

Techno goes so still, Phil’s not sure he’s breathing.

He nods, hoping his face doesn’t betray the pain he feels at how scared Techno looks. “You can shift back, sweetheart. I want to be able to help you feel better, and I can help better if you can tell me what’s wrong. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Techno retreats, whimpering. He looks so much smaller than he should, Phil can see his ribs even through his matted, mangy fur. He’s acting so scared, too, all curled into himself.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmurs. “You can shift, Techno. I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

Techno visibly hesitates. He gets his paws under him, crouching there wobbly and wavering.

Phil waits. Patient, unmoving, silent. He waits, and is finally rewarded with a soft, drawn-out whine, hesitant steps towards him.

Techno doesn’t get very close, but it’s enough. Enough for Phil to finally start believing that his son is still in there, that he hasn’t succumbed completely to the ‘wolf.

And then, at last, he hears the crack of bone.

Phil strips off his outer coat, throwing it over Techno as fur fades back into skin, as his body slowly turns back to human.

Techno is crying, when it’s over. Silently, gasping for breath, curled up tightly under Phil’s coat. He flinches with a sharper gasp when Phil touches him, but Phil doesn’t stop, gathering his son up and into his lap.

“It’s okay,” Phil whispers. “It’s just me, it’s Phil. I’ve got you, love. You’re safe now.”

Techno hiccups, curling up tighter. “P- p’ease,” he whimpers, nearly silent. “Don’ hur’ me-”

“Never. Never, darling.” Phil adjusts Techno’s position carefully, tilting the teen’s head up to rest against his shoulder, so his face is turned towards Phil’s. Techno’s expression goes from terrified to something more confused, almost awed. “Nobody’s going to hurt you,” he promises. “You’re safe. It’s over now, Techno, it’s all over.”

Techno lets out one little whimpering sob, thin fingers curling into Phil’s shirt. “’ad,” he whimpers, starting to cry again.

“I’m here.” Phil rocks him back and forth, starting to tear up himself. “Shh, shh shh shh, it’s okay. It’s over now, baby. I’m here.”

~~~

Techno doesn’t know how to stop being scared.

He feels right and wrong, at the same time. Because he’s human again, but also- well, he’s human again. He hasn’t been in… in a really long time.

He can’t stop flinching away from Phil, even though he knows- he knows Phil wouldn’t hurt him. Phil isn’t like him. Phil- Phil asked him to shift, Phil wanted him to. Techno’s being good.

He’s good, he behaves while Phil gives him a bath. Techno could do it himself, he thinks, but Phil hasn’t asked him to- Phil just put him in the warm water and started gently washing him. It feels good. Techno’s been so dirty and so uncomfortable for… for so long.

After Phil dries him off, he wraps Techno up in his coat again and carries him to sit on a big couch, more comfortable than anything Techno’s been able to sit on since- since-

He isn’t going to think about that.

Phil goes across the room, and Techno looks around. This- this isn’t Phil’s house, he realizes.

He feels like he might be going to panic about that, but then Phil comes back, and Techno relaxes a little. Until Phil puts a bowl of stew in his hands.

Techno stares at it. He… he isn’t allowed to eat this, is he? They said- and they made sure he knew. They made sure he behaved.

“Eat up,” Phil says. “You need to get your strength back, mate.”

And, well, Phil told him to, so… so Techno has to be good.

He eats. The stew tastes so good. He feels so bad about eating it.

He’s finishing the last spoonful when the door opens. Techno freezes, petrified with terror.

“I see Brian has been very helpful,” the woman says, sounding slightly amused.

“Brian?” Phil asks. His voice is tense, making Techno tense up.

The woman- dressed completely in black, and wearing a veil that covers her whole face- holds up one hand, and something appears from the shadows, landing on her hand. It’s- oh, it’s a bird, Techno can see that now.

“How are you feeling, Techno?” the woman asks.

He flinches, unconsciously pulling the bowl closer. He- he shouldn’t cling to things, he doesn’t want to get beaten again-

Phil wouldn’t, though. Techno- he knows he wouldn’t. Phil doesn’t hurt him.

The woman crouches, clasping her hands between her knees. The crow hops up on her shoulder, cawing loudly.

“I won’t hurt you,” the woman says softly.

Techno takes a shaky breath. Phil steps across beside him, placing his hand on Techno’s shoulder. It makes him relax, even though it scares him a little too.

“You’ve been through so much, little one.” The woman sounds sad. “You’re safe now. All of that is over.”

Chapter Text

Phil puts Techno to bed not long afterwards, because he seems stressed and tired and, maybe, a bit scared.

Wilbur is still sleeping. Tommy’s tangled into the blankets, like he’s been thrashing around, but Wilbur hasn’t stirred.

Phil lifts him carefully as Techno snuggles up to Tommy’s side. He gently tilts Wilbur’s head against his shoulder, listening carefully for his breathing. It’s shallow, quiet, but there.

He’s still nervous of the Witch, but Wilbur isn’t moving. Wilbur is barely breathing, his heartbeat sluggish and slow. Wilbur might be-

Phil’s not going to let him die.

He cradles Wilbur close and carries him into the living area. The Witch looks over, moving closer quickly.

“Let me see him,” she says.

Phil hesitates to hand him over, but the Witch doesn’t give him a choice. She takes Wilbur out of his arms, laying one hand over his heart for a moment and lifting one of his wrists.

“They’ve drained his magic,” she breathes. “He needs- where is his ring, Philza?”

He blinks. “What?”

“His fairy ring. Where is it?”

“I- I don’t know. He said he always finds it when he looks, it was near our house the last I saw it.”

“I see.” She moves quickly to the door, pulling part of her flowing robe to cover Wilbur. “I’ll find it.”

“Wait-” Phil hurries after her, not wanting to let Wilbur out of his sight. “Wait, you can’t take him-”

“If I don’t, he could die.”

Phil’s breath hitches. “Please-”

“I swear to you-” The Witch goes silent, looking away. “I swear,” she says softly, “on all the love in my heart, I will bring him back to you safely.”

Phil freezes. The words of his wedding vows, so long unheard, echo in his ears.

“Wait-” he gets out.

It’s too late. She’s already out the door, Wilbur still in her arms.

Phil stands there, frozen, staring after her. After the Witch, after-

Kristin.

~~~

Wilbur is cold, so cold.

He can’t open his eyes, but he hears a voice. It’s a nice voice, he thinks, warm and gentle.

“Hold on, little one. I’m taking you to your ring, but you need to hold on for me, just for a little while longer.”

He’s so sleepy. He wants to go back to sleep, why won’t she let him?

“Wilbur? Wilbur, darling, we need to find your fairy ring. You want to go to your ring, right?”

…his mum’s wishing tree? He… why would he… well, he always likes being at the wishing tree…

“There,” she breathes. “Oh, well done, darling. Here, here, you’ll feel better very soon.”

He hears… rushing water, he thinks. A bird singing. There’s a breeze blowing on his face as he’s set down on something soft and squishy.

Magic tingles, warm and welcoming. Wrapping around him, through him, curling right back into place like he never lost it. Wilbur gasps from the suddenness of it, mind spinning, unable to fully comprehend what’s happening.

When he doesn’t feel like he’s falling anymore, he blinks.

He’s laying in moonlight and moss, the branches of the willow waving in the soft breeze. He’s tired, still, but not so tired that he feels like he’s going to die because of it.

He sits up slowly, freezing when he sees a person sitting on a log by the brook, wearing a long black dress, and a wide-brimmed hat with a veil hiding her face. Wait, he remembers her… she’s the Witch, right?

“There you are,” she says, sounding like she’s smiling. “How are you feeling now, Wilbur?”

He doesn’t ask how she knows his name. “Better,” he rasps. “What happened?”

“The people who hurt you took your magic,” the Witch says softly. “I brought you back here, to your ring, to fix it.”

“Oh.” Wilbur yawns, leaning back on his hands a bit, feeling them sink into the moss. “M’mum’s wishing tree.”

“That’s lovely,” the Witch hums. She looks around- he thinks, anyway. “It’s a beautiful ring.”

“Thank you.” Wilbur yawns again, shaking his head to try to stay awake.

“Are you sleepy?” she asks, with a little bit of a laugh.

He nods. The Witch moves closer, gently scooping him up. She must be strong, he thinks a bit deliriously, she’s holding him in one arm.

“Where’re we goin’?” he murmurs as she steps out of the ring, wrapping a bit of her cloak around him to keep him warm.

“To my home,” she says softly. “You’re all staying with me for a little while, until you and your brothers are better.”

“…oh.” Wilbur fights his eyelids back open, he wants to look at the wood while she walks. “’kay.”

She looks at him- he thinks. He can’t tell, with the veil. “You should sleep, little one,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Don’ wanna.”

“You need to sleep so you get better.” The Witch shifts him a bit closer, covering his eyes with her other hand. “I’ll wake you when we get there so you can see Phil, alright?”

Oh. Well, he… he would like to see Phil…

He tries to keep his eyes open, but he can’t do it. He’s just so warm and so tired.

~~~

Phil paces.

He doesn’t- he doesn’t understand. Only Kristin would’ve said that, only she would’ve known to. Kristin is gone though, she died, he was with her when she died. She’s gone.

The Witch sounds like her. He hadn’t noticed before, but she- she sounds like Kristin. How, how can it be? He saw her die.

The door opens. Phil stands, needing to ask, needing to know-

“Later,” she says, before he can speak. “Wilbur,” she adds, a little louder but still quiet, “we’re here. Wake up and you can see your dad.”

Wilbur stirs. The Witch passes him into Phil’s arms without a word.

“Hi mate,” he says softly, smiling as Wilbur stirs, blinking up at him. His own worries temporarily forgotten in needing to take care of his son. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Better.” Wilbur cuddles closer, sighing contentedly. “Wan’ Techno.”

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

Phil carries him into the other room, tucking him up beside Techno. He checks Tommy’s temperature again- still high, but not concerningly so, he doesn’t think.

He spends a few minutes watching his sons sleep, all tucked up together. Techno is trembling, but he’s curled protectively around Tommy, and Wilbur is plastered to his back.

They’re all safe now.

Phil takes a deep breath, leans down to kiss each of their heads, and turns to go back into the main room.

Chapter Text

The Witch is standing in the kitchen, making something. Her back is to him.

Phil takes another deep breath, tears burning in his eyes. “Kristin.”

She goes completely still. After a second she turns, pushing thick dark curls over her shoulder with one hand in an achingly familiar gesture. “Philza.”

He can’t stop staring at her, unable to see her face through the veil. He doesn’t understand. “So it’s true.”

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t move. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Any of what?” Phil’s voice cracks. “Us?” Did I mean nothing to you?

“I didn’t-” She looks away. “I didn’t plan to fall in love with you,” she says softly. “If I had thought- I never wanted to hurt you.”

“What are you?” He tucks his hands under his elbows to hide how they’re shaking. “Are you even human?”

The Witch shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly.

“Are you fae?”

“No.” She takes a step closer. “I am… something quite different.”

“Explain.”

“The wood is me, and I am the Wood.” She gazes at him, he can feel her dark eyes on him through the veil. “Made of magic and moonlight and all the love this green earth has for the creatures that live on it. I made myself mortal out of a desire to see the world the way humans do. To experience the things they sang about when they passed through my borders.”

His heart feels so empty. “Did I mean anything to you?” he whispers.

“Phil, Phil.” She comes closer suddenly, reaching to cup his face in both hands. Phil can’t even flinch from the most familiar of touches. “I love you,” she whispers. “I have since the day I met you. Those years we spent together were the happiest of my life.”

“…but?”

“My mortal form could only be maintained for so long. I stayed with you- I pried every hour I could from the hands of Fate. But my Wood called me back, and I had no choice but to come.”

“And me, you couldn’t tell me?” he breathes. “You were my life-”

“I couldn’t. I knew- I knew it would only hurt you, knowing we couldn’t be together. And…” She looks down. “It would hurt me. I am infinite, I am without age or decay. I-”

He can’t help but reach up, wrapping his hands gently around her wrists.

“I couldn’t watch you die,” the Witch, his Witch, whispers. “I couldn’t bear that pain.”

Phil’s chest hitches with a sob. Kristin’s hands remain steady on his face, simply holding him as he tries so hard not to cry.

“I buried you,” he whispers. “I watched you die.”

“I know.” She sounds near tears, too. “I’m sorry. I never wanted that to happen, but I thought it would hurt you less than if I just vanished.”

“Because you loved me.”

“I still do.” Her voice is so, so soft. “I have loved you from the moment I met you. I’d never felt the way I did with you. So I- I was selfish,” she whispers. “I knew it would only hurt both of us in the end. But I stayed anyway.”

“And-” Phil’s voice catches. “The boys, were they-”

“We always spoke of having children.” Kristin runs gentle thumbs under his eyes, sweeping moisture away. “I knew we never could, I knew I only had so much time and it was too cruel to bring a child into the world, only to leave them a few short years later. But these three little boys- these lonely little wanderers in my wood, I knew you would love them. I knew you would take care of them.”

I would’ve rather had you, he almost says, but it’s a lie. He loves her, and he misses her so much, but he loves his sons just as much. He wouldn’t trade them for anything, even Kristin.

“What happens now?” he asks, heart aching and empty and yet so, so full. “With us.”

She hesitates. “Phil… there can’t be any us. I can’t- I can’t come back with you, and I can’t let you stay here.”

“Can’t?” He takes a step back. “Or won’t?”

“Can’t,” she says instantly. “I wish I could. I wish there was any kind of future for us. But I… I have responsibilities here, and- you’re mortal. You’re going to die some day, and I won’t. I can’t watch you die.”

“I already had to,” he snaps. Instantly regretting the sharp tone, they never raised their voices at each other.

Kristin doesn’t even react, just gazes at him with such an air of sorrow that it breaks Phil’s heart. “I know,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to do that to you. But I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” He wraps his arms tightly around himself.

“I can’t watch you die,” she whispers. “I’m not strong enough.”

Phil’s heart breaks. He loves her. He loves her so fucking much and he can’t bring himself to resent her for this.

“I understand,” he whispers, and takes another step away. “I… I can’t say it’s okay, but I understand.”

Kristin inclines her head, veil falling gracefully over her shoulders. He’s never known what it was like to know her and not love her, and even now- even as painful as all of this is, even as much as he wishes things could be different- he can’t help but love her still.

At last he shifts, looking back up at her. “If I can’t stay here, and you can’t come back, what happens with us?” Phil asks.

“I can let you forget this conversation.” She sounds so inexpressibly sad. “You can forget who I am, what I’ve done to you. I will be the Witch once more.”

He immediately shakes his head, he couldn’t bear that. Even as much as it hurts to know they’ll never be together again, he’ll know that she- that some part of her is still alive. That he didn’t lose Kristin completely.

“Then…” The Witch clasps her hands in front of her. He can feel her eyes on him again. “We won’t see each other again,” she says softly. “When you pass through the Wood, your paths will be smooth and your troubles light. I will watch over you and I will love you until the day you die. Your sons, and their sons, and all their bloodline will be protected as long as they live near my wood.”

Phil swallows, gazing at her. “But I’ll never see you again.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You can’t.”

He nods, a kind of resignation settling in his heart. He can’t accept it- not yet, but maybe someday, it will be okay.

For tonight, he lets the Witch- lets Kristin take his hand, squeezing gently, in silent love and sorrow. For tonight, he turns back into the bedroom, sinking down on the side of the bed to watch over his sons while they sleep.

And if she joins him later, well. Phil doesn’t mind this last little bit of closeness.

Chapter Text

Wilbur yawns, cuddling closer to the warmth in front of him. His nose is cold, it’s chilly outside the blankets.

Whoever he’s pressed against tenses, whining softly. Wilbur blinks, staring at… at smooth, soft pink hair.

“Techno?” he whispers.

Techno shudders violently, curling up tighter. Wilbur huddles against him.

“Techno, it’s me, it’s Wilbur,” he whispers. “You’re okay, we’re safe…”

Techno rolls over, blinking at him like he’s gonna cry. Wilbur hugs him, and after a second Techno hides his face in Wilbur’s shirt, hiccuping and sniffling.

“S- s- safe?” Techno hiccups.

“Yeah.” Wilbur doesn’t remember all of it, but he knows Phil came and got them. He knows they’re somewhere… not home, he thinks, but somewhere safe. “Dad came.”

“Ph- Phil’s here?” Techno is getting Wilbur’s shirt all wet, but he doesn’t really care. “I t-thought he- th’ City, weren’t we-”

“No, not anymore, Phil got us.” Wilbur hugs him even tighter. “Did… did they hurt you?”

Techno whimpers, nodding. “Wa- wan’ed a tame werewolf,” he whispers. “Di’ they do somethin’ t’you?”

“She- the nice lady- she said they took my magic.” Wilbur doesn’t remember a lot of it. He knows he was cold, and tired, and he hurt a lot. “I’m okay now, though.”

“Tommy- Tommy, is he-”

“I dunno.” Wilbur thinks he remembers seeing Tommy when Phil came and got them, but he doesn’t know where he is right now. “But- but Dad wouldn’t have left him, so he’s okay.”

“Oh.” Techno shivers. “Ye- yeah.”

“So we’re all okay.”

Techno takes a shaky breath, nodding. “Uh-huh.”

There’s a knock on the door. Techno flinches again, fingers digging into Wilbur’s sides.

“Hey,” Phil says softly, pushing the door open. “You boys up?”

“Yeah.” Wilbur doesn’t let go of Techno at all. “’s Tommy-”

“He’s okay.” Phil comes in and sits on the side of the bed, running his fingers through Wilbur’s hair. “His fever spiked last night, but K- the Witch gave him some medicine, and he’s feelin’ a lot better now.”

“Oh,” Wilbur says. “That’s good.”

Techno takes a deep breath, tilting his head back to look at Phil. “When’re we goin’ home?” he whispers.

“Soon.” Phil reaches over Wilbur to smooth down Techno’s hair, too. “Really soon, I promise.”

~~~

Techno still feels wrong.

He isn’t. He wanted to be human again, it was all he wanted. At least for the first few days, till it was easier to just… to just let the ‘wolf take over. And now being human feels… weird.

But they’re going home. Phil said they’re going home.

Techno hasn’t walked this much in a while. He was mostly in the cage, but they’d let him out sometimes for ‘training’. Which mostly just meant beatings, or whippings, or having the muzzle locked on him again-

Techno stumbles over something, mind yanked out of those memories. Wilbur grabs his hand, making a quiet sound.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

Techno shakes his head. “What- what did they do to you?” he whispers. “In- in there.”

Wilbur holds up his other hand, showing off a band of raw, reddened skin around his wrist. “The Witch lady said they took my magic.”

Techno shudders. “D- did it hurt?”

“Yeah.” Wilbur squeezes his hand. “I… they kept me in an iron cage. Every time I moved I-”

When he goes quiet, Techno swallows harshly, staring at the ground. At his feet crunching dead leaves, snapping sticks.

“Me, too,” he whispers. “Only I think it was silver. A-and they kept taking me out to hurt me.”

“Yeah.” Wilbur adjusts his grip to lace their fingers together, their hands swinging together between them. “Me, too.”

Techno glances at Phil, who’s walking a few paces ahead of them, talking quietly to the little bundle in his arms. Tommy’s still sick- that’s why Phil’s carrying him, and not letting him run around like they know Tommy wants to.

“What do you think happened to Tommy?” he whispers.

Wilbur swings their hands a little harder. Techno lets him, because it makes him feel a little better.

“I think Dad said he found him out on the streets,” Wilbur whispers, so quietly Techno can barely hear him. “I don’t know. He’s really sick.”

“He’s really thin, too.” Techno can’t stop thinking about how skinny Tommy was when he held him- how he could practically feel all his bones. “He- I think it was really, really bad.”

“All of it was bad.”

Techno nods. It was. The word doesn’t seem like nearly enough to describe all of it- it wasn’t just bad, it was horrible, it was- it was-

“And Dad, how- how does he have wings now?” Wilbur asks, with a breathless kind of chuckle.

Phil’s holding them up off the forest floor. The black feathers glisten in the little patches of light that strike down through the trees.

Techno shakes his head helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe the Witch did something?”

“Maybe.” Wilbur swings their hands again, knocking his knuckles into Techno’s thigh. “She took me to my ring last night. She said something about needing to fix my magic.”

“It worked, though, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Wilbur exhales, shaky and quiet. “I’m still really tired, though.”

Techno looks at him- really looks at him. He’s pale. There are dark bags under his eyes.

“Yeah,” Techno says, voice cracking with the effort to speak, “you look pretty horrible right now.”

“Hey!” Wilbur yanks on his hand, making Techno stumble. “That’s mean.”

“You’re mean.”

“So’s your face!”

“That doesn’t even make sense?”

Phil laughs quietly. Techno looks up to see him stopped on the path, looking back at them.

Wilbur runs up to him, pulling Techno with him. “Is Tommy okay?” he asks, hushed.

Phil nods, keeping his arm under the sling that Tommy’s in. “He’s asleep,” he says, just as quiet. “How about you boys, you doing okay? Need a break?”

Techno shakes his head instantly. He’s tired, but he doesn’t want to stop. He just wants to get home.

“No, I’m okay, I want to keep walking,” Wilbur says. “I wanna be home, Dad.”

Phil’s expression goes so, so soft. Techno looks away. It still- this doesn’t feel like it’s real. That Phil wants him. That Phil- wants to take care of him.

“Okay,” Phil says. “We’ll keep walking, just- just let me know if you get tired and want to stop, okay? We can take a break if you need it.”

Wilbur tugs on Techno’s hand, and he follows, legs aching. He’s so tired, but he just wants to be home.

Chapter Text

When they step out of the woods, there are people waiting.

Phil is suddenly, vividly aware of the wings on his back. Of his sons, skinny and scared and scarred and hurt, two clinging to his hand and one cradled against his chest.

“PHIL!” Niki is the first to run towards them, followed closely by Sam. “Phil,” she gasps, skidding to a halt, “where were you? We thought you were dead, what-”

“What happened?” Sam demands.

Techno and Wilbur shudder closer, colliding into Phil’s side. He squeezes those thin hands, adjusts his arm under the sling just to feel Tommy’s weight.

“A lot,” he says. “I need to get my boys home, they’re all very tired.”

Niki and Sam share a look, then Niki turns back to Phil.

“We’re coming with you,” she says, in a tone that brooks no argument.

So, Phil doesn’t argue. Phil cradles Tommy close, and holds on tight to Wilbur’s and Techno’s hands, and lets Niki and Sam trail behind him all the way to his home.

Someone’s clearly been in and cleaned up- the last Phil remembers (blurrily, because of the concussion) everything was in disarray, the few clay dishes he owned smashed across the floor and mud tracked all over his carpets. But now everything is set in order- to an extent, at least- and Phil actually relaxes, for the first time since…

He can’t remember how long it’s been. It’s seemed like an eternity.

“Wil, Tech,” he says gently, “why don’t you go wash up and put on your pajamas?”

“It’s not bedtime,” Wilbur says, but from the way his eyelids are drooping, it’s going to be very shortly.

“Yes, but you both look very tired, so I think it’s time for a nap.” He lets go of their hands, giving them both a gentle push towards the bathroom. “Go on, now. I’ll come tuck you in in a bit.”

As they disappear into the bathroom, Phil sets Tommy down on the couch. Carefully, delicately, like he’s made of glass.

Niki gasps. “Oh, Phil. What happened to him?”

“They threw him out on the streets- he was starving- he’s sick.” He smooths down Tommy’s curls when the little boy stirs, whimpering. “He had a fever last night but it’s down now- Niki, can you do anything?”

“I can try- you’ll have to tell us what the hell happened to them, though.” Niki’s gaze is steely. “To all of you.”

“I will. I will, just please, he’s sick.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Sam says, when Wilbur and Techno come out of the bathroom as Niki leaves. He jerks his head towards the bedroom door. “Go put your boys to bed.”

Phil goes in with them, helping Wilbur into pajamas when it becomes clear he’s just too tired. He might have to try to get Wilbur back to his ring again, just on the off chance it’s still a problem with his magic.

Wilbur and Techno curl up together in the bed, clinging to each other. Phil settles on the side of the bed, pulling a blanket up over them. Smoothing down dark curls and ragged pink hair, cupping their faces and leaning down to kiss their foreheads.

Techno grabs his arm as Phil starts to get up. “Wait,” he whimpers.

Phil sinks back down, smoothing Techno’s hair back again. “What is it, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Are- are we safe now?”

His poor, scared boy. Phil makes soft shushing sounds, smoothing his hair again and again. Wilbur’s already nearly asleep, he thinks, but Phil can still see a bit of those big brown eyes.

“You’re safe now,” Phil promises. “All of us are safe. Sam is right outside, he won’t let anybody get in to hurt you.”

Techno nods. He still looks scared, but he nods, and huddles down into Wilbur’s side, and shuts his eyes.

Phil lingers a minute longer before going out, closing the door softly. Niki’s already back, kneeling beside the couch with a hand on Tommy’s forehead.

Sam sits up straighter when Phil comes in. “Talk,” he says, staring Phil down.

Phil tells them everything. Or, well, almost everything. He doesn’t tell them about Kristin. He doesn’t breathe a word of the things she told him, the promises she made, the secrets she shared.

When he finishes, they sit there in silence. Phil runs his fingers through Tommy’s curls over and over again, the motion more soothing to him than to his still-sleeping son.

Niki finally breaks the silence. “The Witch helped you, you say?”

Phil nods.

“I wonder if that’s what the new trees are about.”

“New trees?” Phil frowns.

“You didn’t see on your way in?” Sam gestures. “They appeared this morning, and they’re growing. All around the village. As if the Wood is- taking us. People have been wondering if we should leave.”

Phil shakes his head. “It’s repayment of a debt,” he says quietly.

Kristin promised him protection. Promised protection to his sons, to the whole little community. Promised it as something she owes him, after the pain she put him through.

He had protested that part, but not the protection. His sons have been taken once. It could happen again.

“So we’re still safe?” Niki asks.

“Safer than ever,” Phil says. “How- how’s Tommy?”

They don’t protest the subject change, at least. “Give him plenty to eat,” Niki says. “Keep him hydrated. He’ll be okay. Do you want me to check on the others?”

“No, thank you.” Phil smooths his thumb over Tommy’s forehead. “Sam, if you wouldn’t mind- talking to Techno at some point? He trusts you, and I think… I think you might know better what he needs.”

Sam nods. “How is Wilbur?”

“I’m going to take him to his ring tomorrow if he’s not feeling better,” Phil says. “It helped before, so.”

“That’s a good plan.”

“Phil, how long have you known they were…” Niki hesitates. “You know. Different.”

“From the beginning,” Phil says. “They’re just children, they’re not dangerous-”

“I know that,” Niki says. “Just- you understand, Phil, magical folk aren’t safe-”

He does understand. This is a small village- he’s lived here all his life, most of them have. It’s a fairly insular community.

“Some aren’t,” he says. “Techno and Wilbur are just kids. They’re just little kids.”

“We’re not all mindless brutes,” Sam says quietly. “Most werewolves are just people, Niki.”

She looks up quickly. “What?”

Sam sighs. “Phil, we’ll leave you to it.”

They leave, closing the door, and Phil finally relaxes.

Tommy hasn’t had a bath yet, just a brief wash, but there’s warm water and clean towels and Phil can finally get him clean.

When he’s done wrapping Tommy up in clean clothes and drying his hair, he puts him to bed between his brothers. Tommy, even in his sleep, immediately curls up to Techno, latching onto Wilbur’s sweater with one little fist.

They’re safe now. They’re all safe.

Wilbur stirs, blinking up at him. “’ad?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Phil whispers. “You’re okay.”

Wilbur detangles one arm from the blankets, reaching and grabbing at him. “Cuddles,” he demands, still sleepy and slurred.

And, well. Who is Phil to deny him?

He quickly changes into clean pajamas, gets into bed and shifting his boys into his arms. Laying there with Tommy sprawled across his chest, Wilbur and Techno cuddled up to each of his sides, Phil finally, finally feels like he can rest.

His boys are all safe, and all in his arms.

He can sleep now.