Chapter Text
Wilbur can't help but wonder what would happen if this didn't work.
All of it was just a big shot in the dark anyway, a plan stemming from a secretive note addressed to someone that was certainly not him. And with his family potentially on his trail (he'd given up not referring to them as such), he had to face the possibilities of what he'd need to do to get away from them.
The world is silent as he faces the padlocked wooden door. Beyond that door potentially lay bundles of explosives, his method of escape. The things he'd use to either blow up any last hope his family had of finding him, or himself.
He isn't sure if he appreciates that thought or not.
He chooses not to dwell on it.
Wilbur takes one glance at the lock on the door before deciding that it wasn't worth the effort of trying to pick it. He was on a bit of a time crunch, because if anyone found the portal frame before he got back he'd be in big trouble. He didn't have the means to get any more Otherworld Obsidian.
He takes to shimmying open a lose window after pulling away the flimsy planks boarding it up.
The interior isn't pretty, but over the months he'd been out on the streets for it's better than some of the places he'd camped out in. Well, that was before he'd settled down in a semi-permanent spot.
He's silent as he takes to doing a sweep of the place. It's familiar habit to fall into the familiar clockwork pattern of an after check, like he used to do whenever the four of them raided a building.
He once again humours the thought that this could all be a massive waste of time.
Maybe Phil had checked it out on his own instead of looking for him, maybe they'd stopped trying to find him after he'd run off. Maybe Phil didn't recognize him back at the mansion. Maybe they never looked for him in the first place beyond whatever mandatory investigation was ordered. Maybe they moved on with their lives like nothing had ever happened and didn't care. Maybe it was easier for them like that.
His heart clenched.
He reminded himself that them not searching for him was a best case scenario, and tried not to take comfort in the fact that he was positive it wasn't the case. It didn't work.
He tried to focus on what he's doing, and not his rampant thoughts. That doesn't work either.
It takes a good half hour for him to actually find the damn explosives, and at that point he's sure he could be a good substitute for one. He's wrung so uptight with anxiety it feels like he'll explode the second something goes wrong.
And go wrong it does. Because nothing is simple anymore, it never was. If it was, he wouldn't be here in the first place.
He presses his back against the wall as he slinks closer to the exit, explosives filled bag clutched desperately in clammy hands. He hopes beyond all hope that he can slip by the two silhouettes under the guise of the pitch black room.
He freezes when one of them moves.
It feels like an eternity as he watches their head turn towards him, like the universe was taunting him for being too slow. It's nerve wracking, and all too soon he can feel eyes staring straight at him.
A strangled whisper tears itself out of the stranger's mouth, and Wilbur wants to wilt.
"Wil..?"
Because of course it's Tommy.
Because of course it's his little brother, the blonde chaos spirit that screamed his way into Wilbur's heart with the undertone of longing. Of course it had to be Tommy, the one he'd promised to protect and in turn had promised to protect him.
Wilbur doesn't get much of a chance to ponder the implications of Tommy's presence before the second figure is whirling around at the utterance.
And of course it's Techno.
Of course it's his older brother as well, the one who'd saved him from dangerous situations so many times before. The one who was probably wondering why this time was different, wondering what went wrong.
Of course it was the brothers he hadn't seen in months.
He wants to cry.
He hasn't cried since he was shivering out in the cold winters night the first time he'd slept without a home in who knows how many years. He hadn't cried since he mourned the death of the sixteen year old his family knew.
He heaves in a shuddering gasp as his vision waters. "Tommy- oh my god.."
Reaper be damned, Otherworld be damned, potential death be damned, he just wants to hug them right now. But his limbs are locked in place, serving as some sort of self preservation. Because he knows if he gives up now that he's so close he'll never make it out alive.
But he doesn't need to move.
He flinches as Tommy practically rockets forwards, slamming into him. For a terrifying moment his mind is filled with what-ifs and frantic thoughts as adrenaline is spiking through his veins, but he holds himself back from reflexively trying to knock him out because he'd rather face the wrath of the gods than hurt his brother.
He's standing stiff as Tommy wraps his arms around him, and it takes him a moment to register the fact that the blonde isn't attacking him.
There's a sob falling past his lips before he can stop it, and he hugs Tommy back just as tight. He's sinking to his knees and bringing his brother down with him but neither of them seems to care about that because they're here, they're together and that thought should scare him but he's so overjoyed right now he could care less about what will happen later because later isn't now and right now he has his brother in a hug and he's sure they're both crying at this point.
By this time Techno's dropped his phone onto the floor and is making his way forwards with hesitance in his steps. He knows he should get moving, because it's obvious Techno's alerted Phil that he's here, but Tommy's in his arms and he can't bother to let go.
He knows he's trembling, and he knows his scraped up palms are bleeding again and staining the white of Tommy's shirt.
After a few short seconds Techno is right beside him, tugging him into a hug of his own, and Wilbur can't help but break down all over again. Because he's finally warm again after so long, and he knows it can't last.
But for now, he can bask in the warmth, even though he knows it'll make the cold sting worse once he looses it again. He can calm himself with the whispered assurances only just now reaching his ears.
"You're okay, you're okay, we found you.."
They did. They found him. He didn't want them to but they found him and he doesn't want to loose them again, to hurt them again, but he knows he has to or he'll break and nobody would be able to pick up the pieces.
His eyes are drooping, and he didn't realize how exhausted he was until now. But he can't fall asleep, not here, not when he's so close.
"It's okay, we're gonna bring you home, Wilbur," Techno murmurs, and Wilbur's breath catches.
"Please," he forces out hastily, stumbling over the syllables as his vocal chords strain after the months of disuse. "Please no, he'll kill me-" he lets out a shaky sob. He doesn't want to go home, doesn't want to face Phil and his subsequent end.
Techno tightens the hug, and there's a saddened strain to his voice when he next speaks, but it's solid in it's resolve. "We won't let anyone hurt you- ever again."
He wants to call Techno a liar- but he also wants to believe him.
He wants to believe that maybe they wouldn't find out, that Phil would give up on chasing the reaper and everything would be okay. He knows it wont happen, that he'll have to keep hiding, have to keep running.
But he's just so tired, and he doesn't want to keep running.
Part of him reasons that he won't have to once he's in the Otherworld, that he's so close that he can't give up now. But the rest of him just wants everything to go back to normal. Normal isn't the Otherworld, normal is his family. Normal is staying up late with Phil when both their thoughts won't calm down, reigning in Tommy's rambunctious nature when Phil or Techno can't. Normal is cheering as Techno shows off his skills, or telling Tommy he's proud of him whenever he manages to control his powers.
He knows that their normal isn't particularly normal at all. Phil had homeschooled Techno because his traits were hard to conceal and supernatural schools were few and far between. He kept up the habit with Wilbur himself and later Tommy, so they didn't know many people their age- Techno had a few friends, but for the most part it was just the three of them. Normal siblings weren't attached to one another like lifelines, normal families tended to have two parents instead of one. Normal families didn't curb crime once a week like it were some sort of sport.
But it was their normal, and he wanted it back.
He could feel the remaining fight drain out of his system, pressed between his brothers and smothered in the safety their presence offered.
He flinches as the door opens, and Techno tightens his reassuring hold in response. Tommy clings to him like if he were to let go, Wilbur would disappear again.
"Wilbur..?"
Wilbur almost bursts back into tears when he hears Phil utter his name.
He'd been so adamant on avoiding the man that he'd forgotten how much he loved hearing his voice, the tone so familiar it fills the last remaining void in his heart. There's so much worry, so much hope, so much love packed into the single utterance of his name that Wilbur manages to lift his heavy head in order to look at the man- at his dad.
The realization is sudden, but a long time coming. He missed the man. He missed Phil, he missed Tommy, he missed Techno. He missed all of them.
And they missed him too.
He doesn't have the mental capacity to feel pathetic when he breaks out into shuddering sobs for the third time that day.
Phil rushes over, and then he's suddenly in the arms of his father and all he can do is shatter further because these were the people he'd been avoiding for months. And here he was. In their arms. And he doesn't deserve a single second of it, it would be selfish to think he deserved their worry when he was the one who caused it. But he relishes in it anyways because when had he not been selfish?
He gives in to the safety and exhaustion that settles beneath his skin.
Phil's terrified when he feels Wilbur fall limp, but the rise and fall of the brunet's chest is a steady reassurance that the worst thing hadn't happened.
He reluctantly untangles himself from where he'd been hugging all three of his sons, carefully removing Tommy from where he'd been clinging to his brother.
His mind is half in a daze as he sets Tommy back down and accepts Wilbur from Techno's arms, frowning at how light he feels.
It's surreal, to finally have his son back in his arms after so long.
He maneuvers himself out of the door, and finally gets a good look at Wilbur.
His hair is longer, curls more prominent, and he can't help but brush it out of his face. His skin is more tanned and looser on his frame to the point that Phil could count each of his ribs if he really tried. He's dirty and scraped up, blood beading to the surface of his palms, and Phil feels a surge of sadness as he hugs the boy closer.
He doesn't know what sort of pain his son had gone through during those four long months, and he wants to hide him away from the rest of the world. Wants to make sure nothing will hurt him ever again.
Techno rests a hand on his shoulder, and he absently wonders when the hybrid had left the building. Tommy's latched himself to Phil's oldest son, and Techno has his other arm wrapped around his brother.
"Coleman should- Coleman should be here soon," Phil murmurs distantly.
Because at least he thinks the man would be there soon- they'd been checking out another location when Phil had gotten the text. He'd dropped his phone and flown over as fast as he could, and hoped Coleman had followed.
His doubts were curbed when a familiar car pulls up to the warehouse, and Phil numbly walks over to it.
By this point I realized that this wouldn’t work no matter how much I wanted to do it. Because having him go back would basically void everything else in this story and I would have wasted months of planning so-
Mostly because there’s no way they would have let Wilbur out of their sight like ever again. Oh the joys of writing an overprotective family and having it bite you in the butt later.