Chapter Text
He knows something is wrong.
He can feel himself rotting away each week he spends cooped up in the nest. But he can't help it.
Not when… not when he failed so badly.
Not when his chick, his baby, is gone.
Gone, gone, GONE!
The grief is almost too much to bear and it's easier to let it eat away at him than to think of how he could let this happen.
How has he been such a terrible father for this to happen right under his nose.
At first, before Doomsday, Tommy was believed to be dead. Gone. Permanently. Tubbo had shown up on their doorstep, this time instead of hostility, he showed up with a puffy red face and the news of Tommy's death.
His suicide.
The funeral was quick. Quiet.
Fitting for the boy, the child who went so quietly. All alone on a cold island. Not so fitting for the boisterous attitude of what he was when he was… alive.
And that was it. Death is it.
And in those moments of anger, when the pain was fresh and bleeding, he and Techno declared the fall of L'manburg.
And then it happened.
Phil made eye contact with all four of those blue pits of nothingness and it all went fuzzy from there.
He had tried to reel himself back in, find an anchor to tie himself with so he wouldn't get pulled amongst the sea of chaos that was his mind.
But he couldn't not now not ever when this was the fate of his son.
In all the time that Philza has been alive, he has met many different creatures.
Some more deadly or benevolent than others but none more confusing than spider hybrids.
Spider hybrids were very elusive yet notorious hybrids. Few enough that most never meet one in their lifetime but rumored and feared so that every flock, pack, or sonder would know to stay away from one.
Before he adopted the boys he didn't have much of a purpose outside of serving his Lady. But even then, he didn't have all too many duties.
So to fill in the years, he took to talking. As simple as that.
Meeting strangers, some more mortal than others, was something exciting and beautiful. Just simply learning about someone's day was enough to keep Phil up and sane.
And the one time he had met a spider hybrid was short, stunted. He barely even talked to them outside of their otherworldly shrieks and unsettling clicks.
At first he had tried to talk to them, just like any other stranger. But they had been aggressive right off the bat.
Phil did defeat them with little to no struggle, tying them up and letting them rest with him near a campfire.
But the entire time they had been struggling without stopping. Those threatening noises turned to panicked cries and coos.
When they settled down, Phil attempted to talk with them only to get a threatening hiss before their eyes snapped to something behind Phil.
And then something changed. That aggression turned to something else. Just a pure blind rage that he couldn't stop.
He nearly got gutted from that night with the only remaining memory being the spider hybrid running away with… a child.
A spider child.
He's heard horror stories of spider hybrids and all the usual things about stolen children. But he didn't expect said spiders to be so… caring? Sacrificial?
And that's what made them so confusing. They had all the same instincts of any other hybrid when around a little one of their species, yet they took that love away from another.
And Phil wants to be angry and wants to hate the species like any other, but in the end, on that night, he just saw a parent trying their best.
A parent who somehow got a child, a baby, and protected their child. Just like Phil.
A parent who also shows fondness for their child. A pride only that of a father could show. Even on the battlefield, covered in blood.
(Maybe for that sick fuck, it was a pride for Tommy especially since he was drenched in blood)
But Phil can't forgive Dream. Ever.
Not for what he did or for what he turned Tommy into.
Because Phil can have as much sympathy as he wants for a parent, he can be as violent as ever for his son.
Not Dream's. His.
And he tries not to think too much about it all these days, preferring to ignore it all. He knows it's going to bite him in the ass. He knows they have to do something soon.
But he's just so tired.
Phil sighs, watching as his breath fades into the cold arctic air. He looks to the sky, settling his eyes on a particularly large star.
"I'm so sorry." He whispers. As if it were only him and that star in the sky, on the ground, and in the air.
He hears a crow caw in return. He doesn't know what She said, but he can only assume it isn't too off to his own heart.
He slowly moves back into the cottage.
If he's lucky, he may even get some sleep tonight.
He hears footsteps rushing towards him, his son nearly crashing down the stairs after bolting down them.
Phil blinks and suddenly has a communicator shoved into his face.
"Wilbur!"
"Wilbur?!?!"
They both scream in unison.
Shit.