Chapter Text
Getting back to camp was a hassle in and of itself.
Wendy wasn't keen on wasting lantern fuel, nor was she about to get a torch to wade through the darkness with. She wasn't nearly gutsy enough to walk blind, especially not with a passenger. A very awkward, quiet passenger. The spider wasn't a conversationalist, he'd made that clear from the beginning. He didn't chatter to fill space like Webber would. It was a little unsettling, having Webber with her, but… not . And now they'd be trapped out here all night together.
Wendy counted her blessings and her curses that night, because she should've told the group where she was going, but she hadn't expected to actually find Webber in there and that had held her up. They probably think both of their kids are missing , she thought involuntarily, a pang of guilt striking her. They weren't her parents, anyways. As much as she joked to herself (or to Abi on the rare occasion), Wilson was not the fussy uncle who worried over everything and Willow was not the fun aunt ("wine aunt", she called her occasionally). And Webber was not her sibling.
Does Webber mind being called a brother? I should ask. No, wait, she shouldn't. Lord, why did her only living relative on this plane have to be Maxwell? Should she be grateful she even has a living relative here? God, no, because it's Maxwell . Nobody was lucky to even know Maxwell. She--
The spider made a distinct clicking nose. Inhuman, obviously, but she'd gotten used to that by now and it did manage to break her out of her thoughts. "Wendy?"
She tilted her head to one side. "Uh huh?"
He placed a gathering of flowers next to her. "Could you make us a flower crown?" The question caught her off guard, just a bit. Webber usually didn't ask. She'd just have to guess when they were low on sanity. Did the spider have sanity? He--
Wendy nodded, picking up the flowers and getting to work. If she kept thinking, she'd get lost in it again.
Working with her hands always had a calming effect. As she wove the flowers together, her jumbled thoughts settled, letting her clear her head a little. It wasn't a miracle cure or anything, but it certainly helped. And at a time like this, where everything was uncertain and the foundation was shaking under her feet, she had to be thankful for it.
She passed the finished garland back to the spider. He proceeded to place it on her head. She blinked, once, then twice. "What."
"You need it more," he said simply. "And it got you to stop worrying, yes?"
Wendy was silent for a moment, eyebrows raised. Had she been played? Played for her own good? "...Yeah. Yes. Thank you."
They spent the rest of the night in a more comfortable silence.
She should've gone in before the spider did. Explain the situation, make sure Wilson and Willow didn't freak. Especially Willow, because she was a big hugger and Wendy didn't really know how the spider would react to being picked up and span around and oh lord this was a mess.
The reunion had been a joyous one despite the snow. As soon as Wilson spotted her, he let out a visible sigh of relief. She'd been gone a day after all, right after her friend's disappearance.
When he saw Webber, though, it was a different story, because they'd been gone for a week. And how was he to know that it wasn't really them? This had never happened before. She'd been shocked when she first found out. And when Willow lifted him into a tight hug and span in a circle, the relief making her giddy, it was like Wendy's worst nightmare. He was a spider, how would he react? Visions flickered through her mind of the spider biting Willow or scratching her or hissing or something .
Instead, what came out of the overwhelmed spider was a distressed chittering sort of noise.
Wendy really should've had more faith. She was just stressed. Understandably so.
"It's not Webber," Wendy explained as Willow worriedly placed him on the ground. "It's the spider half."
"Oh. Well, sh-- crap , that was probably a bad foot to get off on." Willow pinched the bridge of her nose.
"It's not like I haven't met you," the spider muttered in mild annoyance. He wasn't very expressive. His voice, for the most part, remained a scratchy monotone.
"This is… New. I've hardly ever heard the spider half talk , let alone take over the whole body. Did something happen?" Wilson asked, a healthy mix of curiosity and concern in his voice. Ever the scientist. Wendy kept herself carefully stationed between him and the spider, just to keep him from trying to mess with the poor thing too much.
"I don't know," the spider replied. "I took over in the caves. They fell asleep soon after that, and they've been this way since."
It seemed she wasn't the only one vaguely unsettled by the unfamiliar monotone, judging by Wilson's expression and Willow's slight shuffling.
"Well, we'll just… have to wait until they wake up, then. Any idea when that will be?" Wilson questioned.
The spider was silent for a few moments, expression growing troubled. "...I don't know."
It was still better like this. It was better to have a piece of Webber than nothing at all. As much as she wanted her friend back, this would have to do for now.
Everyone slept easier that night.
Wendy half-expected to wake up and see Webber's dumb smiling face with a withing rabbit in hand to summon Abigail with. They were awake, yes, but no, it wasn't Webber. The spider sat just outside the tent, and to her surprise, he looked just as troubled as she had been that he was still up front.
"Rough night?" Wendy asked softly, sitting beside him.
The spider blinked. "No. Rough morning." Wendy nodded slightly, frowning at the ground. It was still early morning. The others wouldn't be up and about for a little while.
"You know," Wendy started after a while, "it might get a little tiring calling you 'the spider'. Why don't we figure out a name for you?"
"I don't care for names." He paused, then continued. "If you want to give me one, go ahead."
Wendy sat a while in silence, thinking. "How about Weaver?" The spider snorted.
"Won't that get a bit confusing? Webber and Weaver?"
"No worse than all of the other W names in this place," Wendy replied with a short chuckle. "Only one who doesn't go by one is Maxwell, and Maxwell is a stage name."
"It doesn't have to be a W name, you know," he pointed out.
"Yeah, but I just thought I'd stick with the convention." Wendy shrugged, small smile on her face.
The spider blinked, two-four-six-eight. "Alright, then. Weaver it is."
Weaver was no replacement for Webber. But he was a friend.
"I can tell you miss them."
There was a bit of guilt in Weaver's tone. Wendy raised a brow, looking up from the rock she'd just destroyed.
"Of course I do. Webber is…" She hesitated. "Webber's like f… my best friend. Of course I miss them. But that's not your fault, you can't help it." She started picking up the pieces, tucking them into her bag. "And besides, you're a friend, too."
"...I could've stopped them," he admitted, fiddling with the bird trap he was weaving. "I could've. Could've took over for a while, dumped the bones somewhere, tripped them up while they were running away." Wendy paused in her work, rubbing her hands together to stop the shake, but she knew full well it wasn't because she was cold. "I was just… I was so sure they could handle it. I'd taken a backseat that whole time, and it was fine. I didn't think they would…" He broke off, shaking his head.
Wendy took a deep breath, steadying her hands. "There's no use stewing on it now. I could just as easily say I should've hidden the heart better."
Weaver hummed, and they worked in silence for a while, tending to their work. Weaver was the one to break the silence, again. "...You were going to say Webber's like family, weren't you? Why didn't you?"
The girl didn't pause in her work, remaining silent for a few moments. "I mean, have you seen my family? They're all either awful or dead. Abi died, Maxwell is the one who brought us all here in the first place." The others went unspoken. Because Webber knew she had parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. And Weaver, for the most part, knew what Webber did. He knew.
"...The way I see it," Weaver started, "that's not family. Anyone who treats you bad is not family." He set his trap down, humming. "You choose. If you say Webber is family, then they are. I know they would say the same about you."
Wendy pondered over it for a while. She finished her work, he finished his, and they started walking home.
"...Thanks, Weaver."
"No problem, Wendy."
Another day, and still no sign of Webber. It was starting to wear. And she couldn’t even be upset with Weaver for it, because he was just as distressed as she was about the whole thing. After all, Webber was quite literally his other half, and the one who handled all the social interaction. She couldn’t imagine how it was for him. At the very least, he seemed to have gotten used to talking to Wendy.
“Maxwell is technically my dad,” Weaver commented, kicking a bit of grass as he walked. “I mean. He made all of the spiders. So yeah.”
“Does that make Charlie your stepmom?” Wendy replied, half-joking. Weaver blinked, two-four-six-eight. It always threw her off seeing him do that. It was such a familiar Webber mannerism.
“Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it. Adopted mom, I guess?” He shrugged. “She didn’t make us, but she’s the queen now.”
“Huh. Weird.” She paused, staring down at the cave entrance. “...Are you sure you want to do this?” Wendy asked, narrowing her eyes at the hole in the ground.
Weaver frowned at it. “...Yeah. Yes. I want to make sure.” They’d woken up this morning, and Weaver had already had a plan. He wanted to go back in, see if anything down there could wake Webber back up. It was as good a plan as any, but it didn’t make either of them happier about going back down there. The memory of rocks falling still got to her, even if nobody had died.
“...Okay. I’m with you, then. Let’s go.” Before I have the chance to change my mind went unspoken.
They climbed down, quick but careful. For now, they’d decided the half of the caves that Webber had ended up on were a good place to start. They made it back to the cave-in, and they started to dig around. It didn’t really help anything that they had no idea what they were looking for. It wasn’t like they were about to find Webber’s half-ghost. That wasn’t how it worked. To their knowledge, anyways. It was just a shot in the dark.
It felt better than playing the waiting game.
The limbs on Weaver’s head twitched uneasily, and every now and then he’d glance around, keeping an eye on things. The bones were still down here with the heart. Hopefully they weren’t getting to him too much. She, for one, couldn’t hear anything strange, but it sounded like it’d specifically targeted Webber, so she couldn’t be too surprised.
“Did you hear that?” Weaver asked suddenly, alert.
“Your hearing’s better than mine,” Wendy replied on reflex, looking around in the darkness. She refueled the lantern with another lightbulb.
“Something’s coming.”
He’d barely gotten the warning out before she heard it. Short, sharp screeches and the sound of flapping wings. “Bats," she muttered, pulling her tentacle spike out of her bag as Weaver did the same. He seemed a little awkward with the weapon, which was understandable. He'd never used one before.
It was impossible to see them before they entered the ring of lantern light. And once they did enter, they circled around Weaver, threatening. There were five, it looked like, against the two kids, who weren't by any means the group's best fighters. Not without spider friends, not without Abigail.
Wendy's first priority was getting through the circle to help Weaver. A challenge on its own, because whenever she tried to pass through, one of the bats would bite at her. The line wouldn't break. All the while, the monsters on the other side of Weaver would dart in, bite at him, and then go right back into the circle.
Weaver was no tank. Wendy had to get in there.
In what was probably one of the riskiest moves she'd ever made, she ran straight through. A bat's fangs connected with her arm, but she'd made it through. Weaver was worse for wear, having been their actual target the whole time. She had to get these things away, and fast. She dropped Abi's flower on the ground, then turned her attention to the bats. When one came near, she swung at it, hitting its wing and sending it to the floor.
She stepped over to it, weapon raised, and brought it down hard on the downed bat.
Abi's flower flickered to life, the ghost rising from its petals. As soon as she was aware, Abigail went on the offense, hitting the bats around them.
Wendy caught Weaver when they collapsed, pulling him close while the bats dropped one by one. When the last bat died, she pulled him into an actual hug.
"I'm not losing you again," she mumbled. "Either of you."
Weaver was still. Not in his tense, 'not used to hugs' way. More dazed than anything else. Slowly, they hugged back.
"...Wendy?" They asked, voice less scratchy and more childlike. Wendy's eyes widened, and she pulled back, holding the spider by the shoulders.
"Webber?" She questioned, quietly. She knew the answer, really. She just needed to hear it.
"Uh huh. Where are… are you crying? What--"
"Shut up, you dumb bug," she laughed, hugging them close and wiping her eyes. Webber was back.
Her sibling was back.