Chapter Text
Somehow, the four of them had converged over Techno, a stumble, trip, crawl, drop that none of them remembered in the face of the situation.
“What the hell was that?!” Wilbur shouted, though the noise had subsided.
“Shh, shh!” Phil shushed him, hands moving from his temples to Techno. He pressed his fingers against the pinkette’s neck.
No pulse.
He ignored the throbbing pain across his chest as he twisted to place his ear against the hybrid’s chest.
No heartbeat.
He watched.
No breath.
His sons seemed to recognize it as well.
Maybe that’s why Tommy screamed when eyes cracked open, red irises struggling to focus.
“Holy shit!” He screeched, jumping. “Techno?!”
“What. The fuck.” He groaned. He tried to sit up on his elbows, only for them all to instantly push him back down to the ground.
“You just got fucking impaled, sit the fuck down!” Wilbur yelled, practically pinning him down.
Phil set his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. Or, as deep as he could, based on the horrible rattling it was producing.
“What’s wrong with dad?” The hybrid question, seemingly unconcerned about the impalement.
“Yeah; what the fuck is wrong with dad.” Tommy chimed in. His gaze scoped over the two of them, earlier energy turned to solemn intent.
“Did you just call him dad?” Wilbur gaped.
“Focus, boys, Techno, getting out of here.” He reminded them. The high of emotions he’d been going on had him running a bit low on both endurance and tolerance.
“Oh,” Tommy exhaled. He pulled two identical orbs out of his bag. They glowed faintly, deep blue-green. “I brought these.”
“You and Techno first, Tommy. Then Wilbur and I.” He coughed into his sleeve.
“You’re kind of pale—“
“Tommy.”
“Uh— right.” He passed one enderpearl to Wilbur, and grabbed Techno’s shoulder gently, winding his arm back until he lurched forward with the force of his throw. The younger blonde watched it arc, his grin small but visible. “Perfect throw.”
With a pop, they teleported out of sight.
“Us now.” Wilbur confirmed, repeating the action, albeit with less energy.
“Mm—“ Phil hummed in response, trying not to choke on his own blood. That became a failed effort when he jolted, steps away from the portal. He swallowed it back, sure his face showed his disgust. “—l’sgo now.”
They stuffed themselves into the portal’s frame, watching as the red swirled and warped.
They all but collapsed out of the other side, lying back upon the roots of the birch tree.
“‘M. Fuckin’ destr’n’ it.” Phil muttered. The slur in his voice had become stronger, but it didn’t matter in the face of his task. The stream was nearby; he took a small pail of the clear water and with a weak underhanded heave, tossed it upon the misty surface.
It shattered harmlessly for the second time, water dripping from the empty obsidian box.
“‘P.” Phil commanded.
The brothers glanced at each other.
“What?” Tommy had the gall to ask.
They stared at each other for a moment, green meeting blue.
The world spun a bit. Dark feathers encompassed the borders of his vision, though his wings were folded behind him.
Phil passed out before he’d even hit the ground.
—
Techno was the one to catch their father, staring at the dull red splotch across his front. He couldn’t make out the shape of it, really, but it seemed to go on forever against his chest.
“Techno!” Wilbur whisper-shouted. “You’ve just been impaled— wh— how—“
The hybrid looked down at himself.
“I feel fine.” He said, staring at the spot where the sword had been removed from him. At least, he assumed it had been there, because of the same dirtied red.
When he prodded it, however, he found no wound.
He felt better than ever, if not a little numb. His sense of touch felt dulled, as if his instincts lagged behind his fingers. His vision still hadn’t cleared, but he thought it secondary to the apparent problem of being impaled. He could see, anyway.
“What did Phil give you.” Tommy wondered aloud. “I want some of that!”
“Speaking of Phil.” Wilbur had paled considerably as the interaction had progressed. “Maybe let’s, uhm, take him home. I’m not feeling swell either.”
Techno could smell the salt of sweat. He wrinkled his nose against it.
“Fever?”
“Yeah, I think so— how are you doing that.”
He shrugged.
He was wondering how he wasn’t screaming. The gravity of the situation hadn’t caught up with him yet, maybe.
He’d been dead.
His father was probably dying.
His brother was hurt.
His other brother was almost impaled.
He laughed aloud, a hysterical sound.
“Home. Now.” He commanded, suppressing his giggling. He felt his knees buckle a little, though he straightened against it, ignoring the sudden tremors across his body.
“Yeah.” The other two echoed.
Three of them walked home.
At least the four of them were together, this time.