Chapter Text
Wilbur smiled as he ran towards his parents, the grass crunching beneath his little feet.
"Mum! Dad! Look what I found!" He yelled as he reached his parents where they sat on a bench.
"What did you find, honey?" His mother asked, a soft smile on her face as she looked at her son. Both parents were looking at him intently, truly interested in what he had to say.
"A snail! He's gonna be my new pet!" Wilbur yelled as he lifted up his hands and showed his parents the snail sitting in his cupped hands.
"Wow. That's really cool, Wil." His dad replied, sounding genuine and kind with every word he spoke.
"That is really impressive, sweetheart, but you can't keep him, okay?" His mother said.
"Awww, why not? I really wanna." Wilbur whined, disappointed that his dream of a snail pet couldn't come to life.
"Because this park is the snail's home. We can't take him away from that. He probably has a family here. It wouldn't be very nice to take Mister Snail away from his family, now would it?" His mother said, tone soft and stern at the same time, yet still loving all the same.
"No, it wouldn't. I'll go put him back now." Wilbur begrudgingly agreed. He didn't want to make the snail family-less. That would be mean.
Wilbur walked off to the log he found the snail on, placing the snail down before going back to his parents.
Once he reached the bench his parents sat on the sky got darker and it started to rain. His eyes widened in fear as he noticed that sitting where his mother and father were, just seconds ago, was his foster father from placement 4. The man was staring at him with a sinister grin.
Wilbur wanted to turn and run, but he couldn’t control his legs. It seemed as though the man's grin widened as he noticed this, watching as Wilbur's body forced him to walk towards a man who caused him so much pain.
A disgustingly familiar warmth grew on his wrists and he looked down to see all his self-harm scars from that house re-opened and bleeding down his arms. Blood dripped onto the floor creating a gruesome trail behind Wilbur as he walked.
Just metres away he got closer and closer, the image of his foster father distorting to look almost like a demon. The man's hand reached out, dripping blood just like Wilbur's, except this blood didn't seem to be the man's own. The hand reached closer and closer, centimetres from touching Wilbur and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move away.
Suddenly, Wilbur's eyes opened, silent tears streaming down his face. He lay still, completely silent, focusing all his energy on breathing as silently as possible. He wasn't even sure what he was scared of, he knew it was just a nightmare, but still, he shook in fear.
He lay there for a few minutes before forcing himself to move, shuffling his hand over the bed until it made contact with a blue fluffy sheep, Friend. The tight hold he had on the plushie slowly calmed him until he was able to sit up with Friend in his lap and curl over his knees, his back pressed into the bedframe.
He calmed down a little, but his breathing was still just fast enough that he felt like he was suffocating, and he was still shaking. He wanted Phil. The fear coating his mind was yelling that Phil would be mad if Wilbur woke him. Wilbur knew Phil had helped him with many nightmares before, but that was always Phil coming to him.
Going into Phil's room on his own and waking him up just for the sake of comfort seemed rude and like an invasion of privacy. Maybe he would be mad. Other foster parents had always been really mad when he had woken them up, even unintentionally.
No. Phil wouldn't be mad. Phil had told him that countless times, Puffy had told him that countless times, even Schlatt and Eret had said it a couple times when he opened up to them. Phil wouldn't be mad.
Still shaking, Wilbur held Friend in a death grip against his chest as he forced himself out of bed. A shaky hand forced itself away from Friend to open his door.
Wilbur walked slowly down the hallway, constantly looking over his shoulder, the fear creating paranoia in his mind. He walked down the stairs and through the door to the downstairs until he was standing in front of Phil's bedroom door.
Part of him was screaming to run away as fast as he can, the other was telling him to go in. For once, he actually listened to the second one.
He lifted a fist to knock on the door, entering without permission seemed like a violation of privacy. A few seconds later, some shuffling sounded behind the door followed by footsteps.
The door opened to reveal a tired-looking Phil in his minecraft pyjamas. He looked at Wilbur and his face turned from exhaustion to concern.
Wilbur stood, staring at Phil, Friend held tightly to his chest, shaking and struggling to get a single breath. He looked petrified and Phil couldn't help the hint of anger that presented itself. He wanted to badly hurt whoever did this to his son.
He pushed to anger aside. Wilbur was his main concern. Without saying a word, he placed a hand on Wilbur's shoulder and gently guided him to the bed.
Phil looked at Wilbur with an expression that seemed questioning. Wilbur understood what he meant and shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it right now.
Phil didn't push any further, just lay back down in bed and gestured for Wilbur to do the same. Wilbur lay down and cuddled against Phil, who wrapped an arm around him and began rubbing his arm comfortingly. Wilbur slowly calmed down, his breathing evening out and the shaking stopping.
Wilbur finally fell asleep against his father's chest, the nightmares being easily warded off by the firm, comforting grip of his father's half embrace.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Phil groaned as he woke, mentally cursing whoever was at his door this early in the morning. As he shifted he felt a weight on his chest and looked down to see Wilbur sleeping peacefully against him, hugging Friend close.
The events of last night flooded back and he realized the reason for his elevated levels of exhaustion, as he had stayed up long past when Wilbur fell asleep, wanting to be sure he wouldn't have another nightmare. He smiled fondly as he looked at the kid. Phil doesn't care how many times he is woken in the night, or how little sleep he gets. It will always be worth it to see his son peaceful and content.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Right. Annoying dickhead at the door. He gently lifted Wilbur enough to slide out of the way, then replaced himself with the pillow he was using, so it would be warm. Wilbur seemed to accept it and Phil tip-toed out of the room, through the hallway and towards the front door.
When he opened it, he was met with the sight of his friend, Sam, dressed in professional clothing and looking way too awake.
"Sam! I didn’t know you were stopping by! Come in, I'll make coffee." Phil said, opening the door to invite him inside.
"Actually, this isn't a friendly visit. I'm here as Wilbur's social worker. I've been sent on a surprise inspection. It's completely routine, nothing to worry about, we just can't warn the families in case they use that to hide things they don't want us to see. It's the same reasoning behind the early hour. I'm sure you understand." Sam replied in his 'work voice'. Phil was always slightly envious that Sam could completely change the atmosphere of a room with just the tone of his voice.
"Of course. I'm gonna make some coffee anyway. Be back in a minute." Phil replied, walking to the coffee machine and starting a pot.
"Wilbur's asleep in my room. I'd rather he wasn't woken but I understand this is important so you can go get him if you want. You know where my room is, right?" Phil half-yelled from the kitchen to where Sam was standing near the couch.
"Yes, I know where it is. I'll be right back." Sam said. He walked through the hallway door and to Phil's room, gently opening the door and walking over to where Wilbur lay.
"Wil, hey. You gotta get up, Wil." Sam whispered. Wilbur groaned and swatted in the general direction of the noise, Sam having to duck out of the way of the flying hand.
"Come on, Wil." Sam raised his voice to his regular volume now that Wilbur was slightly more awake.
"I'm tired. Go away, Dad." Wilbur's words were slurred from sleep. Sam smiled as he heard Wilbur call him Dad, obviously thinking he was Phil. He was really happy Wilbur trusted him that much.
"Actually, I'm not Phil." Sam said with a slightly teasing smile on his face. Wilbur's eyes instantly shot open and he stared at Sam for a second before his tired brain caught up.
"SAM!" He screamed, sitting up and hugging Sam tightly, still holding Friend in one hand.
"I missed you." Wilbur smiled brightly. Sam was the only person in the world before Phil that he. Could actually trust. His respite from the land of depression and abuse.
"I haven't seen you this happy in ages, kid. You have no idea how proud of you I am. Now come on, you're dad's waiting." Sam smiled and lead Wilbur to the living room where Phil sat on the couch, smiling.
"Okay, I'm gonna have a look around the house, make sure everything's up to standard and when I get back, I'll ask you both some questions, alright?" Sam spoke as Wilbur sat on the couch next to Phil. Sam walked up the stairs and Phil turned to Wilbur.
"You feeling better after last night? We can talk if you want, up to you." Phil said, tone kind and non-judgemental. Wilbur always loved that Phil never judged him, no matter what. It was refreshing.
"I dreamt of my birth parents. Sometimes that happens. I don't know if I'm reliving memories of my childhood or making them up, but I like seeing them. It always ends badly though. Sometimes they die, sometimes they turn evil. This time my mother disappeared and my father turned into my fourth foster father, the one we ran into a week ago. Then he turned into a devil and I kept trying to run but I couldn't control my own body. Right before he could touch me I woke up." Wilbur looked at the ground, the memory clearly unpleasant. Phil hugged him.
"Why don't you tell me about the part with your birth parents. What were they like." Phil asked in a kind voice, trying to distract Wilbur with thoughts of nicer things. They released from the hug but Phil kept a hand on Wilbur's back, moving it in slow circles to help him stay calm.
"I don't remember much from real life, but they're always really nice in my dreams, like they really care about me. Is that real or am I just making it up? I have to be making it up, right? I mean, they abandoned me, they couldn't have cared that much." Wilbur seemed saddened by his words. Who wouldn't be? The thoughts of the people who created you abandoning you, that can't be pleasant to think about.
"I'm sure they had a reason. No one could give up someone as amazing as you without a reason. Maybe they gave you up because they did care about you. Your file said they didn't have the resources to care for a child, maybe they gave you up so you could have a better life." Phil reasoned with his son. He didn’t really want to defend to people he put him in the system, but it was hurting Wilbur to think that everyone hated him, maybe seeing a different perspective would make him feel a bit better about himself.
"You really think they loved me?" Wilbur asked, innocent eyes staring up at Phil, begging him to give him the hope he's gone so long without.
"How could anyone not love you. You're perfect, Wilbur." Phil smiled as Wilbur hugged him and started gently petting his hair.
Sam walked down the stairs and smiled at the sight. Wilbur let go and looked up at Sam, though he stayed sitting as close to Phil as he could.
"Everything seems fine, as expected. I just need to talk to Wilbur privately for a few minutes, then I'll head off." Sam stated. Wilbur pouted slightly but got up and walked over to Sam.
"We can talk in my room if you want." Wilbur knew how these home inspections went. Sam needed somewhere out of sight where Phil couldn't hear them. Nothing against Phil, just protocol. Wilbur has experienced a lot of the reasons that protocol exists and he was glad it did.
Sam followed Wilbur up the stairs and into his room. When they entered, Wilbur sat on the bed and Sam pulled up the chair from his desk.
"So, what's it like here? Are you happy?" Sam asked. He knew Wilbur was fine here, he could see it. But he had to ask specific questions just in case anything was wrong. His primary job was to protect the children he was assigned.
"It's so amazing. He actually cares, Sam. He never yells, he's kind and understanding. I never have to be scared of anything with him. He even let me go to therapy with Ms Puffy. She's helped me so much." Wilbur smiled as he thought over how his time here had been so different from all his other placements.
"That's wonderful, Wilbur. I'm so glad you're happy here. You really deserve it. I know you said Phil hasn't yelled at you but I have to ask this. Has Phil ever hurt you, or in any way made you feel threatened for your safety?" Sam asked, keeping his tone kind and gentle to make sure Wilbur didn't feel attacked.
"No. Never. He's the complete opposite. He actually goes out of his way to protect me. The other day we ran into an old foster parent of mine, the guy from house 4, at the store and he started yelling at me and Phil came in and punched him in the face. It was so cool." Wilbur smiled in pride as he rambled. It was clear how much he loved Phil.
"For Phil's sake, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that last bit. But I am really glad to hear he's protecting you. Don't tell my boss I said this, but I'm glad he punched that guy. He totally deserved it. You have no idea how much I wanted to punch him when I pulled you from there. Say thanks to your dad for me." Sam smiled as Wilbur giggled. He was so glad to see Wilbur like this. Truly happy.
"Have you been well fed here? Has Phil ever withheld food or any other basic necessity such as water or shelter from you?" Sam asked. Wilbur didn't like what the questions implied, but he knew they existed for a reason, and he knew they weren't trying to offend him or Phil, so he ignored the feeling.
"Not on purpose. I have a problem with eating, Ms Puffy called it anorexia, I think? But Phil didn't know about it and the second he found out he helped me. I've been getting a lot better at eating and I feel a lot better about it. Phil says he's really proud of me." Sam could see Wilbur tearing up a bit as he said the last sentence. It's probably been a long while since a parental figure had told him they were proud of him.
"You look a lot healthier. I'm proud of you too, kiddo. I know that couldn't have been easy. Great job." Sam smiled as Wilbur beamed at the words.
"Last one, has Phil ever said anything cruel or mean, taken your things or invaded your personal space for no apparent or valid reason?"
"Nope. He's always nice to me. Even when I break the rules." Wilbur replied. Sam trusted his friend, but he had encountered a lot of really awful 'rules'. He had to ask, for Wilbur's sake, just in case.
"What rules, Wil? Could you tell them to me?" Sam spoke in a soft, coaxing voice. It often calmed kids down when he spoke like this.
"Oh, it's nothing bad, like the other houses I've been in. And he's not that strict. The only rules are to not invade other people's privacy or personal space without them letting you, and to be home by 8pm, or let him know if I'm staying out later and where I am." Wilbur spoke in a strangely reassuring tone. Like he knew Sam was freaked out a bit.
Sam sighed in relief.
"That's perfectly fine, thank god. I really am happy for you, Wil. Do you wanna go back down to Phil now?" Sam asked. Wilbur nodded and they walked back downstairs. Wilbur smiled and walked back over to sit with Phil.
After a few minutes and a quick chat with Phil, just letting him know everything went great, Sam left with a smile on his face because he could see, without a doubt, that after years of pain and suffering, Wilbur was finally truly, home.