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"Uhh, does anyone know what poison ivy looks like?"
"Yes," the Host deadpanned, "let me have a look."
Dr. Iplier stifled a grin and gently swatted the Host's shoulder before going over to Wilford, crouched in a patch of grass.
It was a sunny afternoon, and the humans of the office had been, in Dr. Iplier's opinion, unreasonably crabby. Being kicked out of the office was one thing, but being driven to a patch of forest and told not to return for a few hours was entirely uncalled for.
Uncalled for, but, considering that Wilford had managed to set fire to the office three times in the past two days, not entirely surprising.
"Wilford, what did you find?"
"That's my question, Doc." Wilford straightened up, extending his dirt-covered hands towards Dr. Iplier.
The Doctor jumped back, smoothing his white coat with a scowl.
"Well? Poison ivy?"
"I'm sorry," Dr. Iplier said, squinting at Wilford. "You're--"
"Dying! We know, Doctor." Dark was leaning against a tree a little ways off from the rest of them, his aura spasming in barely-suppressed anger.
When Tyler had loaded the Egos into the car (barring the Googles, who could apparently edit videos), they'd all expected Dark, of all people, to be the one to protest. But Dark, even the Doctor had to admit, with grudging respect, was more in control than ever. Angry about the situation, but wary enough of Mark to accept it, Dark had been squished into the backseat with little complaint, even as curls of miasma threatened to engulf the other Egos.
Now, Dark was standing apart from them, sneering, passing time. Trying to resist the urge to angrily teleport back to the office and lay his hands on Mark's throat--
"Daaaaark?"
"What?" Dark snapped out of his thoughts to look the incredulous Doctor in the face.
Dr. Iplier sighed as a wave of repulsion hit him, Dark's aura ringing in his ears. "I realize this isn't the best of situations, Dark, but--"
"I'm fine," Dark snapped, turning. He stalked farther away from the rest of the Egos, finding another tree to lean against. He looked back, glowering.
Dr. Iplier turned back to Wilford, who still stretched his hands out, looking slightly worried. "Yes, Will, it is poison ivy. Here:" He reached to hold Wilford's hands in his own, covering the forming rash. He took a deep breath, concentrating--
"GUYS! I found something!" Bim burst through the trees, grinning ear to ear, hands covered in mud.
The Host, standing awkwardly silent, sighed. "Bim bounds towards the other Egos, holding a blood-splattered--"
"Mud-splattered," Bim corrected, nervously.
The Host shook his head. "Blood-splattered," he repeated, "axe."
Dr. Iplier, Wilford, and even Dark turned at the Host's words, staring at the weapon.
Bim shifted nervously. "I-it was stuck in a door, I wanted to show you--"
Dark scoffed. "This is ridiculous, Bim." Before Bim could reply, Dark had stalked off deeper into the forest, a cloud of smoke following him.
Wilford shrugged, hands still enclosed in the Doctors'. "A door? What door?"
Dr. Iplier shook his head a little, grip tightening on Wilford's arm. "No, not again."
"There's a little house," Bim said, face breaking into a smile again. "We should expl--"
Dr. Iplier almost yelled, "No!" at the same time Wilford shouted, "YES!"
"The Host would like to remind you of what happened the last time the Egos 'explored' a house in the middle of nowhere," the Host said, almost smirking.
Bim waved his hand, sending mud flying. The axe, clutched in his other hand, fell to his side. "This is different. It's a shack, with three walls and a door." He looked hopefully to the Doctor and Wilford, smiling. "What could go wrong?"
"Well--"
"Come ooon, Doc," Wilford cloyed, looking up at him. "Where's your spirit of adventure?"
"Dead, much like you're going to be if you want to 'explore.'" With a hot, almost painful flash of light, the rash on Wilford's arm faded.
Wilford winced, pulling away from the Doctor's hands. "Thanks."
Dr. Iplier was looking at Bim, brow furrowed. He sighed, about to speak, but the Host interrupted.
"Dr. Iplier is about to consent to this 'adventure,' on the condition that Bim and Wilford do not run off on their own. The Host, however--" he straightened his jacket, "--would like to excuse himself from exploration."
"Are you sure, Host?" Dr. Iplier crossed over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. The Host didn't push it away. "It's not the best for you to stay on your own, and I know what's best."
"Ah, leave him be, Doc." Wilford already had an arm around Bim's shoulder, grinning wickedly. "We'll go explore, Hosty can stay here for when Tyler comes back, right, Host?"
"Er--"
"Right! It's settled, then." Wilford pulled Bim along, and they disappeared into the trees. With a last, reluctant look at the Host, standing alone at the edge of the tree line, Dr. Iplier followed.
Wilford and Bim, while speedy, weren't all that hard to track. The dense woods seemed to impede Dr. Iplier's line of sight, but the crunching of leaves and branches was loud and left a clear path for him to follow.
"These two," he huffed, pulling his coat free of a patch of brambles, "are going to get me killed."
Quite suddenly, tripping over a last, vengeful root, Dr. Iplier found himself in a small clearing. The house, as Bim had described it, was really more of a shack, covered in mud and overgrowth, and what the Doctor warily recognized as more poison ivy. Dr. Iplier picked his way over to where Wilford and Bim stood, surveying the door.
"--and see, that's where I pulled out the axe!" Bim finished, pointing at a gash in the door. Wilford, watching, nodded sagely.
"Do you still have the axe, Bim?"
Bim jumped a little, whipping around to see the Doctor. "Oh, hi, Doc. Yeah, of course!" He held it up by the end of the handle, swinging the blade in the air.
"Okay, good. Give it to Wilford."
"What? Why?" Bim did his best to look offended before losing his grip on the handle entirely, dropping the axe on his toes.
Wilford chuckled through his mustache, bending over to pick up the axe as Bim danced around, squealing in pain. He slung the axe over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the Doctor, who was barely stifling a smile.
"That's why. Now, let's go."
Bim, finding his toes intact, waved Wilford and the Doctor ahead of him, bouncing with excitement.
Wilford entered the house first, ducking his head as the door creaked reluctantly open, straining against the vines holding it in place. (Dr. Iplier resisted the urge to tell him to stay away from the ivy, knowing full well he wouldn't.) Dust puffed up under his shoes, and he shuffled forward to make room for the other two.
Dr. Iplier, close behind, blinked in the darkness. The room was small, barely big enough for the three of them to stand together comfortably. The light outside outlined a slouching chair, and the Doctor gasped, seeing a shadow sitting in it. He reached for Wilford--
Bim stepped inside, the door swinging closed behind them, and the three stood in darkness.
"I--! Dammit, Bim," Dr. Iplier muttered, feeling for the fabric of Bim's shirt. "Where--"
With a slight click, the room was lit by a wavering flame. Wilford held a lighter in one hand, the axe in the other, peering at the Doctor and Bim. "This is neat," he said, smiling slowly.
Dr. Iplier resisted a shudder at Wilford's teeth glinting in the light, and looked towards the corner of the room again. Sure enough, there was a chair balanced on uneven legs against the wall. No trace of a shadow, now.
Against his better judgement, Dr. Iplier wrote it off as a figment of his imagination. There were more important things, just now, like--
"Wilford, where did you get that lighter?"
"Ah, borrowed it."
Bim tapped the Doctor's shoulder, a reminder. "Wilford, you're not supposed to have inflammables."
With a scowl, Wilford handed the lit lighter to the Doctor, who carefully held it out in front of him. Bim stepped farther into the room, looking around. Dr. Iplier watched his eyes flick to the chair in the corner, then over the blank walls, and finally to the dirt floor.
Wilford let out a low whistle, rubbing the handle of the axe gently. "Well, look at that."
Dr. Iplier sighed. A trapdoor in the floor of a shack in the middle of the woods was just his luck. "No."
Bim and Wilford erupted in protest, waving their arms around the room. Dr. Iplier shushed them, shielding the light with his hand.
"We came, we saw the house, and there's no need to keep going. We should get back to the road with the Host--"
"But Doc," Bim interrupted, "we've come this far, aren't you just a little bit curious?"
"Where's your spirit of adventure?" Wilford ribbed, eyeing the wooden trapdoor. "It could be fun! What's the worst--"
"Don't." Dr. Iplier lifted his hand to stop him, leaving the lighter flickering. Before the Doctor could speak, there was a gust of wind against the door. There was the sound of creaking and splintering, and the flame went out.
Wilford could feel Dr. Iplier glaring at him in the darkness. He snapped his fingers, and the lighter once again flared to life. With a sight sigh, he ran his hand lovingly over the axe once more. "Alright, alright, okay. We'll go--" he stopped, seeing Bim's face behind the Doctor. Dr. Iplier, following Wilford's gaze, whipped around to see Bim staring, whitefaced, into the room.
The trapdoor was open.
Bim was the first to fully recover, swallowing his fear. "Th-the wind probably broke it, right?" His voice fell flat, and Wilford didn't know whether to reprimand him or laugh.
Wilford took a deep breath and stepped forward, inching closer towards the gaping hole in the floor, expecting the Doctor to pull him back at any moment.
Instead, the tiny circle of firelight followed him until he, Bim, and the Doctor were hovering over the hole, looking in.
Dr. Iplier found what was left of his voice. "Absolutely not," he said, but lacked the same firmness he'd had before.
Wilford and Bim exchanged a look over the Doctor's head. Bim's eyes wide: more curious than scared, but only just. Wilford's brows raised, an excited, maniac grin fighting to stay unnoticed. Their eyes locked, and Wilford winked. Bim's face grew a smile and, with a loud whoop that shocked the Doctor, the two of them jumped down the hole.
Dr. Iplier watched the two of them fall, laughing, incredulously. There was no way that they... There was no way that Bim was that stupid. And yet, they disappeared down the trapdoor.
"...living with a bunch of children," Dr. Iplier muttered to himself, recovering. "Why is it always me?" He looked around the room one last time, sighing. It was empty, lit only by the lighter still clutched in his hand.
From the hole came a loud thump, a shout, and suddenly, a bright pink glow. Dr. Iplier looked in, seeing nothing but floor and a ramshackle ladder. Still muttering cynically to himself, he began to clamber down.
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At the bottom of the hole, Wilford caught himself and Bim on a puff of bubblegum-scented air. A foot from the ground, their fall slowed, and they drifted to a complete stop on the dirt floor.
Bim stood up, carefully brushing himself off. "Doc's not going to be happy, Will."
"Does it matter?" Wilford said, gleeful. "We're exploring!"
"Should've grabbed the lighter, genius," Bim jabbed, squinting in the blackness.
"No problem," Wilford shot back, clapping his hands. Almost like one of the Googles, he began to glow with a magenta light.
Bim gasped a little, watching. "You can do that?"
"There's a lot I can do, Trimmer," Wilford winked, barely showing the strain of using his powers.
Bim smiled, winking back, and Wilford almost lost his concentration. What he wouldn't give to cup Bim's cheek in his hand, pressing his lips along Bim's scruffy jaw, feel the cool curve of Bim's lips under his own--
"You're getting distracted, Warfstache," Bim sang, bringing Wilford back to Earth.
Wilford blinked, scowling. "Shut up."
Together, they turned their attention to their surroundings. Above them was the flickering light of the Doctor's lighter, now a distant square. Bim pointed, eyebrow raised, to the broken ladder, and Wilford shrugged. "I've got style."
They stood now in an underground room, all crumbling dirt and mildew. Wilford's glow reflected off puddles of water, pooling quietly. Ahead, Bim could make out the outlines of a tunnel, and pointed to it. "Onwards?"
Wilford cracked a smile, and his aura seemed to pulse in excitement. "Onwards!"
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By the time Dr. Iplier made it to the bottom of the hole, he'd caught his coat on the ladder twice, and three times stepped down when there wasn't a ladder beneath his feet. The lighter had almost fallen. Finally finding solid ground, heart pounding, he turned to face the empty room.
Ahead, he could see the distant pink glow, and correctly assumed that Wilford was up to something, as usual. He stepped forward, noticing the way the light flickered back at him from damp, glistening walls, and the way his coat dragged heavily on the floor behind him. He kept his eyes on Wilford's light, afraid to lose sight of him, and pressed on towards the tunnel leading forwards.
The Doctor's coat caught on something, and with a loud rip, he pitched forward. The lighter snuffed itself out, hitting the ground somewhere out of sight.
In darkness, the breath knocked out of him, he scrambled to find his light, to free himself, to get up; but his hands scrabbled at dirt, puddles of water beginning to soak into his elbows and knees.
Finally, finally, his fingers found purchase on the ground, and Dr. Iplier rose to his knees. In total darkness, he staggered upright, only to be pulled back down by whatever was caught on his coat. With a quiet curse, he reached back to free himself.
His fingers touched something cold, slimy, and disturbingly human-like.
In a moment, Dr. Iplier weighed his options. On one hand, it was a nice coat. On the other...
He slipped his arms out of the sleeves of his coat, not without a twinge of regret, and began inching away on his knees. He was still in blackness-- he could be going away from Wilford, for all he knew-- but kept moving, hands skittering over the floor. His hands scraped rocks, a patch of moss, something he vaguely recognized as a beetle: finally, a metal cube, warm to the touch.
Dr. Iplier flicked it on, blinking hard and breathing harder. In the circle of light, there was only him, standing alone. The only sound his labored breathing. He looked around, not daring to move backwards. His coat was nowhere in sight. Looking forwards, it seemed that Wilford's light, too, had disappeared.
He was alone.
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Wilford and Bim, ahead, were pointing out the transition from dirt to stone when they head Dr. Iplier fall: an 'oof' and the sound of ripping fabric echoing down the tunnel.
"Should we..."
"Nah," Wilford said, shaking his head. "He's fine. And if he isn't, more time to explore!"
Bim frowned, but followed Wilford further in anyway. The tunnel seemed to be sloping downwards, the dirt slowly becoming more compacted, more like rock. Bim swore he could see a light ahead, pointing it out to Wilford.
"Look, do you see it?"
"See what?" Wilford huffed, wiping sweat from his face. His aura and the weighted axe weren't taking that much out of him, but he could've sworn there was another, more oppressive force pushing down on him…
"Wilford?"
"What?" he snapped, turning to look at Bim, and instantly regretting his temper.
Bim had stopped, looking concerned. "Wilford, are you claustrophobic?"
"Closet- what- now?"
"Claustrophobic," Bim said, closing the distance between them. "I mean, you don't like small spaces?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wilford said, aggressively twisting his mustache around a finger of his free hand.
"Will--"
"Look, I'm fine," he said, now nearly squirming in place, hands on the axe. "Let's just keep going." Wilford turned to continue down the tunnel, but Bim stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Wilford," Bim practically purred, and Wilford could feel his pulse pick up. "You can tell me anything, y'know."
Wilford swallowed hard, trying to avoid Bim's soft, brown, almost longing eyes. Wilford's own eyes flicked down Bim's face, to Bim's lips, soft and full, and could barely restrain himself from biting his own--
With a tremendous effort and a growl, Wilford shook Bim's hand off of him. "Stop that!"
Bim pouted, but, concentration broken, let his own aura fall. Wilford could feel the moment it dropped, and his heart rate went back to normal. He still stared at Bim's jaw, but now wondering how hard he'd have to punch Bim to feel like himself again.
Still avoiding Bim's eyes, Wilford turned to stalk down the tunnel. Bim followed, hands in his pockets, a smirk playing across his face. "It was worth a shot," he said, catching up to Wilford.
"Shut up, incubus."
"Suit yourself, witch."
They walked in amicable silence.
A moment later, Wilford could hear the sound of their footsteps change. Rather than dirt or even stone, there was a bricked floor beneath their feet. Bim tugged at his sleeve, and Wilford turned to see the tunnel's dirt walls giving way to wooden braces, lined with wires.
Bim looked up, following the power cords, and mentally connected the wires to the lone light at the end of the manmade hallway. "There's something down there," he whispered, but Wilford was already out of earshot, steps echoing in the silence.
Realizing that he was outside of Wilford's aura of light, Bim hurried to catch up. Stepping forward, his foot caught on something.
Something cold, slimy, and disturbingly human-like.
Bim didn't have time to shout, the wind knocked out of him as he fell forward.
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Dr. Iplier had long since lost the glow of Wilford's aura: but, seeing as there was no other way the two could've gone, he kept moving forward down the tunnel.
At this point, he was having a lot of misgivings. It had been well over an hour, and the odds were that the Host (and hopefully Dark as well) had been picked up and were on their way back to the office. Coming to the tiny shack had been a bad idea, but one that had satisfied Wilford's cursed curiosity. Going in, and then continuing down a mysteriously opening trapdoor had been a significantly worse idea. He was, after all, a doctor, and doctors knew best.
And what he knew best right now was that he was going to kill Wilford and Bim, if and when he found them.
The Doctor's footsteps were louder than they should have been, now slapping against stone and echoing down the tunnel both ahead of and behind him. In the weakening light of the flame he held, even his own shadow seemed threatening. A shiver passed through him, remembering his lost coat, and hoping Wilford and Bim didn't go the same way.
Gradually, the lighter was dimming. Dr. Iplier walked a little faster, seeing a faint light down the tunnel, footsteps echoing in desperation.
Why did he sign up for this? He was apparently the caretaker of these Egos, something he'd never asked for. It was entertaining, sure, and he knew they needed someone to look after them, but-- why? Why him?
Dr. Iplier stepped in a small puddle, the water seeping into his shoe, and groaned. This was just great.
The light in his hand, spurred by a draft, finally flickered and went out. Just great.
The Doctor shook the lighter a little, trying to flick it on, before sighing and dropping it into his pocket. The light at the end of the tunnel was close, now. He wouldn't have needed the lighter for much longer.
He started down the hall again, now in darkness. The sound of his footsteps seemed to change, a transition from dirt to stone to... something else. Something invisible in the darkness. The light ahead was beginning to outline wooden supports above his head, braced against the walls.
He stepped forward, eyes on the ceiling, and tripped on something disturbingly human-like; it was warm, unsoiled, and Dr. Iplier tripped to land across it. Whatever it was, it breathed in short gasps, huddled on the floor.
The Doctor reached out tentatively, feeling towards whatever he had tripped on. When he felt the fabric of Bim's shirt, he shot upright, frantically assessing the prone figure.
"Bim? Bim!" Dr. Iplier poked and prodded at him until he groaned a little, shifting in the near-complete darkness. "Are you okay?"
"D-Doc?" Bim sat up, head spinning, blinking at the outline of Dr. Iplier looking worriedly down at him. "I'm-- is Wilford-- what?"
"You were on the ground," Dr. Iplier said futilely, still looking over what of Bim he could see.
"I'm o-okay," Bim said, reaching up to feel his head. "Just--" his fingers touched something wet and warm, partially rusted to his head, and he paused, running his hand over it.
"You're hurt," Dr. Iplier said, reaching for him. Bim guided the Doctor's hands to his head, and Dr. Iplier winced a little. "Not-- not badly, but you are going to feel like crap."
"Sorry, Doc," Bim said, feeling the Doctor's worried hands at his head.
Dr. Iplier shook his head. "You're both idiots." He held his hands agains Bim's head, and there was a quick pulse of blue light. The pain in Bim's head faded to a dull ache. Dr. Iplier began to stand up, offering Bim a hand. "Speaking of idiots, where's Wilford?"
Standing up, Bim staggered a little, grabbing briefly onto the Doctor for support. He shook his head, taking a few steps forward on his own. "I-I don't know."
Dr. Iplier gave Bim a look that, even in the darkness, Bim could tell was disapproving. In silence, they both started forward towards the very end of the tunnel.
As they grew closer, Dr. Iplier could see the straight lines of a door set into the wall, turning the tunnel into a dead end. It wasn't the door that caught his eye, or even the glowing lightbulb above it. Crumpled in a heap at the foot of the door was, unmistakably--
"Wilford!" Bim sprinted forwards, almost tripping over himself. Dr. Iplier rushed after him, albeit a little more cautiously. Something seemed wrong. Wilford's skin was ashy, his normal bright pink hair and mustache drained to gray. The Doctor sniffed a little.
The smell of charcoal, sulfur, and something like burnt sugar hung in the air.
"Bim, don't!" The shout echoed down the corridor, and Dr. Iplier ran to where Bim was about to bend over Wilford, pull him away from the door.
"What's wrong?" Bim paused, fingers inches away from Wilford's arm.
Dr. Iplier panted, skidding to a stop next to them. "The door-- the door is live!"
"Uh," Bim backed away from Wilford and the Doctor, looking confused. "Are you okay, Doc?"
Dr. Iplier glared at Bim. "It's wired, Bim."
"I don't--" Bim followed the Doctor's finger, eyes locking on to sparks quietly falling from the door frame. "--oh." He looked down to see Wilford's arm still pressed against the door, a live current working it's way through his body.
"He's lucky he has bubblegum magic powers," Dr. Iplier cribbed, looking around, "but we'd better get him off of it, quick." He picked up the axe, presumably thrown when Wilford was shocked, and examined the blade.
Bim looked at the Doctor nervously, eyeing the axe. "What're you gonna do?"
Dr. Iplier paused to pull rubber gloves out of a pocket and put them on. He grinned, almost wickedly. "You'll see. Stand back, Bim."
Bim stood, rooted to the spot, as Dr. Iplier advanced on Wilford's prone body, swinging the axe between his gloved hands. Standing over Wilford, he raised the blade--
"Doc, no--!"
With a clang, Dr. Iplier swung the metal head of the axe into the door, holding the wooden handle in place with gloved hands. Sparks flew, raining over both the Doctor and Wilford, and Bim made to cover his eyes.
"Bim!" Dr. Iplier yelled, voice shaking. "Pull Wilford away, now!"
Bim crawled forward to take hold of Wilford's wrists, pulling the two of them violently backwards until he was sure that even Wilford's toes no longer touched the door. "I got him!"
There was a grunt, and the sparking stopped. The lightbulb overhead flickered violently, then went out.
"D-Doc?" Bim sat with Wilford sprawled across his legs, listening to the Doctor's panting.
"I'm- I'm fine, Bim." A beat, and the Doctor dropped to the ground to sit with his head between his hands, the burnt axe and gloves abandoned.
"That was amazing," Bim said, voice hushed. His tone carried the smallest bit of power, and Dr. Iplier drank the praise down like much-needed medicine.
"T-thanks."
Wilford, head pillowed in Bim's lap, stirred. Bim reached out instinctively to push Wilford's hair, back to its usual pink, out of his eyes.
Wilford chuckled, the sound deep and reassuringly alive. "Well, Bim, I never expected this of you." He opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at Bim with a smile.
He was entirely too comfortable for Bim's liking, and he pushed Wilford off with a playful scowl. "Shut up."
Wilford laughed again, sitting up slowly. "For an incubus, you sure are easily flustered."
Dr. Iplier interrupted Bim's incredulous stuttering. "Boys, can you flirt once we're above ground?"
Wilford, helped up by a furiously blushing Bim and steady-handed Doctor, could barely stand. Dr. Iplier squinted at him in the darkness, thinking.
He finally sighed. "Wilford, if you give us light, we'll carry you."
Wilford perked up, knees suddenly steady, and clapped his hands. He radiated with a cool pink light once again, and Bim sighed in annoyance. Together, he and Dr. Iplier picked up Wilford and made for the entrance of the tunnel.
At the ladder, they set Wilford down.
"How do we--" Bim started, squinting up at the broken steps.
Wilford giggled, the color returned to his face and the mischief to his eyes. With a poof of magenta smoke, he had disappeared. A glow of pink light came from above. "C'mon, slowpokes!"
Bim sighed in the now-darkness, and pushed Dr. Iplier up the ladder in front of him. Halfway up, Wilford's light at the surface disappeared, and Dr. Iplier braced himself to see Wilford once again prone on the floor.
When they reached the top, the Doctor reaching back to pull Bim up, they found Wilford very much awake, dancing around with--
"Is that my coat?"
Wilford stopped, looking almost guilty. "Uh, yes. It was on the chair." He waved at the unevenly balanced chair in the corner, slouched against the wall.
Dr. Iplier rushed forward to grab his coat, checking it over. The mud splatters were gone, the lapels of the coat straightened and folded. He turned it over, looking for tears, and found the largest one sewn haphazardly shut with thread he normally used for the aftermath of Wilford's tickling fights.
"What's up?" Bim walked over, brushing dust off of himself. Despite the adventure they'd just had, he still seemed immaculate.
"Nothing," Dr. Iplier said, shrugging. He put his coat on and gestured for them to leave.
Together, the three of them pulled the door back open, still stiff on its hinges, and stepped out into the forest clearing. It was getting dark now, and through the trees, Wilford could see the headlights of a car swinging to a stop. "Tyler's here!"
They ran to meet the car, Wilford and Bim crashing through the forest like bulls hellbent on destroying the ecosystem. Dr. Iplier followed at a more reasonable pace, picking his way through what was left of the underbrush in their wake.
When they reached the tree line, they found the Host and Tyler already in the car, waiting patiently, the Host narrating their arrival. All three of them jumped headlong into the back seat, Wilford and Bim intent on recounting their adventure, Dr. Iplier reaching worriedly for the Host.
Tyler interrupted Wilford and Bim. "Where's Dark? I thought I left him with you guys."
All eyes in the car turned to the Host, who shrugged. "The Host has been waiting alone."
Bim and the Doctor exchanged a glance, comprehension dawning, sharing visions of a cold, slimy, disturbingly human-like touch.
"We can wait," Wilford said, lounging back. The four of them were squished into the back seat, and Wilford still managed to take up the most room. The Host, sensing it, scowled.
Night fell in a matter of minutes, and Tyler shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat. Rain began to fall, illuminated in the car's headlights first as a drizzle, then a torrent, pounding on the roof. The Host and Dr. Iplier had managed to fall asleep, leaning lightly against each other: the Doctor snored quietly, the Host mumbling narrations of his dreams. Wilford and Bim played a game of iSpy out of their shared window, the unmoving landscape proving a challenging subject.
"Um, I spy... something green and--"
"It's a tree."
"Good guess! Your turn."
"I spy… something green."
"A bush?"
"…no."
"A tree!"
"…yeah. You go."
"I spy..." Bim trailed off, thinking hard. He spotted something move outside the window. Wilford, dozing off, didn't register it. "I spy something black!"
"Black?" Wilford straightened up, leaning past Bim to look out the window. "Black how?"
"Like... dark."
Wilford pressed his nose to the window in mock frustration, wiggling his mustache against the glass. "Speak of the devil!" he exclaimed, muffled.
There was a flash of lightning, closely followed by a clap of thunder-- Dark slammed the car door shut behind him, his usually pristine suit dripping water. The Host and Doctor jolted awake at the noise. Dr. Iplier looked around blearily, and the Host stiffened at Dark's palpable cloud of anger. Wilford and Bim looked at each other in surprise.
"Don't slam the d--" Tyler started, a little wary.
"Just drive," Dark growled, sweeping his sopping wet hair out of his face.
The ride back to the office was, for once, silent.
Tyler herded the Egos back into the office under cover of an umbrella and a spare raincoat. Dr. Iplier, deciding that he'd had more than his share of adventure for the day, headed to his room. The Host followed close behind, heading to his library, locking the door behind him. Dark made for his room, but Wilford stopped him. Bim hung behind, uncertain.
"Will, as much as I enjoy your company," Dark started, glowering as much as he could while dripping water from the end of his nose.
"One question, Darky," Wilford said, stopping him. "Where were you?"
"Sorry, I don't believe I heard you correctly," Dark said, silky, dangerous. "Since when do I have to report my location to you?" He twisted his neck, sending water flying. "It's not as if there was any danger, am I correct?"
Wilford growled, pulling Dark's tie down to bring them eye to eye. "Just answer the question, emo boy."
Dark, unruffled, smiled. He whispered an answer, so that only the two of them could hear. "I was in the middle of a fairy circle, making flower crowns and drinking honey with baby deer."
"Bullshit."
"Oh, but it's true. And here's the best part," Dark said, leaning close. "No one would ever believe you." He patted Wilford's hand and sent a knowing, spine-chilling look at Bim before turning on his heel to leave.
"What was that?" Bim asked, watching him go.
Wilford shrugged, turning his hand over. Dark had given him something, slipped into his palm.
Three leaves, a sprig of ivy.