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“Are you proud of yourself?”
Phil watched as Wilbur turned away from the crater, smoke filling their lungs and a cloud of ash filling the air. Manburg, L’Manburg, whatever it was called, it was gone, blown to smithereens. Technoblade was summoning Withers to finish the job - to wipe out those that were left on the server - and then everything would be finished.
“What?”
“I said, are you proud of yourself?”
“Everything I created… Gone.”
“Wilbur…”
“Course I’m not proud - how the fuck could I be proud?! L’Manburg was everything I’d ever worked for, it was all I ever wanted… It’s done.”
There was a tense silence between the two men, between father and son. This wasn’t how Phil had raised his child, though clearly whatever he had done he hadn’t done a good enough job. For two of his sons to have gone so astray, and the third to be caught up in their mess…
“Dad?”
Wilbur’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and for a moment he managed to meet Wilbur’s eyes. Only for a moment. Guilt would have eventually forced him to look away, but before Phil could be utterly consumed by emotions he was instead distracted by light reflecting from Wilbur’s sword as it was unsheathed and held out between them. For a moment, Phil wondered if he was being threatened - if Wilbur’s final act would be to prove his insanity by killing his own father - but that didn’t happen. Instead, Wilbur just nodded towards the weapon and smiled weakly.
“Take it.”
“Wil-”
“Kill me.”
This time, the silence wasn’t tense. There was no question of what would happen next - how could there be a question when Wilbur had given a command like that?
“You’re my son.”
“ Kill me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Wil. I don’t know what’s happened while you’ve been here, what’s made you and Techno into… This. But this isn’t how I raised the two of you, this isn’t the life I want for you - for any of you - and you have no right to--”
“Do it, dad. Kill me. Look at what I’ve done.”
“The blade was thrusted toward Phil - though the motion was miniscule and inviting rather than threatening - but the older man remained unmoved by the gesture. Wilbur sounded so sure of himself, he’d been so determined when he’d pressed the button and with Technoblade fulfilling the final few steps of their plan, it would be easy to mistake him for being happy. But Phil could see the pain in his eyes, the tiredness in his face, the pale colour of his skin.
This wasn’t his son. Wilbur was hurting. He had done some awful things, yes, but he was still his son. And what kind of father would he be if he watched his son run towards his own demise with open arms? What sort of parent could abandon their child when they needed him the most?
He took the sword from Wilbur, weighing it in his hands for a moment. He’d held a diamond weapon countless times before, but this weapon felt different. Along with the weight of the materials used to make the sword was the weight of regret: everything that Wilbur had done, every death that had been caused by the weapon, it all seemed to have accumulated over the months.
“Please, I need you to do this for me dad…”
“Wilbur…” Phil whispered, and the hurt that had been evident in his son’s eyes before now became so much clearer. Tears leaked, falling quickly, and his breathing became so much faster. Wilbur wanted this to all be over, and Phil was certain if he waited too much longer that his son would be on his knees, begging him to end his life.
“This isn’t what you need, son.” He said quietly, though his voice was firm. What Wilbur had done was wrong, it was horrific, but killing him would achieve nothing - it would give Wilbur the peace he sought, it would allow Technoblade to continue with his own rampage and would force Tommy and all of their friends to try to pick up the pieces alone once he’d gone.
Phil dropped the sword, and Wilbur’s knees buckled. He practically folded in two, his entire body falling forward: he would’ve hit the ground if it wasn’t for his father catching him. Rather than try to keep them both standing, Phil lowered them both down slowly and he knelt down on the remains of the bunker floor, pulling Wilbur close to him.
It was too late to stop Technoblade completely, so for now Phil forced himself to focus on the one thing he could do.
“I love you.” He whispered, and he heard a sob leave his son’s lips. The sound was muffled against his chest - the boy that had outgrown him suddenly so much smaller, so much more fragile than the last time he’d seen him - and Phil just sought to offer more comfort. One hand moved to Wilbur’s head, fingers running through the curls on his head, and the other rubbed circles on his back. “I love you so fuckin’ much, Wilbur. You hear me? I love you.”
Wilbur was shaking now, his entire body trembling with anguish as he broke down completely in his father’s arms.
“I will never stop loving you, I swear, but holy shit do we have a lot of work to do.”
“I’m a monster--”
“I don’t give a shit, Wil.” Somehow, Phil found a way to make the words he spoke sound loving. “I don’t care. We can’t change the past, alright? I can’t un-blown up L’Manburg. That’s something you’re gonna have to live with for the rest of your life. But d’you know what you can do?” A beat of silence followed. Phil continued. “You can find Tommy and you can apologise. And I’ll tell you somethin’ for nothin’, no way in hell is he gonna believe that you’re really sorry, but that doesn’t matter either. What matters is what you do next. You might have been a monster before, you might be a monster today, but if you face up to the shit you’ve done and you try to fix it… Monsters don’t do that, Wil. You’re my son, and I love you. I believe you can do the right thing, okay?”
Phil didn’t say anything more, he didn’t need to, he could tell that his message had gotten through. Wilbur’s grip on the back of his shirt was tight, his cries were muffled, his desperation for death - for a way out - seemed to have faded away and been replaced with regret.
Regret was so much easier for a father to deal with. So long as Wilbur regretted his actions, Phil knew his son could still be helped - still be saved. Technoblade would be a matter for another time, when the Wither’s were dead and gone and the world was peaceful enough for him to find his oldest child and when Technoblade was ready to own up to his wrongdoings. For now, Phil knew that this was where he needed to be.
“Can I stay with you dad?” Wilbur asked, his voice broken and hoarse. “I’ll fix things tomorrow, but can I just--”
“I’m here, Wil. As long as you need me. We’ll get through this together.”