Chapter Text
Wilbur's unconscious body lands in the snow with a loud thump.
Dream stares down at it for a long, long moment, and ponders the decisions he's made over the past twenty-four hours.
The body at his feet is flesh-toned, breathing, and very much alive, a stark contrast to the Wilbur everyone had known for the past month and a half. His cheeks are even slightly pink.
Dream's unceremonious drop hadn't awoken Wilbur. He lies on his side, bundled up in winter boots, insulated pants, two long-sleeve shirts underneath his signature yellow sweater, a thick scarf, and that damned beanie from his exile. He certainly wouldn't die out here, maybe just wake up a little cold. Not the end of the world. Certainly not anything that would undo all of Dream's hard work.
Dream squats down and gently lifts Wilbur's head, positioning the scarf underneath so that it protected all of Wilbur's exposed skin from the snow. The handcrafted item had been a gift from Sapnap ages ago, one that Dream no longer had any personal use for, one that had just been gathering dust in a chest for years. It'll be better used to keep Wilbur warm.
"Wonder what you're gonna call yourself." Dream pulls the beanie a little farther down over Wilbur's ear. "You're not a ghost anymore. You're certainly not the man you used to be. I think Alivebur would be fitting for you, but you've used that one up." He laughs once, barely, and stands up. "Well, good luck. You'll need it." He nudges his foot against one of Wilbur's hands for good measure.
There's still silence, still unconsciousness, still nothing but breathing from the man on the ground. He looks so heavy, so alive. It's strange.
Dream carefully takes out and unfolds his elytra, the fragile wings glinting with enchantment. It takes him a moment to get all the straps situated. It's not an item he's used to using, doubly so when he can't let anyone see him. A single firework blast, and then he's off into the night sky, leaving a single trail of footprints and the slightest bit of ash as the only signs anyone else has ever been there.
Tommy and Phil are awoken by the loud ringing of the bell in the attic.
Dawn is just breaking over the snow-covered hills, warm daylight streaming in through the windows. Phil sits up, easily wide awake, eyes tuned to the ceiling.
"What the fuck." Tommy grumbles lowly, eyes still closed.
"Gimme a sec." Phil pushes off his covers and stands, giving himself a moment to stretch and yawn before climbing up the ladder and pushes open the trapdoor.
Techno is standing there, fully in his anthropomorphic pig form, ringing the bell. It's at a slower pace than normal, only once or twice a second, but it's still far more than Phil wants to be hearing at this time in the morning.
"Dude."
"Morning." Techno does not stop.
"Techno. It's dawn." Phil's voice keeps his characteristic light almost-laughter, even at the annoying scene.
"The bell waits for no one."
"Christ. Okay."
"Alright. Alright." Techno stops the ringing and finally looks at Phil. "Did I wake you two up?"
"Yes. I don't think Tommy's very happy."
"I am not happy." Tommy's voice floats up through the open trapdoor. "I have never been unhappier."
Techno blinks twice. "That is a lie."
"I know, but let him have his fun." Phil is smiling wide. "Have you slept?"
"No, no. You know me."
"I do. C'mon down." Phil's voice is gentle. "You can get a couple hours in before the day really starts."
Techno sighs. "I guess so." His eyes aren't quite focusing, though it's unclear to Phil whether or not it's because he's not wearing his glasses.
"Anything wrong? That you wanna talk about, I mean."
"Not yet."
"Then come on down and rest."
Phil waits until he sees Techno moving towards him to hop off the ladder onto the floor below. Tommy is still burrowed under the covers on his bed, only his eyes and hair peeking out. The bags under his eyes that he'd acquired from his time in exile haven't entirely faded. He needs his sleep.
Techno's thump to the floor is loud, and Tommy groans. "Why were you doing that."
"The bell waits for no one."
"I heard you say that already."
"It still rings true."
Phil laughs. Tommy groans and pulls his comforter over his head.
Techno essentially falls onto his bed, not even bothering with his covers. The words that follow are muffled by the fact his face is smushed into his pillow. "Going to join us, Phil?"
"Uh, no, I'm fully up, unfortunately." The sound of the bell had given Phil just enough adrenaline to keep him awake and ready for action. "I think I'm gonna sit outside and enjoy the sunrise since I'm here for it."
"Have fun." Techno appears to be committing to his bit.
"I am going back to sleep." Tommy announces.
"Good. You need it." With those words, Phil slips out the front door.
The morning is still and beautiful. The sun hasn't yet risen enough to make the snow unbearably bright. There's barely any wind, a nice respite from the storm that had raged the day before. It hadn't brought a ton of snow, mostly wind, and it'd been easy to clear out all the important areas around the cottage.
Phil surveys the surroundings, doing his best to tamp down the hardcore instincts that always ran in the back of his mind. He's safe here. He can always step back inside in seconds. He's safe. He's home. He's taking in the beauty of the morning, the calm, the- what's that.
There's a disruption in the evenness of the snow, off near the forest, just barely visible with the glint on the snow. Phil squints, trying to make out what it could be. It looks like footsteps, but he's a bit too far away to be sure. He can account for every other disturbance but this one.
Damn his instincts.
Phil steps back inside. Even though he'd only been gone for a few moments, he can already hear the muffled snorts that indicate Techno is sleeping, still in the same face-down position.
Tommy's eyes are still open, and he watches as Phil pulls on his boots. "Cold?"
"Kind of." Phil grabs his sword. "I gotta check something out."
"Can I come with?" Tommy's voice is half-full of sleepiness.
"It won't be very interesting. Mostly just doing it to comfort myself. You'd be bored."
"Oh, I just hate being bored."
"Thought so." Phil situates his hat onto his head and smiles. "Have a good sleep."
"Have a good check."
Phil chuckles, and then once again slips out the door. This time, he heads down the steps and out into the snow. It crunches under his feet. He lets himself be on high alert, even though it's too bright for any mobs to surprise him.
As he approaches, he learns his initial thought was right. Those are footprints, and they lead from the direction of the nether portal into the trees. They look heavy, as though whoever made them was greatly weighed down, and there's only one set. Whoever or whatever made them had to still be there.
He keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword and follows them.
The trees aren't very dense. Phil can see every twist and turn, everything that lies ahead. After several minutes of walking, the footsteps take a sharp right turn into a thicker section of trees. He slows his pace, letting his gaze fall upon the end up the trail.
There's a body in the snow, and it is wearing a familiar gold sweater.