Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Phil leaned back, ruffling his feathers a little, letting the droplets of blood fall off of them. Mobs littered the ground around him, a sickly dark blue from the zombies, bone matter, and wine red from the spiders. It stained his green and white coat, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. The sword shook in his hands. Nerves and adrenaline coursed through his body, only becoming noticeable through this moment of quiet.

Black obsidian surrounded him at all sides, the overwhelming heat of the Nether sinking into him, draining him of all energy. The tall black mansion in front of him was daunting. Sharp angles that showed the tiers of the inside. A dark shadow cast on everything in front of him. It was intimidating.

If Phil had just been exploring the Nether on his own, he would have avoided it at all costs. No matter what kind of treasure was in there, it was not worth going through the hassle of trying to navigate it, not to mention trying to fight all of the creatures he was sure were in there.

Phil flipped his sword with a sigh until it rested on his shoulder and started walking towards the entrance.

These were not normal circumstances. This was not him just exploring the Nether on his own; it was different. This was so much different. If he was alone, he could be reckless. Now he had people relying on him.

There was no door at the entrance of the tower. A bedrock garden surrounded it, making bridges and paths over stagnant pools of lava. Arches lead right to a giant opening in the building, intricately decorated with black obsidian to contract with the Redstone background, gold nuggets ordained every once in a while. A culmination of everything that the Nether had in it.

Phil looked at it with disgust before starting to move in.

The inside had a large, sweeping main hall, a single strip of red carpet down the center of each one—a split spiral staircase at its end, with arches on either side. The ceiling was high. High enough to hold an enormous crystal chandelier. The entire thing shimmered from the eternally burning torch lights around it, casting odd shadows and rainbows on the nearby walls.

It was the ugliest thing that Phil had ever seen. The large black feathers on his wings started to puff up from irritation from just looking at it. He wanted to chop it down. He wanted to see the 'perfect' crystals crash against the stone floor and break into a million pieces, to hear the sound of it breaking.

He kept walking up the stairs. There was only one door, the one at the top before the stairs split to get to the balcony. A large metal door. Much more bleak than the rest of the room. Simple. Metal. Cold. A single-ring door handle being the only thing that decorated it.

Phil grabbed it, pulling it open. It groaned under the sudden motion.

A single spiral of stairs was in front of him. Going up. Only up. And that was it cold, with flickering lights on going all the way up. The only way to go was up.

So Phil started to climb. One foot in front of the other, his wooden shoes clicking against the stone as he kept going, his sword held tight in his hand.

A giant metal door in front of him. A single hoop handle. Phil tugged at it, swinging the door open.

A long hallway was beyond it. Gold arches leading through it, with the same red carpet stripe going all the way down the center of it.

The metallic smell of blood hung in the air, thick and gagging. Clogging Phil's airways, looking at the carnage of mob corpses before him, their blood soaking into the ground beneath them. The carpet was disturbed, wrinkled, and torn, smears of blood across the walls and ceiling of this place.

And, in the center of the room, a heap of red cloth, lay someone. Pink hair pooling under his head, a golden crown, once sat proudly on top of his head, now lay discarded off to the side. His sword, once held with power, and honor, flowing with confidence every time he had picked it up, lay off to the side of the warrior, broken, snapped in two.

Phil ran to his son. Tripping over his own feet, flaring his wings to keep his balance. Panic started to well up in his chest. His mind reeling with the images in front of him, begging, pleading to anyone near him. Please, just let him be alive. There was no slow rise and fall of his chest as Phil slid next to him, rolling Technoblade onto his back.

His eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes, edged with red, a gift from the god he had chosen to follow so long ago. They were glassed over; his mouth opened, blood dripping out of it. Tusks broken and chipped where he had gently placed golden rings around them every day. His tall standing pig ears, with pieces of jewelry, stuck in them, floppy and down. Course boar fur stood in patches all over his skin, peeking through his torn cloths, one of his tusks larger and sharper than the other. He had been dead before he had been able to completely come down from his transformation.

He looked so scared. He was looking up into nothing beyond Phil, his father, as he tried to feel for a heartbeat in his piglin son's chest. Desperately putting his hand against the piglin hybrids chest, trying to feel for something, anything.

Nothing.

Phil scrambled to put a hand on his wrist.

Nothing.

He was so very still. It was unsettling.

Phil gathered the boy into his arms. His head lulled to the side, making it difficult for Phil to get a good grip, holding the piglin close to his chest, letting his long, now matted pink hair flow behind him.

He was completely limp in Phil's arms. Completely relaxed, floppy, and lifeless, the unnatural warmth of his piglin skin started to drain out of him, leaving behind a cold, cold corpse of the brave warrior that had once stood tall above all.

"No," Phil whispered, pulling his son closer to himself. "No, this isn't right."

A gaping hole in his stomach where the blood had drained out of him, looking torn like he had pushed himself to keep going even after the wound was made, stretching it further. Blood slowly trickled from off of his fingertips from cuts on his arms. A large pool of blood below him, staining Phil's pants from kneeling in it. He lost his life fighting.

It was the way he would have wanted to go.

That did not stop Phil from screaming.

He held him close, trying to ignore the way that it was just dead weight in his arms, feeling how limp and lose it was as he did—holding his head close to his chest as tears fell out of his eyes. The crushing reality that he was never going to see his son again. He would never be able to hear those harsh syllables of piglin speak that would sometimes slip into his speaking. His dry humor. The way he let Wilbur braid his hair.

Wilbur--

Tommy--

They were still here. They were still alive.

Phil gently laid his fallen son on the ground. Setting Techno's head onto the stone floor before closing the eyes. He looked asleep. A piece of Phil wanted to believe that that was true.

The wiser part of him knew that it was a dangerous lie to tell himself.

He pulled the red, blood-stained cloak across the hybrid's face, covering it completely, before placing the broken blade on his chest.

Fury boiled in Phil's mind as he looked at the body of his dead son, barely able to register the tears that were falling down his face.

He let the anger overtake him. There would be time to mourn later. For now, he had other sons to save. So he pressed on.

Following the red carpet to the end of the hall, where two tall golden doors stood. Phil gripped his sword, letting his teeth grind together while he looked up. His mind was starting to cloud with fury, righteous wrath of a father who had lost too much.

They swung open with a push, and Phil spread his wings, letting himself slip into a defensive position.

It was a large throne room, with golden steps leading up to a giant golden throne, with red cushioning. There were intricate carvings all over it, with a massive crystal star placed at the very top. White marble pillars lined the edges of the room, with wooden walls beyond that, unseeable through the shadows of the posts. The red carpet continued—right to a man standing at the very bottom of the steps. In complete enchanted netherite armor, with a white smiling mask covering his face, a forest green hood over most of his hair, with little tuffs of brown sticking out at the front. His hand extended, holding a boy up by his throat while he kicked to try to touch the floor. Tommy choked, clawing at the and that wrapped around his throat. His golden-tipped wings were beating desperately, trying to get away, straining to fight against the choking grasp of the man. Panic deep-seated in his eyes, the veins started to appear in the whites from lack of air, the blood vessels bursting under the pressure, while his breath sputtered. Under one of the masked man's feet was Wilbur, a blood-stained brown coat draped over his shoulders. His face being squished into the floor by his boot, while his chest struggled to take in a breath, desperately trying to reach for the red-shirted child above him, a feeble attempt to try to help. Knowing that his fallen brother could have done a better job, but refusing to give up.

"Oh, look who showed up?" Dream smirked, still holding Tommy out at arm's length. "A little too late if you ask me. Maybe you could have saved Techno; I'm sure you saw his corpse. He died in such a dishonorable way, protecting something so small and fragile; I was hoping for more of a fight from him. But no, he died trying to protect this piece of--"

"Don't finish that sentence," Phil said, his body shaking with rage, barely able to contain it.

"My best adversary," Dream continued, "dead. For such a pathetic cause. Oh well. At least I get to see the life drain from your eyes."

Phil's body jerked into action. He ran. He ran. He had to get there. He had to. He had to save them. He--

A snapping noise echoed through the chamber. Tommy's head sunk to the side, life draining from his eyes in an instant, his face still wet with tears, terror, and guilt.

Someone was screaming. Phil could see Wilbur's mouth open, tears streaming down his face, but all he could hear was a pounding in his ears.

Dream reeled back his arm before throwing the body of his youngest son at Phil. In A second, he had gently caught the boy in his arms, using his wings to balance himself as he landed.

Phil gagged.

The clear snap, Tommy's neck head lulled to the side, too much like Techno's. Maybe, even more, the muscles and skin were straining to keep his head attached to the rest of his lifeless body, limp in his arms. He was so still. He was not supposed to be still. He was a hyper, obnoxious kid who annoyed his brothers to no end, creating mischief. And now he was here. Dead.

He wanted to mourn. He wanted to gather the bodies of his sons and cry, and break, and shatter himself into pieces for failing them. But the winged man stopped. Forcing himself to put the body down, just as gently as he had with Techno, placing his cloak over the body.

There was one left. Phil was fucking save one.

His piercing blue eyes trained up to Dream. The masked man was behind Wilbur, holding a blade to his neck as Wilbur screamed, thrashing against his grip to get to his younger brother. To do something. Tears poured down his face, his neck straining with desperation, fighting with everything in him to break free, the blade starting to sink into his throat.

It was not enough.

"And then there was one," Dream said.

A clean cut. Across Wilbur's throat, and a moment passed. Before blood poured out of the wound, and he gurgled, his entire from painted a deep, sickly red.

Phil found himself behind Dream, a loud crack echoing through the golden room, his sword passing through the netherite armor, through the demi-god's chest, and out the other side.

A beating heart slowed around the blade, bleeding out into his chest, filling it with blood while the organ tried to keep itself going, sealing its fate the harder it worked.

Phil kept the sword there. He did not move it until Dream laid limp on the metal, dripped Wilbur and his sword to the ground, filling the empty space with horrendous sounds of a dead body hitting the ground.

And so Phil stood. In a Nether Fortress of blood. A demi-god at his feet. All three of his sons lying dead, pools of their own blood coloring the floor. So much wealth all around them, and in an instant, Phil had become the poorest person in the world.

A numb aching feeling in his chest opened, sucking everything Phil loved in until he was nothing but a shell of who he used to be because all of the reasons he had for living lay dead on the floor before him.

He screamed. At the gods for their cruel jokes, playing with mortals is unfair when they knew that they were so fragile. He cried for the lives that had so violently ripped out of his hands by a man he had no gripe with.

And a god screamed with him. Her chest shuttering with guilt and remorse as she looked on at her broken lover, gathering the bodies of his sons to hold close and try to remember the warmth of them for as long as he could.

Chapter Text

Twenty-four hours. It took them twenty-four hours to figure out where Dream had set up his base. And another five hours to travel there. Ranboo and Tubbo had led the charge, staying hand in hand as they traveled, discussed with the others, interrogated everyone they came in contact with, raided Phil's house to try to find where the avian had runoff. It had all taken too long. Ranboo chewed on his claws as they waited, while Tubbo just stood there. His eyes were hardened and angry. They were both angry.

But they had found the place, deep within the Nether far, far out. No one questioned the teens when they walked through the portal, adorned with netherite swords, the hands interlocked. Puffy and Sam were close behind, lips closed tight, following them as their silent warriors, vowing to protect them no matter what. Niki held her sword tight in her hand, taking the back of the group to make sure that no one would follow them. Hannah took her space next to her as well, Eret staying more towards the front with BadBoyHalo. They're the strongest warriors, all in their own respects, off to retrieve the parts of their community that had been stolen.

Tubbo knew that they were doing their best, that they were just as sad as the rest of them, and just wanted to help, and he tried to get rid of the rage that was echoing around in his chest, but he really could not. And he did not even want to try. He replayed the moment over and over and over again in his head, getting angrier every time he saw it flash in his mind's eye.

He was going to kill Dream when he got his hands on the man.

He was going to kill him for ruining their perfect day. A day when he had actually been on time to training and did not have to do extra laps that Techno always made him do. The day where he had almost beaten Ranboo, even if the ender hybrid denied it at the moment. Tommy had gotten a hit on his older brother, boosting about it at every opportunity that he got when they had taken a break early because it was just too hot where Wilbur had found them lounging under a tea, bringing a basket filled with lunch and drinks. Techno had let Wilbur braid his hair, Tubbo and Tommy handing over long grass strands to stick in the man's bare neck, knowing that he could not move with Wilbur's hands weaving. The day where they had all settled down, letting the warm air wash over them, taking a midday nap, his back against the hard bark of the tree, but the grass being the softest thing that he had ever laid on.

He was going to kill Dream for putting a blade to Tommy's neck. He was going to kill him for the yelp that the loud, brash blonde had screamed. For the way that Techno and Wilbur had immediately scrambled to their feet, the piglin hybrid holding his sword close at hand, his hand on the hilt, expert eyes looking for an opening.

Tubbo was going to kill Dream for the way that he had thrown Tommy at his brothers before running for them, activating some kind of magic, and teleporting them away. How he had caught a glimpse of fear in Techno's eyes as he wrapped his arms around his brothers, shielding them with his body.

That was the rage that kept him going, allowing him to put one foot in front of the other, stalking across the netherrack and avoiding the lava pools.

But his hand stayed on Ranboo's; he kept the ender hybrid close; he was not going to lose anyone else. Sure, Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno were not his brothers, and Phil was not his father, at least by blood. But the avian had taken him in when he had no one, his home burned around him; he had been pulled out by the strong arms of the winged man who had quickly become his protector. He had hidden his face in the shoulder of the man he loved, a bond stronger than blood, feeling the wings wrap around him.

He had met people he cared about. And even though those memories of a burning building were too fresh in his mind, he still loved them as the only family that he had ever known—Tubbo remembered begging them to look for his friend in the rubble. Those babbling words almost surely did not make sense, and watching a piglin hybrid dropping to his knees, pulling inflamed wood aside, looking for any signs of life.

Ranboo had been found. Pulled up into the gentle cradle that Techno made with his arms, Tubbo sobbing ugly at the sight of his hurt but breathing friend. They had been taken in, patched up, and given a place to heal.

And he was going to kill Dream for taking that away.

The tension between the group got tenser as they got closer to the location they thought Dream's base was. There was an unspoken anxiety that they might have the wrong place, but all of them refused to say it for fear that it would only tempt fate. But it was there, and it was apparent.

The circle around them got a little tighter as they approached something. Puffy and Sam held their swords up a little, looking at the large, black structure in front of them. It was tall, pointed, and intimidating looking, with walls surrounding the whole place, with the top of the tower poking out over the walls. There were no gates on the walls, letting them walk into the netherrack garden that filled the space between the two structures, a large black hole where the tower's entrance was.

Hannah moved up forward, taking a more offensive position with Puffy and Sam; her sharp eyes started to scout around the area, trying to find any traps or hidden people who wanted to get the drop on them. The vines that wrapped around her brown colored hair started snaking around her arm, drawing closer and closer to her fingertips, sharp with thorns that seemed to affect everyone but her. Her armor was light but strong; she had commissioned Sam to make it for her; the creeper hybrid had spent days on it to make it just the way that she wanted it.

Puffy took the lead, letting the rest of the group fall behind her. Her hair was tied up, her more imposing and powerful armor silent under her expert steps, her flat goat nose twitched with heat, the two horns that curled on her head wrapping around her fluffy goat ears. Thin rainbow fabric was hanging off her sword and dropping down from where she tucked it into her belt. Along with Sam, in similar imposing but green color armor, a gas mask strapped tightly to his face, they would be the tanks. Ready to absorb any powerful hits that would try to slow down the ground.

They were moving too slowly. Tubbo wanted to burst out of their ranks and run forward into the castle and try to find everyone as fast as he could. But he knew that they would only pull him back or send him back. And that was not going to happen.

So he held his tongue, squeezed Ranboo's hand a little tighter, and followed as they walked into the tower. It was ugly. Decorated with too much gold and the ceilings too high. A pretentious chandelier was hanging above them, and a thick red carpet following them to the split staircase in front of them that lead to upper balconies. The door at the very top of the stairs, before they split, was open.

They walked even slower. A crawl of a pace as they moved, starting to climb the steps. A spiral of stairs beyond the door, forcing them up. Puffy and Sam dropped their weight and motioned for the rest of them to do the same, Hannah taking her spot up at the front.

Tubbo could hear the click of Eret's boots from behind them; their ranks rearranged a bit. Tubbo and Ranboo sandwiched between the adults. He tried not to let it bother him. It was nice to have three people watching his back.

The white-eyed man's short cape slung around one of his shoulders, his elegant and powerful sword held in his hands. Niki behind him, her armor gleaming in the light that the chandelier made, an ax weighing heavily in her hands. She had fallen in love with using axes after training with Techno so much with them and had just started to use them more often. BadBoyHalo held up the very back, towering over the rest of them, his form closer to his full height demon form. His eyes were soft, a break from the rest of the hardened stares that the rest of the group had.

Tubbo wished that he could have been that relaxed when they had gotten high enough up on the stairs to see the blood covering every surface of the next room.

He did not get a step before Puffy turned to him, bracing him back with her arm and forcing him to make eye contact. Square eyes to square eyes, his more brown tones to hers.

"Tubbo, you need to stay calm," she said, "we don't know what happened, and we can't have you running in there and potentially getting yourself, or someone else hurt. I know that you want to make sure that they are ok, but we need to be smart about this, or else just more people will get hurt. If you can't handle this, then I will send you back, do you understand?"

There was blood roaring in his ears, and everything felt so far away. He had heard what Puffy had said, he did, but the words did not process. I mean, they did, but it was not like he was going to follow them. It was taking every ounce of self-control to keep himself in place at the moment, but he nodded anyway. He was not going to be sent away.

That was enough, the ram hybrid returned the nod and took her place at the front of the group again, and they finished their walk up the staircase.

It was so much worse than they had first thought. This room was the same as the room before, covered in gold, a red carpet under their feet, arches following it to the back, and blood, dried a sickly brown on every surface of this place, mob corpses all around them. Tubbo held tighter on Ranboo's hand, gritting his teeth together to keep himself in place. The steps were so slow, and it was agonizing.

His skin itched to kill.

There was another door, wide open, golden, and heavy. And on the far side of the room, just in their line of sight, was a pile of dark, almost black feathers, draped over something, stripes of green interrupting the solid color.

He was gone before they had a chance to stop him. Puffy shouted at him to stop as he broke through the ranks, dragging Ranboo behind him. Tubbo was only half aware of the shouts of protests of his competitions, too busy running through the halls, trying to get closer, closer, closer--

And the closer he got, the more he hated what he saw.

It was Phil. His wings were flared and pulled tight, wrapping around the three bodies of his sons. Techno's pink hair was just peeking out from under the feathery blanket, Wilbur on his other side, both of their eyes closed. They almost looked asleep, their faces wholly relaxed and devoid of any pain. If he looked hard enough, Tubbo could make himself believe that that was true and look past the unsettling whiteness that shaded all of their faces. Tommy was directly under Phil, held close to his chest, gently cradling the boy's neck with his arm. There was no blood pooling under them, but from the other two blood pools that had already sunk into the carpet, it was easy to guess that this had not been the place where they had met their end.

Phil had moved them. A desperate father trying to keep the cold corpses of his sons warm, to bring life back into their faces. His shoulders shook, but still pressing his face into the top of Tommy's blood-dried hair.

Tubbo slid to a stop. His heart dropping, his knees giving out. This was it. Phil would not have done this unless there was no way to bring them back. Even if he was trying to convince himself now that they were going to come back, that he could warm them up like they were nestlings and everything would be fine, deep down, the avian knew that he was telling himself a lie. And Tubbo knew it.

They were gone—all of them. From how pale they were, they had been dead for hours. He was too late. Everyone had been too late. Even Phil had not been able to get there in time. There had never been any hope of saving them. They were dead the moment they had teleported away.

"Tubbo! Ranboo! You can't--can't" Puffy slid to a stop behind him, bringing the entire group to a halt a few feet from where Phil was lying. They looked down at him. Broken and dirty, the light of the Nether shone in through stained glass windows that had once overlooked a beautiful throne room, god fingers reaching down for the souls of their friends, companions, brothers. "Oh, gods."

Ranboo knelt next to Tubbo, still grappling with what he saw in front of him too, unable to take his eyes off the scene. They were not even sure Phil knew that they were here. He probably did not. Too buried in his grief to even be aware of anything that was going on around him.

The ender hybrid wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him in close, while Tubbo's brain, finally, finally, caught up to what was happening. And it stopped with the poetry. And he uttered one awful sound, opening his mouth to say something, but gagged instead. Clamping a hand over his mouth to keep himself from throwing up.

Phil's head snapped up, baring his teeth, bringing all of the boys in a little closer, like a feral parent, wounded and desperate to keep the last of their cubs alive.

"Phil," Niki said, her and Eret taking the step forward to the corpses and their father while the rest of them started to secure the room, looking for anyone hiding the shadows. "Phil, what happened?"

He growled a deep and guttural thing, his vocal breaking in between syllables. It must have been at least a day since he had water.

Tubbo watched, but he did not see. His mind was not here. It floated in the sky with the rest of his thoughts. Was this all happening? Maybe, maybe if he could see the corpses, see the dead face of his best friend, he could accept what happened, that he could react, cry, sob something, not just sit here with a blank look on his face.

"Phil," Eret reached out a bit. Phil snapped his jaw at him. They pulled back. "Phil, they're dead. We need to take them back."

His face fell. Tubbo watched the last little bit of hope drain from this man, the manic feral front he had put up melted before him, leaving behind someone too scared to face reality.

"No," his voice cracked and strained with disuse, "no, they're ok. They are just a little cold at the moment. Once we get them somewhere warm, they are going to wake up."

"No, Phil," Niki tried again, gesturing to Tommy's limp head in his arms that he held so close to his chest, "they're not going to wake up. They're gone. I am so sorry."

"You're lying! You're lying, and I don't believe you. Techno did this when he was little, he--" Phil chuckled, looking down to the piglin's pooled pink hair with fondness dripping from his dry eyes. If he had any water left in his body, he would have cried. "He would hibernate. That was normal, we just need to get them wrapped up, and they'll be ok. Niki, do you think that you can make them some soup? They would like that a lot, and it would make them all warm and--"

"Phil, they're gone," Eret said. His deep voice was firm, harsher than he probably was intending, from the way that he was shaking, trying to keep everything inside, to not lash out at the man who had just lost everything. "They are not going to come back. Their souls are gone; they bled to death. It's--it's cruel to hold their bodies the way that you are, not to them, but to yourself. You know that they are gone. Please, just--here, let me take Tommy."

The avian growled again, pulling his son closer to him and backing away from the group. Niki caught their hand and put it down from where they reached out. They were stuck. The others had finished their sweep and were coming over. They needed to collect the bodies and get out of this cursed place.

Tubbo moved forward on his knees. Phil's head snapped over to his direction, his shoulder's immediately relaxing as soon as he saw the ram's eyes. That bloomed--nothing in Tubbo. Maybe he should have been touched in another world, but not in this one.

He reached out a bit. The avian opened his wings a bit like he was willing to accept the boy under them, right next to the corpse of Wilbur. Tubbo could feel the sweaty heat emitted from under the wings, trying not to cringe back from it, as he held out his hand.

"Can I have Tommy?"

The father stopped. Looking between the ram and the blonde in his arms. He was conflicted, stuck in between giving the boy what he asked for, and keeping his son safe, warm. Something snapped in his eyes, but it would not ripple through all of his minds until later.

"Alright, you are his best friend; maybe you can wake him up."

Phil lifted himself a little, gently gathering all of Tommy into his arms, being extra careful of his neck, before passing him off to Tubbo, his arms jerking back as soon as the weight started to leave him. He was fighting himself not to pull the boy back to make sure that he could protect him.

Tubbo held the lifeless body of his best friend, holding him with the amount of care that a person could give to a piece of steak. Because that is what he had. A piece of meat, without the parts that made him the funniest, brightest, energetic, annoying, charismatic--

Fuck.

Fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck!!

He was gone. Tommy was gone. He could see the part of his neck that had been completely snapped in two; his head lulled limply off to the side. Eyes closed, in a way that had seemed peaceful from far away, but now that he was looking at it, it just looked empty. Empty. He was empty; he was holding an empty, empty corpse of the person he cared about so fucking much.

And he broke. Tubbo dropped the body with a dull thud and turned to cling to Ranboo, burying his face away, while tears streamed down his face, and a scream ripped through his vocal cords.

He could barely make out what was happening behind him.

"Tubbo! You dropped him. He's going to have a concussion now."

"Phil, he's gone."

"No--no, he's not. He's just--just--just--"

It was a lot harder to pretend when the corpse looked so much like a doll. Tubbo shut his ears up and screamed, trying just to block everything out. A wave of intense emotion he felt like he did not feel anything, any tears immediately evaporating in the air dry, hot air around him, as his best friend laid on the ground.

Dead.

Tommy was dead.

Chapter Text

Years were etched onto the skin of the family. Phil would have loved to take all of the abuse, taking it with a smile and joyous laughter, if it meant that his sons never suffered a second in their lives. And his body was scarred. Oh, it was scarred. Tortured and pushed to the limit, thin lines sprinkled around the ones that had taken chunks out of his flesh and left dents where he used to be whole. He had things taken from him.

But none of it was as painful as what he had seen his sons go through. They had never had a home, a set place where they settled down; the discrimination against their kind made that harder than most. They were all statements of that, the suffering that their quaint little family had been through.

They had been separated from each other. They had all been so young when they were violently ripped from Phil’s campsite, screaming for their father to come save them, as the man desperately tried to fight the weakness potion that was overtaking his senses. The corners of his eyes could make out Tommy’s wings flapping frantically, the pink hair of Techno, trying to put himself between their attackers and his brothers, Wilbur shakily holding a knife, pushing Tommy further behind him. Phil’s muscles screamed with strain while he foamed at the mouth, a rugged boot put between his wings, forcing him to stay down.

His children were taken away, kicking and begging for their lives, and he was expected to be executed. But being executed meant that Phil had done something worth taking his life over. Living in the forest with his three sons had been the only thing he had dedicated his life to for so long. There were no crimes, only the greed that followed these trappers everywhere they went.

Phil had kept fighting to the end, kept fighting when the touch of death started to cloud his vision and fought as the hand of death caressed his crying face.

That was the first time he had met Death. Or any god, for that matter, they were not the most social creatures. The goddess that he had worshipped for years taught his sons about. Who he had given so many gifts to stood before him, a mournful look in the eyes that held the universe, sparkling with tears unshed.

His hand graced her, holding it closer to his face, and sobbed the words that echoed in his head:

“Help. Please, help us--”

Her large hat jingled with the jewelry that hung down from the brim, while Death’s lips were pressed together in a tight smile.

“I can not. This is the way that it has to be. I am so sorry.”

“I have been loyal to you for years!” His voice was thick with venom and desperation, holding onto the one thing that was slipping through his fingers. Phil ripped her hand away from her face, tears clouding his vision, screaming at the goddess. “My children don’t deserve this. If you won’t help me, then help them. Let them live. Take me, let them go. Please, they are so young; they have so much to give this world, take me, just don’t let them live!”

His arms wrapped around him, wings making a cocoon around his body, sinking to his knees, begging just under his breath, trying to get a fucking grip on himself. But this was all he had. All he had ever had were these wayward boys that he had taken under his care. They had already lost so much; they did not deserve to lose more.

The swishing of her dress, slowly walking to the place where he sobbed in the endless plane of darkness between life and death. She crouched down and placed a gentle hand on his face again, whipping the tears away as they fell, salty and big, unable to describe how crushed he was.

“I--there is something that I can do--” Death said, hesitating as she spoke.

The avian’s head snapped up, moving before he could think that he was touching a goddess. He was grabbing her shoulders, forcing the woman to look him in the eyes.

“I’ll do it,” he said, a spark of hope in his voice. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Yes, please, bring them back.”

“You don’t--”

“I don’t care! I don’t fucking care! Take my body, take my soul, take my mind, leave me for dead, cast me to the side; I don’t care, just make sure they are ok!”

Death smiled. Kind and understanding, all of the things that people would not expect from such a being. She grabbed his hands, holding the callused, broken, scared ones in her perfect, soft ones, looking down at them, tracing the lines that had been etched in them after years of work and living.

Her thumb graced the back of his palm, and there was a flash of pain. Phil did not flinch, tears slowly coming to a stop, looking down at the hands that held his own. When she moved her hand, there was a dark heart in its place, drawn into his skin, two eyes that looked with a piercing gaze up at him.

“I needed an angel,” she said, allowing Phil to take his hand back, inspecting the mark on it, “and I have been watching you for a while. Your gifts were always the best ones that I received. I was going to ask you before, and I am sorry that it had to be under these circumstances. But you boys do deserve to live. Their souls are not with me yet, but their living days can still be saved.”

Phil’s heart jumped in his chest, his hazel eyes trailing up to meet her soft gaze. His dark brown wings twitched with anxiety at her words, unable to process the words that she was saying, a million questions going through his head while he itched to save his children.

“We will talk later. There will be a few changes to you when you return to the mortal realm, but you must be fast. You children are going to keep you, and I will be there every step of the way to help in any way that I can.”

“I--um--yeah, well, yes,” Phil stuttered, still unable to get control over his tongue; panic started to well in his chest. He was painfully mortal, making demands of a goddess, and she was helping him. She was helping his family, and he could not wrap his head around it.

“Go.”

His chest filled with breath, aching with the air, back arching into the life that he had been given again. There were shouts and yells of confusion from behind him, the hands that were grabbing the base of his wings gripping tighter. Phil was on his side, breathing hard breaths, the blade of a knife pressed into the joints that connected the wings to the rest of his body.

Phil gave a mighty flap of the wings, forcing the poachers to take a step back from where he was laying, and jumped to his feet, baring the fanged teeth at the people who dared to take away his freedom.

“What the fu--”

Those were their last words, as the Angel of Death ripped holes into their guts, peeling their skin off of their bones and making sure that it hurt as he did. It was quick, and slow, and painful, and he relished every moment of it.

Great pitch-black wings, pieces of the void flapped in tandem with his smaller brown wings, one piece layering over the other. The caw of a crow flew next to him, bursting through the forest, following heavy tracks of the cart that took away his children. He made eye contact with the crow; the familiar softness deep within them gave a sense of comfort that he had never felt before.

Phil thought back to those eyes as he looked at them now, standing in the place that they had so many meetings before. As it stood, the goddess of Death was very lonely, and one of the duties as her angel was to be with her sometimes when his body rested. They had built a garden together, laughing as they planted the flowers, under Phil’s careful instruction, poking light fun at the goddess for never doing garden work before. It was their place, the place he visited almost every night. The place where they had sat under the artificial sky, they had hung around the void, sharing the first kiss between two people who did not know how hopelessly in love they had fallen. And it was under that sky that Phil found himself now, knees immediately giving out, tearing and screaming into the dirt, his heart having been taken out of his chest only a few days before.

He would have stayed awake forever, guarding the bodies of his sons, but the angel could only ignore his still mortal needs for so long.

The remaining people had dragged him back to the village, catatonic and barely conscious of what was happening. Dehydration had taken a toll on him, but it did not soften the way that he kept a sharp eye on the bodies of his children, watching them get moved with the utmost care, knowing that he could do better. His piercing blue eyes were able to see that their souls were gone from the meat that they had inhabited but refused to take a look. Phil could not accept that. If he looked, it would be true. They would be gone, and there would be nothing that he could do.

Soft, loving hands grabbed into his shoulders, pulled his limp body closer to her body, pressing him close to her while Phil sobbed into his wife’s shoulder, biting his lip so hard that blood started to leak out.

“They’re gone,” he sobbed, the words barely audible to the intense sound of his heartbreaking all over again, “they’re gone, and I couldn’t do anything. They’re fucking dead, and--and--”

“Shh, my love, I know.” Death whispered, Kristin the earthly name she had been given by the family she married into, “And I am so sorry. They did not deserve such a brutal death, and you did not deserve to watch. I am so, so sorry.”

Phil sobbed, broken trills and warbles pouring out of his mouth, clinging desperately to the only person he had left. Death, his goddess that had given him power that he had failed to use to protect.

“Do you have them? Are they ok?” he sobbed, his chest heaving with breath in between every word that he was able to choke out, every syllable feeling like it was able to suffocate him under the weight of it. But really, would that be so bad? At least he would be able to hug them one last time.

“I have two of them,” Kristin whispered, taking his hat off and carding her fingers through his hair, trying to give any sense of grounding, knowing that nothing was going to help. She held him closer. “Wilbur and Tommy, their souls, were given to me; they are safe and given to their resting place. Techno -- his soul was intercepted by the Blood God. As -- expected.”

Phil screamed, clutching onto her even tighter, his fingernails digging into her skin, but she did not protest as the scream ran his throat dry and scratched with the pain behind it.

“Phil, I am so sorry.” her voice thickened with her own sorrow that she had not been spared from. Phil tried to get closer to her than he already was, practically climbing into her lap, desperate for the comfort she gave so freely but knowing that none of it was doing any good. “I’m so sorry.”

They were gone. They were really gone. Phil had nothing left. Just this garden he had built with his goddess and the notion that it would all fade away when he woke up. That he would be alone when he woke up. There was no loud arguing or slamming of cupboard doors just to annoy each other in the first house they had ever owned.

They had been so excited. Running through the doorway, fighting over which rooms that they wanted. Even Techno, stoic and calm as he was, ran with his brothers, bursting out through the door, a wide smile in between his tusks, picking up and moving Tommy when the little gremlin boy did not leave the room that he wanted.

Wilbur would never play again. His chaotic side would never shine through again, encouraging the younger kids of the city to do things that he did not want to do, sending them on wild adventures, but making sure he was a heartbeat behind them to ensure they did not get hurt.

The way that Tommy had finally gotten a normal childhood, a place where Phil could actually give the boy the stability that he so desperately needed. To teach him to fly, not because they needed to escape, but because that was a part of their instincts.

They were gone. Their smiles, laughter, brotherly bickering, the chaos that they had given the avian the moment they had entered his life. It was all gone.

“Phil,” Kristin’s voice drew his out of his head, finding her staring right at him, in the scary blue eyes she had given him, the universe still in her eyes but dulled with the tears that gathered in the very base of them. Her hands gently cupped his face, lifting it to meet her own, parents grieving the loss of their children, trying to even just pick up the pieces that had been shattered but finding that they were too heavy to gather. But she was trying so hard. So, so hard to put her husband back together as he just fell apart with every thought that crossed his mind. His face scrunched, a sob ripped through him, burying his face into her hands. “My angel, you did everything that you could. And-- I can try to get Techno back and safe. But, I promise with everything in me that I will keep Wilbur and Tommy safe. No harm will come to them while they are with me.”

A broken warble graced him, pulling her hands from his face and holding them in his own hands. Tears still streamed down his face at a steady pace, but his breaths were starting to even out. Phil rubbed the soft skin under his calloused and broken hands, looking at the mark of the Goddess of Death on the back of his hand, remembering too many memories that were too far away. His chest shook with each inhale and exhale, trying to get something that resembled steady, only to be morphed into another sob.

“I trust you,” he said, bringing her palm to her lips, pressing a kiss into it. A hole had been created in his chest, scooping out his insides and leaving him hollow. Empty. He loved his wife. He had become her angel and did not regret a moment of it, the responsibilities that had been placed on him, the nights that they had spent just the two of them, dancing under the sky, while a song played faintly in the background, whispering things to one another, sickenly sweet things. Phil never regretted those moments.

But when he kissed her palm, he looked into her eyes that he loved so much it ached; he did not feel a thing.

And the energy to feel bad about not feeling anything just-- wasn’t there.

No, his sons could not be dead. That was impossible. They couldn’t be dead. Techno would not let that happen. The piglin was anxious about letting any sort of danger even look at them, much less get close enough to kill any of them. Even with his father, the Angel of Death, he made sure to keep within eyesight when the family went anywhere. There was no way that they were dead.

Tommy had too much spunk to die, he would be fighting to the very end of his last breath, and even then, he would refuse to take those final moments here among the living.

Wilbur was too stubborn to die. He hated being told what to do, something he had passed to his other brothers. He would refuse to die and drag them all away.

They weren’t dead. That was just wrong. That was wrong. They were alive. What he had been holding, what had been so cold under him, were fakes stuffed into the clothes of his sons to fool him. No, his real sons were alive, and well, and--

“Philza!” he flinched at the tone, his mouth stopping mid-sentence, the horror that his words had been heard by someone else. “Don’t.” She sounded so broken, and tired, and desperate, and-- “just-- don’t. You are just going to hurt yourself more. Please, just stop.”

They sat under the sky they had made with love that they had constructed between the two of them, the giggles of the past staying there as they waited for Phil to wake up. Holding each other in a cold distance. Kristin took over with the desperate clinginess, while her angel felt so far from what was happening, allowing her to maneuver or hold him in any way that made her feel better.

He was tired. No more tears left to cry, and the ones that did slip out had no emotion behind them. A husk of who he had been at one point.

When he did wake up, it was to a close bed; his head lulled to the side with no energy to lift it again.

There was nothing left. His throat burned with dehydration, and he could not bring himself to care. Rage started to make itself a home in his stomach, coiling around and burrowing deep.

His throat started to burn with alcohol after that.

Chapter Text

It had taken almost a full day to get all of them back to the city. Bad cradles Techno in his arms, the only one who could actually carry the piglin hybrid. Eret held Tommy while Sam had Wilbur, all of them holding them so gently and with as much care as they could give. Like the brothers were still alive, deep in sleep, and deserved to rest, trying to not disturb them. In a way, that was not far from the truth.

Hannah and Puffy taking the front and back, making sure that they were going to be safe on their trackback.

They all looked back to where Phil followed them, stood in between Tubbo and Ranboo. The man was in a near-catatonic state, his eyes glued to the ground under him, shuffling his feet along the netherrack.

Ranboo glanced at the man every few steps, watching the light flicker in his dead eyes, swaying under the occasional hot breezes that blew through the Nether. The enderman steadied Phil every time he stumbled, every time he looked close to falling. The winged man never fought back. That somehow was more concerning than if he had been brushed off. There was no fight left in the man’s eyes, just a void of hurt and deep wounds that would never heal.

They stepped out of the portal, greeted by the coldness of night and the worry of their village. People were quick to get out of their way as soon as they saw the corpses.

Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy were placed in a cellar to keep their bodies preserved while preparations for a funeral were about. Phil rushed back to his house. Slamming the door after him, even as Ranboo and Tubbo followed him all the way back to make sure that he was not going to collapse in the streets because of grief. If he had, they would not have blamed him.

It did not hurt when the door was slammed in their face. Ranboo did not flinch the way Tubbo did; he did not soak his face with tears on their walk back to their house, his knees did not wobble while they walked, he did not need anyone to help him stay upright.

There was a dull ache that was slowly suffocating him, pressing in on his windpipe, crushing it under the weight of its iron grip, slowly sucking the air out of it. But that was it. A metal band that made it a little hard to breathe.

Not the weights that he saw that had been placed on Tubbo, the grief that was crushing him with every step he took, he did not scratch at his coat, trying to wrap it closer to his body in a desperate attempt to bring any semblance of comfort. He did not collapse as soon as the door was shut in their house.

Tubbo sobbed into his chest, slamming his fists into the ground, grating his throat raw. Shaking with every breath, words spilling from his mouth, slurred and mushed together until they were just pitiful noises rather than actual words.

And Ranboo felt nothing. Not 'nothing’ as in he did not empathize with his broken best friend, sure his heart ached for the boy, wanting to wipe Tubbo's tears away, and make everything right again, that he would give anything to make the boy smile again. But it felt like a wall in between himself and the crushing sorrow he was supposed to feel.

He should be crying. Sobbing and wanting to hide from the truth like the rest of them. To start mourning the loss of Techno, his teacher, the man who had pulled him from a burning building and spoke in such low, gruff words, his undying love for classic stories, the way that they could rope him into reading some of them out loud. The elaborate, woven stories that Wilbur would weave, ideas just coming to his head like they were nothing, taking the best bits and putting them to the cords of his old guitar, littered with flowers that had been glued on, to play for their group in front of a fire. Tommy’s loud and boisterous laugh that always made every room a little brighter, the way that he just knew things, when someone was upset, no matter how hard they tried to hide it and knew exactly what to do to make them smile again.

They were all gone. Carcasses of who they once were chilling in a basement, cold and alone.

No one deserved to be alone.

Ranboo wanted to visit them to make sure that they were alright. They had been so still on the way back, he was confident that their backs would be sore when they all started to wake up on the chilled stone.

Wake up?

They were never going to wake up. They were gone.

But that was just a lie. Of course, they were not dead. They had to be alive. They were not dead, right?

Hours dripped by, slowly melting the night into day. Tubbo eventually cried himself to sleep, his body giving up on him, pushed too far, and stretched to its absolute limit before breaking. His head rested softly on Ranboo’s lap, the enderman playing with his wavy hair, just something to keep him busy, while he asked for the universe to give answers; or when he was going to accept what was waiting from him in Sam’s damp basement.

Maybe a little longer. Then Ranboo would feel something.

Kristin stalked through the halls of the palace, pearly white, and nestled in the clouds, the painfully blue sky visible through the pillars that raised up a roof. Covered with tapestries of the god’s accomplishments, the painter of the god nestled up close, her wings beating every once in a while as she started on the next piece. The goddess would have stopped and talked to the muses, laughing and joking with them, but today she was angry.

She was furious.

Rage echoed in her chest, where pure, beautiful love for her family had once been, turned sour and bitter after the mortals had been ripped away. With nowhere to go, it had no choice but to become an ugly shadow of what it had been.

They had just started calling her “mom.” She had to lead Wilbur and Tommy down to their final resting places, their blissful ignorance stabbing into her bleeding heart. She insisted on holding their hands as if they were children, refusing to let go, even if their souls said that they would be alright. The brothers would not remember anything of their previous lives when they first came to her, their souls still getting used to being out of a body, knowing only that they trusted her. Giant grins stretching across their faces when they saw her, standing in the center of limbo, tall grass and flowers blooming all around them, soft petals creating a backdrop for their tragedy. Her hands neatly folded in front of her, trying to stop the tremble that threatened to shake her apart.

Watching as they ran up to the goddess, asking if she was in the one that they were looking for, holding back tears as he nodded, thankful for the veil that covered her face a bit.

Kristin did not cry when she took them to their individual paradises, did not cry when she hugged them goodbye, giving kisses on top of their heads before turning away.

She did not cry when the gates of the pantheon opened before her; the anger took over before then. She had already wept, holding her husband close while he mourned the sons that had been ripped from him, trying to stop his hands from tearing out his own hair and feathers, the animalistic warbles and cries that echoed in her head still, not knowing how to make it better.

They had been taken too soon. The Goddess of Death knew that the children that she had adopted under her wings had died before their time, but there was no way that she could argue with Fate. She was not in the mood for a twisted riddle that came down to ‘the mortals make their own decisions.’ What she did want to do was rip the Blood God limb from bloody limb until he surrendered Techno’s soul.

Her heels clicked against the quartz, cloak billowing behind her dress, before slamming the door open in the throne room.

Pedestals stacked on top of each other stood before her, gods and goddesses’ thrones lined against them, all the way to the biggest one in the back, reserved for Fate. Her own was carved with crows and feathers, wings, and skulls delicately painted onto it. Most of them were empty, a few of the gods scattered around the room, chatting to themselves. But there was one sitting on his throne, his clock pinned to him with a boar’s head, looking bored at the goddess that had just walked in.

“You were starting to bore me with how long you were taking,” the Blood God said, slumped in the throne, a lazy eye watching the goddess move towards him. “I was starting to debate if you were even going to get here--”

“Shut up,” she climbed the steps to his throne, but he did not make a movement to get up, his long pointed ears twitching as he watched her.

“There is no need to be hostile,” he sounded bored, like he would rather be anywhere else than here, “you knew that this was coming for years. Almost a decade, and now you come here stomping all mad. I’m only here now because I did not want you to pester me later, and I am really regretting that.”

“Shut. Up.” Kristin stood a few steps from his throne, trying to keep the scowl on her face and not let it disintegrate into tears. Stoking in her heart, remember what was still missing from her family. Fate damn it, why did the tears have to well now? “Give him back.”

“I never stole him from you, and you know that.” The Blood God stood up, letting his long, dark cloak find its way to the ground, tucking his hands behind his back, and started to stalk towards the Goddess of Death. “The deal that we made was fair and agreed upon. Both parties were consenting, and there has not been any foul play. It is just my turn to get what I want out of the deal.”

“Techno was a child when you met him!” her voice reverberated off of the walls, people’s heads turning to see what was happening, angry tears starting to gather in her eyes. “You used his weakness against him; he did not know what he agreed to--”

“Those are not my issues.”

He walked past Kristin, sauntering away from the thrones and out of the room. Everyone was looking at them at this point, and everyone could see the dark scythe that flew out of Kristin’s hand. A loud crack that would have broken mortals heard drums, shaking her bones, but she refused to let her gaze up. It had been a warning shot, a few inches from his foot, but the message was clear.

The Blood God watched the energy flow off of the weapon, trailing his eyes back to the mother, who was desperate enough to do anything to get her child back.

“Kristin--”

“Don’t call me that--”

“Kristin, there was a deal that was made,” his large hand grabbed around the scythe and lifting it out of the ground. “The one called Technoblade and I made a deal. Earthly power for him, and I would get his soul after he was dead. To mold into my champion. I gave him the power, and now he is dead. I get his soul.” he walked towards her. And for the first time in a very, very long time, the anger gave way to fear, watching the god loom over her, tusks starting to grow out the sides of his mouth, pierce the sides of his cheeks, the blood dripping down, staining his skin. Patches of coarse fur started to sprout through his armor, matching that of the boar head he wore. “Technoblade is mine to do with as I please. You have known about this for years, and every replacement deal that you came up with, I entertained because I am a man who likes to keep his options open.” He was a few feet from Kristin’s face, snorting out of the pig snout that had constructed itself onto his face, eyes white with power, still holding her scythe. She tried not to tremble. “But it is over. He is dead, and mine now. There is nothing that you could offer me that would make me change my mind. And if you ask again, things will be worse for him.”

The Goddess of Death could hear the beat of wings above her, a flock of crows perching on the marble rafters, and tops of pillars, looking down at the scene before them. Her heart was beating out of her chest, the eyes of the other gods melting away; it was just her and the Blood God, toe to toe, face to face, in a duel for a soul that they both cared so deeply about. The god because of the power the boy had and the untapped potential that he could bring forth. The goddess because the boy was her son.

Because she loved the boy and knew that the only love that the god held was for things that were useful to him and power. The boy was dammed to be molded and shaped in any way that the god pleased, and Techno would be. Choice would become a luxury not extended to him, and he would lose every bit of himself until the faces of his father and siblings were hard to see in his mind’s eyes. Until autonomy became a thing of the past, and thoughts no longer echoed in his bright, brilliant mind. Until he was the champion of the Blood God, mindless and a puppet.

And Kristin's time to try to save him, the time that she thought she had so much more of was gone. Techno was gone. His soul was damned, and there was nothing that she could do about it.

Tears welled into her eyes, but the Goddess of Death kept a straight face, looking into the white eyes of the god. Invisible hands of grief wrapped around her throat and started to press in, choking out any air that she had. Her heart ached, almost felt like it was going to split in half, refusing to let her gaze wander from the man. Air became scarce, and her breaths turned into pants, trying to keep up with what was happening. He was gone. Techno was gone forever, and wretched existence laid out before him, and there was nothing that she could do.

All of a sudden, everything seemed a lot less consequential. A war between gods seemed too close to her fingertips, and the temptations of victory were so sweet. Her husband would have to fight, but he would do it. Phil would follow her into the very pits of hell and would tear himself apart for his children. The wrath of parents almost seemed like enough, and it almost seemed worth it.

She wanted to. Fate above she wanted to. To spit in his face, to twist his pig nose, to do something and be allowed to reap the souls of his armies, adding them to her collection of an underworld, until he was crippled and forced to give up Techno.

But the words stuck in her throat, muted by her own grief, and tears kept flowing silently down her face.

The scythe was put back into her hand. And the Blood God walked away. And she was left alone in the middle of the throne room, choked out of the air around her, face soaked with tears, frozen.

Her knees gave out, and she collapsed. Hands grabbing onto the too smooth floor and screaming out into the universe, anguished and tortured. Her head empty of all thoughts, only to mourn her fallen son over and over and over--

Tommy looked up into the bright blue sky above him, a piece of grass stuck between his teeth, chewing on the very end of it, his eyes half-open from the bright sun. The grass was so soft under his skin, the warm summer breeze blowing past, a perfect temperature to be outside in.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Techno and Wilbur sitting together, the younger of the two braiding the other’s hair, carefully weaving the bits together. The eldest’s deep brown hair was shiny and healthy in the sun, a stark contrast to his once had pink hair. Tommy smiled at the color change.

Tubbo and Ranboo were on his other side; Tubbo also braided Ranboo’s semi-long hair and placed flowers where he thought they best suit the boy, smiling at his progress.

“Come on, mate, sit up,” Phil said, sitting directly behind the boy. Tommy grumbled but complied with his father’s wishes anyways, sitting all the way up, crossing his legs, and digging his fingertips into the soft soil under them. The man gently ran his fingers through Tommy’s feathers, separating them a bit, before starting to pick out the bits of dirt and grime that were clinging to them. Plucking out the few loose ones, gently leading them out of their sockets, and creating a small pile before setting the other feathers straight. He worked with expertise and precision, gentle as he always had been when he handled the boy’s feathers. Tommy knew that he could preen his own wings, but it always felt better when the older man did it. It felt more natural, more right, so he would never turn down an opportunity to get them preened by the angle.

It was a perfect day. They were just outside of the village, watching the slow hustle and bustle below, a lazy day for everyone. A few of the children played down below while the adults talked to each other; a few practiced their sword fighting skills, swinging them from side to side.

His heart swelled with love, a chirping a little, sinking into the soft, warm hands of the older avian. Not the claused hands that he was so used to, that he was so dispised. It's not like they felt weird to Tommy or did not like how they looked, but the boy always felt guilty about how Phil had to work so hard to keep them all so safe. Tragedy was often thrown at their little family; Phil had always been there to scoop them all up and protect them. His hands were scarred from having to work too hard just to make sure that they got to eat that night, torn to shreds because of the selfish greed of others that infected the family.

But hands looked better, softer, and much less scared and boney. Tommy made a mental note to ask what had happened but immediately forgot it when another feather was put into place and another chirp was drawn from him.

Techno looked better as well. His hair color returned to its natural brown color rather than the pink that had been placed within it and no longer tusks growing out of his lower jaw. The scars across his arms, face, and neck had all disappeared, leaving behind healthy, natural skin and not the slight pink color that the man had had ever since that night, not since the deal. He looked better, eyes training on a book before him, slowly following the words across it, mouthing them as he went.

Wilbur just looked happier, humming to himself, the weight of childhood too horrific to speak of no longer claiming a part of his soul. The dark bags under his eyes long since disappeared, leaving a soft smile across his face, pulling up long pieces of grass to put into his brother’s hair.

Tubbo and Ranboo looked healthy. Smiling with each other, something that they had done a lot, but this seemed less weighted. It was less like trying to cover up something and more like they were just generally happy to be alive. That things had been going well for them, and they could, finally, put the past to rest and move on.

It made his chest bloom with happiness, chirping a little and snuggling closer to Phil.

“You’ve been chirping a lot,” the man’s hands, still working on his feathers. A warm feeling overtaking the boy as he did. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Tommy responded, a genuine smile stretching across his face, “everything is perfect.”

Chapter Text

Dream XD had not stopped laughing since he had fled the scene of the crime, leaving the avian to gather up his sons, pathetically whimpering as he did. It had been so funny to watch them squirm under his hands, worthless and weak, when he picked them up and started to throw them around like playthings.

Even the vessel of the Blood God had left something to be desired. He had been so concerned with protecting his brothers, foolishly throwing his body in front of blows that were meant to collapse the delicate mortals in half, grunting under the pain that tore into him, digging into his skin. Just because he was stronger, thanks to the Blood God's blessing, did not mean that he was invulnerable.

XD had made a game out of the warrior's final moments, seeing how far the acolyte would push his body to save his brothers. How much he was willing to break to save them time and time again.

The god separated the two, refusing to let them get any closer to each other, watching the vessel scramble between the two of them, trying to keep them both safe while they could not do anything.

His body had morphed and changed; a behemoth of a boar creature took place where a human man, albeit odd-looking, stood. His fur was a shiny pink, standing on two hooves, and heavy breaths pulled from his chest. Techno's eyes were pure white, eerie, and sparing any glance that they could towards XD, a look that said that he would rip the god apart as soon as he got the chance.

Unfortunately, even with a thicker hide, and more blood to lose, it eventually became too much, and XD grew bored of his half-broken toy. The boar tried to drag his broken body between the two, swiping claw and weapon attacks when he could, but the main priority had always seemed to be his brothers and making sure that they stayed alive. His hooves started to shake under the weight of his body, chest shuttering with breaths that were hard to take in, the floor covered in his blood.

It became much more fun to throw him against the walls, dragging him along like a doll and hearing the boar's brothers scream out for him, shrieking from where they were restrained, so much anger in their voices that it made XD laugh.

It was not until Techno went unconscious did the gifts of the Blood God drain from his body, and he was left with his normal, pink-haired human-ish form, mouth open while blood leaked out, lifeless on the floor. It was always so odd to see mortals dead, but XD did not think that he would ever get tired of it. Comparable to when they were asleep, but so much different at the same time. They were looser, and there was an underlying knowing that they would never move again.

XD would have loved to watch the corpse of the man for longer, but the screaming, crying, and begging from his brothers got annoying, so he decided to fix that for his own sanity; he was so tired of hearing them yell.

So he had thrown the youngest into the next room and let the other run to his aid, only to rip them apart again, watching with glee as they desperately reached for one another, trying to get close to the one source of living security that they had left.

He did not expect their father to show up so fast. That had not been a part of the plan, and to be honest, he was a little ticked off that it had happened, but he did not have a lot of time to pout about it. Changing his appearance to match that of the person named "Dream," XD started to taunt the father, breaking his youngest's neck with his bare hands, Wilbur screaming from where the god had him pinned down under his boot.

When the Angel Death rushed him, sword held tightly in his hands, pure fury on his face. XD had to admit that he had been a little scared. A power surrounded the avian in such a specific way that the sword that slid into his stomach after he discarding the corpse of the last son almost seemed real. The weapon had cut clean through his armor.

XD had almost given up the act before his body went limp, and fell off of the sword, and lay completely still on the shiny floor, feeling fake blood pooling around him.

It did not take much time for him to feel confident to get up again. The avian gathered the lifeless bodies of his sons and hovered over them, his wings spread out on top of them like a blanket, trying to keep the warmth in the pale-skinned corpses.

And that was funny.

The god looked from his perch, the fading body of his illusion dissipating without a trace or notice. XD put a hand over his mouth, suppressing a laugh, but gods, it was so funny to watch the mortal fall apart, scraping to pull together what had just happened and unable to even really understand it. Floundering like a fish out of water, mouth gaping open as desperate gasps drew into his lungs, interrupted every once in a while by a shattering sob. It was funny, but XD did not want to be discovered yet. That would mess with the prank.

With a slight pop, XD teleported to the house of his one and only friend, making sure to only be on the outside of it. He had been told off one too many times, told that it was rude to just walk into people's houses, even if he was friends with the people that owned the house. He did not really understand why Dream could do such things, and he could not, but he did not question it.

Dropping the illusion of the speedrunner, he rapped his knuckles against the wood of the door of the giant mushroom house, letting his form shrink down to his normal, winged form. The wings on his head twitched with excitement, the flowing light blue robes settling around him, and the XD-mask smugly on his face. He had added to his "mortal" form not too long ago, so he could seem more human and be easier to talk to. Being a lesser god, there was only so much that he could do, but he had added deep blue eyes under the mask and tufts of blonde hair on his head. The strands felt odd against the wings on his head, but he had gotten used to them pretty fast. The form made him happy because now people would actually look at him and talk to him. And he was excited about this prank; they were never going to see it coming.

The light always seemed to shimmer in this place. Maybe XD was a hopeless romantic, but he would like to think that this all was made possible by the nymph that lived in the giant mushroom. The grass always shimmered, and the flowers just smelled so sweet. It was XD's favorite place to be, especially since his best friend lived here.

George opened the door, pushing up his large mushroom hat out of his eyes, a brown vest over a dark green shirt. His hair looked wet like he had just taken a shower, and from his freshness he smelled, that must have been the truth. Pants that went down to his knees, with no shoes on, as he often was.

"XD," the forest nymph said with a sigh and a tired smile.

"Hello George," the god said, tilting his head a bit, a habit he had gotten into when he had come to spend more time in the mortal realm. He had seen dogs do it, and he thought that it looked cute, so he just adopted doing it as well.

An awkward silence settled over them, something that XD did not pick up on, staying staring at the dark-haired man. He knew that he was not the best at social interactions, but he did not know if there was something else that the nymph wanted to say, so he waited for the man to keep things going. His wings twitched with excitement; he hoped that the rest of the prank would play out soon; Dream would be so surprised.

George coughed awkwardly before speaking.

"So, how are you?"

"You know. Doing god things. I finished my prank for Dream just now."

"Oh, he's here now; we were just having some lunch," he gestured inside, looking further inside, the god trying to peek through the partially opened door. George closed it a bit, blocking his view.

"Ohh~ can I see him. Let him know that he has a surprise waiting for him?"

"George?" a voice shouted from inside the mushroom house, "who is that?"

XD's wings fluttered at the shout, and excitement bubbled up in his chest, a wide smile on his face, as walking up to the forest nymph was Dream, Goerge's friend. Not XD's. George's. Pockets and pouches littered all around his outfit, with fingerless gloves on, a lazy smile that dropped when he saw the god crossing his arms.

"Hey XD."

"Dream! Hello friend! I was visiting George, but since you are here. I would keep your eyes out of a--package." He giggled at the lie, the pride of the prank still swelling in his chest. It had taken so long to think up the setup and how he wanted it to be perfect.

"Does this have to do with the prank that you are going to get me back with?" Dream said a smirk appeared on his lips. The mortal had a nasty habit of taunting gods. But XD found it amusing, so he kept him around. Besides, he was sure that George would not be pleased if he killed the speedrunner, and he did not want to make the nymph unhappy. So the man lived, much to XD's distaste.

"It was very funny when you threw eggs at my altar, but I have to tell you that this prank is going to really--get you?" His face twisted around the words, testing them out with the two mortals. Still having issues with the common tongue of this realm and was still getting used to it, he looked to George for approval at the words. He beamed when he got a nod of affirmation. Another wave of pride swelling in his chest. Today had been a good day.

"I'm sure it will," Dream said, almost bored with the conversation. He did not even look at the god while he talked, dragging his eyes across space around the deity, wholely disinterested. XD would have struck him down long ago if he was not so important to the nymph. And there were so many times where he wished they were not as close as they were. George always seemed to be with the speedrunner, hanging out together and never having time for the god. He hoped to change that sometime. "Well, George and I were in the middle of lunch, so you will--"

"Oh! Can I join?"

The mortal's exchanged a look, a secret language being shared between the two. XD was still getting used to the looks that humans gave each other and the conversations they had between them as they did, and he wondered what they were saying right now.

"Actually, I don't think that we have enough food for the three--"

"That's ok, I am a god, so I don't need to eat."

Dream sighed.

"It was actually something that just me and Goerge have had planned for a long time, so it's just going to be something between just the two of us."

His smile dropped, his wings flattening against his head. XD had been having such fun talking to them, and he wanted to be around them. The pantheon could be so dull sometimes, and he just wanted people to be around, and George had been so nice to him in the past. The nymph had promised that they were friends, he promised. Maybe he just did not understand mortal friendships. Maybe he was misreading what had been happening. But that did not help the sting of being told to get lost.

But, non the less, he picked himself, and lifted his head, and took a step away from the door.

"Oh, ok, well then I will see you later, and--"

"Yeah, you do that." And the door closed, only a few steps away from where XD was standing. Sometimes he really could not stand the speedrunner. His cocky attitude and the way that he thought he was better than everyone. He just wanted to be around his friend, but there was always something that got in the way of that, whether it be errands that needed to be run or Dream was there to stop them from hanging out. XD just wanted to spend some time with George since it had been a few days. But he had to wait a little while. And he supposed that that was ok.

Pushing down the ping of hurt, he teleported into a tree; the god got comfortable, ready to watch the front door of the nymph's house to make sure that nothing happened to the man. He could not really place what made him want to be the man's friend so bad, but it was something that he was not willing to ignore. The god liked to be around George; he made XD feel better about things and the closest thing to an actual friend that he had, and he was going to make sure that no one was going to hurt him.

Watching nature move around him, birds collecting twigs for their nests, squirrels starting on their hordes for winter, despite it being months away, XD thought about the prank. The shocked faces of Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno, as he understood their names to be, had been so funny to watch them morph into shock and horrified expressions. And the wails of the father he had taken the boys from had been wracking and intense. There was no way that they were going to forget. And with Dream's body removed from the crime, they could only assume that he was still alive and come after him.

He snickered at the thought of them showing up at Dream's house, angry, while the speedrunner had no idea what was going on. It was the perfect prank.

And he could not wait for it to play out.

A soft breeze blew by, scattering the few fallen leaves around the forest. XD relaxed into the little seat that he had found for himself, just watching the world slowly move by at almost a snail's pace. He liked being down here; it was peaceful. No responsibilities or things that he had to do, just things moving around him without him having to do anything. The god liked it, settling into the bark of the tree, and closing his eyes to the world around him, letting it work without any help.

But the bliss did not last; a sharp pinch grabbed his ear and tugged him through a portal, flipping him to a standing position on the shiny white floor of the pantheon, looking into the twisted and furious face of Fate.

If he had a heart, it would have dropped, and fear rising into his throat, clogging where his brain should have flowed to his brain, and he was struck silent.

"If you have any sense," the deity said, leaving in close, keeping his ear trapped between their finger and thumb, "you won't say a word, and come with me."

Kristin stormed down the halls, pulling her hat a little tighter onto her head, the jews, and gems that she wore jiggling as she walked. Her mix of dark purples dress flowed, the flapping wings of crows close behind her.

Fate had called a meeting of all of the gods. And no matter how much she wanted to, there was no way that she was going to be able to brush this off. It was around her normal meeting time with Phil, but something told her that she would not make it. Kristin tried to put extra time into making both Wilbur and Tommy's afterlives as soft and comfortable as she could and did not have time to peer down to the mortal realm to see how her husband was doing. But from what the crows had been telling her, it was not good.

He was falling apart, and she did not know how to stop it. There was no way she could go down to the mortal realm, she was a more powerful goddess, and reality would start to wrap around her if she did. It would not be safe for anyone. But Fate, how she wanted to. How she wanted to swoop down there on her fearsome wings that she kept tucked against her body and scoop her husband up into her arms to just hold him tight until he felt better. Until he has accepted his son's death enough for them to discuss the next step. Because there was no longer any reason for him to stay in the mortal realm.

It was a conversation that neither of them was ready for, but one that needed to happen anyway. With no reason to stay there, Phil could finally join her as her acolyte, her vessel, at her side where he belonged. He would be able to see his sons again.

Well, most of them.

Kristin shook the thoughts from her head and opened the door to the throne room. A shaky breath as she stepped in, trying to compose herself. It still hurt. The fact that Techno was lost forever, and her sons were dead sometimes slipped her mind, and the guilt of that alone was eating at her. At certain points in her day, there would be things that remind her of what she had lost. The guilt would force its way to the front of her mind. And it was the stupidest things that made her remember. A flower. A tile that was out of place. A mug of half-drunk tea. They were everywhere in her mundane life, and she did not know how much more she could take of it. It was hard enough to continue her work, but it was harder when guilt was eating her from the inside out.

So she shoved the thoughts down and kept moving. Because if she stopped, even for a second, she was going to break.

Entering the throne room, most of the gods and goddesses were already there, hushedly talking admits each other, shifting in their seats with a certain level of discomfort that she could not place.

The goddess walked into the room, making the way to her throne, the crows landing on the pillars and rafters of the throne room, ruffling their feathers at the tension in the room. She made it a point to glare at the Blood God where he sat. He met her gaze. But there was not a single gloating twinkle in his eye, no overjoyed expression that she was expecting. There was a calm, calculated study that he was doing, dragging his eyes across her, and landing in her eyes. There was no malice or arrogance in his gaze. Almost pity, but mostly watching. Like he knew something she did not and wanted to see how she was going to react.

It made her feathers ruffle with discomfort but let them fold behind the low back of her throne and waited for Fate to show up.

These meetings were rarely called, with all of the gods, especially by Fate themself. It never happened. And that fact alone did not bode well for the future, and while the Blood God's eyes tracking her every movement, not letting his eyes off of her, not even for a second, she could feel her heart starting to adapt at a panicked and quick pace.

The doors slammed open, and she jumped, surprised gasps rippling through the other gods and goddesses, turning to look who had thrown the doors open so violently.

Fate walked in, their eyes alight with power, crackling all around them, stalking into the throne room, their hand fingers pinching XD's ear, dragging the lesser, younger god behind them. Kristin's heart stopped as soon as she saw the pair. Fate was known for their cruelty, and harsh punishments, and XD was still such a young, naive god, to be on the receiving end of Fate's anger, she could already see an injustice coming. Kristin was an older god, ancient as long as mortals had been dying; she had been there to collect their souls into her arms, cradle them close, and take them to a better place. The Blood God had appeared shortly after the mortals had discovered violence against each other.

She was almost as old as Fate and was prepared to stand up for the younger god if she needed to.

Kristin did not want to think about the sudden protectiveness that she was experiencing. She just wanted to get this over as soon as possible. And not think about why she wanted to protect anything helpless against the forces against itself. Guilt choked her again. Untangling the hands from her throat, she kept her eyes forward.

Fate threw the god to the middle of the room. XD lost his balance and fell to his knees, barely able to catch himself to not completely crumble to the ground. Fate did not take their seat at the top of the tiers, where Kristin and the Blood God sat, but paced in front of the thrones, flexing their hands, trying to walk off of the aggression, but let the anger fester, that much was obvious by the way their face twisted with disgust. Their white hair was flowing around their hair, getting tangled in the throne crown that rested atop their head. They wore a dress, one of their legs showing through a slit in the dress, pure white, with a single sash around their waist, eternally soaked in blood but never dripping off of the ends. Parts of their joints were held together with tangles and twists of thrones, with a single rose resting in the center of their open chest, beating with life and vengeance.

"I suppose you wonder why I have called you all here today," their voices boomed around them all, alive with anger, and strife, still circling around the lesser god, watching as he struggled to get up. "We are here to witness an execution."

People baited their breath, and time was frozen for a second while the deities tried to process what had just been said. A deity had never been killed before, a rule set up by Fate themself. Kristin's feathers started to fluff behind her back, the scythe appearing in her hand. She would not intervene yet, but she would not hesitate if the deity went through with this. A god's blood should never be spilled. The mortals brought them all into the world for a purpose; to leave that purpose open and bare would spell chaos, and hardship, the start of something that should always stay closed and locked uptight.

The Blood God leaned forward as well, his nasty, cruel-looking sword also appearing in his hand. He had much the same thought, and as the next most powerful gods, it was up to them to make sure that none of the rules against nature happened.

"This, cretin here," the gestured to the God of Curiosity, with a long, slender finger, the rose in their chest glowing with power, "slew three mortals before their time. Beating one to death, breaking the neck of the other, and stabbing the other with a sword. It was not their time yet. They still had things to do in the world, they were not supposed to die, and yet you selfishly took their lives, throwing them to the arms of our own Goddess of Death, and one started his apprenticeship with the Blood God, and they were not supposed to be here yet! They were supposed to live for so many more years, and yet, you stupid, stupid creature decided to mess with their fates and bring death too early. And for what? Explain what had caused you to do this."

XD was shaking. The wings on his head shook with fear, the mask the only thing saving what was left of his diligently. He was shaking apart, fear clinging to every part of him, and at this moment, he looked oh so small. Defenseless, curling around himself to try to protect himself in any feeble way that he could.

And Kristin watched. And she wished to turn the god inside out.

They were supposed to be alive. Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno. They were supposed to be with their father right now, but they had been taken before their time. They were fucking dead, and it was all this-- things fault.

A cry of torment, the shriek of birds joining in while their mistress shredded her throat, body shaking at the pain that was a dagger in her chest. Raw and filled with days of grief crashing down on her, past the doors she had locked it up behind to be here for this stupid fucking meeting. Everything that she had been through, everything that Phil had been through, the tears, the scratching at skin until it tore and bleed, pleading her to bring them back when they both knew that that was not possible.

"Kristin," the Blood God warned, but she was gone before he could finish the cadence of his warning, lifting herself up on great back wings of death and ripping in reality, crashing down next to the god.

His knees knocked together, falling down again when faced with the anger of a mother who lived through the unthinkable. Losing all of her children in a day, in an hour. They had suffered before their end, struggling for breath, and reached out for each other, trying to get closer to one another to keep their family safe. To try to not die alone. To get to hold onto each other while they slip into unconsciousness. Only to be ripped from each other by a god glamoured to look like someone else, locked in a battle that none of them had any hope of winning. Doomed from the start, no matter how hard any of them fought. All of that, all the pain her family had been put through manifested into a dark look, a single word spoken down at god.

"Why?"

XD could not take his eyes off of the raging goddess before him, stuttering with his words, trying to get them out, but only shuttering in his chest. Kristin's paper-thin patience lit aflame.

"Speed!" the clouds shook at her voice, wings extending to make her look bigger, gripping the scythe tighter. Her teeth were going to shatter. She was clutching them so hard, but she wanted answers. She wanted to know why.

"I-It was a prank," the god stuttered out fast, lifting his hands to protect his face against attacks that he was sure would be raining down on him, "I was in a prank war with a mortal by the name of Dream. I--thought that it would be funny to have an angry Angel of Death chase him, and it seemed like the best way to do that would be to--"

"But you couldn't have chosen anyone else," Fate said, their hands on their hips, glare had not lifted from XD for a moment, but unlatching in the raging presence of Kristin, "those three had to do things. And now I have to rewrite everything, just because you were in a--"

"Prank war." She repeated the word over her lips, feeling the bitter taste that is left behind. It almost didn't feel real; it could not have been real. No one was that stupid. No one was that much of a fucking idiot. "You killed three people because of a prank war! Do you not understand the pain, the suffering you caused for other people? Their father is grieving, begging for them to come back, and you just killed them without another thought. You fucking murder them!

"You condemned one of them to an afterlife of slavery and servitude to a cruel god who is going to break him! You ruined someone's life, you fucking--"

"Yes, yes, we are all very sad about the fact that mortals are dead, boo-hoo. I have to rewrite so many things, and I don't think that you understand what--"

"Are you fucking serious?" Kristin's head snapped to look at Fate, uncontrollable rage echoing around in her chest, her mind blank of any other memory or thought. Horrified of the words that were spilling out of the deity's mouth. "They were people. They were my children! And you have the audacity--"

"Careful, Kristin. I don't think that you want to say something that you are going to regret."

Power radiated off of the god, taking a breath out of her lungs. The Goddess of Death was power. Fate was not someone to be fucked with. The anger she had felt a moment ago drained away, replaced by paralyzing fear. The kind that mortals felt when she appeared in front of them, trembling down to their very core, a primal state of being that it seemed no one could escape from. She wondered if this was what her sons felt before they died.

Fate slid her glare off of the goddess and back to where XD cowered, still on the floor, not having the courage to get up. They started to speak again.

"Your punishment is--"

"Let me get them out." it blurted out of her. Not a thought went into the words that had slipped out of her mouth. The eyes of the Blood God snapped over to her, narrowing his eyes. She could not take both of them if they decided to attack, and Fate seemed willing to kill anyone that was going to get in her way, and the Blood God never had any qualms with taking a life. So she swallowed, whispered her love for his husband to the universe, and kept talking. "My angel, he can retrieve the mortals from the afterlife, and, if you would allow it, I can get someone to breathe life back into them. Their souls will be put back into their bodies, and they will keep living as if this had never happened. You will not have to rewrite anything or do any extra work. And they will be back."

Fate stopped a curious look over their face, the gears turning in their head, wheeling the option around, trying to find any way that it could be used against them. Even the gods had squabbled amidst each other. And Fate and Death had crossed too many items for either of them to trust the other.

Their mouth twisted to a smile, a bug crawling out between their lips and disappearing in their now flat white hair.

"Oh, Kristin," they started to saunter closer to the goddess, and she could feel herself beginning to recoil. Fear was still infecting her mind, but there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. She had to stay no matter what. "What a clever plan to get your son's back. Don't think that I did not notice who these boys are. Or where I suppose. You can't get that past me. However--"

They tapped their fingers against their chin, standing a few inches from Kristin's face, a fake far-off look in their eyes. They had already made their decision, but playing with people had always been something that they could not refuse. The Blood God continued to glare.

"I suppose I could allow it. Just this once. And it would be so fun to see you try. To see you tear yourself apart while you have to sit up here and just watch. If you can get the boy's souls in this throne room, then I will allow them to be revived."

"Technoblade is my vessel." The Blood God pipped up. Stepping closer to where the deities stood inches from each other. His face twisted in anger, trying to keep his eyes off of Kristin, sliding in between the two of them. His hand grabbed around the sword, not letting it up. "I will not be giving him up because of a 'request.' He is mine."

"Then I would say fortify your prize because I would doubt that our dear Kristin is going to stop because of a deal she is not a part of." Fate did not take their eyes off of her, piercing and brutal, exactly the same as all those years ago. They had not changed in the way that Kristin had. She had softened over the years, finding the one that she loved and adopted sons to give her love to. Fate still liked it when mortals squirmed like bugs. "Is that not right, Goddess of Death?"

She nodded. Her eyes did not waver; she did not blink. The crows above had long since grown quiet, but the beat of their wings started to get more intense, more of them starting to come to their mistresses' aid. It hurt. It hurt to be here alone. It hurt to know that she could get stabbed in the back at any moment. The slot where her husband should have been was painfully empty, void of the person she had promised her immortal life to. The one she had made her angel. The one who had promised to be there no matter what, to have her back and protect her. To love her. Her bottom lip wavered a bit, but she pressed them tightly together. Now was not the time. The deal was still too fragile for emotions.

Fate looked over her shoulder to where XD was still, his eyes still locked on the ground below him. He had not moved an inch. To be honest, he did not even really look fully here, his mind drowning his surroundings out.

"And XD." his head snapped up. He was afraid. As he should be. "I will not kill you. What you did was funny. I hope your little mortal friends find it that was as well. And you have created the best entertainment that I have had for a while."

He nodded his head. And then it fell to his chest again, too tired to even hold it up. Still reeling from the fact that he had almost died.

Fate moved on without another word to the god.

"Well, I would suggest you two get to work. This is going to be so fun to watch!" With a clap of their hands, they were gone, skipping out of the throne room like this was a game they had just started. This was a game to them. And not a fight for Kristin's sons' souls and her husband's sanity.

The Blood God stood next to her, almost shoulder to shoulder to her, not saying a thing, while the other deities that everyone had forgotten about awkwardly shifted in their seats, struck mute. She wished they would leave. She wished this had never happened.

"You're not going to get to him." It was a warning. A snarky warning to not even try. To be ok with losing Techno forever. The Blood God walked away, down the halls, and back to the realm.

Death snapped around.

"I am." He turned, looking at her with blood-red eyes, but she did not flinch. She would not fail. "And I will get him back.

The Blood God scoffed and turned his back to her again, yelling as a second thought behind him.

"We'll see."

Chapter Text

Phil remembered the day that Techno took the deal. He remembered how the boy cried, wailed, and sobbed into his arms, clawing at his face, to try to take off the pig snout that had attached itself to him. Phil had to hold the boy's arms to his side to make sure Techno did not hurt himself, keeping the clawed hands pinned against his chest while muttering reassurances. The boy had torn his throat crying, feeling the new pieces that had been transformed out of his body, the dark hooves, his hooved hands, the little pigs tail, the snout, the ears, the fluffy baby fur that covered his body, and he screamed he hated it.

He scratched and writhed, trying to get away from the body that he was trapped in, the one that had stripped him of his autonomy and free will. The deal that he had made to save his brothers.

And there was nothing that Phil could do. He could hold the boy tight and rock him back and forth, whispering nonsense, trying to bring what little comfort to his son that he could.

Techno had cried himself to sleep, whimpering and sobbing, mumbling words that were too slurred together to even start deciphering what they meant.

Phil had cried. Holding the boy close to his chest and trying to muffle his cries, looking into the peaceful face of Techno, knowing that when he was asleep was going to be the only time he felt any sort of peace. Their family had all been too anxious to sleep on the ground after, so they had scaled the trees, nestling themselves between branches, pulling blankets and wings close to them to try to stave off the cold.

Tommy and Wilbur were resting at his sides, one on either, refusing to go far from their father, but it was not like Phil was going to let them just wander off any time soon.

It took weeks for Techno to shift out of his boar form. A week filled with tripping over his hooves and fumbling with things, unable to grab onto them with his cloven-hooved hands. There were many more tears shed out of frustration, anger, irritation. He snarled and bite, the tusks that were poking out of his bottom lip gleaming in the sunlight whenever he used them as a weapon. And after every attack, after every lashing out in rage, Techno would fall into a sobbing mess, clinging to whoever was near, promising that he would never go it again, that he could be good, and control himself, just please don't leave him.

They never did. Of course, they didn't. Tommy had taken to stroking his older brother's fur, not able to find the words to help with his limited vocabulary, and opted to just be there for the boy when he needed it. Wilbur had caught on fast as well, fishing a comb out of his bag, and brushing the boar's still soft baby fur whenever he would get upset. Phil would often find them, sitting with their feet dipped into a stream, Techno preening his Tommy's wings, while Wilbur gently pulled a comb through the Blood Gods acolyte's fur. The youngest of the trio making them flower crowns and plopping them on their heads afterward.

When Techno had shifted back, it was while he had been asleep. Phil was used to waking up before his sons, even with Tommy's bird instincts, like his own; the boy's need to sleep in often overtook instincts more often than not. Phil had slowly blinked his eyes open, becoming aware of the barely risen sun and how his children were sprawled out beside him. None of them had slept alone since the attack, always snuggled up with Phil, his wings wrapped around them like a shield, protecting them from the outside world that wanted to hurt them so badly.

Tommy was tucked under his side, his own tiny wings wrapped around him, pulling Phil's arm close to his chest. Techno was on the other side, with Wilbur curled up with him, squishing the older boy in between him and the avian, like he could be an extra bout of protection that was going to keep the boy safe. And Techno himself, who had gone to sleep as a boar, the vessel of the Blood God, was a human boy. No snout, tusks, hooves, ears, or tail. He was a human, the way he had been.

Well, mostly.

His chestnut brown hair had been overtaken by mute pink, the strands falling over his sleeping face. Looking deeper into his soft face, his tusks had not gone away, still poking out his lower lip, with two pointed ears that interrupted the long pink hair.

Phil had jerked awake, gathering the boy into his arms, deaf to the whines of protest from his other children, standing the boy on his feet, and looking over him. Cupping the side of his face with a hand, looking for the animatic legs, the hooves, the fur, ears, everything that had pledged Techno like a waking nightmare since the day of the attack.

"Dad?" the boy had mumbled, rubbing a fist into his eye, swaying as he was set onto his feet. Human feet, with toes and a heel, not the hooves that he had struggled so much with.

Techno stopped. His eyes slowly shifted over to where his hand was, looking at the fingers, nails, and skin on his hand. Quickly patting down the rest of his body, feeling the flesh and skin that was all over him. And then his hands trailed to his hair, taking fistfuls of it, and looking at it, the joy from a moment ago melted away to horror. Touching the tips of the tusks that still cramped his mouth and pointed ears that had appeared at the side of his head.

"It's not fair," he whimpered, shaking with the strands in his hands, looking at them with enough hate to burn the universe to the ground. "It's not fair!"

Techno pulled, ripping at his hair, screaming into the forest. Phil lunged forward, pulling the boy's hands away from his head and wrapping the boy up, pinning his arms to his sides to ensure that he did not hurt himself. And while Techno screamed and wailed, proclaiming the wind around them that it was not fair, Phil held him close and let him cry, the other boys joining in, holding acolyte as much as they could. And the universe agreed; it was not fair. Techno did not deserve any of this. None of them deserves any of this.

Phil watched this memory replay in his mind over and over again, getting hazer and hazer as he drank, the cold spout of a bottle turned warm from his lips, the liquid burning his throat. It was day or at least the beginning of it, the sun still needing to come out of the horizon and where it hid for the night. The avian pulled his wings tighter around him, the cold of the early morning starting to weigh on his bones. It was not going to keep away the coldness that he had stoking in his heart, but that was what the alcohol was for.

He had not left his perch all night, staying seated on top of Tubbo and Ranboo's house even as the evening continued, watching the nightlife filter by. Sometimes there would be storms of people in the streets, laughing and talking to one another, making their way to one of the only shops that were open late in the evening. Lovers entangled in each other's arms, stumbling back to one of their homes for a night alone, or just walking hand in hand down into the night. Families scooped tired children into their arms, holding the sleeping kids close to their chests, protective arms refusing to let them go, and quietly shushing them when they murmured awake.

All the while, a silent protector watched from above. Drinking, and watching, and hurting, and watching, and drinking and drinking and drinking.

Phil had never been much of a drinker. A few with friends when he was younger, even sneaking a bottle when his parents had not been looking to share with people was not super uncommon. But, as he had gotten older and acquired children by some string of fate, money had become tight, and alcohol was easy and necessary to cut out of their budget. Their small family had lived on the road for a number of years, just something that they had all been so used to that it was almost second nature to them, having been the place where they had all met. A fox den for Wilbur. Getting caught stealing from Phil for Techno. And a gift of some sort, when a village was on the brink of collapse, a desperate mother shoving an infant Tommy into his arms before running off into the flames to try to help more people.

They had all been violently thrown together, but they had made it work. Catching fish and game from the forests that they called home. Patching up clothes with old scraps to make them last to the next village. Finding caves for when it was too rainy to sleep under the stars. Traveling north for the cold months and playing near the beaches. It had not been stable or consistent, and it had been hard, but it was home, in a way.

The country that they lived in was hostile and cruel. Run by a ruler that could care less if the citizens were dead or dying, only concerned with power and their own personal well-being. While bandits and nomadic warring people plagued the lands, trying to garner power for themselves. Some of them were kind and did not harm civilians, even helping them when needed. A few times, Phil had run into these people, trading and allowing his children to go and play with the tribe's people, knowing that they would be safe. And others were less considerate and kind than the emperor. Going out of their way to burn and kill civilians, making sure that the land would never forget the metallic taste of blood that had been spilled upon it. Making a show of the people they slaughtered, the people they tortured and killed for little reason other than that they were bored. That was where Tommy had come from. They went back to his charred, desolate village every once in a while to remember where his people had made their last stand before the Goddess of Death had welcomed them into her arms.

It had been years of being on the run and moving before they had finally found a place where they were safe enough to cut out a piece of the land that they had traveled for so long for themselves. A town where people could build a home and not have to worry about bandits or war. They would take care of each other and try their best to make sure that the place they had built would stay safe through the ages, farms were built, and slowly their community grew into something that they were all proud of. A collection of people who, for the first time, could feel safe.

And now, Phil hated nothing more than the safe streets of the city he had helped build. He hated the mismatched houses built by the people who lived in them, hating seeing his handy work in how they stood and towered, how he had helped people with their homes. Hated looking at the streets where Techno had used to patrol, sometimes the younger kids tagging along with him, holding their play swords on their shoulders, and marching behind him like they were soldiers, while Tommy snickered at the kids, trying to scare them with stories and tales of the great Tommy and his sidekick Technoblade. Hating the fountain where Wilbur had played softly, a crowd of people gathered around him near the end of the days, where they would take partners and dance to his music until the sun was long gone. He hated, hated, hated it.

But he refused to leave. He had failed to save his sons, but that did not mean that he was just going to leave when he still had responsibility in this city. What if something else happened. Dream was gone, but what if something came after Tubbo and Ranboo next, and Phil was not there to protect them? He would never forgive himself.

Phil's mind was filled and sloshy with alcohol, and the more he drank, the more he became painfully aware of where Dream had lived. A few paces outside of the city, Techno had traveled there enough times for the avian to know where he was going at the call of four words: "I'm going to Dream's." He had known where Dream lived the moment he had stepped through the nether portal, still trailing behind the people who held the bodies of his children.

He had wanted to see his sons one last time. To hold and touch them, give each a kiss on the head like he was just sending them to bed like he had when they were small. A monotone request that almost got swept away by the wind, Rambo's inhuman ears twitched with understanding and turned to the rest, silently asking if it was a good idea or not. Phil was not an idiot, he knew that that was what they were doing, but his eyes did not leave where they locked onto the boys. The gentle fall of Techno's hair spilling out from where Bad was holding him. The way that Tommy's lanky limbs were being awkwardly held by Eret, a little too big for every space he managed to squeeze himself into. Wilbur had always been too loose, so the way he slacked against Sma's arms did not look abnormal from where Phil stood.

They had led him back to his house without another look at the boys and escorted him inside. There was talk of "figuring this out in the morning" and "don't do anything stupid," followed by an attempt of a laugh and "we'll see you in the morning, let us know if you need anything." Too much cotton had been stuffed into his head; everything was muffled and reduced to just the thought of words rather than something actually constructed. He was alone after a while. Lying in his bed, sweat dripping off of his forehead, having woken up from seeing his wife.

And liquor seemed like the next best thing to forget everything.

Now he was here, watching the sunrise, while the last two people he cared about slowly started to wake up with the day. Aware of where Dream had, wishing he was alive because Phil was only a snap of a thread away from taking back revenge for himself.

All of the lectures he had given about how revenge was never worth it did not echo through his head. The hypocrisy of his words did not even surface when he imagined how he would take apart the runner, the days he would keep him alive to make sure that he felt every single bit of pain that Phil did. The last moments of his sons' lives would be burned into Dream's existence until he could not remember what had happened before and would not remember what happened after. Fantasies that Phil couldn't see the danger in.

He wondered if he could go to Dream's afterlife to set the score straight.

"Phil?" his drunk brain was only barely able to pluck the words out of the air, turning them into something that he could actually understand. Slowly he followed the noise down to where Ranboo was, standing outside of his home, looking up at where the avian was perched on the roof. "What are you doing up there?"

"Watchin'," he slurred, his body swaying with the light wind. The sun was much higher in the sky than it had been a moment ago, but that did not matter. It was not like he needed to cook meals for anyone anymore. He took another drink, sipping his lip in to keep the alcohol from dribbling down his chin. "Keepin' you are safe."

"Who are you keeping us safe from?" were there two Ranboo's, or had he finally learned how to teleport?

"Dream." That was a joke; he hoped that Ranboo got it. Phil forgot to laugh at it.

"Do you want to come down?"

Phil shook his head and immediately groaned, regretting and holding his head with the hand not holding the bottle, trying to lessen the pricing pain that rippled through his head. A pleasant buzz was all over his body, bringing his mind and body down to the same level; thoughts were soft and touches felt like there was a very thin sheet between him and whatever he was touching. It was comfortable, like a hug. But, if he moved too fast, that comfortable bubble was shattered, and he was left exposed and vulnerable. Honesty, he just wanted to go to sleep at the moment; even with the sun starting its climb into the day, he wanted to just curl up on the roof and sleep.

"Phil, why don't you come down," oh Tubbo was there now, twisting his hands around each other, a mess mob of hair creating a halo around his head, with hastily put on clothes, the buttons all screwed up on his green shirt under a brown vest. "It's dangerous up there."

"Aww, Tubbo," Phil cooed, leaning forward a bit. He heard them both gasp, Ranboo reaching out his hands like he was going to catch the man last minute. Phil threw his head back and laughed, chested and broken. Even in his drunken state, he could not hide from the pain behind it. "I have done a lot of dangerous things; this one is not going to kill me."

"Yes, but you're drunk," Ranboo still had his hands reached out, swallowing tightly, choosing his words syllable by syllable, like Phil was a wild animal. His smile faded at this. "We just don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt, Ranboo," he stressed the enderman's name, a scowl on his face, "I know what I am doing. I don't need to be babied or looked after. I am looking after you two, making sure of that."

"Philza!" His name echoed down the street. Ranboo and Tubbo lived at the very edge of the central cluster of houses and shops, a little further away, but still able to see where the poached down dirt of the city started, and where the meadows of their home grew surrounded the little cottage the two had built for themselves. Down the road, jogging at a quickened pace, with the experiences of someone who had done this thousands of times, was Dream.

Dream.

The man that Phil had killed. Who should be dead on the glistening floor in the Nether, surrounded by a portal of his own blood, waiting for Kristin to collect his pitiful soul. The Dream who had brutally murdered his children, his sons, right in front of him, pulling the last breaths from their mouths, and left them cold.

His wings flared, the alcohol did not weigh so heavily on him, the bottle falling to the ground. Phil slowly shifted to his feet. He had a weapon on him, his sword that had seen him through so much. Forged over and over to become stronger and sharper, and yet he was enjoying the thought of tearing the man's skin off with his nails.

"Phil! I heard rumors are--"

Phil jumped. Catching the wind with a swoop, and got the jump on Dream before he had a chance to react. The Angel of Death flared his wings while he held the boy by his neck, high into the air, watching his choke and clawing at his hands. Two shocked cries of protest that he ignored.

"Phi--"

"You're supposed to be dead," his voice darkened. Crows starting to gather around him, black holes in the blue sky. They were not usually scavengers, but they would gladly pick off whatever meat was left on this one's bones. "I killed you after you eviscerated my sons."

"I--"

"The only thing that I want out of your mouth next is you begging for your life cause I am going to make it a living hell before I personally escort you to the deepest ring of it."

"Phil, stop!" hands grabbed onto his arm; he shook them off, tucking his wing to intercepting Tubbo and pushing him away.

"Phil!" Ranboo was close behind.

He turned and whapped the boy in the face with his wings, taking a few steps back, dragging Dream with him. There was no way that he was going to let his prize go. He was given another chance to take revenge, and he was not going to waste it.

"How did you survive?" Phil asked a cruel lick to his tone, bring Dream in close so he could smell the alcohol on his breath, and refused to let him look anywhere else than his eyes. His hands grabbed the man's face, another around his arm so he could not escape, claws digging into the soft flesh, piercing the spaces in between the freckles and under those terrified green eyes. "I kill you. Put a sword right here." he tapped his chest and felt the heart stutter under it and relished under the pure survival instincts that were running through the man. Dream's animal ears pressed tightly against his head, horns too short and stubby to do anything.

"So, how are you here?" Phil continued, "Had to come back from the grave to taunt me. To let me know what I lost. I know what I lost. And now I get the pleasure of killing you again."

A large hand grabbed onto his arms and ripped them from his grip on the sheep hybrid. He shrieked, thrashing around in Sam's hold, trying to wriggle his way out of his, while Hannah started to pull the two apart.

"No!" His wings were pinned to his side, held in a bear hug against Sam's chest, kicking his legs to try to set free. To finish what he started. To get some barest bit of revenge to fill a treacherous hole in his soul. "Sam, let me go! I need to kill him!"

"Stop moving!" the creeper hybrid said, grunting under his thrashing.

"Let me fucking go!" Hannah held Dream's hands behind his back, glowering at him as more people started to join the scene. Hands grabbed onto where his arms were starting to slip out, Puffy and Bad pinning them to his side. Footsteps approached, and Phil could feel control slipping from his hands. Eret walked up to where Hannah restrained Dream, taking out a cloth and started to dab it on the open wounds on his cheeks, the runner still gasping for breath, bruises already starting to form around his throat. They were helping the killer, holding him down, and fixing the prick.

Phil's eyes alighted with rage. How dare they. How fucking dare they do everything they had done, only to just keep him from the one thing that was going to make this better. To take his sons from him, to treat him like a wild, unpredictable animal. If they wanted an animal, he would show them a goddamned animal.

He started, thrashing, sinking his teeth into Sam's hand, shrieking into the sky. "Let me go!"

There were voices, or at least he thought there were. But rather, his mind getting clouded by alcohol or rag, it was clouded by something much less in his control. A film that was put over all of his thoughts, getting thicker and thicker by the second, cutting him off from the conscious world. His head spun loosely, and Sam seemed to try to steady it as gently as he could while not losing grip on the man. Phil's hand grabbed onto the man's bicep, trying to ground himself as his stomach rolled with nausea, as the world went blank, a dark abyss taking him too fast for him to protest.

It was a quick transition. One moment Phil was plunged into darkness, and the next, he was painfully aware of his body and who wracked it was. A second of blank, empty mind, where he was in a place between reality and the place he was pulled to.

He came around with warm hands cupping either side of his face. A sharp, painful breath filled his lungs and beat against his breastbone, looking at the oasis he had built with his goddess.

"Forgive me, my love," Kristin whispered, pressing her forehead to his, "But I needed to speak to you immediately."

She moved aside, still holding a hand on his frail body. Before them was a creature, shaken and dirty. Wing attached to his head, arms that were not fully connected to his body, a mask across his face, with an XD etched into it. Loose with clothes drabbed around its body, held in place by golden ringlets and bracelets. It twisted its hands around each other, tail wrapped around its calf, shoulders hiked up to its head, looking as much on the edge of tears as someone with a mask on.

"We found our killer," Death said, looking at the God of Curiosity while the pieces started to fit together in the angel's mind. And a new rage started to take him over.

Chapter Text

"What?" Phil's mind was quick to sober up, looking between his wife and the god in front of him. His hands that had trembled with a force that he could not control but started to curl around the familiar form of a sword that was not there. Rage was something he would like to consider far from him. Even before the avian had become a part of a family, he had been level headed, intelligent, and never revealing his hand before he needed to. But here, standing before these two beings of awesome power, Phil was sure that he could kill a god.

"Phil," there was a hand on his shoulder, snapping his head to the face of his wife. Kind, but stern in the way that always got people to listen. "You need to not do anything rash. We have a plan--"

"I don't give a fuck about the plan, or whatever you made, I want to know--"

"Phil." It was short. And a warning. His wings flared in defiance, turning towards the goddess again. Her face was stoic, frozen in a frown. She was a chaotic being of death, and was giving him an order. He needed to step down.

With a breath, Phil stepped back and let her walk forward in the space she had made for them.

"This is the one that we were looking for," Kristin said, gesturing to the shaking god before them, a cold hand extended before him. Small amounts of pity were towards the deity, but she was keeping her distance. "He was taking the form of the one called Dream, doing this to pull a prank on him."

"On who? Dream?"

Kristin nodded, her mouth pressed tightly closed, slowly regulating the words that she was allowed out. She was struggling with control just as much as he was.

"They were in a prank war with each other, and that's how he was carrying his prank out. By-- murdering people in the form of Dream to get him in trouble."

Phil froze. The words almost did not seem real, deconstructing them to the sounds they were, no longer carrying any meaning that thousands of years had attached to them. A prank war? That was why his family was buried in the ground. That was why he had gathered their stiffening bodies under him, trying to keep the warmth in their skin. That was why Techno was going through hell; that was why they were fucking dead.

"I got permission from Fate; since they had plans for those three, they are allowing their souls to be retrieved," Kristin spoke. "I can not do that, as it is my domain, but there are rules against plucking them out of their afterlives. You are going to have to be the one who goes in and gets them."

"Yes." Maybe it had been a little fast, but Phil could really care less. XD was no longer in front of him, only a possibility of getting his children back, just the knowledge that things could be better if he could just bring their souls back into their bodies. "Yes, I will do it; when do I leave?"

"Phil," another warning, but this one was laced with more of a sad tone. Pained with the subject that they were forced into. She turned to face him, holding his face with her hands, before moving them to his shoulders and then back to her sides. Like touching him was burning her, not being able to stomach it for more than a second. "There are parts of this mission that you don't understand. It's--going to be much harder than you think that it is going to be. I can't be there with you. As the Goddess of Death, I am charged with protecting the underworld and everyone it holds. You are going to be navigating a maze of afterlives without me. XD is going to be guiding as much as he can. But I can't be there."

She moved closer to him, rubbing his arm up and down, drawing his eyes to her again. There was a tightness in his chest as he listened to her talk. All he could hear was the fact that he was going to get his sons back. That they were going to be ok, and alive, and all he had to do was lead them out of their afterlives. They would be ok again.

But her touch drew his mind out of the far-off place it had wandered to. It marked his eyes to hers and the sadness deep within them.

She cupped his face again and pressed their foreheads together.

"You know what I am saying, right angle," she said, tightness choking her voice. "I can't help you. While you are my angel, and we have permission for Fate, this should not be happening. It goes against everything that the natural order stands for. You will be fighting uphill the entire time, and there is no way that I am going to be able to help you."

The words did not mean anything to him. The challenge before him and the fear that his wife held for him did not register in his brain. All he could think was that he was going to be able to see his boys again. It was consuming him until it was the only thought that was in his mind. He was nothing beyond the father to his children, his sanity hanging on that fact. Phil had been losing himself since the first day that the massacre had happened and was just slipping more.

"There is an opening on earth that you can slip in and out of. I can keep it open for you, but that is about all that I can do."

"That's more than enough. I can get everything else on my own."

"Phil."

He tried to pull away, to start immediately, with his body still reeling from the alcohol that he had shoved into his system, half exhausted from the lack of self-care. He was going at that moment, and there was nothing that was going to stop him.

But his wife did. Ksitian lifted her forehead from his and pressed a kiss into the very tip of his nose. He couldn't feel it. He was wasting time.

"Be safe."

There was no way that the goddess could keep her angle from running off the first moment he had. She could have, but there was no way that she had the heart to trap the man she loved in a place he did not want to be in.

And he was back, in the center of the road, standing among the others that had been there before, Dream still held tightly restrained, while the rest looked around. Tubbo jumped when he laid eyes on the avian, tugging on Ranboo's shirt to get the enderman's attention and pointing over to where he stood.

Phil was frozen.

His heart was pounding out of his chest, wings were twitching with the power his wife gave him so many years ago. He had a chance, a sliver of a hope of a chance to get them back. To hold them in his arms again and kiss the tops of their heads and just cry until there were no more tears left to shed.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he flinched hard, bringing up his arms to defend himself from the soft smile of Puffy.

"What happened?"

What had happened?

"My sons, children, um," he was stuttering, still not able to process the words himself, trying to grasp what was not really his to hold, "they were killed by a god. Not Dream. XD I think his name is. It was a prank war. They were--I can get them back. I need to go and--"

He was turning to leave when a gentle but firm hand grabbed his arm again. Puffy was not letting him go.

His eyes trailed up to her's, a harsh glare deep into her eyes.

"Let me go, Puffy."

"Forgive me for not thinking that you are in the best place of mind at the moment, Phil," she was not letting go. Why was not she not letting go! He thrashed a bit in her grip, testing her strength against his, seeing if he could just break out as it was. Puffy tightened her grip, careful not to dig her claws into his soft flesh but making sure that he was not going anywhere. He couldn't break free. He was trapped. "Phil, you need to take a breath. I know this is a lot right now and that you've been under a lot of stress, but--"

"No!" his voice was already hoarse and broken, but he didn't care. Tears were welling into his eyes, a blinding, sharp panic lodging itself deep into his breast bone, "no, you need to let me go! Puffy, please, I can get them back, I can, she told me I can, Fate is going to let me, but I have to be fast, he's going to lock him up forever, and the sooner I get there, the faster I can get him out before anything bad happens. I need to get them out; you have to understand! I can bring them home, I swear I can; I just need--"

"Phil," the voice cut through the fog that clouded his mind before he even knew what was going on. His chest hurt. "Breath. You need to breathe. Take a deep breath in."

"I--"

"In," someone grabbed his hand and placed it someplace else, and a deep, almost rumbling breath in. He tried to copy.

It stung. Slashing against his strained lungs, trying to hold in a breath that was not going to take.

"Good. And out."

Out. It hurt too. But part of him relished in the pain.

More orders followed, and he followed them because that was just easy to do. While his mind cleared and he started to see the fluffy, rainbow hair of Puffy again, battle armor still strapped to her, with a kind smile on her face. She had been one of the first people to join the town when it was still painfully new and broken a bit. Fighting alongside Techno, even matching the acolyte's skill sometimes, fighting off mobs, and the occasional wandering caravans that wanted to see if they were an easy target. They never were. Between the two warriors, they had never been an easy target, and as more people joined and more people with hardened skills from the world looked for a place to just exist, they would never be an easy target again.

This had been such a good place. Made with love and caring, a father guiding his adult children to make something they were proud of. A place where they could be safe and not have to worry about the dangers of the outside world. It was perfect.

And now he had to bring it back to being perfect. Because a hated, chaotic part of him wanted to burn the place down for not being enough to protect his sons. And Phil knew that that was wrong, he knew that. But no matter how much he tried to push the feeling away, the more that he wanted to squish it down, it would raise its ugly head up again, and he would be terrified again.

"What happened, Phil?" Puffy asked.

Phil took another shaky breath, his eyes falling to the ground, hands limp to his sides, and started to talk.

"They were killed. Murdered by a god, someone that was in a prank war with Dream. He thought it would be funny. Fate is allowing me to go down and get their souls back. I have to leave. The Blood God is already started to prepare of me--"

"I'm coming with you."

An almost harsh voice rose up from the rest of the group, and Phil's head snapped up to where Tubbo was standing. A powerful stance that he had been taught and a determined look on his face.

Phil wanted to cry.

"No."

"Yes, Phil."

"I said no, Tubbo. And that's final."

"It's not, and I'm going with you."

"It's going to be dangerous--" "--I don't care--" "--and it's going to be better--" "--I have to save them--" "--if I go on my own--" "I have to be there when we get them back!" " --because then you're not going to get fucking hurt!"

Tommy laughed. The chills of the night were chased off by the raging fire before them, the way that it reached like a hand towards the sky, trying to caress the stars. Sweetmeats and pastries smell filled the air. A table piled high with food stretched around the party, people grabbing what they wanted and giving what they could. A potluck of a community that had grown so much.

Techno was manning the meat pits, ordering people around next to the fires, using large swords to cut huge slabs of meat off of the game he had haunted himself just hours before. Plating and placing it with the rest to be taken by the community when they needed it, but always taking the best cuts off to feed the army of dogs and cats that surrounded him at all times, knowing that their treats were to come.

Wilbur stood on top of one of the logs that circled the fire, guitar in hand, while a little band had gathered around him. Giving their strands of music to the man and allowing him to weave them together into a tight ball of color and ideas before giving it to the night as an offering. A thanks for letting them live this long. A thanks for allowing them all to heal. And burnett orchestrated the dancing before him as well, even if he was less knowing of that part. People swung around each other in traditional dances that they had picked up from different places, taking all of their cultures and melting them together to make something new. Tommy could recognize some of the bows from the northern mountains people and the light steps of the plains, mixed with the hips movements of the jungles. Every time a new person joined their dance, they were greeted with shouts of revelries and acceptance, fitting right into their dance with a puzzle piece they did not know was missing. Another thing would be added, and people would pick it up like second nature, the dance becoming a little more theirs with every added bit.

Ranboo and Tubbo were somewhere in the mix. Tommy could pick them out every once in a while, watching them move by fast, smiles on their faces as they laughed into the night without a care in the world. Tubbo's scars from that night, the ones that Techno and Phil had spent so long healing, the ones that started on his cheek, and stretched down the side of his chest, were gone. Replaced with the soft skin that had to have been there before the scar had made its mark. His eyes twinkled with a light that Tommy had never seen before his best friend. He moved so freely, fire no longer making him shutter and freeze like it was that night all over again.

Ranboo's long limbs made it easy to move across the dance floor, moving fluidly between partners but always finding his way back to Tubbo eventually. Colliding into the boy, he considered a brother with a laugh that Tommy could almost hear above everything else, a noise that he had not heard in so long, an ache in his chest started to form from missing it. Ranboo's hair was allowed to flow down and around his face, spinning in the wild but never getting in the way. His claws gently take any new partner that he comes across, giving them a heartfelt smile with his inhuman mouth before laughing and dancing away.

Phil was not far from everything, staying out of the way, forced to sit on a log and rest despite his protests, with a glass of cider in his clawed hands and chatting with Eret. His wings were relaxed, big and black as they had ever been. Glossy in the light that drew on shadows. There was no tension in his shoulders, no bags under his eyes, his soft hands gesturing to the way he talked, and chest laughs that moved his entire body.

It was good. This was good. This was what they deserved. After everything that they had been through, they deserved this. To be happy. For once, to just be happy. To just be allowed to be happy, and safe, with full bellies and a warm fire to throw their celebration around.

So why did his gut twist in anticipation? It was something that he had not been able to shake for a few days, and it was starting to piss the avian off. His wings puffed out in irritation because of it, and his body refused to fully relax.

It was something disturbing that he did not know how to place. There was no one specific thing that was putting him on edge. It was…. Everything really. Everything about this place, the way that the evening was playing out, the way that the people were dancing around, and Phil was telling old war stories with hands that were too soft. Techno's brown hair, tuskless mouth, actually smiling as he fed another bit to a cat. It was all so…. Wrong.

But he did not want to admit it because it was all so perfect. Maybe things have gotten better. The deal with the Blood God was broken, and Techno was allowed to return to who he was before. Tommy thinks that he remembered that happening. It was foggy and far away, but it was still there. And his memory had never been wrong before, so there was no reason for it to start now.

Right?

Right?

Right?

No, he was sure of it now.

Tommy shook his head and chuckled a bit to himself. He was being dumb. Of course, they had broken the deal that Techno had made all those years ago with the Blood God. Tommy had been there. It had happened. Of course. How could he forget? They had-- confronted the god-- yeah, that was right. Yeah, that was it. They had--

"Tommy!" There was a loud shout from across the fire, and his head snapped over to Wilbur, waving his hand wildly in the air, a large smile on his face. "Come on! You can have next song!"

The avian was fast to get up and run over to where his brother was. The dichotomy between the cold air on the side that faced the fire and the warmth of the flames. Glancing over, he saw Techno with a slight smile on his face, watching the interaction between his brothers before shaking his head and returning to the meat cooking before him.

Yeah. This was good. This was everything that they wanted, and they were finally getting it. There was no reason for Tommy to look into it. He just needed to accept that this was a good thing and that they could finally be happy and safe. There were no more people that were going to attack their village because--because--

"Come on, Tommy!"

Right, because they were gone. He remembered now.

Without another thought, Tommy ran over to his brother, letting the older man throw his arm around his shoulders, and they sang into the early hours of the morning; even as the fire started to die, they sang soft, quiet songs. Dancing and music all through the night.

And as Tommy started to drift off, leaning against his father, feeling the man's hands push through hair, he shoved the doubts aside. This was good. This was good.

This was good.

This was good.

This--

Chapter Text

They stood at the entrance of the underworld. The mouth of the cave radiated an unnaturally cold tunnel lined with dark flowers and foliage down to the bottom of the world. Kristin had opened it up for him, leading him to the location with soft touches, until Phil was standing before the entrance, irritation pricking the hairs on the back of his neck. He had wanted to go alone. He had wanted to not put anyone else in danger.

And now there was an entourage of people behind him, waiting for him to make the first moves into the cave.

Tubbo and Ranboo were there, decked out in their finest armor, weapons sharper than they had ever been before, a twist of anger and determination on Tubbo's face. At the same time, the enderman hybrid stayed close to his companion. Puffy and Hannah were not far behind them, the goat hybrid making last checks on her armor, tightening the straps, and testing the weight of her beloved sword over and over again while the nymph creature kept her head up and aware of the things happening around them.

"How far does it go down?" Dream asked, looking down into the hole as well, standing close to where Phil was. The avian scoffed and shifted further away from the human. He didn't want any of these people to be here. He had wanted to go alone.

But even with the grief that was in his heart, the thoughts that were taking over his head, the desperation that was starting to feel like the springs that held his doll-like limbs together, he could not deny the love in his wife's eyes. She could have ordered him to take people with him, and as her angel, he would have had to do it. And yet, she had asked. Begged. The goddess of death begged the man she loved to take people with him so he could be safe. So he could bring their children home safely.

She had asked.

Whispering in his mind when he and Tubbo were taking large, angered breaths from their screaming match at each other. Shoulders shaking with emotion and glaring, older man to younger hybrid. Immoral angel to a painfully mortal boy.

Phil didn't want anyone else to get hurt. He didn't want them to die.

And yet, they insisted on throwing their lives away for something that he could just handle himself. So he had walked away, saying that anyone could go with him if they could keep up. Phil did not wait for them, praying that he could move faster than they could process and get ready with everything they needed for a trip into the underworld.

They were waiting for him at the edge of town, weapons strapped to their hips and shoulders, light packs stuffed to the brim with supplies that would help them, and a particular look on their faces that Phil was not sure that he liked.

And now they are here. And Phil hated every moment of it.

"Alright," he said, turning to face the rest of the group, completely ignoring Dream's question, creating a bubble around him with his wings, not allowing anyone to get close. He did not want anyone to get close. He was fine. "Rules. I am in charge. If there is something that I think is too dangerous for you all, I am going in alone. That is not negotiable; I am the Angel of Death; you are all mortals. I will be fine; you might not come out alive.

"You have to keep up; I am not going to be waiting for you all. If you fall behind, head back, I will not be held back by someone who can not keep pace. I call the shots of who we attack and what direction we go. Is that clear?"

They nodded. Some more hesitate than others. Some finally came to terms with what was happening to the avian before them. Others regretted that their thought had been reinforced.

Phil hated that they all had agreed so quickly.

"Right."

With a turn, he started down the cave. The others were close behind.

Wrapping his cloak tighter around his shoulders, he shivered against the unnatural coolness of the air around him, immediately able to see his breath before him, taking steps down the long trek that was in front of them.

The sun was hot, but the air was cool on a perfect day. As was the day before had been. Tommy stood atop the hill just on the city's outskirts, stretching his wings out wide from either side of his back. The rest of his family were a few steps behind him, Phil and Techno shouldering a heavy basket between the two of them, Wilbur's arms weighed by a blanket, with Tubbo and Ranboo close behind him, running up to his side.

They had decided to have a picnic at a waterfall that was not too far from the village, just over one of the hills that surrounded them, and down into a bowl on the other side. It was far from the entrance to their little valley, but they did not have a lot of time to go there, mainly because it was sort of hard to get to, and they would have no contact with anyone if something went wrong, and some of their strongest warriors were gone. So it was rare that the entire family went there. It actually never happened; Phil and Techno had not seen it yet. But for some reason, that rule did not seem to be necessary anymore. Being attacked was not something that they needed to worry about; the worry that they could be attacked at any moment was no longer something plugging their every thought. That no one brought up the fact that many of the village residents were still being hunted to that day.

Because, apparently, it did not matter.

Tommy shook the thought that this was wrong out of his head. He should just be happy that he could spend time with his family. That he was finally about to actually take his entire family to one of the most beautiful places that he had ever seen. He had wanted this for years, ever since he had found it with Tubbo and Ranboo at his side and dragged Wilbur there late one night. But Phil and Techno had never seemed about to tag alone.

He should be grateful. Being raised on the road, with no real home, Tommy had started thinking about the forest as his home. The trees were the walls that protected them from the evil things that wanted to kill them, and the creatures and branches provided everything they ever needed to live. From places to hide to food to clothes that Phil helped them stitch together, it was the place that Tommy felt connected to. And when he had found this place, it felt like home. Like the young avian had been looking for this place his entire life but had never been able to pinpoint where it had been. He had fallen to his knees, crying into the world for finally finding a place that felt like it would protect him no matter what.

Ever since that day, it had been the one place where everyone knew he would go when he was upset. It felt like a hug to be there, and he loved it more than he could describe. And he was finally able to bring his family home.

"Mate, stop walking too fast," Phil shouted after them, a smile in his voice and no limp in his legs.

The world's weight had started to decay Phil's joints not long before they settled down. Years of protecting three young boys, providing for them, and helping others when he could, had taken its toll, slowly chipping away at his bones and ligaments to the point where he had developed a limp. It started with the rescue of Ranboo and Tubbo and got worse as time went on. He would trail behind his sons as they walked through the world, using his wings for balance on long hikes from campsite to campsite. Coughing into his sleeve to try to conceal the fact that he was losing his breath or that he was bone tired.

The change had been noticed not long after. Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy turned to look at their father, panting and struggling up the mountain when he had once taken all of their hands and helped them up the steep incline, all on his own. Tubbo and Ranboo, recently added to their family, awkwardly asking if he needed help, while Techno walked down to his side without a word. Hulling the man onto his back, ignoring the protests from the avian man and Phil had protested. Insisting that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. That the recent battle had just taken a lot more out of him than he had expected.

None of them listened to the protests of their father, a first for all of them. Retorting his words with a weave of their own, elegantly and irrefutable. He had to eventually fall silent, resting his head on the shoulder of his cursed son, hiding the tried smile. But Tommy had seen it. He saw the way that his father's wings fluttered with pride, and thankfulness, even if he did not say it right to them at that moment; there were many late nights where he would say it over and over to them. Almost to tears, that they did not leave him behind, even when he was not as young and strong as he had been.

But it was not like they could ever even consider that as a possibility.

And now Phil walked as he had before. How Tommy remembered his father carrying himself when they had been children. Strong, an impenetrable wall that Techno had eventually become, taking points from the man that had protected them for so many years. No longer a limp that kept him from climbing mountains, but a sprang in his step that had once chased his kids around when they needed to get the last little bit of energy out of their growing bodies before bed. The same energy that had taught Tommy how to fly all of those years ago.

And the young avian buried the thought that this was wrong. That Tommy was missing something and just kept smiling back at his father.

"Well, then catch up, you slowpokes!" He shouted, standing at the cliff's precipice that led down to the valley that would lead to the waterfall. They could hear the water beating against each other from here, softened with distance, and waited under the mist to rise from it. There was water below them, making it possible for them to just jump into it instead of taking the show to hide down into the valley.

But it was not like they needed the path at all.

With swift movements, Tommy grabbed onto Ranboo's underarm, the half enderman allowing him, with an "oh, there I go." Looking at his father's smiling face, Tommy fell backward, the nothingness of air catching him and gently wrapping his wings. Air flew past him at speeds that he had gotten used to long ago, Tubbo smiling next to him, having jumped moments before he had fallen.

Tommy closed his eyes, timing out the seconds in his head. It was not too hard to time out how close he could get, but he would have to turn a little sooner than what he was used to, just to make sure that the enderman in his arms did not touch the water at all. But for now, feeling the breath of Ranboo's chest rising and falling, the whoops of his friend next to him, and the shouts of encouragement of his family above, Tommy rolled over at the last second, letting the air catch his wings.

Tubbo splashed into the water below as Tommy rose into the air, letting Ranboo watch the waterfall from its cliff down into the pool of water below, trickling down into a small stream after. Trees lined the cliffs around them, flowers finding homes in the rocks that had nested perfectly as the walls of this place. Everything was perfectly untouched and new, just like the occasional waterfalls they had found while traveling the world. Little pools caught the water as it flowed down, slowing its descent and making the noise lighter and not as intense.

There was a little clearing near the bank of the large, bottom pool that Tommy fluttered to a stop, setting down Ranboo before dropping to the soft grass himself, taking a deep breath of the clean air around them.

"Holy shit, it's cold!" Tubbo yelled, swimming towards them, his head poking out through the surface of the water.

"Yeah, take that bitch boy!" Tommy shouted, looking down at his best friend.

There was a glint of mischief in the young goat hybrid's eye before a splash of the water erupted from the pool, raising down on Tommy.

"Oh, you asked for it now!"

They were both soaked by the time Phil, Techno, and Wilbur had made their way down to the side of the mountain, smiling at the sight of Tubbo's wet fur and Tommy's wings dripping with water off of the tips of his feathers. They were sent to the sun while the others set up the picnic.

Tommy watched from the sunspot that he had chosen, watching as his family smiled and laughed with each other, setting everything out, no tension in their shoulders, with the constant vigilance that at least one of them had always kept up, everywhere they went.

It was almost eerie how relaxed they were, Tommy felt like he had to pick up the slack, that they would get attacked at any moment, and someone needed to be aware of what was happening around them to make sure that that did not happen. But it seemed impossible to keep his guard up, following the lead of everyone else around him, and not able to rise up that constant panic that he was so used to.

And the unnatural feeling that something was wrong was back. Tommy had dealt with derealization before, in the aftermath of a battle, or when something stressful came along. But this was the most stress he had to deal with in a while. Because this was so unnatural. This was so wrong, this should not be happening, and he knew that deep down.

It felt like he was watching strangers parade around in the skins of his family, their mannerisms close enough to the way that his family would act to fool him, to keep him in the dark, and not questioning anything. So the thought that was creeping into his head started to make more and also less sense as time went on:

He wanted his family back.

Painful anger started to bubble up in the space behind his ribs and crawl up the sides of his throat, the more he looked at the people before him, trying desperately to squish the feeling down but feeling them rise all the more. A sort of anger that he had only felt every once in a while. When Wilbur could not speak because his throat hurt too much, and his hands shook with the past memories. Or when Techno cries silent tears, trying to keep his mouth shut and use his lips to cover the huge tusks that crowded his mouth. When Phil shook with anxiety, strings barely holding him together, the prey instincts that had been ingrained in him flaring up at the slightest rustle of a bush because that had been so dangerous. But it was different from all of those times. In those times, Tommy had been angry because of the injustices done to his family.

Now he was angry because someone was tricking him. Because it felt like a trick. Like someone had spoon-fed him a narrative that he had so desperately wanted, something that he had wanted so badly that he believed it without even considering the weird things that were going on with it. He hated the fact that he had bought into it so easily.

A small part of Tommy hated that it was not true.

A bigger part of him hated the fact that he had even considered that it could be true.

But the feeling had been there for days. Weeks even. He did not know when it started, but it was there, and he hated how it made him feel. Impulse had always been Tommy's weakness, but he needed to prove that this was not true. That this was just his mind being paranoid and not accepting that things were actually good now. He had to prove to himself that this was real.

And he should have been disgusted with himself when it was so easy to come up with a way to prove that.

Phil had taught all of them how to live in the natural world, taking care of themselves in a way that would keep them safe from how brutal nature could be. And that included waterfalls.

White bubbles appeared where the falling water hit the water's surface, and Tommy's feathers were not meant to be in water, not having that thick layer of oil over them like other avians did to keep the water out of the delicate ruffles of the feathers. He would sink like a stone.

Now, of course, he knew how to get out of the suction created by the waterfall, and his family knew that. The current was not even that strong. He had done dumb stuff like this before, and he knew how they would react to this. Or how they were supposed to respond to this.

If they were his real family.

With a plan in his head, and way too much commitment in his heart for something that could kill him, Tommy gently got up from where he was sunbathing, not making a show of it, so they would not try to stop him before it was too late.

The water was not as cold since he was still a little wet, but his feathers did shiver under the water that covered the sensitive skin. Tommy was not even sure that he was breathing; it did not feel like he was, it felt like he was going to rip apart from the panic that was starting to rise in his chest, and other questions began to grow in his mind. That this was a bad idea. That he was being an idiot. That this was dangerous for no reason. That this was not going to mean anything in the long run.

He was too close to the waterfall before he could even finish weighing the pros and cons of what he was doing. The suction grabbed onto his feet and pulled him under the water, just enough to log the water into his feathers and feel them drag on his back. A yelp pulled from him as his face was pulled underwater, and a muffled call of his name barely reached past the water that was deep in his ears.

Relax, he told himself, you know how to get out of this. This is just a test. I'll stay under here for a while and then pop back up after a while. This is fine. I am going to be…

There was a crash of water hitting skin above him, exposing bubbles. The air in his lungs had not even started to run out, the panic yet to set in, it almost felt like there was unlimited air in his lungs, when a large hand grabbed onto his wrist, gently pulling him out from under the sucking of the waterfall.

His head broke the surface, immediately pulled into the strong arms of who he assumed was Techno, pulling the sopping wet bangs out of his eyes and getting the droplets away from his face.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" the voice rang in his head, drawing his head up to where Techno looked ahead to the shore ahead of them, a wobble on his lower lip, biting it down with the tuskless face that Tommy had yet to get used to. His eyes were filled with panic, swimming fast over to the shore and throwing him into the arms of Phil, letting the winged man pull him in tight for a hug.

"Why would you do that?" Phil asked him, holding him tight, like he was afraid that the boy would disappear, wrapping his shivering body up with his wings.

"Tommy!" Tubbo and Ranboo ran from where they had been, their hands limply at their sides, not knowing what to do with them, a deep fear in them that Tommy had not seen often.

They knew he was not incompetent. They knew that he was a strong swimmer and could get out of that situation. They should have waited a little longer, should have seen if he could get out. Because he could have. He was more than capable of, and yet Techno had been fast, faster than he was even when he had been able to shift into this boar from. Wilbur had not said anything, and yet, peeking over the ridge of his father's shoulder, he could see his older brother holding himself like he was unsure of what to do. They should not be unsure. They had been through worse. They knew that they could handle worse. And that this was just--wrong. It was fucking wrong, and it made him sick!

Tommy pushed Phil away. Wrenched himself out of the men pretending to be his father's arms, and fell to the ground, the dirt sticking to his skin, his breaths coming out hard and loud, trying to get a hold on his spinning head.

"Tommy!" a voice said, reaching for him.

"No!" he scrambled away, a hash rock slamming into his back the only thing that stopped him from backing up any further. Before him were people, things, creatures, but not the people he trusted with his life. All of a sudden, the stunt seemed like a horrifically bad idea, not because there was a possibility that he could have never gotten out, overestimating his own kills, but the fact that he had trusted these--things to pull him out. To save him.

His heart was beating at a thousand miles per second, his mouth was drier than he would have ever wanted, and his mind was spinning with panic. And the only thing he could find himself to say was:

"Who the fuck are you people?"

Chapter Text

"Tommy, what are you saying?" Phil, no this fake, fake fucking various of Phil, walked closer, his hands opened and out like he was trying to placid a rabid dog.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Ok, ok," the fabrication backed up, his hands held up, but the worry was clear across his face. Tommy did not know if he believed that. He did not know what to believe, but he knew he did not trust the people around him. Calling themselves his family when they were so clearly not. Rage burned deep in him, rising up his throat as he looked around at them, barring his teeth like some kind of dog.

How could he have been so fucking blind? There was something wrong from the beginning. No matter how much he wished, Techno's deal was not going to be going anywhere. No matter how much he pleaded, the scars on Phil were never going to be anything but horrific. No matter how much he dreamed, the haunted look in Wilbur's eyes was never going to go away. His family was broken, and so was he. And there was nothing that he could do about it. Tommy was not the one that was going to fix his family, they were broken from the start, and that was just how things were going to stay.

"Tommy," the voice of Wilbur turned his head to face where his fake brother was, squatting down to get to his level like he had so many times before. Having people tower over him had always made him uncomfortable, something that they had learned early on to help deal with his anxiety. It was just something that helped him calm down faster. And he hates that this fake knew that. "Can you take some deep breaths for me?"

"I don't want to take deep breaths!" his chest was aching with the amount of strain he was putting on them, and he could feel the start of hyperventilating, but there was no way in hell he was going to break. There was no way that he would let these fucks toy with him anymore. "I don't want to calm down; I want my family! Where are they? What did you do with them?"

"Tommy, we're your family," Techno said, his long brown hair still dripping with water, standing just a few feet from where Tommy had pressed his back against the hard rock. He looked concerned. Tommy hated it.

"Are you feeling alright?" Phil looked like he would reach out to feel his forehead, see if he was running a fever but stopped himself before doing it. Tommy wished he did. Maybe then they would stop acting like they were the people that he cared the most about. Maybe then they would drop the fucking act that made him sick to his stomach. Because he was sure that this was not his family. A slip in character, a single moment where it was more obvious than other times, and now they were back to being the family he knew. They were treating him like a toy. A thing that they could feed the barest of his family's personalities would have him fooled. And he hated that it had worked for so long.

"You're not my family," whispered testimony, a glimmer of hope lost that this could have been his life if he had just accepted it as it was. That there was still a chance to go back and live as if these people were not the ones he fought alongside with.

There was no way that he could describe it. But it was just wrong. It was wrong, and he wanted to scream, cry, and force his family to just act the way that they had before.

He wanted Phil's hands to be wrought with scars and wear like they had been before, so he could treat them with his finger when he needed something to focus on rather than just his own mind. He wanted to see the tusks that poked out of Techno's mouth and know that the man would gore anyone that got too close to their little family, ripping them apart with the unnatural strength that came with his contract in the Blood God. The cruelty that Wilbur shows, the silver tongue that Tommy was sure could convince armies to turn on each other and bring kingdoms to their knees. He wanted the mess of a family that he called his own, the ones that fought, that yelled at each other and screamed, the family that needed to be corrected, and never did things right the first time.

That was what he wanted again. Not this, never this. Never these people.

He tried to back away further but just pressed himself deeper into the rock, the sharpness of it lost. There was no actual press against him like it was made out of something that could not hurt him. Like nothing could hurt him.

Nothing had hurt him. His brain stopped for a second, his brow knitted together, piecing the information together. There were no new scratches on him, no burns from getting too close to a fire, nothing. He was fine. It wasn't that these people had taken him away; they were just not on earth.

He lifted his nose to the air and took in a deep, deep breath, letting it fill his lungs to the very limit before letting it out.

There was a taste of divinity in the air. All around this place, as it was around Phil when he would get back from visiting his wife, and it was here now. They weren't even on the fucking planet.

Oh, gods, he was dead.

It was not a thought that felt like his own. Like someone had put it into his brain, hiding it away so he could discover it later. Because he was dead. There was no way that he wasn't.

Why else would everyone around him be acting so weird? Why else did the neverending wars stop? Why was Techno free of the curse that had been placed on him all those years ago? Why were they fixed by everything that made them who they are? Traumas were gone overnight.

Tommy dragged his eyes across the concerned faces of the people who claimed to be his family. They kept their distance like he had asked, waiting for him to make the first move and want to be talked to. Techno flexing and unflexing his hand in a nervous tick picked up a long time ago. Wilbur hid his weaker left hand behind his thigh, a habit he developed ever since it had been damaged as a kid. Phil's wings ruffled with anxiety, not wanting to wait but knowing that he had to give people space sometimes and not bog them down with the need to fix things. Tubo got slightly in front of Ranboo, almost protective. Not that he was worried about anything, but just a habit.

Whoever was in charge of the afterlife, he had to admit, they had done a near-perfect job. Looking around now, with the knowledge in mind, everything was almost there. But he was done with this place. He was done being dead.

So he simply would not be.

Relaxing his shoulder, he watched as the people around him did as well, waiting patiently.

But he lifted his sopping wet wings and beat them in the air, once twice, sending water everywhere. Alright, basic rules still worked here. He could not fly with wet wings, which was annoying because he wanted to do a dramatic exit and everything, but Tommy guessed that he was stuck with these people.

"Well," he said, getting up and brushing the dust off of him, "it's been fun. It really has. We had some good laughs; we're going to have to try out some of those recipes at home, really. But I'm done here. You can drop the act."

Everyone either exchanged a concerned look or furrowed their brow.

"Tommy," Phil said, taking a very tentative step forward, pausing every once in a while to make sure that Tommy was ok with being approached. Rage bubbled up in the teen as the movements were so much like his father, but the man before him was so far from the Angel of Death he knew. "Are you alright? Do you feel sick or anything?"

"Look, man, I really know what's going on here. Trust me. So you can drop the act." He gestured to all of them. "Actually, all of you can drop the act! Very good performance, everyone, bravo, bravo. But I would like to go home now."

It was Wil's turn to talk. Tommy rolled his head in annoyance to look at the man.

"Yeah, alright, we can go home now. Just give us a moment to pack everything up."

"No, I mean home. I want to go home."

"Yeah? Like the house," Techno added. Honestly, he was the worst. It made Tommy borderline sick to look at the man now. Jealousy raged in him that this Techno got to live every day free of the very presence of the Blood God. While his real brother suffered because of it. And the answers on how he got rid of it were too vague to be helpful in the real world. No time for that now. They would have time once Tommy got back up to the surface.

"No, you stupid bastard. Home."

Everyone looked confused. Tommy rolled his eyes and scoffed. Not only were they fake, but they were really dense as well. Or they thought that he was dumb. Either way, he was going to have to spell it out for them.

"You dick heads; I don't want to be dead anymore."

There was a moment of processing before an explosion of noise.

"What the fuck you mean?"

"Toms, do you feel alright? You look sick."

"What are you even saying?"

"Heh?"

But his mind was already gone from this situation, rolling theories over in his head.

Tommy had taken the realization well, considering. For figuring out that he was dead a few minutes ago. But it was the thing that made the most sense. There has been an itch under his skin since he started being in this place, something he could not scratch no matter how hard he tried. He had tried ignoring it, and that had just landed him back here. So finally figuring it out, even if it was morbid, it felt better rather than creepy.

Sure he was dead. Not alive. It felt more like a surreal fact rather than something he had actually processed. That meant that something had killed him.

No, that meant that something had gotten to him.

If there was one thing he had never felt in his life of uncertainty, it was feeling afraid that someone would hurt him. There were rare times that he was away from his father and brothers, and those were the only times that he worried a little, but never to the point of fear. Because he knew that if he was lost, or somewhere he was not supposed to be, people were looking for him and that they would get to him. Through hellfire or an army, he knew that they would be with him if he needed them.

Which meant, anyone who hurt him would also have to deal with his family when they did eventually find him. They would not live long enough to regret or beg for forgiveness.

It was harsh, sure, but the only people who were hurting a kid they did not know were the people who would do it to a kid they did know.

And it was not like the literal Angel of Death or acolyte of the Blood God needed to worry about pitying those below them. Death had a soft spot for children and loved justice, and the Blood God wanted his pupil to get stronger. Nothing would stop either of them from protecting their family.

This was why, after figuring out that he was dead, it was not something that could kill him. He was fast and a decent fighter, but there were plenty of things that could kill him. It was the fact that they were able to get past his super-powered family. That was the issue. Because Tommy knew that all of them would rather die than allow him to.

Which set in a thought that actually disturbed him, deeper than the fact that he had been killed:

His family was dead.

The others were still sounding and screaming around him when he put his hands up for silence. His head was spinning with all of the noise, and he just needed some quiet to think!

"Quiet! I'm trying to think."

"Tommy, you just said that you are dead!" Phil yelled, his hands were shaking, "how the fuck are we not supposed to be freaking out?"

"It's the truth, and--"

"You're not dead, Tommy!"

"Be quiet!"

"I think we should listen to him."

A voice from the background forced them to stop, turning to the half ender standing on the edge of everything since this had all started, looking slightly at the ground. It almost looked like he was dissociating, but Tommy was unsure if that was possible here.

"Ranboo, what are you saying?" Tubbo demanded, turning to fully face his friend turned brother.

"I'm saying we should hear him out."

"Thank you, fakeboo."

"Why? Literally, why should we listen to anything he has to say?" Wilbur asked, shifting slightly closer to Tommy, his arm twitching like he would throw it around the boy to protect him. Tommy moved away a bit. "He's saying that he's dead. That's ludicrous. Where would we be if he was dead? Would we all be dead?"

"I'm guessing you all are made up by the afterlife here to keep me company." It made sense. He had been a good-ish person, so he would be rewarded with a good afterlife. And he did have the upper hand of his dad being married to the Goddess of Death, so he doubted that he could be allowed to get a bad afterlife. But, then, where was everyone else?

"So we don't exist, is what you're saying," Phil repeated, still fuming with anger but trying to press it down and not outwardly show it.

"We exist as an extension of Tommy," Techno piped up, placing a hand under his chin. "We could be his memories, infused into this world as the times that he wanted to last forever."

"But with changes," Tommy corrected, "none of you had the super bad scaring you did when I was alive, and Techno is no longer an acolyte. None of us jump at our usual triggers, and nothing goes wrong here. It's the perfect place, created to keep me happy."

"So, what does this all mean? I mean, it has to mean something; it can't be just because. Like there has to be a reason. You're dead, and we're your memories projected into the world, but with changes." Tubbo looked between them all as he talked, his goat ear flickering with thought. Tensions were basically gone as they spoke, all engrossed in figuring out what had happened to make this their new reality.

Everyone, except Phil.

"What's wrong, Fakeza?" He tried to make it fun, but he did not think it worked by the pure anger on the man's face.

"I-- how is this real? How are you all ok with this! We're told that we don't exist, that we're just someone's memories of the real thing, and you accept it just like that? No questioning or anything? No--"

He looked to Tommy with so much fear in his eyes, but none of it was for himself. This was his memory of Phil, not the real one. And he wanted to protect his children. All of them. It terrified him to suggest that two of them were nothing more than just figments of imagination. And it was just made worse on how ok they were with this.

The blonde could not control what these memories did, but they were close to what his family actually was. So he held out his hands for the imitation of his father to take. The angel did, tear still resting in his eyes, looking around to the rest of the people surrounding him, like he was waiting for something.

"It's ok, Phil. At least it's going to be ok. I just--I can't stay here. I'm not going to stay here. It's not because I want to hurt you, but it's because I want to make more memories with you. The real you, I guess. And if this is really my afterlife, then I'll be back."

The man's lower lip quivered with emotion.

"How are you not scared?"

Tommy didn't know. Maybe it was because it was something he knew from the very start. Something was off, like a missing puzzle piece. Finding it was more of a relief than anything, he was not crazy, and the fact that everyone agreed was a relief as well. Now he knew what to do next. Escape.

But he shrugged.

"Just not. I don't know how I died, but it must have been bad for me to even be able to die. And it's been fun here; it really has been. But I really just can't stay. I don't belong here. Not yet, at least. I have more things that I want to do. But I'm going to be back! And you all will be different as well. But I'm not going to forget you all or anything. What a dick move that would be."

"Aww, Tommy," Wilbur said in a voice that they all knew too well, wrapping his arms tight around his younger brother and squeezing tight.

Yep. Close. So close to being real. So close to being the bone-crushing hugs that Wilbur was known for, somehow stronger than how even Techno hugged, rare as they were. The cinnamon smell of his well-worn sweater that clung to him at all times, it was just so so close. But not there. This was not his brother, and that was all Tommy needed. He was getting out of here, that much was obvious, and there was not going to be anything to stop him.

"So, how do we start getting you out of here?" Techno had his arms crossed and a smile across his face. Even in Tommy's memories, the man loved to break the rules, and that was exactly what they were going to need.

"First, we're going to have to figure out how you got here," Ranboo added, "maybe cause a racket, so they come out and try to resolve it. Start destroying things."

"This entire place was made to make you happy," Wilbur commented, still holding onto him, running his hand through the blond curls, "so maybe if we find a way to make you unhappy."

"Who are they? Who are we even trying to get the attention of?" Tubbo asked, the brainstorming session starting. Ranboo and Techno got sticks and began to draw things in the dirt as the family of memories workshopped ideas on how to break the youngest out of his own afterlife. It was late into the night before they had a semi-solid plan and decided to go back home.

Even if it was fake, even if they were not the real people, wrapped up in Techno's arms, a cloak tucked around him, listening to the steady heartbeat of a memory of his older brother, Tommy felt happy, in a strange way. The uneasy feeling in his chest was gone, replaced with a weird sense of satisfaction. Next was just executing that plan.

He snuggled closer to the warmth of his fake brother and smiled at how his family was going to look when he crawled out of hell.

Chapter Text

The underworld was cold. Although, that was kind of expected. Actually, Ranboo was not sure what he had been expecting; going to the afterlife was not something he thought about regularly, which he supposed was good. There were often too many things that he would rather live for than think about where he would go when he died.

But now, it was kind of hard to ignore the cold. The group had traveled light, with just their weapons and armor, some dehydrated food that was filling and high in calories, and a few other things, just simple bags that hung at their sides, so there had been no room for winter coats or anything of that sort to come along with them. Not that he felt like they were going to need them much. Phil was determined to move them as fast as possible.

There were times when Ranboo was sure that he was trying to leave them behind, let them get lost in the underworld, force them to go back when they had no other choice. But Dream seemed to be the main one who would not let that happen.

The goat hybrid was able to stay up close to him, tracking and following his swift movements, shouting out to the rest where they were. Tubbo was able to match Dream’s speed, also being a goat hybrid, he kept up with Phil, not allowing him to get away and sometimes even overtaking him on how fast he was moving. Tubbo was told to slow down or get back multiple times. It was too dangerous, to begin with, to have a child here, but less to be one of the first people in the marching order. And the more it was said. The more he was reminded that he was just a child, the more his movements got ridged and angered, choosing to stay next to Ranboo and seeth in anger. If any of the other adults noticed, they did not say anything.

Hannah was next in line, vines surrounding her, touching the packed dirt that was all around them, like she was feeling for something. Based on who she was, Ranboo did not doubt that at all. Whatever she was doing, he hoped that it would keep them safe.

Puffy held up the very last line, sword out and ready. She was alert, maybe to the point where it was a little concerning, but really who could blame her. If anything, it makes Ranboo feel more safe knowing that he had a warrior who could hold her own with Techno in a fight at his back.

And then there was him. He was behind Hannah and before Puffy, the safest place to be, squished between two warriors that could tear anything apart if they were pushed to a certain limit. They glanced back at him every once in a while, offering a smile before they returned to whatever they were doing before. Maybe he should have been insulted that they were babying him, acting like he could not defend himself in any way when they all knew that that was not true. He could and had been defending himself long before he had arrived at the community. Before he was pulled out of that burning building by Techno.

That was a funny memory. Well, now it was a funny memory.

The duo had been staying in a city but planned to get out soon when everything happened. It was not a safe place for them to be. Nowhere was somewhere they could stay for long.

They were hybrids, and the world was a hostile and cruel place, war around every corner of the land, far and wide. Everyone was always on the run, but hybrids more than anyone.

Tubbo was a ram hybrid, while Ranboo was an ender hybrid, they were wanted for different reasons, but none were good. Tubbo would make a good soldier if they could get him under control, breaking his spirit until orders were the only thing he knew. The same for Ranboo, but some people would consider that waste of who he was. Exotic, there was a chance that he would be sold to some rich snob that wanted to keep him on display, or he would get the pearl ripped out of him; maybe that would go for more money to whoever was able to capture him. Whatever would happen, it would be violent and hurt.

Through luck, the two had found each other and refused to put their lives into her hands again. Sticking together through thick and thin, helping each other whenever possible, sharing food, drink, heat, dreams, and memories. They had grown close, to the point where Ranboo was sure that he considered the boy his brother. Years of this, running, but it was easier when they had someone to run with. The city that they had been in, they knew was risky. It was in the direct path of one of the armies, making their way to raid another kingdom nearby. If the town was caught in the crossfire, no one would care, and if they were discovered by the townspeople, there was a chance they would be given up as a sacrifice to save the city. But they were out of food and needed to get some more. They had planned to stay a day.

And that’s when the fires happened.

It was chaos, people shoving and pushing each other out of the way. Tubbo and Ranboo held each other’s hands, their packs strapped to their backs, trying to see if they could get anything else as their eyes were set on the forest to run to.

A mob was around them. Ranboo’s hand slipped out of his brothers. He screamed, almost inhumane, enderman screech, trying to find the one person he cared about again. People started to panic more, thinking that there was also an enderman that was attacking them. Ranboo was shoved and pushed around, trying to figure out where he was and where he needed to go.

A building came down. The foundation weakened from the fire, its back hit with a battering ram, trying to drop it on the street and crush as many people as possible. And he did not realize it was coming down until the burning wood was on top of him.

He screamed and thrashed around, screaming out for Tubbo, his brother, to come to save him. The only person who had ever given a fuck about him, and the only person who ever would again. The fire raged on and started to burn his skin. Different from when he touched water, it was more burn, rather than melting in water. He was going to die. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it, struggling against the thing that pinning him to the ground. And that’s when Techno had pulled him out.

At the moment, when Ranboo had looked into the face of the boar, looking at the sharp tusks that poked out either side of his mouth, he thought he was going to die. That the building had just missed crushing him, and the fire had just singed his skin just torn apart by some monster that had pulled him out of the rubble and rough.

His mind was clouded with pain and fog, only barely hearing Tubbo scream out for him, shouting that they needed to save him. There was no way that he could process that what he considered a monster had taken off his cloak to press against the wounds that were bleeding and cradled him in his arms, making sure to not jostle him. He just thought that it was someone else, that the monster was gone, and he was safe. Carried out of the city, held gently against someone. Safe.

Set down, leaning against something rough and hard, a hand was immediately slipped into his own, the soft words of Tubbo whispering that he was going to be ok. There were still noises happening all around him. The bellow of a creature and the songs of wings and blades in the air sounded dangerous. His mind was clouded and fogged, but he knew they needed to get away. This city was no longer safe for them to be in; they had known that it was not a permanent place to stay.

It was not until later did he realize that the pink-haired man and the boar were the same person. In and out of consciousness as his wounds were treated, and the rest of the battle was fought. Only waking up again strapped to Techno’s back, walking back to the community that the family he had been rescued by made, and in Tubbo’s.

And they had been there ever since. Achieving something that the duo thought they would never get, an actual home and people who cared about them. It was no longer than just the two of them; there were more people to help when they cried. Trauma started to shed away, but some things never went away. They had go bags stashed around the house just in case, which made them feel more comfortable. The world was still dangerous, especially for their growing community. The more attention they got, the more that there was a chance they would get the attention of the wrong person.

But it was better than things had been before.

Was.

Now they were trying to drag the souls of three of their friends out of the underworld, so things could go back to normal. Or as normal as they could get with everything happening to them.

They had been walking for hours, and it was still just the same tunnel, deeper and deeper, nothing else. They had no idea what to expect, it’s not like there was a lot of information on what the underworld looked like, so maybe this was just it. They knew nothing about how they were going to find the brothers, where they were, or how they would get their souls out of this place. He assumed that Phil knew how to do most of these things. But the man was not exactly doing the best at the moment.

He was so tense; the avian looked like he would shake apart. Everyone did, but Phil the most of them. Stress is at an all-time high.

But they kept walking. And walking and walking. Ranboo’s paws hurt against the rough ground, and it was hard to keep the nervous energy up all of the time, so it eventually dissolved into a tired vibe between them. Hannah put in her vines, Phil’s steps slowed down to the point where they could actually keep up, although that one seemed less voluntary. There was no talking. No conversation seemed right for what they were doing. So they just kept going.

Phil stumbled for the fifth time, Dream catching him before he could completely fall.

“Alright, we’re taking a break,” Puffy said, sheathing her sword and walking to the front of the group.

“You can stop if you want,” Phil’s voice was strained and dry, panting even as most of his weight was leaned on Dream, “but I’m not going to.”

“Phil, you’re exhausted,” Dream said, raising his hands in defense when the avian angrily shook him off. “We have no idea what is ahead. We might have to fight something or encounter something that will take energy. It’s not going to help anyone if we’re too tired to stay awake.”

“You can stop if you want to. I’m not.”

Puffy reaches out, grabbing the man’s bicep. He turned with a snarl, wings puffing out, the crackling anxious energy returning to the group.

“I get that you’re worried. We all understand that really we do. And we get that you want them back as fast as possible, so do all of us. But we can’t help them if we are too tired. It’s not a sustainable way to do things, you know that. Just rushing in there will not help anyone, and you’re going to fall short. Stop, and think. We rest, make a fire, sleep and have some food. Your boys are safe in the underworld; we are not. We can get them soon, but not right now.”

They stared at each other. Puffy had been a part of a guild before she came to the community, taking charge, and making decisions, while Phil had, well, he had been a father, trying to raise good people. They had different skill sets, and it was easy to clash when they were both used to being the one in charge. Right now, they were all just waiting for others to break. And, in the worst-case scenario, neither did, and they were stuck.

“Guys,” Hannah called from a little behind them. Her hand was touching one of the dirt walls, the vines from her hands deep inside of it, her eyes closed. And her other hand reached for her sword. “We’re being followed.”

Unceremoniously, the wall exploded. A large, slimy purple body separated the group, Ranboo looking to Tubbo and Dream, who were on his side. A loud rumbling vibrated through every surface around them, crumbling and cracking the floor beneath them as the wall of purple flesh kept slithering through the place.

The floor burst and they fell through.

A cavern opened up to them as they fell. Thousands of feet in both directions, cylindrical and round, with a rainbow of crystals and foliage growing out of the walls. Round tunnels crisscrossed through the two walls, more than they could ever count, the tunnels they had been walking through.

Instincts kicked in. Twisted and grabbed onto Tubbo, reaching out for Dream as well.

“Don’t worry about me!” the goat yelled.

There was no time to argue as Ranboo teleported up, landing the two of them on top of the tunnel that they had been walking through.

There were sounds of surprise, looking over to see Dream walking seemingly on nothing, fishing rod in his hand, holding the wall for support. A beat of wings in the air as Phil landed on a tunnel a few feet down. Hannah’s vines wrapped around one of the larger crystals, bracing the wall with her feet, and her other hand reaching vines to grab onto Puffy.

“Is everyone alright?” Puffy yelled out.

There was another loud crash as the purple thing emerged from the wall again, right in front of Dream.

“Fuck!” he yelled, as two giant jaws came crashing down on him, taking his sword and jamming into the top of the thing’s jaws.

“What the fuck is that?!” Hannah yelled, as they all looked at a giant purple worm, sharp-toothed mouths all around its body, worming forward to the other side of the cylinder, taking Dream with it.

Phil beat his wings, rising into the air, under the creature, and out of his sight.

There was a loud swore before Phil emerged again, landing on one of the tops of the tunnels again.

“It’s tough! We can get hits, but we have to get close.”

The last of the monster disappeared into the wall, and the rumbling stopped. Air seemed to escape them all. Dead silence where the rumbling had been a moment before. They knew Dream could handle himself against humans and hybrids. What the fuck was he going to do about giant underworld worms?

There was more rumbling in the walls, Tubbo’s ears twitching to try to pick out where it was coming from. Ranboo could feel a breath get caught in his throat, his hand sliding down to his sword and pulling it out. Tubbo did the same.

It got louder, and louder an--

“Hannah! Drop!” Phil screamed just a moment before another explosion of dirt and rock.

A cloud of dirt covered the monster’s turn and came right from Ranboo and Tubbo. The duo separated, getting on both sides of it before he turned and jammed his sword as deep into it as he could.

Phil was right; its skin was tough, rock-hard muscles covering all of its body, making it dense and hard to cut. His muscles strained to get the sword deeper into it, red blood squirting from the wound that he was carving into the beast.

“Don’t get inside of it!” Dream shouted as the worm disappeared into the wall again. The runner was there, standing on one of the crystals on the side of the border, barely holding on with his fingertips, looking worse for wear. It looked like his armor was melting. “It’s very acidic.”

“Puffy, I don’t know how much longer I can hold this,” Hannah groaned. Peeking over the edge to see her barely holding on with a few vines, strain in every sense of the word, trying to keep both of them from falling.

Phil swooped, ready to grab onto Puffy.

The rumbling started again. Ranboo looked across at where Tubbo stood, a giant gap between them.

Another burst.

“Fucking shit!” Phil screamed, trying to swerve out of the way of the worm, leading it away from where Hannah was still dangling.

“Phil, lead it over here!”

They did not get the chance. The worm turned, diving down to where Hannah and Puffy were.

Ranboo was moving before he knew it. Teleporting down low while the vines snapped, sending them both plummeting. There was a scream, desperate and loud, in the air, but there was no time, as he grabbed around Puffy and teleported to the nearest tunnel that he saw.

He tracked Hannah’s movements in between the flashes in his teleportation, watching the vines shooting from her arms and grabbing onto another crystal, flicking herself up to standing on top of it, finally taking out her sword to look at the creature that had disappeared into the walls again.

“Ranboo!” Phil shouted, landing and stalking him with more rage than he had ever seen in the man. “Get out of here! This is too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous? Phil, we’re in the underworld,” he argued back. He wasn’t defenseless, far from it; if there was a way that he could help, then he was going to take it. That’s what a team did; that’s why he was here. To help.

“Get the fuck back, or else.”

“Phil, we don’t have time for this,” Puffy tried to get in between them as Phil grabbed and tried to pull the ender hybrid away.

“I can fight! It’s fine; I’m able to handle myself!”

“Not like this, not in these situations; you don’t have the experience.”

“I had a life before I met you all, I can take care of--”

“I don’t want to hear it! You’re staying back, or--”

The rumbling started again. This time, giving them even less time to prepare, the wall to the side of where the trio was standing burst open.

He was going to teleport, getting ready to, when he was tackled to the ground, arms wrapping around him, dark black wings shielding him from the rest of the conflict. His sword fell from his hands, clattering the rest of the way down, as he landed on the hard earth of the tunnel that stood on, disoriented, as he looked up to the man who stood above him, sword out, ready to protect. There was no way to damper the rage that flared in him at the sight.

“Hey! You oversized- fucking-- thing! Over here!” Dream shouted, from higher up the cylinder, climbing up to a higher cluster of crystals.

The worm turned and started to pursue the new prey, letting the three collect themselves as fast as possible, running off to the walls of the tunnel. Phil tucked Ranboo behind him before he had a chance to turn around.

There was the sound of a vine cracking against flesh and another call out.

“Na, over here! Come and get me!”

The creature changed its interest, slithering after the nymph hanging herself high above, sword still in her hand.

“Oi! Big bitch of the sea! Come over here!” Tubbo called, pulling the thing back down. The thing was twisted around, slithering all around, as the last of it existed the walls, not reentered yet.

It seemed to realize its mistake, starting to dart for the walls.

“Now!” Hannah called, coiling vines tighter around one of the tunnels, the fragile dirt breaking apart under pressure. Tubbo slammed his foot into a weakened part, chipped away, the entire thing crumbling as he ran back to his hiding place. Dream lit and climbed higher as the TNT went off.

No supports to keep its heavy body up, the creature plunged, trying to slither in the air to get to the safety of the walls, not finding traction. Just kept falling. And falling. And falling. There was no noise of it hitting a bottom, as all of the tunnels that crossed the cylinder broke under its falling weight.

They all stopped for a second, watching it fall, the sound of heavy breathing filling the air as they did wait for the hit of it against something else. It never came. Just the descending scream it let out, and nothing more. There was no finality to its death, no indication that the battle was over.

So Ranboo made one, twisting around Phil’s protective stance and turning hard at the man, fury bubbling and boiling. He was not fragile. He did not need to be protected. There was no way to say that except in angry words that burned the side of his throat.

“What the fuck Phil?

Chapter Text

That day would never leave Techno’s mind. It was a curse placed on him since a young age, but that day was sometimes the first thing he thought about when he woke up. When sleep dripped from his eyes and brain, that smile, those tusks, and pain was the first thing he experienced in the waking world.

And it was never something that he got used to. Even after all of these years, taking down countless trappers like those who had prayed on his family so long ago, fighting armies and cities, growing stronger than he ever thought he would, those moments were when he was a child again. Those were when he was weak, scared, and helpless, trying to use his body to shield his brothers from the people trying to hurt them. He was screaming out for his dad all over again, looking beyond the shoulder of the man, seeing the man that was supposed to protect them, tied up, his brilliant wings cinched together, and more fear than he had ever seen swirling around in his eyes.

Because it had started out a normal day. They had made camp. Phil was teaching them how to better live in the wild, so it was Techno’s turn to pick a camping spot for the night. There was this moss patch near some trees and a creak. Moss felt nice under his hands, and they had just been traveling through mountains, hard rock becoming the norm for them to sleep on. He just wanted something soft to lay down on.

Turning to his father and pointing out where they would be staying, a kind and patient smile he received in return, ruffling his brown hair, while the man started to help them take off their packs and get set up.

Tommy was still little, so he could not help much with setting up camp. Techno took the boy by his hand, and they were off to get some water in a pot, and some sticks for a fire, while Phil and Wilbur rolled out their cots.

It was a pretty day. The sun was out, and only a few clouds were in the sky. Tommy babbled about everything and anything, tripping over his own words and stuttering a lot, but Phil said he was just getting used to speaking. He and Wilbur did it a lot too, so it was not something that was really pointed out a lot.

They made plans on how they would get all of the money in the world, Techno describing how they would get all of it and horde it all to themselves, Tommy getting more and more excited with each step of the plan. He asked if they could share the money while Techno dipped the pot into the cold stream, bringing it up and setting it on the side of the bank.

The answer was maybe, but only to the people who were nice to them.

They collected sticks as their plans grew to everything they would buy with all of the money. Techno immediately chose a castle he had seen in a city they passed by, and Tommy seemed really set on getting a broom. Bundling up the sticks into the thick cloth used for carrying such things, Techno put a lid on the pot, holding it in one hand, and Tommy in the other, negotiating if they would get horses or cows.

Phil started the fire with one sharp scratch of his knife, and the flames began to boil the water. Carefully, Techno and Wilbur cut up the mountain eel that had been tanning on their bags all day, while Tommy had his little golden wings preened by Phil, the gentle father sitting behind his son, humming quietly as they all worked. The forest around them was home, and the moss under them was their beds for the night.

Techno lifted up his arms as a soft sleep shirt was pulled over his head, and his travel clothes were put with the rest to wash the next day. Wooden bowls taken out of packs and little tin cups held water as they ate their soup around the fire, retelling Phil of their plans for making money and what they were going to do with it. He hummed his agreement, listening as they talked over each other, around the point, before finally getting to what they meant in the first place.

Their beds were rolled out, all a distance away from the fire so they could stay warm and cozy, sore feet and backs put to the ground, ready for sleep at last. Just like every night. Just like what life had been for them for so long. It was perfect as it had always been. Phil had worked hard to make sure that their nomadic family stayed as safe as they could be.

Now, a part of Techno wished that his father had allowed them to see a little bit of the evil that was in the world. Maybe then things would not have come to such a shock for them.

Techno was forced from sleep, first by shouts of fear, and then someone grabbed his shoulders and pulled him right out of his sleeping bag. His eyes shot open, fear jumping in his chest, almost expecting to turn around and see Phil, a new way to wake them up.

It was not Phil.

It was a man with a beard that stopped partway down his chest, eyes that looked at him with a hunger that made his throat stop, and hands that felt like they could crush him.

And Techno was afraid.

“Stop! Leave them alone; they’re just kids!” Phil’s voice made him hurt even more, frantically turning his head to the side to see his father collapse to his side. Wings crudely wrapped in rope, the feathers ruffled, and stripping around the raw material. Techno felt himself freeze. Looking at the man who had held the world at one point, crumbled to the ground, wrapped up and helpless, while carrying the angriest expression that he had ever seen on the man.

He was frozen.

So it was easy to go along with things when the man roughly grabbed his shoulders, hefting him into the air, cruelly and without care. With all of the fear of a child being snatched up, he screamed, kicking his legs to get back to the ground. Screaming for his father.

“Stop! They’re not who you want; they’re just kids, you monsters!”

A gentle chuckle echoed through the crowd of men while Techno was thrown into the metal cage next to his brothers.

Tommy was sobbing, snot and tears running down his young face, whimpering for their father, while Wilbur held him close, silent tears etching years into his face. Memories coming back to the surface.

Techno threw himself at them, taking both of them into his arms, shielding the slammed door of the cage to his exposed back.

“Get these to the market. The little avian will fetch a fine price but kill the adult. He’s not going to be worth the effort. His wings will sell just as well, dead or alive.”

They were talking about his family like they were objects. Commodities. Being sold was a common enough thing that happened to everyone, not just hybrids, but it always happened to other people. Not their family. Never their family. That was why they were so careful. That was why they moved around so much, never settling down in a city, never making friends outside of their family; that’s why they had been so goddamn careful, and at the end of the day, none of it even fucking mattered.

Techno remembered the tightness in his chest when Phil screamed as the cart lurched into movement. He remembered Wilbur and Tommy screaming back. He remembered himself screaming back, hoarse voice begging Phil to use the power of invulnerability at this moment, to get them out of here, and take them away where nothing was going to harm them anymore. Phil had been a god back then. And now, he was just a man. A man who was being approached by multiple people, swords out, ready to cut off the thing that had kept them safe and warm so many nights before.

Techno remembered praying.

He had seen holy people before, and while Phil was always respectful of them, there was an air of skepticism and distaste that always followed the man around when they were near temples. And it had rubbed off on his children, who followed him everywhere like the little fledglings that they were. Who would pray to a power that had caused all of this to happen in the first place? Who would pray to a god that was too weak to influence the world or too snobbish to think it was their problem?

Desperate people did.

And as Techno looked at the forest move around him, the place that had seemed like home for so many years, the only home that he knew, now foreign and scary, feeling his brothers cling to his chest, shaking and crying, knowing, knowing what was going to happen to them, he prayed.

He prayed for a savior.

He prayed for someone to save them.

The cart kept at its steady pace, no lightning striking it down. Techno started to panic.

He promised he would go to the temples more. He would give up some of his food at each meal as an offering. That he would pray before he went to sleep. And between the second and third offer, he felt something. Something close. Something etching on the very edge of his field of vision, but never right there. Something that was caressing the edges of his pudgy face with its claws, asking for more. It wanted more.

Techno would cut his hair

More.

He would dress in robes and do the dumb dances.

More.

He would get his entire family into the temple.

The god was silent. Techno was already holding his breath, not a single one entering his lungs, and his vision was starting to yield because of it, but this made his throat close up even more. This made his heartbeat against his ribs, desperate and frantic, the cart getting further away from his father and freedom, and everything was slipping through his fingers too fast and painfully; he wanted to cry.

Myself.

It was the last thing that Techno could think that a god would want. Him. His body, whatever, they could have it, just please, please save them!

The presence laughed. Techno would never forget that laugh because it was the only time he heard the Blood God laugh. Deep and gravely, Techno heard it in his own voice a lot of the time. His spine shivered as the clawed hand slipped down his back and whispered into his ear: deal.

He waited for a second. Nothing happened; he was about to scream out to the thing when a fire was set ablaze in his blood.

Now he did scream. Now he shivered and shoved his brothers aside, their touch hurting his sensitive skin, collapsing to the mesh metal ground with a thud. His hands gripped the metal while his body held a revolution against him. His veins felt alive with fire, made with it, spasming and shaking, before being put back into his body. His throat was hoarse and quiet, silent screams wrecking his lungs, slamming his head against the floor to make it stop.

His muscles quivered with strain, his hands ached, and his eyes stung with tears and mucus while he watched keratin start to encase his fingers. Wrapping around them, making them hard.

Techno screamed out as his bones shifted, snapping and breaking, only moving and becoming whole again in a new position. He writhed at the ears that sprouted from his head and the snout that started to elongate his face. He was in so much pain at a certain point that it did not feel like pain. Techno remembered laying on the ground, his mouth wide open as teeth started to intrude his gums, forcing his baby teeth to fall out, clattering to the floor, shivering. Just shivering and whimpering. Begging for it to be over.

It felt like a hand had pushed his eyelids closed, but he was not one to fight it. He was trembling and wanted his dad. The cries of his brothers did not reach his ears as he fell asleep.

Or, he must have.

Because the next moment that he remembered waking up was sticky blood all over his hands. Blood and the limp neck of someone held between his hands. Bits of wood and metal all around him, and a bite-size of flesh clinging to his lips and new tusks. Carnage stood in his path, and a smile etched in the back of his head that told him that the Blood God was pleased.

He tried to scream. He tried.

Silence.

He dropped the body and collapsed to the ground, scrambling away from the mangled bodies, the gore that would become his everything in the future, but now just made his stomach hurt. Tears slipped down his red eyes, painful from the lingering tingles of getting his new body and the fear that followed everything else. His back hit a tree, and there was no more getting away from what he had done.

There was a whoosh of air. The flapping of wings. Phil burst into view, looking, also different. He had a glow about him. Radiant and holy, his wings replaced with the darkness of night voids in the space around him that just made him shine even brighter. He was the light in the evening. Although, Techno already knew that.

He reached out his arms, shaky and furry, his new hands staring him in the face, but his eyes stayed on the angel before him. He couldn’t speak, so he just hoped and prayed that this would get the point across. Crumbling faster than he ever could have imagined, he just wanted to be held.

There was a moment of hesitation.

Before Phil crashed into him, scooping his aching body up into his strong, divided arms, Techno buried his snout into his father’s neck, to more tears to cry, just the crushing reality of what he had done.

“Where are your brothers Tech?” Phil asked gently, rubbing his back and stroking his hair with the utmost gentleness.

He felt numb. So the thought ‘did I kill them?’ did not bother him as much as it should have. But no, they were just gently tucked away in some bushes, with a piece of the cage shielding them from the rest of the world. Techno later learned that he had been the one to put the piece in front of them, bumping them into the ground while crossbows were aimed at him, turning his back on them like he did not care if the men started shooting. In his mind, protecting his brothers was the next thing that needed to get done, and he was going to make sure that it got done.

Tommy and Wilbur were shaking, still feeling the full brunt of what was happening to them, unlike Techno’s emotions that he had shut out. They were safe, and that was all he cared about. Or maybe he had been crying. Techno did not really remember if he was. If he had somehow, someway found some tears to let fall down his face, clinging so tightly to his father, only wiggling out to grab even tighter onto his brothers, their sobbing faces pressed into his shoulders as he tried to hide away from his body, and the thing that he had become.

It would be days still until he got the courage to touch his face. The wrinkles on his snout, the pig ears, tusks, and fur. Then he did remember crying, mostly because he remembered crying so hard he almost threw up. He did throw up, sobbing through the gags, begging his father to fix it. To fix him. To take away the deal, he had made out of desperation and make him who he was before. Even as a child, Techno knew that that was an unfair request; he saw the pain in Phil’s eyes every time he begged, helpless to help in the one way that Techno wanted him to. But he begged anyways. Because a small part of him believed that the man still held the world in his hands, that was still as powerful as he had once thought. A part of that was true. And other parts of that were just lies Techno liked to tell himself, a sort of hope that the deal would be broken. But the older Techno had gotten, the more he doubted that there was a way to break it.

The new acolyte of the Blood God and the angel of death slept together in a tree that night, snuggling up with his two brothers. And they did nights after that, no longer trusting the ground to hold them safe. And years later, years after they had escaped, and both Phil and Techno had come to accept their transformations, they never slept on the ground again.

The acolyte of the Blood God smiled at the memories flashing before his eyes, a shaky hand grabbing the sword that was piercing right through his stomach, his blood dripping down the blade and pooling around him. It was cold; there was no heat coming from his body or the wound; he just shivered all of the time. And had moments like this, where Techno was sure he would die all over again.

A foot was placed on his chest, and his body was wrenched off of the sword. Techno forgot to scream as he collapsed into the pool of blood, all strength, give, care gone from what had been a powerful person. Stuck in his piglin form, he looked at his hands right in front of him and tried to form a fist. It twitched, curling just a little.

He smiled around the tusks. That had been more than he had been able to do in a while. Maybe mercy was being taken on him. Although, knowing his mentor, probably not.

A rough hand grabbed the scruff of his neck. A whimper of pain was pulled from him, the still healing gashes all over him now invaded with large, dirty hands. A finger grabbed his chin and forced him to look up into the face of the Blood God.

Every bit of dirty, scuffed blood on his armor was Techno’s blood, and there was a lot of it. He could track what moves were used what drill they had been working on with each one. He could follow them on himself too. Open wounds that could start festering infections, warm blood leaking out of his eyes and ears, he was sure that the base of his tusks was looser and could fall out at any second. He was sure that he was breaking.

It was only a matter of time, anyway.

“This is the best that you can do?” The Blood God huffed, throwing him back down. The dark forest that they trained in echoed with the fall of his body on stone, creatures just in the shadows perking up. They had been waiting weeks to see when he would die and were itching to feast on his corpse. Death after death. Kristin was in charge of that, but Techno really was not sure where he would go. Maybe he would just stay here. Forever. His God did not seem keen on letting him go, so why would Death be able to take him? It had failed before. “Your time on earth made you soft. Get up.”

Techno tried to twitch his hand again. It falls still. He smiled anyway.

“I said get up!” The god roared, foot making contact with Techno’s ribs, feeling them cave in on each other. “You get up when I tell you to! You breathe when I tell you to! And there is no way on earth or the pantheon that I will allow my acolyte to be weak!”

Every breath could be interpreted as a laugh with how heavy they were, but Techno hoped that this one really hit home with God. Because he was getting there. He was getting close to breaking.

Chapter Text

The plan was simple. Cause an ungodly amount of racket and chaos so that someone had to notice. Someone would have to see that this perfect world they had made for Tommy was falling apart at the seams and rush in to find what was wrong. And that was what they were banking on.

There was not much that Tommy knew about the Afterlife or how these little slices of heaven worked, but chances are they were not going to take too kindly to him just being a menace. And that was one of the things that he was the best at.

Although he had to admit, planning out this event with these people was a little strange. Papers and maps spread out across their dining room table, figuring out the best places to cause the chaos and how to just get people to look at them. It was unsettling to see how this fake Techno held his chin in thought, rubbing right above his mouth with a thumb, eyes darting around the pages. How Phil leaned over the pages, wings spread out a bit, using his bird eyes to get a bigger picture. How Wilbur intertwined his fingers in an almost villain way, how Tommy would have copied but kept himself from doing it now. Tubbo paced around a bit, just to keep moving, like he was collecting his thoughts along the way, while Ranboo rubbed his knuckled with a thumb, trying not to look uncomfortable.

They were all taking this, honestly, very well.

Tommy had not really been the most kind with telling them that they did not exist, and they had all accepted that as truth and fact much faster than he ever would have. He would have fought back. Kicked and screamed, yelling, "fuck you, I do exist, bitch!" but they had just nodded.

He was not sure how he felt about that.

He was not sure how he felt that they had the same mannerisms as his family. That, on the very surface, they were his family. Dolls dressed up in their personalities and skins, sent out to keep him placid. Because if there had been any other Afterlife without them, Tommy would have raised hell.

Maybe they were from his memory of his real family, which was why they accepted so fast. As soon as he realized this place was fake, there were no more people on the streets. To a certain extent, maybe he had control over this place, or it reacted to his emotions to best fit him at the moment.

Ugh. Tommy hated it here.

He hated how perfect it was. He hated how perfect they were. He was a little jealous on behalf of his family that they got to have all of these nice things, peace of mind, no scars, no anxieties or worries. It was a nice little playground that someone had made for him, full of the wishes he had for his family and everything he had ever wanted for them.

But it was fake.

None of the jokes landed the way that they were supposed to. None of their laughs were right. None of them existed the way that they were supposed to. And Tommy refused to live in a sandbox made for him.

So their plan was simple.

Burn down the village. Everything that Tommy, Phil, Wilbur, and Techno had worked so hard for, everything that they had made for themselves and others. They were going to burn it down. Tommy would be protesting this happening as loud as possible, begging them to stop. Beyond that, he did not really know how this place was run or what would happen next. He had no idea who would arrive or what they would do. It could be a punishment for disturbing the peace, or they try to convince Tommy that everything was fine. Hell, the goddess of Death herself could come down, which could either make his life a whole lot harder or a whole lot easier. Puppy dog eyes were sure to work on her, but she was also bound to a job. And he was not sure if there was a lot he could do to convince her to do something different rather than that job. Maybe he could. Perhaps he could guilt her because he was her stepson, almost son, if she really thought about it and that it would make Phil so happy if he came back.

With Wilbur and Techno, of course.

That was what Tommy was currently stressing about, the next step in the plan, and how he would find his brothers. There was no telling if Wilbur had figured out this place was fake. And there was no way to know how this place would react if he went into someone's playground, or how Wilbur would react when there would be two Tommy's and one insisted that this place was fake. Or if Wilbur's fake family would be as cooperative as Tommy's was. They might be violent. Or try to keep them there. Or try to keep Wilbur there and kill him.

Then that would be another person after his head, considering what he would have to get Technoblade out of.

A shiver ran down Tommy's spine.

The planning had finished, and Tommy was just in his room gathering some things before they put the plan into motion, a spare jacket, per the demand of fake Phil, a knife, some food, and other things. He was dead; this was his soul, so Tommy did not think he would need all of these things, but if it made the man pretending to be his father happy, he supposed a bag of things could not hurt.

His mind drifted back to Techno while his hands worked idly. His eldest brother. How the fuck was he even supposed to start figuring out how to get him out. How was he going to get the man free? How would he trick the literal Blood God into letting him go?

There would be a fight. If there was not, then Tommy was in the wrong place. He would have to fight Techno, or the God, or someone. The knife in his hand held a little more weight after that thought. Whatever went on with Wilbur, it would be nothing as to what he would have to go through with Techno. His hand started to shake.

Tommy grabbed it with his other one, sweat beading onto his forehead for what felt like no reason. Heart beating faster in his chest, pounding against his ribs cage in desperation to be free. He didn't even have a heart anymore; his living body was long since dead. He chuckled at that, a strained sound, but he had hoped it at least faked sincerity.

Techno was going to be difficult, either him or his situation. And, to do that, he needed Wilbur to be there. To be there every step of the way. Tommy could be smart, sure. Hell, he would go as far to say that he could be brave. But not this time. He didn't want to be alone for this. He wanted someone to hold his hand and for him to hold theirs while they freed an important member of their family and made sure Techno never stepped foot into this hellscape ever again.

Everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine. Just get Wilbur, and get out.

That was all he needed to do. And that was simple if he thought about it. But there was a step before that: get out of his own playground and find where Wilbur actually was. One step at a time. One moment at a time. He would be at Techno's side soon-ish. And Wilbur would be there too. First, he had to get both of them there.

There was the rap of knuckles against his door. Tommy shook the thoughts out of his head, slinging the bag over his shoulder. Looking around at the room that had been his own for so long. When the forest lost its safety and magic, the day that Techno had made his deal with the Blood God, their family had searched for a new home. They all felt the disconnect and were desperate for a new one. And when they were not able to find it, they made it. A city was made with eight hands, four hearts, and minds. They poured everything that they had into it. And then some to fill it with people who were just as lost as they were.

There was one rug on the floor of his room, right in front of his bed, a bedside table stuffed with books. The walls were filled with shelves, then were filled with trinkets, and items, a piece from every city that they freed, even if it was just a nail that he picked up. They carried memories that were more important than any jewel. It was his.

And he hoped to return to the real one soon.

Tommy opened the door to his room to find his fake father standing there, his hands tumbling over each other, only to be shoved behind his back to hide the tremble in them. His eyes were shiny with tears that had yet to fall down his face tragically.

Tommy was almost able to dredge up remorse for being so harsh to these people. His father's face, looking so sad, defeated, close to breaking, hurt Tommy's heart in a way that he did not want to happen again. There were only a few times where Phil had looked that sad. Each time, Tommy had sworn to never let it happen again.

He swore again just for good luck before addressing the man.

"Hey, just getting the last of some things. Still don't think that a whole coat is really necessary, I mean with me being dead and all."

Fake Phil flinched at that.

A ping of guilt sunk in Tommy's stomach.

"Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine. Just, dad insects, I guess." He laughed a strained, watery laugh. Trying to cover up so much with the noise. Tommy guessed that fake Phil's head was still loud, talking again. "I--I know I'm not real. I know that. And I know that the others aren't either, and we're trying to get you out of here, to your real father, but." he stopped to swallow. Another laugh. "It felt wrong to let you leave just right away."

Fake Phil stopped to watch his expression; it was as blank as Tommy could make it. It hurt to have such control. This could be a trap. A way to keep him here, to gain sympathy for these shadows of his family, only to guilt him into staying. There was no way that it was as easy as telling them that they were not real, and then they would just accept that. That was not possible.

Fake Phil fiddled with his hands for a moment more, a bit of hope dying in his eyes when there was no reaction. It hurt to see someone who looked so close to his father look so broken.

"Right. Yes, let's get you back to where you belong."

Tommy pressed his lips together tighter. He didn't want to say anything, but also everything simultaneously. Tommy wanted the words to spill out onto the floor, be wrapped in a hug that was so familiar, even if it was from someone he did not know. It was better than feeling like he was really just going in on this alone. That felt like a pit at the very bottom of his throat, opening to the rest of his chest. Maybe this creature did not deserve how cruel Tommy was being to it. It still had thoughts and apparently feelings; he just was not who Tommy wanted him to be.

Tommy spoke up, rubbing a hand down his face, knowing that he would regret this later.

"Hey," Fake Phil stopped, turning to face him, the feathered ears perking up a bit at the noise. It was so achingly like Phil. Every time he saw them, they just got a little closer to who his family was. And every time, he had to remind himself of who they were not. "Good luck, hug?"

Phil looked at the open arms, a slight shaking to his feathers, moving his eyes up to meet Tommy's.

Before running into the hug, enveloping Tommy into his arms, pressing his face into the crook of his neck.

All of a sudden, Tommy was a fledgling again. He was small, barely any wing to show for it, but ever proud of the bit that he did have, puffing out the down feathers and flexing his little arms. All of a sudden, they were all back in the forest before tusks grew out of Techno's mouth, and Phil's wings turned black, laughing hand in hand, Tommy in between his two older brothers, shaking with giggles while he was swung back and forth. All of a sudden, he was just a kid again, relying on Phil for everything, eating the food he was given, tucked into bed at night, missing all of the things that his father had done for all of them. All of a sudden, nothing in the world matters but the fact that he was in his dad's arms, safe, warm, a kid again, just what he wanted to be.

It was not Tommy who broke the embrace, no matter how his mind screamed at him. He was being sucked back into it, forced to stay here and never leave again. He was so safe here; why would he ever want to be out there, where things were bad and scary, and death and suffering were around the corner. Tommy could feel his mind slowing down, screeching to a halt in molasses and bliss, safe at last in the arms of the one person who could ever save him.

Phil hummed a bit, letting the noise reverberate from his chest, and Tommy's knees felt weak. His throat was dry and scratchy, his skin hot and blistering. He felt sick.

"Oh, fledgling," the man said, pulling away ever so slightly, placing a hand on his forehead. The cold touch was nice that Tommy forgot to stay blank, whining a bit, nuzzling deeper into the man's hand, who parading around, pretending to be his dad. "You're burning up! There's no way that you can go off in such awful condition. You should stay here until you get better."

"No," Tommy pushed as hard as he could away. Nausea rolled in his stomach, mentally, feeling even weaker than before. "No."

"You're so sick, though. Here, let's get you to bed right away; you can leave to find your real family when you feel better."

They were near the stairs. Just a few feet away were the stairs to the lower levels. If Tommy could throw himself down them, if he could get away from this Phil's touch, it would have to go away. He could start the fire himself, he could find who would deal with this, and get away as fast as possible.

Tommy was strong, he knew he was strong, but everything felt like jello, his mind starting to cloud and haze, an overwhelming feeling of bad draped heavily over his shoulders.

"Come now, baby," Phil gathered him up into his arms. He felt even more like a kid, bundled up and safe. Warm. He had to get away. "We'll get Techno to make some potato soup, and you can stay in bed all day. How does that sound?"

He had to get away. He had to fucking leave; now, there was no time.

Tommy started to wiggle around, forcing his aching muscles and joints to move, flapping his wings as best as he could, anything to be put down. Another wave hit. He went limp in Phil's arms.

"Moving is bad for you when you're trying to get better."

This motherfucker.

He turned his neck, taking so much more effort than it should have, into the shining blue eyes of possession. Of having what he wanted all along, a little child in his arms, not going anywhere. A smile that had once been sweet now just made Tommy squirm with disgust, for how different it was from how his dad actually looked.

His face was next to Phil's biceps, the underside of his elbow, where the skin was much softer. Avian hybrids had fangs, not as intense as Techno's tusks, but they were sharper than humans, for eating raw meat, tearing it apart, into little stripes before swallowing them down whole. Tommy had apparently been a very bitty baby, literally biting the hand that fed him. If whoever was feeding him was not armed with a bottle, he would be doing for their hands, leaving little baby bite marks, his adult teeth not in yet, so no real damage was done.

And if Fake Phil was going to treat him like a baby, he was going to act like one until he got what he wanted.

Opening his jaws up wide, Tommy clamped them down hard onto the man's skin and held on.

Phil yelped, shocked by the pain ripping through him, grabbing into Tommy's hair and trying to get him off.

He held down harder, feeling the skin split, a metallic taste overflowing his tongue, seeping into the back of his throat.

"Tommy, let go!"

The sickness was starting to lift; the more he held on, the more he ripped through flesh and tendons, drawing a scream that broke his heart, wanting to clamp his hands over his ears but refusing to let go from where he had a grip.

"Let go! Let go, let go!"

Tommy did let go. He jerked his head backward.

A scream riled through the house, a piece of dangling flesh held between Tommy's mouth, Phil writhing on the ground, a hand holding where there was a hole in his arm.

There was no time. Adrenaline was already pumping through his veins, and he needed to leave now.

All but stumbling down the stairs into the main room, he grabbed a flint and steel on the counter and started lighting. Tubbo and Ranboo's house. Bushes that kids loved to hide in when they played games. Trees that young fledglings first started to learn how to fly from. Homes he had helped build through sweat on his brow, looking around to the community he literally helped build with his two hands.

Phil's screams were eventually drowned out by the crackling of fire that destroyed everything around him. Eating at the wood, scorching the foundation's stones, melting the mortar and shingles they had made. They had made this all; this entire village was built by his family, Phil, Techno, Wilbur, and himself. More than just blood and sweat went into this. Their souls felt like it sometimes. They had put forward the effort to find people and fill this place, promises of protection and safety from a world that wanted them dead.

Tommy stood in the middle of the burning buildings that he had poured his heart out for before he even knew he was giving away pieces of himself, wings pressed close to his body to avoid the flames, tears running down his face. The heat was unbearable, but he wanted to stay in it for a bit longer.

Like staying with a loved one just a little longer, holding their hand on their death bed, a moment more to spend with them before they were gone forever, Tommy stayed. He stayed to hold the hand of someone he had poured his heart out for, a second longer.

He was not a fledgling anymore. He had not been one for years upon years. Adulthood had been a burden rather than liberation, and there was nothing that he could do to lift it from his shoulders. As much as Phil had wanted to protect them, there was only so much one man could do.

Somewhere inside, there was a crash of support beams. Tommy had no idea where the others were. Maybe disappeared like the rest of the people that used to populate this playground he had been given. It was probably better that way.

"It's probably better that way."

It may be a playground, it may not exist, but Tommy held his heart while it ached anyways. He stayed there while the fire scorched and burned; he wanted to stay, taunt the flames around him, see if they had the balls to burn him. To burn their creator. Screwing his eyes shut and screaming into the destruction with the pain of watching something he loved too much get destroyed by the same hands. His chest shutters with every breath, gasping for air when the flames took it all; he only felt it when the heat got too much for him to handle.

Stumbling out of the flames, coughing and wheezing, the smoke burning his eyes, he used his wings to shield him as much as possible.

He turned to look at the flames that just kept rising. Reaching for the heavens or whatever was up there, it felt less like home and more like just a log; he was burning. The trees and forests beyond the planes did not look familiar anymore; the feeling of home was no longer there. Tommy breathed. And smiled. At least he had that going for him.

"Alright, well now I just-"

"What the fuck happened here?"

The young avian spun around, the ashes from the fire still clinging to his eyes. He could barely see the man in front of him. Wings attached to a body, long air flowing around him in a halo. Tommy smiled. This was it. This was the motherfucker who was going to get him out of here.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean?” Phil asked. The question should have been met with concern, but there was nothing but cold.

“Don’t give me that, you know what you did! What you are doing!” Ranboo was in his face.

Puffy sighed, whipping the goo off of her sword and sheathing it. This had been far different from what she had envisioned. When Phil had said that he was going to the underworld to get his sons back, she already knew that she was going to go with him. The avian was not doing well, to say the absolute least, about his mental state since the death of his sons, and she was not confident that he would be able to handle this kind of environment on his own. The entire village had been worried about Phil, that much had been said when they had been discussing next moves. He was beloved by everyone, it was hard for him not to be, he was one of the founders of the villages, the only safe haven that a lot of people had.

War was something that this place, as natural as the forests. Kingdoms were constantly trying to take each other over, kings with nothing but greed in mind fighting over each other to try to get a scrap of power and hope to hold onto it to become a blimp in history.

A nation could not thrive off of warfare, at least not constant warfare, eventually, there would be a loss of resources, food, soldiers, and a multitude of other things. People would get tired of the fighting and trying to escape it, overthrowing the government themselves to try to get something more.

Except Puffy had seen each and every one of those plans carried out and failed. She had watched people throw their lives away under yet another revolution leader that made promises that were never going to be fulfilled. Soldiers were easy to come across when doctors had found ways to replace lost limbs with mechanical ones, and they were working on finding ways to make ones that were completely made out of machines. It was easy to keep people under control when they relied on whatever king they were under for everything that they had.

Puffy had traveled the world, looking for adventure and culture, and found that a lot of places were hostile to her. Her goat ears, overly fluffy hair, the horns on the top of her head, and the hooves on her feet made people scared of her. People were scared of anything different that was going to make them stand out as well. Even other hybrids were not welcoming, wanting her to get as far away from them as they could go back to fading into the background. That, and Puffy was not a person to take things lying down.

She was willing to fight. She knew how to and she was going to defend herself if it came to such a thing. And if she saw an injustice then she was going to help in the most helpful way possible. Oftentimes it was causing a distraction so that the guard's attention was diverted for a bit and the person could get away. The goat hybrid was confident enough in her skills to get away; she did not worry about it.

That was how she met Dream, and George. The two of them were just about as reckless as she was, the fleets of movement that she saw out of the corner of her eye when she had been in town, it was not hard to realize that she was being followed. And after that, it was not hard to figure out that they were trying to determine if she was safe or not. Puffy had the luxury of walking out more in the open with her hybrid changes. Dream did not have the same luxury, with the same changes as her, but a flat nose on his face that betrayed him more than what she had. Boots were not the most comfortable on her hooves, but she had learned to walk with them and preferred it at this point.

But the three of them had traveled around together for a while. All of them were competent fighters, and could more than hold their own in battle. Getting weaker or younger hybrids out of danger was one of the things that they had been known for. Running circles around guards, soldiers, and anyone who was giving innocent people a hard time. There were close calls, where one of them was a little too cocky in their escapes, but they were always able to come out the other side.

Somewhere along the way they had picked up Hannah as well, another forest nymph, along with George, and their little band of merry vigilantes was pretty much complete. It stayed that way for years, fighting, dodging, and on the move. Late nights laughing up at a sky of stars, hot afternoons holding wounds closed while the others tried to keep them awake in any way that they could. It was a good life, or at least Puffy thought that it was a good life. She had people around her that she cared about, and that she could rely on.

But it was tiring. And it was taxing on their bodies. When all of them had started this they knew that there would be a very soon ending date for it all. The harsh drops, the endless fighting, the running, sometimes barely running on enough food, always barely running on enough sleep, it was only a matter of time before things started to catch up to them.

Puffy started to look for a place to settle down in, at least for a little while. Dream and Hannah seemed to stay in denial that they could not do this forever, but Goerge seemed to have a weight of exhaustion around him. Violence only carried them for so long before it started to take its toll.

And that was when they learned about the city that Phil’s family had set up. It had been a rumor at first, one that she was not inclined to get her hopes up about, but the more hybrids that she talked to the more that it seemed real. A valley that was claimed all for themselves, that they had fought for, and an open invitation for any hybrid or mystical creatures to live there with them. With the promise of protection, and community, it was a place where families could grow and not have to live in fear, it seemed too good to be true.

But after the fourth hybrid underground bar that their merry band had gone to, and the rumors were the same, it seemed like it was more than just a story. And since they were not doing anything at the moment, they decided to check it out.

The place had been a lot smaller than it was now, with just a few houses that were not even fully built. It was mostly just a glorified camp, with no more than a dozen people that were just starting to make a village. But those dozen people had more fights than anyone that Puffy had ever seen.

Once they were seen as non-hostile, the directions to the place were hard to get as well as another line of defense against anyone who was looking to take out a whole bunch of hybrids all at once, they were taken in and told to meet with the founders of the village. Those being Phil, Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy.

They were not hard to find, the whole of the family was loud in that way. Techno held a beam that was stuck into the ground steady, while the two avians of the family directed it into place, Wilbur standing a bit back to make sure that it was level. The four of them yelled at each other to “hold still,” “Tommy I’m going to drop it, stop moving around!” “a little to the side,” “oh you fuck, hold your side up!” was the perfect amount of chaos to get introduced to. Dream wanted to leave immediately. They were all glad that they did not.

The village grew. Scared families came in bundles that signified all of their belongings, and were given a home. Cobbled streets were put down, fields were set up, jobs according to everyone's ability were dished out. George made a home a little into the forest, taking Dream with him, and Hannah doing the same to be closer to nature. While Puffy got her own home. It was small, but it was her’s. It was strange putting down her bag, in an empty space, still smelling of freshly cut wood, and knowing that it was all hers.

And things were just fine for a while. Sure there were disputes, people always had disputes but they were able to be talked out. Bread was made early in the morning, fields were worked, swords were made, food was stored for the winter months, and children played in the streets. Everything was fine. It was perfect even. More people joined, more houses were built. Money was not really an issue since they had no need for it. Things were simply given to those who needed it, everyone knew what it was like to not have enough, so they were more than willing to make sure that no one felt like that. Babies were born, weddings were had, and feasts were thrown. And through it all, the founding family stayed tight-knit, and loud, never changing for anyone. It was easy to see the differences between them, Phil and Tommy being avians with their huge wings, and colorful feathers, while Technow was some sort of piglin hybrid, Wilbur being the only human in their family.

It was not until Puffy first saw Techno transform into a full piglin that she realized that something more was going on. It was some work, the two of them were setting up a wall, grunting, and not being able to lift it up into place.

“I’ll go get someone else to help,” Puffy said, whipping her forehead with the back of her wrist.

“Na, don’t bother,” and that was all Techno had said before his bones cracked, skin stretched, and teeth grew. Adding more than a foot to his height, with muscles to match, the transformation was done in less than a few seconds, but Puffy could not help but take a few steps back. After that, he easily put the wall into place, without her help at all.

She did not ask questions, it was an unspoken rule to just not, everyone had something going on that they did not want to talk about, but that was not the first nor last time that he transformed. Usually stayed in his hybrid form, but there were times when there was just a piglin walking around in the middle of town.

Eventually, everyone just got used to it and forgot that it was not normal. That was just Techno, the transforming piglin hybrid, nothing more nothing less. It was not until this tragedy that they were reminded that there was something not right about it.

And even then, Puffy had only been told because she refused to let Phil go alone. And Tubbo and Ranboo were capable, sure, but they were still going to need help surely. And if she was going, then Hannah was going, and if Hannah was going then Dream was as well. George would have, but they would leave the village more undefended than it already was, with more than half of their fighters just gone. Which was an argument that Phil had brought up.

So they made a compromise.

“You can’t just do that Phil!” Ranboo said, leaning in closer to the avian, using his height to loom over the man. Phil’s feathers puffed out on either side of his body. “You can’t just act like you know what is best, and make those decisions. You’re not protecting anyone when you put yourself in harm's way.”

Phil swiped his sword against a loose piece of his clothes, getting the worm gunk off of it, before sheathing it. He did not turn towards Ranboo at all, even really acknowledging that he was there. This was really not going to work.

“Phil, we need to talk to each other. Otherwise, how are we going to be able to trust one another?”

Nothing. The avian looked down to the pit under them, then looked up at the walls around them, looking up and down them. As if he was trying to find something. Still no reaction to anything that they had said.

Puffy took a step closer.

“Phil?”

She reached out, touching him on the shoulder. It passed right through him. A shiver ran down her spine at the contact of whatever had been in place of where the man had been standing.

“Ranboo, Ranboo, I think that-” her entire world was turned onto its axis, churning her stomach to an unpleasant degree, everything shifting violently around her, almost tossing her to the side, with as much care as a child has for their ragdoll.

Her knees wobbled, reaching out for anything to grab onto, grappling at the air around her. A harsh, constricting feeling wrapped around her lungs, squeezing them in her body until there was no breath left. The organs huffed and struggled to do anything that they were supposed to. Puffy put a hand to her chest as if she could just phase the hand into her ribcage and force her organs to work right. Her vision was getting spotty, the space around her swimming dangerously.

There was some noise. Some shouting that was getting around the ringing in her ear. Nausea took over every bit of her, even standing was a struggle. What was her name again?

A hand pressed itself against her back, and one on her bicep, holding her up and steady, something that her legs could not do herself. She grabbed onto the arms holding her, desperate to not lose track of anything more.

“-uffy, Puffy, come on, you’ve got to come back, come on now,” his eyes watered, but the words were finally making sense.

Puffy. Yeah, she was Puffy, that was her name. She was in the Underworld, trying to help Phil get his family back, and they had gotten in a scuffle with a worm, and then-

His hand constructed onto the arm holding her, forcing herself to take a big breath, no matter how much it ached her bones. The gray covering her vision started to make sense, slowly clearing into something that she could actually hold onto and see. There was dirt under her feet, sticks, and rotting leaves making up the floor. A large stone was to her left, the new boots that she had gotten made recently, with fresh leather, and different colored cords that were wrapped around them, little golden trinkets tied at the ends of them. Her pants were tucked in, the tip of her scabbard that had been pushed off to the side, out of place, and now was almost looking right at her. And the strips of cloth that wrapped around Dream’s hooved feet that stood close to her, his shining armor, and other gear that was before her. Dream was standing right before her.

She lifted her head. Sure enough, the flat-nosed face of the other goat hybrid was before her. Looking scared. More scared than she ever thought possible.

“Dream?” her voice was hoarse and dry like it had been days since she had talked last when they had just been fighting. She had felt fine.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, sagging in relief, “I have been wandering around here for days, and haven’t been able to find anyone.”

Puffy’s head shot up. They were at the entrance of the Underworld, the one that had been opened for them. As if they had never taken those next steps. They were right back where they started, Phil, Ranboo, Tubbo, and Hannah nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Puffy?” Phil asked, ignoring Ranboo’s questions. She had been next to them, he had sworn it, but now she was nowhere to be seen. “And Dream, where is Dream?”
The ender hybrid looked back. The missing party members were glaring.

“And Hannah, where-”

“Tubbo!” Ranboo shouted out, walking back into the opened tunnel that they had been standing in, panic deep in his voice, not sheathing his sword, letting it swing carelessly in his grasp. Phil did not have the heart nor the energy to correct him.

“Yeah?” the response came from the main cylindrical tunnel. Phil peeked out, looking up to see Tubbo there, standing not too far above them, holding himself close to the wall, but slowly picking his way down, taking each step with care, even if his hybridness allowed him to make the steps better than anyone else.

“Puffy, Hannah, and Dream? Where are they?” Phil shouted up. His heart jumped in his chest as the goat made a jump that was a bit too far for his liking. His wings puffed out, wanting to just fly up, and carry the boy down, it would be safer. Tubbo would be safer.

“No? Why I thought they were down here, or-” Tubbo looked around the earthen cylinder as well, looking for them. “-but-but I thought that-”

“They’re gone,” Ranboo breathed, looking around one more time as if to make sure. They were gone. Really and truthfully.

Guilt started to take a hold of Phil’s throat while he frantically looked to the sides and back up again. They had a deal. The three warriors would get them as far as the lake, and then they would turn back. They could not leave the village undefended, not for as long as they were going to be gone. So where. Where were they? Were they dead? No, no he had made sure that everyone had made it through the fight, he had made sure that no one was going to die. Ranboo got close to getting hurt, but Phil made sure that he didn’t. He had done a good job to make sure that no one else suffered. He had done a good job making sure that no one else got hurt. Because no one else could get hurt. Not on his watch. Never again.

“We-” he felt nauseous, reaching out for the cave wall to hold himself steady, another hand on his stomach to try to keep the meager breakfast down, “we need to look for them, they have to be somewhere.”

“Yes, they are somewhere,” an echoing voice rang out around them, filling the cavern. Phil’s heart jumped in his chest. This was too much. “But you will not be the ones to find them.”

A creature, because that was the only real way to describe it, appeared before them. Wings burst out from either side of its body, two sets, one on its back and the other on its head, with a mask that seemed to come out of its flesh, covering the form of its face. Flowing robes fluttered around it, creating almost an ocean of green, white, and gold that filled the space. Tubbo dropped down next to Phil and Ranboo, and the avian had the urge to throw him behind his wings, to protect the two boys against whoever, or whatever this was. There was a symbol of the mask. An XD turned sideways.

“Did you do something with them?” Ranboo asked, taking a step closer to what they could safely assume was a god.

Phil grabbed his wrist, preventing him from taking another step.

“The Lady Goddess of Death told me to help you all on this journey since I am the one who is partially responsible, “ the feathers on Phil’s back bristled, “but when I checked in, there were a lot more party members than I originally thought. It would be hard for me to protect all of you, so I got rid of some of you to make it easier. We shouldn’t need them, I am more than enough to help.”

“Get rid of them!” Tubbo shouted, an ax in his hands, “what does that mean?”

If this thing had eyes visible, it would have rolled them.

“I mean I sent them back. Do not worry, they are safe. Pulling three souls out of the Underworld is going to be hard enough, we do not need to add more work by killing anyone.”

This creature was the one who killed his sons. Hate was only the starting word to describe what Phil felt for the god before him, the sword tightening in his grasp. Maybe he could take him. He was the Angel of Death, if there was a mortal who could go toe to toe with a god it would be him. This thing did not deserve to live after what he did to his family. The deepest pits in the Underworld were too kind for this imbecile.

“We should keep going,” XD said when the moment of silence passed on for a moment too soon, and Phil’s lack of response was too heavy in the air for the god to handle, “that worm is indestructible, and this pit is bottomless. It is only a matter of time before it gets a footing and starts climbing back up."

And with that, the god continued forward. And the mortals had no choice but to follow, no matter how much hate was burned deep in their very souls.

Chapter Text

The two winged creatures stood across from each other, just staring. Tommy’s chest was heaving, trying to catch any sort of a breath, while the person before him stared blankly at the carnage behind him. Unlike the newly arrived being, Tommy did not need to turn around to know what was happening., Burning generally, but that happened. His jaw ached, and there was blood coating the inside of his mouth and tongue. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, what he could give to gargle his mouth out with some water. It was starting to get all tacky, not acting how blood should. Which, of course, it wouldn’t, because heaven forbid anything in this place act normal.

There was still a bit of distance between the two of them, one that Tommy quickly closed, hiking up the hill to get up and into this guy's face.

“Oi!” the angel's head snapped over to look at Tommy, somehow looking more horrified than he had looked when just looking at the carnage happening to this place. “How do I get out of this place?”

The angel shook his head, refocusing on him. He had a puff of white hair on the top of his head. One of his arms was gone, replaced with something that looked like compressed and hardened light taking up the space where a limb should have been. Yellow wings folded behind his back, different shades twisted and layered on top of each other which almost made the color move. Dark skin that glimmered a bit in the artificial sun.

“What are you doin’?”

The anger in the angel's voice just made the fire in Tommy’s chest burn a little brighter.

“What am I doing!”

“Yeah, what are you doing?” a finger was jabbed into his chest, “you’re not supposed to be here, or burning down your afterlife, what are you thinking?”

Tommy smacked the finger away, closing the distance between the two of them.

“Oh yeah? Well, I did, what are you gonna do about it?”

“I gotta just throw you back in there, close the door and let you deal with the crazy specters of your family.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! You know, Miss. Death got you all set up here, nice and pretty like, and you just had to go and screw it all up. Just trashing the place, no respect for the work that was put into it.”

Two things were going through Tommy’s head at the moment. One was the fact that he really was dead. Sure he had known that but there was a difference between just thinking about it, or talking about it with his fake family, and actually hearing it. From someone who knew about this place, he was dead. The other was a spark of hope. Kristin. She was here. Of course, she was here, this was her domain, he should have thought of that sooner. Then all of this had been some sort of mistake because there was no actual way that Kristin would let them die. Some paperwork must have slipped past her desk, or however dead people were organized. Either way, this would be way easier to resolve than he thought. Now all he had to do was find Techno and Wilbur.

“Hey!” the angel shouted, hands on his hips, and looking up at Tommy. It was a little funny that he was taller than a literal angel, but he was not going to say anything about it, “are you listening!”

“Sure, man whatever, look, I have important man business to attend to, so if you would,” he started to walk towards the opening in this afterlife world that he had been stuck in.

A hand on his chest and impressive strength stopped him.

“Hold hold hold on there,” the angel was very much in his way, and Tommy did not appreciate that, “do you know who I am?”

“Should I care?”

“My name is Ponk. And my job in the afterlife is to make sure that souls don’t break out of their contaminants. Just because you are dead does not mean that you just get free reign of everything that you want. I can’t believe that you were allowed nepotism as well, but I’m not a paper pusher. I’m the one they send out when there is going to be a particularly hard case. And you,” Ponk looked him up and down slowly, “are about as difficult as they get.”

“You were about to say hard.”

“I was not!”

“Well, that’s all great and all, Mr. Angel, but I really have to go and attend to some business in the real world.”

“Oh yeah, of course, you can go.”

“Really?”

“No! No, of course not! I am dragging you back to your afterlife, by your ears if I have to, wiping your memory and making sure that you stay there!”

Less than ideal. Especially since Tommy did not want to get caught and put back in. That was going against all of the plans that he had made. But if this guy insisted on doing things the hard way.

Tommy puffed out his wings behind him, inching closer to the opening of his afterlife. His wings, he realized, were similar to Ponk’s except he did not have the layering thing going on, and his were a bit more like gold. Maybe he would have called them “golden bros,” if Ponk was not being such a dick at the moment, but hey, maybe later. Tommy was a generous guy.

Ponk’s eyes followed him. Narrowing, and glaring at Tommy as he slowly inched. A few feet away, Ponk’s body tensed, realizing what was going on.

“Don‘t you—”

Tommy threw himself out, spreading out his wings to catch himself elegantly in the air, spinning around and diving down.

He was in a cavern. Or something like a cavern, large, shearing walls on either side of him, after the little tunnel that was on the opposite side of his afterlife. There was gold inlining all around the entrance that he had just fallen out of. People. There were so many people.

Tommy tucked his wings close to his body, before snapping them out, taking a few beats, and then tucking them in again, forcing himself to go faster, using gravity as his ally rather than an enemy. Shouts and cries of people being pulled out of his way, creating room for him in the cavern to pass through at his high speeds. Everyone had a pair of wings. Everyone was flying in some way.

The cavern was smooth, as far as he could see up, and as low as he could see down. Lights illuminated each part, leaving no twist or corner up to interpretation, shimmering off of the black walls. There was no gold from any of the other caverns that Tommy saw.

Railings and walkways connected each side of the cavern and followed the line that was created by the openings. Other afterlives, if Tommy had to guess. People. Trapped in each one of those, just as he had been.

There was a pull on his heart. Just for a second, but it could have easily been the swooping of his stomach when he dove a bit. The ache for the perfection that had existed, just for a bit. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. But gods, Tommy wished that it was. With the real people, with the people that he cared about, not those fabrications. Anything but them.

Shouts erupted from behind him, driving him further into the cavern, not caring about what they were saying. Probably something along the lines of “no, stop that incredibly cool and fast avian. Oh, he’s too fast, we’ll never catch him.” He smiled a bit at his own joke.

The air ripped through his hair and feathers, and the people behind him seemed to be getting further away. His heart had adjusted to taking beats in tune with his movements, keeping up with him, and allowing him to push his body further.

There had to be some way to figure out what afterlife belonged to what person. Checking every single one would take an eternity, and he was impatient.

The hallways started to get less crowded, with a few crossroads and turns, zigzagging between them, but the structure stayed the same. Forever both up and down, black walls all around that shone with light and portal after portal. Cavern after cavern. There was nothing to tell them apart. A shiver ran down Tommy’s spine. There was something very liminal about this place. It felt like he had been flying for ages, and yet there was no sign of an end. There were no changes in the afterlife entrances, the lighting stayed exactly the same. With each twist and turn, Tommy was beginning to wonder if he was actually going anywhere. The shouts were fading and increasing in volume depending on where he turned, or what hallways he went down, so he assumed that he was going somewhere.

And the muscles on his back started to ache from the exercise and panicked flying. Eventually, he would have to land. He would have to get down.

What would happen if he went into a random afterlife? Would that screw everything up, and make things collapse? Or would he just be like another person there?

Tommy took a corner very close, using his hands to push off of the wall to make sure that he did not scrap against it. Lungs screaming in his chest, he looked up and down. No change. He frantically started to look around. So far, each turn that he had taken was just to try to get away from the angels he knew were trying to catch him. Gods, he really should have been paying attention to where he was, or where he should have been going.

“Fuck,” he whispered, breathlessly, looking at the new crossroad that was before him, taking another turn “fuck.”

He turned, bolting down the hallway. A stretched-out arm grabbed onto one of the Afterlife entrances, swinging himself around and pressing his back against the rough wall. His chest was going to burst, his lungs expanding too much that Tommy was sure that they would shatter his rubs and rip out of his chest. Every muscle was shaking and spasming from strain, his back aching in the way that hurt rather than felt good. This was getting him nowhere, each twist and turn was just leading him back to where he was before. A more advanced way of going in circles. But it was bringing him no closer to finding his brothers. There needed to be a plan. Fuck, didn’t people have signs in this place!

“Um,” Tommy screamed, nearly jumping out of his skin, turning to face whoever had made the noise.

A giant man stood in front of him. That was not an exaggeration, a literal giant stood in front of him, standing on whatever was at the bottom of this cavern. His bare chest was at the same level as the afterlife that Tommy was standing on. Light refracted off of his which looked like it was made out of pure gold. A mouth filled with sharp teeth, with a shark tail that made up the top of his head, the actual tail of the shark draping down his back, gently swaying from side to side on its own. Despite his golden skin, there were other golden and blue accessories on him, around his neck, on his pointed ears, pierced into the fins of the shark, and on his large hands and wrists. Tommy had not looked around to where he was, but he appeared to be at an unfinished section of the cavern.

Beyond the golden man, there was nothing, just black voidness, dissolving the black walls. In his hand, the man had one of those black bricks, looking like he was in the middle of placing it. Around his waist, if Tommy looked down a bit, was a bag tied, filled with bricks, blocks, and other sparkling material that looked like it made up the actual doors of the

Afterlifes, just in a bucket. He was making more of this place.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, not moving his arm from where it was half placing a block down, looking very awkward.

Well, if Tommy wanted to get anywhere, someone with legs as long as this guy was going to be about as good as he was going to get.

“Yeah, do you know where Wilbur is being held?”

“Dude, do you know how many Wilburs that have been placed here?” The golden man put the brick that he was able to place back into a pouch at his hip, rolling his eyes a bit at even the suggestion.

“Ok, this Wilbur is the Goddess of Death’s son, does that narrow it down?”

He looked to the ceiling in thought. There were noises further down the hallway, Tommy’s heart jumping up to his throat, pressing himself closer to the wall. This conversation better be worth it.

“I mean yeah, there's only one of those and-wait,” he bent down, getting level with Tommy, “you have divinity about you. How did you even get here in the first place?”

“Do you really want the answer to that question?”

The giant stood back up to his full height, his face quirking and turning at the question, sticking out his tongue a bit, as if he was really, really thinking about this. His insides were apparently golden as well if his tongue was anything to go by. Whatever, Tommy rolled his eyes, looking back to where the noises were coming from. He needed to speed up this process.

“I mean, I guess not-”

“Great! You have potentially the longest legs in existence, take me to Wilbur.”

“Hey, wait, aren't you the guy that everyone is looking for?”

There was noise. Tommy’s head snapped back, looking at the hallways behind him. Shadows of people were being cast on the wall. Shouting, looking for the guy who had escaped the noises.

Tommy’s wings were out, puffed with fear, and flew up, right in front of the man's face.

“Listen!” he hissed. A hand cupped under him, letting him touch down still at eye level with the giant He landed, tucking his wings behind his back “thank you. Now listen! They may or may not be looking for me, but my stepmother is literally the Goddess of Death, so if you don’t want to get fired, I would suggest just doing whatever I say because I will get you fired. I am her favorite child, above Wilbur, so getting one schmuck fired will be like snapping my fingers. Do you want to get sacked?”

“Well,” the giant rubbed a hand behind his neck, looking very uncomfortable.

“See, now we have an understanding. Take me to Wilbur and I won’t send you to the Underworld equivalent of working minimum wage.”

“This feels like blackmail.”

“No, no no no no no,” the shouts were getting closer. The hair on the back of his neck was standing right on edge, Tommy felt like he would explode from stress. “Think of it more like a business partnership.”

“Uh, ok, yeah, sure, I mean, I don’t want to get fired.”

“Yes, yes exactly! Ok, so we got to go.”

Moving without thinking, Tommy took a flap of his wings, rocketing him up into the air, and diving down a bit to the bag around the giant's waist. The bricks were bigger than his body, shifting with the giant's movements, threatening to crush Tommy, squeezing himself between them. Wings tucked in tight close to his back, he pulled a brick over him, panting hard as he heard the muffled voices from beyond the thick cloth.

“-seen-”

“Working,-no I ha-”

“-keep-”

It was a short conversation, before the giant started to move, the bag shifting with his movement. The bricks readjusted their place, Tommy yelping, and moving out of the way of one of them. The avian screamed out again when he was thrown to another side, a delicate balance between keeping himself stable and also not wanting to get squished.

A hand cupped the bottom of the bag, steadying it. Tommy winced at where his leg was held up by a brick and the one that was digging into his back, pulling his body in close, trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry Son of Death,” the giant apologized, the bag getting lifted a bit. “I didn’t realize how dangerous my bag is. Normally there are just bricks in there, not people.”

“It’s fine big man,” Tommy breathed, getting into a better, more comfortable position, where he was still hidden, but did not feel like he would slip deeper into the bag, “I’m Tommy by the way.”

“Foolish.”

“That’s a shit name.”

“Hey! That’s so mean.”

The avian snickered, not feeling any heat from the comment, knowing that there was none behind his own words. The body heat of Foolish was starting to become very evident, the adrenaline finally draining, and leaving Tommy exhausted. It was not the most comfortable place to sleep, but after years on the road, it was definitely not the worst.

“How long until we get there?”

“A while, here,” a hand appeared at the entrance of the bag, shoving in some sort of handkerchief that Tommy pulled in the rest of the way. It was cottony soft, with lace around the edges, clean and also warm from body heat, “you can sleep if you need to. I know mortals need to do that.”

“For your information,” he started to adjust the handkerchief, making a bit of a nest between two of the bricks that had made a sort of V, a perfect place for stability, “I am like at least half god.”

“You have divinity, not part god, those are different. Isn't Death your stepmom? So you have no blood relation to her.”

“I don’t think you understand how mothers work.”

“I do! She’s your stepmom, she married your other parent and then became your mom. No blood relation.”

“Not possible, still my mom, I am still part divinity.”

“I-”

“Glad we are on the same page,’ he said with a yawn, and a smile at baffling the giant, “now if you could wake me up when we get there that would be appreciated.”

“Oh yeah, act like I know nothing, and then ask me to do things, real classy. I could drop you, you know.”

“Yeah, but you won’t.”

Foolish was quiet, and the gentle sway of his waking rocked Tommy deeper asleep.

“Thank you, Foolish. Really,” he mumbled out, not even sure the giant had heard him.

“Sleep well, Son of Death.”

And that he did. And he dreamed of being with his brothers and father once again.