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Tommy screamed at Sam, begging him to save Ghostbur from the cold clutches of Dream. He had seen the afterlife and heard of the terrible things Wilbur planned to do once he was revived, Tommy couldn’t let that happen. His throat felt raw as his eyes flickered between Ghostbur and Sam, tears pricked at the backs of his eyes as he watched the lava pour down ever so slowly.
“Please, Sam! Don’t do this! Please go help him, I beg you!” Tommy was practically in tears as he watched, Sam denying everything and staying firm in his position as warden. With a final scream, Tommy watched as Ghostbur’s body slowly faded and lava blocked off any sight to Dream. There was a tense beat of silence before Sam spoke,
“I’m sorry, Tommy. You have to leave now.” The monotone voice was no comfort as Tommy silently walked behind the creeper hybrid, only the echo of their footsteps sounding through the empty hallways. Tommy’s mind raced, Wilbur was revived and more insane and corrupt than the last time he was alive.
He didn’t want more blood to be spilled, he didn’t want any more violence and war, all he wanted was peace. The memories of the afterlife made Tommy want to scream in agony, it was an unforgiving place and a mere hour there could drive one insane. Sam escorted him out of the prison, the warm sun beating down on him as he rushed to Tubbo and Ranboo. The two could tell by a single glance that something had gone wrong.
“What happened?! Where is Ghostbur!?” Tubbo was the first to speak, he rushed over to his best friend and gently but firmly grasped him on the shoulders. Ranboo didn’t speak but his face showed the same amount of worry and concern as Tubbo. Tommy clenched his fists tightly, they needed to stop Wilbur.
“He got resurrected, Ghostbur is gone and Wilbur is back. We need to stop him, while I was dead he told me of the horrible things he wanted to do when he got back and now he is back!” His voice was serious and his gaze never wavering, with a small nod from his two friends they ran. There was one place that they could think of that Wilbur would return, one place that his soul would come back to in the living world, and that place was the place he died.
The trio ran, ran faster than they ever thought possible. The landscape was only a blur as they sped by, the sun was setting and the sky began to blend into hues of reds and oranges. The colors, however, provided nothing but more motivation for them to keep pushing forward as day turned to night.
Panic and adrenaline flowed through their bodies and the glass barrier came into sight, the only thing that stopped them from falling into the crater below. Their steps felt ten times heavier as they made their way across the protective glass, a soft glow of a single torch was their target.
Wilbur’s grave was small, with a few flowers and a single torch to indicate the meaning of the spot. It was tucked away in the side of the cliff, untouched by the explosions from Dream and Techno. The sun lowered farther in the sky blanketing a colder breeze over the world as stars began to come out from hiding, their speckles of light shining down on the three.
Tommy stumbled and fell right before the grave, with a weak cry of surprise and pain his looked up. His breath coming out as short gasps and pants, Tubbo and Ranboo running up behind him and not in any better shape. A subtle breeze danced around them, almost mockingly as they all stared in disbelief at the grave.
There was no Wilbur but they knew he had been there, broken bits of stone were strewn about around the area, the flowers were crushed and some burned from the very torch that marked the sight. It was devastating and fear stuck in each one of their hearts, he was gone and out there somewhere with plans of destruction and chaos guiding him on his journey.
No words were uttered, not a sound other than the sharp intakes and quick exhales were heard as well as the pounding of their hearts. With no plan and only themselves who knew of the revival of Wilbur, they needed to hurry.
“We- We need Philza or Techno, hell maybe everyone! He isn’t just after a single nation he wants the entire world to be torn apart!” Tommy screamed, standing up quickly with minor disorientation following the movement. Tubbo nodded firmly and the two turned to a distraught Ranboo.
“Yeah, but we need to go now. Like, right now.” With no disagreement, the three began running again and this time in the direction of Philza’s house. Each passing second only gave Wilbur more time to run and prepare, and the trio had no idea what condition he was in physically or mentally. Time was slowly slipping through their fingers, the clock was ticking down until their demise.
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Twigs and leaves crunched under his shoes, his pace slow as he walked through the thick forest. His brown trench coat fluttering behind him as a gentle chill breeze blew by, Wilbur hummed a soft, familiar tune under his breath while he adjusted his fingerless gloves. Being alive again felt odd, his body felt warmer and his senses were heightened. Time felt slower in comparison to the afterlife, each second there was somewhere close to an hour in the living world.
He felt disoriented and confused when he first arrived back but then everything came back to him and slowly he adjusted back to being alive. Yet, all this was an afterthought to Wilbur and only one thing lay ever-present in his mind. One person, one destination, and one goal was all he thought about as he trudged forward.
There was a traitor that was there since the beginning of L’manburg, the beginning of the greater Dream SMP. He was silent in his work, never drawing suspicion to himself and following from the background of every battle but he played a much bigger part in everything. He was the stand-in conductor of Wilbur’s unfinished symphony, as he called it before his death, and gently swayed the people to cause more chaos while he was gone.
All his work led to this, to the day when Dream would resurrect him and be convinced that Wilbur would be in debt to him for it. A small chuckle spilled from his lips at the very thought, in debt? To Dream? The only man he ever would repay was the very man that stood next to him in each battle, the man who claimed to sleep through so many events, and the man to whom Wilbur truly owed his life to.
George. The Bonnie to his Clyde, the love of his life and partner in crime. He watched from the sidelines as each historical event played out, he watched every death and fight. He watched Wilbur get slaughtered by his father and would soon watch as they took over the world together. The sun had finally set and the moon was shining softly in the sky providing light as he continued his journey to his secret base.
It had been constructed before the first war between L’manburg and the greater Dream SMP, hidden faraway and buried beneath the soil of land that was uncharted on maps. It had everything the two needed, there was a small library that held all the information that they had acquired over their time on the SMP, an office that contained their brewing stands and ingredients for potions (and an enchantment table), and a small bedroom that they used occasionally.
Wilbur knew that Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo were on their way to check if he was present in the living world; he made sure to leave them a surprise when they got to his grave. He wouldn’t have much time but there was a slim chance that they knew which direction he went in, but with no footprints or trail to follow they were left empty-handed on the field of glass.
His pace was steady and direction never faltering as the silence of the forest surrounded him, Wilbur daydreamed of how his lover would react to his arrival. Would he be surprised? Happy? Wilbur could only hope, George often locked away his emotions so tight that to Wilbur he was forever a mystery. It got better over time but there were still times where no one, not even himself, could guess what was going through his head.
A cold breeze nipped at the tips of his fingers, the scent of pine and damp moss was carried in the air, a small reminder that he was alive. In the afterlife, all he could smell was the rotting of his flesh and the warm tears that streamed endlessly down his cheeks as he was driven farther into insanity.
He rarely ever saw Schlatt and only for that single short burst of time did he see Tommy, but other than that he was left to his own twisted thoughts. The only thing that held him from complete sanity was the reminder that George was waiting for the day he’d arrive home, he’d lost count of how many times he’d envisioned George wrapping him in a warm hug and welcoming him back.
Just past the trees, he could spot a clearing flooded with pale moonlight and all but bleed the feeling of comfort, the kind of comfort only the feeling of home could bring. Moss and vines grew from every tree and flowers blooming all around the empty area but all that sat there was a home buried into the side of a hill. The old dark oak is home to not only plants and the occasional bird or squirrel but home to his lover, George.
The windows were foggy and obscured by a deep maroon-colored curtain, the stones leading up to the house were more cracked and splatters of an all too familiar red color were present on some of them. Wilbur ignored them and instead focused his attention on knocking on the sturdy but used door. Not a minute later muffled footsteps sounded and vibrated through the floor, Wilbur’s excitement only growing as they drew nearer to the door.
With a loud creaking of the wooden door and the squeaking of the rusty door hinges, the door was opened to reveal George. The brunette halted, his red cape fluttering behind him as his movements abruptly stopped. He looked gorgeous in the moonlight, the subtle glow of his features as he stared in shock at his dead lover standing on his- their- doorstep. His outfit was different, his blue shirt was discarded for a blue jumper with a white collared shirt underneath and his jumper was tucked into some black form fitting cargo pants.
“W-Wilbur…?” George’s voice was barely a whisper but Wilbur latched on to each syllable, his heart fluttering at the noise of his lover’s voice. His bigger hands cupped George’s cheeks and gently wiped away the stray tears that spilled past his eyes, the moment felt so surreal. He’d only ever dreamed of seeing his love again, holding on to the fading memories of their time shared as his mind broke from the hell that is the afterlife.
“George..” Their names were said as if they were the most precious secrets in all of history and it was a true testament to their love, their love was a secret to the world outside of the one they created for each other. The wars they had to fight, the blood they spilled, never once broke the true love they held deep within their hearts for one another. Such love never seemed to exist to them but somehow, as if it were a fairytale, they had found it in each other.
Their bodies collided with one another, passion spilled from the overflowing container that is their hearts and pouring out into their movements. For one night no words other than gentle affirmations of love and happiness were said, no talk of fighting or plans, just pure love as they entranced themselves with the other. Wilbur’s first priority met and for the first time in a long time, he rested easy with his lover held close to his chest and the warmth of a familiar bed coaxing him to sleep.
Only the stars to judge them as they cuddled under the thick, wool blankets and illuminated by a single torch that with a precise swing of Wilbur’s hand was only embers and an echo of a once bright flame. Unknowing to the panic quickly spreading through the land as news broke out that Wilbur was once again roaming the mortal plane. Yet, even at the remembrance of their situation, Wilbur couldn’t find it in himself to care at all, his mind and heart only yearning to be by his lover’s side and to enjoy the peace of the night for as long as he could.