Archive of Our Own

Tommy was dying.

It was a simple fact of life. Logstedshire was cold and unforgiving, Blacksmiths had the best warm walls to sleep against, and Tommy was dying.

He didn't know what it was, he knew he got it though when the sickness passed through the town. Unfortunately, it never left Tommys lungs.

At first he thought it was a normal cold, but the coughing just never stopped. He couldn't afford to go to the town doctor, he could barely scrape up enough money to eat at the end of the day.

Tommys only regret was not being able to hang out with Phil more.

It was in the middle of the night when he first met him. He was walking during the night, cold nipping at his bare fingers and unprotected face. At this point in the sickness, he was still able to walk around the village scavenging through compost bins and begging.

This was his first winter. He had just recently turned 18, and he was kicked out of the orphanage. Well, it was less of an orphanage and a house of maybe 6 kids and a mean wench of a woman taking care of them.

Adjusting to warm soup and somewhat soft bread to scraps and potato peels was a bit hard to say the least, but he got by just fine.

He tugged his tattered coat closer around his thin frail frame. He had a bit saved up, but not nearly enough to get a ticket out of this wretched town.

He was just about to find a warm spot to curl up for the night when he saw a man in a… bucket hat? Sitting by the iced over fountain. He looked up at Tommy, blue eyes meeting brilliant ruby.

Oh. A vampire. Cool.

In Tommy's opinion, Vampires got a bad reputation. They were genuinely very nice people if you treated them like a normal human being, and they were extremely rare. It was more likely to be attacked by a shark than be bitten by a vampire.

This vampire seemed young, not only in physical appearance but also in demeanor. Schlatt was an old vampire, but this vampire didn't have the same air as he did. He seemed relaxed, excited for the world.

Tommy just nodded his head with a quiet "how do?" Sitting next to him.

The vampire just shrugged. "Eh, doin alright. What're you doing out so late mate? Your family's probably missing you by now"

Tommy laughed humorlessly, coughing into his handkerchief. He waved his hand. "I don't have any family who'd miss me. Innit cold for dead folk?"

The vampire chuckled. "Can't really feel it but yeah it's a bit cold. Names Phil."

"Tommy." He said breathing into his hands, trying in some sort of desperate attempt to warm his hands.

"Yknow, you're one of the first people of Logstedshire to sit down next to me, let alone have a nice conversation. Are you not afraid of death, or just foolish?"

Tommy chuckled. "Both." Phil just hummed. "People of this town haven't exactly welcomed me with open arms, its refreshing"

Tommy just smiled at him, it wasn't a happy smile. At best it was a tired smile. "If you wanted to hurt me, you would've done it already. Vampires aren't like that though, unless they're starving or cornered, like the rest of us"

Phil squeezed his shoulder. "Smart lad. Meet a lot of vampires in your time?" Tommy lost his smile. "One."

"He died when we were kids. I miss him." He sighed sadly, watching the snow fall into the perpetually cold shitty town. God he missed his best friend.

Tubbo was tragically killed by vampire hunters. His sire Schlatt was one of the kindest people he had ever met, and even offered to take Tommy in. That was, until Logstedshire thought it was better off without vampires.

Schlatt had slaughtered half the town before leaving, and due to Tommy being one of the vampire's friends, they promised he'd never be able to find work in the town. Slimy bastards kept that promise.

"Schlatts boy?"

Tommy hummed in agreement. Tommy wasn't surprised that he had known Schlatt, as Schlatt was one of the big deals in the vampire world, or so he said.

"It's a shame what happened really" Tommy hummed again. It was more than just a shame, the perpetual cold was a shame, losing his favorite blanket was a shame, but Tubbo was far more than that.

The conversation lapsed into silence as flashes of his dead best friend flashed in his mind. Tommy stood up, shaking his head. "I should get going, it was nice meeting you though Phil"

Phil stood up, and handed him a bag. Inside was a loaf of garlic bread and a skin of water. Tommy pulled back like he'd been burned. "I- I can't take that that's so much-"

Phil just smiled, putting the bag of food in his hands. "Trust me, you need it more than I do and it's just a loaf of bread mate. I'm not looking for any favors, the nice conversation was enough. I'll see you around though"

Before Tommy could protest further, the nice vampire was gone into the night.

—

It was a month later when he saw the nice vampire again. Tommys cough had gotten a bit worse, he was constantly coughing up phlegm but there wasn't blood yet, so he'd consider that a win.

He ran out of the bread Phil gave him a long time ago, but that was the best he had eaten in months, even better he made it stretch almost a week.

He managed to scrounge up a bit of gold coins, and currently he was arguing with the baker. The baker was a large man that loomed over Tommy. He stunk of mead and tobacco.

"Dude, what do you mean it's gone up by 5?! It was 3 last week!" The baker just rolled his eyes.

"I told you you little street rat, vermin of the street pay more. You make me look bad for customers. Now either pay the 5 gold or scram!"

Tommy had tears in his eyes. He was fucking hungry, but there wasn't much he could do. He knew as soon as he came back with 5, he'd up the price again.

He was about to walk away when he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. "Oi! We have a fuckin problem?" Phil glared at the Baker with piercing red eyes.

The baker crossed his arms, and stood taller to look more intimidating. Tommy almost bought it if it weren't for the hint of fear in his eyes. "Nah mate, only with the fucking street rat"

Tommy flinched like he'd been hit. Phil exhaled sharply. Phil looked like he was about to lose his shit. "How much for the bread?" Tommy was about to protest. "Phil it's al-"

"10. Mosquitos pay more. If you don't like it you can leave" the baker seethed. Phil rolled his eyes and dropped the coins on the wooden table, and took the bread from the baker. The baker sneered at him. "Good riddance, don't come back"

Phil guided him out of the shop, grip loosening on his shoulder. He dragged a hand down his face. "What a fucking prick, you alright mate?"

Tommy just nodded. "Yeah. Thank you" he said meekly, holding the bread closer to his chest. Phils eyes softened as he ruffled his hair.

"Don't worry about it mate, if he gives you any more trouble let me know and I'll set him straight okay?" Phil smiled, fangs and all, and he left.

Tommy went to his favorite alleyway beside the blacksmiths wall. The blacksmith was a kind lady, who didn't comment that he was stealing warmth from her wall. She just ignored him, and other than Phil that's been the kindest favor anyone's ever given him.

He curled up in the corner, and tore a chunk off of bread. If Tommy cried while he ate, well, no one was around to mention it.

—

From then on, whenever he saw Phil he'd stop and shoot the shit. Sometimes they'd stop and chat for a couple of minutes, other times they'd talk until the sun came up.

Phil would bring him food or water, sometimes a blanket or warmer clothes. He'd always sell the nicely knitted blankets and coats, but he felt bad about it. Phil didn't seem to notice or care though.

He always put the gold away, stashing it behind a brick in a wall and one day he finally had enough to leave town.

He let Phil know that he was going to catch a carriage to the next town so he could finally get some proper medical treatment and to look for work.

Phil had ruffled his hair, and wished him good luck and not to be a stranger.

Life was cruel. Tommy knew that very well when he was picking himself up off the alleyway floor, pockets empty, nose bleeding. He cried into his knees of how unfair life was.

He never told Phil what happened, but Phil was able to put two and two together when Tommy showed up to the iced over fountain with a hell of a shiner, and no money.

Phil gave him a soft "aw mate" as he rubbed his back. Tommy stared blankly forward. He was never getting out of this town.

—

It was getting worse. Horrible coughs wracked through his body, it was getting hard to breathe. Every time he inhaled he felt his lungs ache, everytime he exhaled, his throat felt raw.

He was going to die soon.

He couldn't walk long distances anymore without getting severely winded. Currently he sat in the park which was just around the corner from his favorite alley way, which was less of a park and a broken swing set and a rusty frozen over slide.

He sat in the only good swing, kicking at the woodchips. It was night time again, a little after midnight. He'd rather sleep during the day so he didn't accidentally succumb to hypothermia. His fingers were tinted blue, his nose always red.

"Hey mate" a voice called to his right. Phil sat at the bottom of the slide. He didn't know when he got there, vampires were sneaky like that. Tubbo would always appear unannounced, uninvited, and unphased.

Tommy quickly got used to the fact that vampires can just show up anywhere they'd like, so he was unphased that Phil was right there. He gave a weak smile and opened his mouth when he was promptly cut off.

He coughed harshly into his handkerchief, so hard it made his lungs ache. After said and done he gave a weak raspy "Hey Phil"

"Prime, you alright?" Tommy waved his hand brushing Phil off.

"Its nothing Im-"

"Mate I smelt blood." Oh. He looked down at his handkerchief, and wouldn't you know there were drops of blood. Huh.

He was dying sooner than he thought.

"You should go get it checked out, that doesn't look good." Tommy gave him a deadpanned look.

"Right, I'm going to go to the town doctor with no money and ask for treatment. I'm fine." He wasn't fine. He knew these were the signs of the cough getting worse, not better.

Tommy sighed, his hand tightening on the rusted chain that held up the swing. "Besides, even if I do go, there's not really a cure for it." He murmured.

He'd seen this illness before, and he's sure that Phil has too. It's nasty, and it causes you to choke on your own blood until you eventually drown in it, or your lungs give out completely.

"I think I'm dying, Phil." He spoke softly, tears in his eyes. He didn't look at Phil as he rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes wiping away salty tears.

"I don't know what I did to deserve this." He hiccupped. Phil didn't say anything for a long time. Neither of them did. Life was cruel. Death didn't care if he was an 18 year old kid, Death didn't care if Tommy was a good person who was dealt a shitty hand. She just took.

Phil stood up, and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. "C'mon mate." Tommy stood up on shaky legs. "Where are we going?" He asked as he followed Phil, wiping his nose. Even though Phil was pretty much a complete stranger, he trusted Phil.

"Home. I think I can still make a mean potato soup, it's been a long time but I think I can figure it out" oh. That sounded nice. He hadn't had soup in so long.

"Why?"

"Well, it's the only thing I can cook-"

"No I mean why are you taking me home? You don't know me"

Phil stopped, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You don't deserve to die in a dirty alley. You're a good kid" he smiled softly. "You deserve a warm bed, don't you think?"

Tommy nodded. A warm bed did sound nice.

—

They reached a house a mile away from town, a house he'd never seen before. He held onto Phils arm for support, lungs wheezing. Phil had asked multiple times if he wanted a break, but he declined. He just wanted to go to bed.

It was a cozy little thing, made of spruce and cobblestone. On Top of the house was a little chimney puffing away. Phil unlocked the door and ushered him inside.

Phil hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes, walked into the kitchen and turned on the little wood stove.

Tommy sat by the fireplace, soaking up the warmth like a sponge. He didn't realize how cold he was outside but now that he was in front of the fire his fingers shook and his teeth chattered.

He coughed harshly into the crook of his elbow, blood splattering onto his pale skin.

Phil wordlessly pulled a blanket off from behind the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders, and handed him a box of tissues.

"You focus on getting warmed up, i'll get dinner started okay mate?" Tommy nodded, his eyes starting to get a bit droopy.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, his toes were blue but thank Prime they haven't gotten frostbite. It was still early winter when he had caught his death, it would've been hell if the hard cold set in.

Tommy curled up on the couch, months of exhaustion and hunger had finally caught up with him. He was tired, so, so tired.

He managed to doze off some when Phil gently woke him up. He handed him a bowl and a spoon, and sat on the other side of the couch. Phil sat quietly as Tommy ate his food, only managing to get half way through it before his stomach started to ache.

He mumbled his thanks and handed him the half eaten food before curling up. "You're not gonna eat me in my sleep are you?" He rasped quietly, but he meant it playfully.

Phil just snorted. "Nah mate. Too skinny. You're practically just a bag of bones" eh, true. After Phil put the bowl in the kitchen, he helped him up the steps.

Phil led him to a comfortably sized master bedroom, with quilts and big pillows. Phil eased him under the covers, tucking the blankets up to his chin.

Tommy was already half way asleep, leaning on Phils hand as he adjusted the pillows. Phil smiled sadly, rubbing his cheek. Phil pulled away and brought an old arm chair by the bed. "Gonna watch me sleep?" He slurred, eyes closing on their own.

Phil just hummed. "I'll be here if you need anything. I don't need any sleep really, except maybe an hour there, 20 minutes here. Sleep well mate."

–

Two days had passed, and Tommy wasn't getting better. The first night Tommy was able to still walk around the house a little bit, and he was able to eat on his own even if it wasn't a lot.

He sat and listened propped up on pillows or bundled up on the couch as Phil would tell stories, or Tommy would read something from Phils small collection.

Phil had said he was running with fever and to keep something cold on his head. Tommy didn't think it mattered much, but it was relieving to ease his burning head.

The fever only got worse from there.

The second night he had gotten up to go downstairs, and his legs gave out on him.

It was sometime during mid morning when he collapsed. One minute he was upright and conscious walking down the stairs, the next minute he was sprawled out at the bottom of the steps, blinking away black spots that danced in his vision.

Thankfully Phil was maybe ten feet away in the kitchen when he heard the tumble, and the rest of the day he was fretting over him. Of course Phil couldn't do anything about it other than ice his bruises, but the sentiment was nice.

From then on, he was bed ridden. Phil ran his hand through his hair. He looked calm and collected, still cracking jokes, but worry radiated off of him.

The second night he stopped eating. He just couldn't, he wasn't hungry at all. He was sleeping more too, with naps throughout the day. Even though Tommy was sleeping a lot he didn't sleep well. At all. The fever had gotten worse, his skin shined with sweat as he writhed uncomfortably in the bed. It was too hot, too cold, too uncomfortable. Everything hurts.

Everytime Tommy had managed to doze off, he'd woken up coughing his lungs out. Phil was silent support, he'd sat Tommy up to wipe his mouth and held icy cold rags to his head.

Tommy was trying to sleep again, but everything hurt too much. His clothes clung to his body in sweat. He sat up, with tears in his eyes.

Phil was downstairs making Tommy some broth, just something for him to keep down. Both of them knew it was a fruitless endeavor, but Phil was optimistic of his recovery. What a fool.

Phil came in with a bowl of food and placed it on the nightstand. Tommy didn't acknowledge him, just stared blankly forward, loosely hugging a pillow.

Tommy was the most lucid he'd been since he got here. He was able to sit up on his own and he could think clearly. That was not a good sign.

It was silent all for a lone clock ticking on the wall. Tommy took a shuddering breath and looked at Phil. "It's almost time, I think," he rasped.

Phil put his hand on his shoulder. "C'mon mate, don't talk like that. You still have a good 60 years in you." Though his eyes betrayed him. His eyes showed hurt and grief with denial.

Tommy just shook his head. "I just want to get it over with." He said in defeat. Tommy was tired. Tired of hurting, tired of the stupid cough.

Phil sat in stunned silence. It was another couple of minutes before Phil spoke again. "What if there was another way?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow. He's pretty sure unless Phil had a magical cure all potion under his cloak, Tommy would be leaving with Lady Death tonight, but he'd humor the man.

"I don't make this offer lightly, in fact I'd rather not offer unless there was no other way, but what if I sired you?" Phil asked hopefully.

Huh. Tommy hadn't thought of that. "The process is excruciating, there's a reason why there aren't a lot of vampires, but I'd be with you every step of the way," Phil promised, holding Tommys frail hand.

Tommy wanted to refuse, he really did, he saw how vampires were treated. He saw how vampires couldn't eat anything except animal and human blood, and treated like rabid dogs, but fuck dude. He was an 18 year old kid and he was too afraid to die.

Against his better judgment, he nodded.

"Lets do it"

One thing he did know about vampires, is vampires are fiercely protective of one another, and if he got a dad out of it, or just a friend, then it'd make the change worth it.

Phil smiled sadly, and left the room coming back with a dagger. "I've never sired anyone before but I have an idea" he chuckled nervously. That did not make Tommy feel confident in Phils abilities but he didn't have much of a choice.

Phil inhaled and exhaled. "Alright. This is gonna sound really gross, but in order for the venom not to flat out kill you, your gonna have to drink from my wrist"

Tommy was really starting to regret his choice. "I get why nobody wants to be a vampire," he grumbled. "Get on with it"

Phil nodded as he took the dagger to his paper white skin, black blood oozing out of it. Phil sat by his side. Tommy inhaled as he wrapped his mouth around his wrist. Prime this was fucking awful.

He gagged, but Phil didn't pull away. Tommy swallowed the viscous bitter liquid, he felt it as it trickled down his throat and settled in his stomach. He managed to get a few mouthfuls before pulling away, face distorted into disgust.

Phil smiled apologetically. "The next part of the process is gonna be awful." Like drinking black sludge wasn't? "The venom tends to be extremely painful, something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

Phil really sucked at comforting people. Tommy coughed violently into his arm, fresh blood dribbling from his chin. "We literally don't have time for this. Bite me or do me a favor and kill me, but quit stalling" he snapped at him.

"Yeah. Yeah okay, you're right. Deep breath mate" Phil sounded anxious. Tommy gripped his hand with what little strength he had. Phil shifted and pulled Tommy into his lap.

Tommy felt his hot breath on his neck. Fuck. Tommy inhaled deeply as he felt jaws clench between his neck and shoulder. Surprisingly, the bite itself wasn't the worst. He felt two needles bury themselves into his veins.

The bite itself didn't hurt, no, what hurt was the venom. Tommy jerked back, his veins feeling like they were on fire. Phil kept a firm grip on him. Finally after a moment of injecting molten hot lava into him, Phil let go of his neck and pushed Tommys face into his chest.

Oh Prime. He tried to fight harder against Phil as the venom worked through his veins, he pushed weakly against his chest before he stopped all together. His muscles seized and tensed. Oh he couldn't move. He was paralyzed.

Tommy whined as he tried to move a finger. His brain was screaming for him to run, that Phil was a predator. He felt like a mouse in a rattlesnake's den. Phil soothingly ran his hand through his hair, rocking them.

"I know mate, I know. You're almost through the worst of it" Phil was a dirty fucking liar. Excruciating pain shot through his kidneys, and his stomach. His liver, his everything hurt. It felt like the venom was shutting down every organ he had. Tears streamed down his face, only able to give feeble pitiful whines.

"You're doing just fine." Phil murmured into his hair. "Just a little more, and then you can rest"

His chest rapidly moved up and down, just trying to get a sucking breath. Then his lungs stopped. They stopped working. Oh Prime, why couldn't he breathe? Even though panic flooded his body he felt his own heart begin to slow, black spots filled his vision.

What felt like hours, Tommys eyes finally slipped close.

—

To be fair, Tommy thought he wasn't going to wake up. He thought when he felt his heart stop, that that was it. When he thought he was dead, it was some of the best sleep he'd ever gotten. So when he found himself staring at the ceiling trying to latch onto consciousness, he found that he was a bit cross.

When he came to, his body was no longer paralyzed but fret not, because he felt like he was hit by a carriage. Not to mention he was hungry, borderline starving.

Something itched at the back of his brain, a need, a want for someone. A want for food. A need for comfort.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, something between a whine and a whistle. It just felt right. Phil busted through the door, hair frizzy.

"Oh- shit- I didn't think you'd wake up, I gave you way too much venom. Hi mate!" Phil said cheerfully. Tommy just glared at him. Phil smiled sheepishly as he closed the blinds and turned off the lights. Fuck that was so much better.

"You're a Wrongun" he hissed, his throat sore from disuse. Phil just laughed. "Yeah, this is my first time having a fledgling so we're in this together!" Oh Prime this was an awful idea. He should've stayed out on the street. Phil sat next to him, drawing the decorative dagger again.

Tommy did not want to drink the black sludge from Phils wrist, but he was so hungry at this point he'd eat a horse. He hungrily latched on.

"For the first couple of weeks, you'll be feeding off of my wrist and then we can switch you to pig's blood. Probably. Your fangs won't be coming in for a long time, a year or two I think?"

Tommy didn't care about the words Phil was speaking at him. The black sludge wasn't nearly as bad as the first time, it was almost sweet, and he was having his fill. Tommy was stuffed, and the viscous fluid was dripping down his chin, but when Phil tried to gently tug him off he snarled at him.

Phil just chuckled. "Fair enough, just let me know when you're done okay?" Tommy huffed. His eyes began to grow tired and soon he fell asleep with Phil's wrist long forgotten.

—

As it turned out, magically turning into a vampire wouldn't cure him as he thought it would.

Two and a half weeks had passed after coming in and out of consciousness only to feed; he was still horribly lethargic, and while the cough had subsided for a bit, it still left a nasty rattle to his lungs he couldn't shake.

Phil had told him it was normal, that it takes for a while for super healing to kick in and that Tommy was still recovering, and it would've been comforting if Phil wasn't visibly anxious.

Tommy trusted Phil to a decent extent, but it was very clear he didn't have much of an idea of what he was doing. Not that he could blame the guy, he was his first fledgling, but it became increasingly obvious when he tried feeding Tommy animal blood.

It was three weeks after the initial bite, and he'd regained enough strength to sit up and to walk around the room if really wanted to.

Not that he did however, it was cold and a lot of effort, plus the bed, or Nest as Phil calls it, was incredibly comfortable and soothed the baby vampire in his head.

"Philll" Tommy whined, clutching the blanket closer around him. He was hungry, and cold, but most importantly starving.

He was hungry almost all of the time now, but he could see it was taking a physical toll on Phil so he tried to reduce feedings as much as he physically could.

He was fucking hungry though. Hungry-Hungry-Famished-Sire

"Philll!" He whined again, this time doing the weird clicky whistle to get his attention. He was half tempted to get up and stomp downstairs when fucking finally Phil opened the door… holding a bucket?

"Hey mate!" He said energetically, though stress lined his eyes. Tommy felt guilty for making him so stressed, but Phil never got angry or upset for asking to feed, or for attention.

In fact Phil seemed to like doting on him, even though he was starting to look sickly himself with sunken eyes and pale, well, more pale than usual.

"I thought we'd try something new today, give my wrist a break" he smiled warmly as if he were joking, but Tommy knew his poor wrist looked bad.

Tommy peered into the bucket, red liquid sloshing just enough to stain the sides of it red. It smelt like blood, and it looked a lot fresher than Phils.

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked hesitantly, he didn’t know much about vampires, but he knew Tubbo was still a fledgling who fed off of Schlatt months after changing. Stress-hesitation-fear wormed its way through the bond, but Phil sent back nothing but reassurances.

“You’ll be alright mate” Phil sat on the bed next to him, hand on his shoulder. “It’s bit of an adjustment but once we get you settled, we can get moving”

“Get moving?” Tommy looked up from the bucket.

“Yeah! I’d figured we’d head more north, I’ve got a bigger cabin up there. People aren’t exactly welcomin’ of vampires here so the quicker you can recover, the better” He said as he nudged the bucket closer to him.

Tommy looked down at the bucket anxiously. He felt he wasn’t ready, not in the slightest. His body felt weak and sore, his head still stuffy with illness. He owed Phil though, he’d saved Tommys life and he’s his one way ticket out of Logstedshire. He tilted the bucket and began to drink.

It wasn’t bad, sweet and coppery with an earthy flavor. At first the idea of drinking blood was fucking awful, but if he twisted it in a weird fucked up sort of way, he could imagine drinking blood pudding before it was cooked. Look, it didn’t make any sense, but it helped the medicine go down quicker.

He was about half way through the bucket before his stomach cramp painfully. He shook his head sharply and passed, more like shoved, the bucket back to Phil. Initially he thought he was full, but now it felt like he had eaten plastic. Sharp pains radiated from his stomach and he felt he was going to be sick.

He scrambled to the washing basin in the corner of the room and damn near missed the bowl, the animal blood spilling back up from his lips. His legs shook as he leaned over the dresser as he spat out the remaining blood, saliva, and stomach acid.

Stomach acid burned his throat as he threw up again, and again until finally it stopped. Tommy was going to kill Phil, he decided.

Phil was beside him, rubbing his back. Worry-sorry-sorry-okay?

Tommy groaned in response. Sick-hurt-bad-bad-ill

Phil just hummed sympathetically as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “Maybe we oughta wait on the animal blood.”

“You think?” Tommy glared, coughing and hacking into his arm.

At Least Phil had the decency to look sheepish as he helped him back into the nest, drowning him in blankets. “Sorry bout that, you might still be a bit too young.”

Tommy in response flopped dramatically on his side facing away from Phil. Fucking bastard. His stomach still hurts, but at least the nausea and taste of stomach acid still in his mouth negated the hunger.

This was going to be a long fucking turn.

—

Tommys fever had spiked again.

Tommy wasn’t getting better.

Two days after the animal blood incident, the illness in his lungs came back with a fucking vendetta. He couldn’t stomach much either, even though Phil had switched back to his blood, the animal blood seriously fucked something up.

Everytime he had an excessive amount of Phils blood, he got incredibly ill throwing up into the wash basin so Phil had to provide small frequent meals.

Tommy wasn’t having a very good time.

Phil murmured sweet nothings as Tommy drifted in and out of consciousness, constantly switching out wet rags for his forehead. Phil wasn’t pretending to not be worried anymore, in fact the man was incredibly stressed and even though he didn’t need much sleep, looked fucking exhausted.

Phil did his best to keep the stress and worry out of the bond, only sending positive kind words assuring him he’d get better.

Even though Tommy hadn’t said anything, Phil could tell something was amiss when Tommys hazy eyes clouded with fever fixed themselves on unoccupied corners.

Phil had the sneaking suspicion that Tommy was hallucinating due to the fever, even though he hadn't said anything. Phil could read clear as day the terror and grief behind his graying eyes.

Tommys clothes were damp with sweat, and even though Phil changed him a couple times a day, they were damp and hot to the touch.

Phil had tried just about everything, he tried an ice bath, he’s tried herbs he hadn’t even heard about before, he’s read three different types of books of human and vampire health, but nothing had seemed to be helping.

It all came to a head when Tommy coughed up enough blood to drench his front. Theoretically Tommy couldn’t die from illness, but he could die from blood loss and he wasn’t eating enough to make up for it.

Phil had finally come to the conclusion he was far too out of his depths for this. He took a shaky deep breath as he stood up. He needed help.

Phil had closed off the bond between him and his sire. No bad blood, pun intended, but Phil wanted a break from being in the nest to travel. Techno wasn’t much of a fan, but Phil promised to check in every 10 years or so Techno begrudgingly set him on his way.

Techno was a kind sire, and treated more as a friend than a parental figure, but he knew he was going to get his ass chewed for changing someone so young.

He had to swallow his pride though.

Phil sat here with a sickly, possibly dying again fledgling, ages away from home. Techno was probably going to kill him for this, but it’ll be worth it to save his son.

Phil took a deep breath and reopened the bond after seven years. He violently pushed through Help-emergency-fledgling-indanger.

After a moment passed and Phil was afraid Techno might’ve been to far away when he finally got the response of

Coming.

—
Technoblade was one of the most feared vampires out there, and well known for his brains and brawn.

Aside from Dream, Schlatt, and Captain Puffy, Technoblade was one of the eldest vampires. His favorite hobby was causing anarchy and creating power vacuums, he adored the chaos.

Between the chaos and old ancient vampire business, he'd sire a couple of vampires. He didn't much care for the parental role, instead treated them as friends instead of children.

Squid was his first, and was tragically killed due to a potato accident.

Skeppy was second, but quickly left to be with his partner Bad. He didn't mind much, Skeppy may be far away, but they still kept in touch.

His most recent, and by far his favorite, was Philza. Philza had wormed his way into his life and personally seeked Techno out for him to sire him, so he could live forever and travel to see the world.

Techno was initially against such a crazy idea, but Phil warmed his cold dead heart and begrudgingly turned him shortly after the start of the 18th century.

It wasn't until recently Phil grew restless and left the nest, and Techno was nothing if not a possessive bastard.

It took a lot of late night talks and promises for him to let him go, on the promise of talking to him every 10 years or so and Phil had agreed.

After Phil left the nest, Techno went back to causing anarchy and single handedly tore down governments.

However, even for an ancient vampire like him, he also gets tired.

Techno was having a nice retirement away from abolishing evil governments on his nice little farm when he had received the frightening bond message of ².

Techno at first was startled, and then angry, and then extremely worried. Phil wasn’t the type of man to just ask for help. He inherited Technos ability to stubbornly take on any task even if it would kill him.

Techno was certainly very angry that he’d already had a fledgling even though he left the nest maybe 20 years ago. Thats far too young to be a normal human parent let alone a vampire sire, so he had better had a good fucking excuse.

He did however promise Phil the world, and if he were in any situation he’d be there in an instant, so he threw down his shovel and began packing.

He shoved leather bags full of potions, bandages, and jars of herbs and packed them swiftly onto Carol.

He grabbed his best armor and winter gear, before doing a once over of the house to make sure everything was in check. He went down to the basement where his ender chest was hidden, and took his last totem of undying.

He didn’t think he’d need it, but he promised Phil the world. He’d give thousands of these stupid golden statues if it meant Phil was happy and healthy.

He tucked the golden statue into his belt and once he secured that it’d be safe, he was off into the night.

Coming.

—

Tommy couldn't do this anymore. Phil had promised that help was coming, that he would get better in no time, but Tommy was dying. Again.

Tommy sobbed and hiccuped into Phils robe, blood splattering onto his black cloak. Everything still hurts. He was so exhausted he didn't want to keep living anymore.

His body hurt something fierce. His lungs shook with every breath, and even though he didn't need to breathe anymore, it was a force of habit. He had to consciously stop breathing and it'd help for a bit, before it hurt again because he had forgotten.

Phil had him tucked into his chest, rocking them back and forth in the living room's rocking chair infront of the hearth.

Phil had moved him downstairs when he figured the nest was too cold, and needed direct warmth. It helped a bit with the horrible shakes, but only a little.

He felt weak and so terribly out of it, and he was absolutely convinced Tubbo was back to drag him down into the pits of hell.

Tubbo was constantly outside the corner of his eye, standing there mocking him. He never spoke, but his dead eyes haunted him in his dreams.

"Phil- I can't-" Tommy gasped

"I know mate, I know" he murmured, voice thick with compassion and grief.

"I promise you help is on the way, just hold on a little longer okay?" Tommy wailed. Agony-stop-hurts

Tommy was in so much chronic pain, he just wanted it to stop.

"Phil- please" he whined. Pain-let-go-torture.

Phil tugged him closer. "Shhh" he murmured, running a hand through his sweaty oily hair. Safe-sorry-adoration-guilt

"If Tech isn't here by tomorrow, I'll make it stop okay?" Phil promised in a voice just above a whisper. "Just hold on a little longer, and either way we'll make it stop."

Tommys sobs died to pained whimpers. He laid his head on Phils shoulder, clutching his hand like a lifeline.

Tomorrow. It'll finally stop tomorrow.

He doesn't know he'll make it that far.

—

Phil was about to tear his hair out from stress. He paced from the living room from the kitchen, watching anxiously as Tommy slept on the couch.

He finally managed to get the poor kid to sleep after three hours of non stop crying, and Phil bet he only stopped from pure fucking exhaustion.

Thank fucking Prime he was still in the habit of breathing, because it would be impossible to tell otherwise if he were still alive or not.

Phil should've never changed the kid. He should've just let him pass naturally with minimal pain, not the agony Phils put him through.

He felt sick to his stomach and prayed to Prime herself that Techno would come in time. He really didn't want to put Tommy down like a wounded animal, but it seemed far more cruel to keep him breathing.

Phil got tired of pacing and crawled onto the couch next to Tommy. He lifted his legs and sat underneath them. Tommy didn't stir.

He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

Phils stress finally got to him as exhaustion weighed him down. He looked down at his fledgling, his son, and he silently promised he would sleep for maybe 20 minutes. Just enough for tomorrow.

He gently kissed the back of Tommys hand, and leaned back onto the couch.

20 minutes.

—

Techno rode nonstop to Phils cabin just outside of Logstedshire. He only stopped to let Carol rest for a moment, but other than that he kept going. He didn't stop for food, nor for rest. It could wait.

He could feel Phils stress through the bond, so Techno had promised to hold off on the scolding until afterwards.

Poor Carol was fucking exhausted, but he kept pushing on for Techno. He silently swore to get him all the treats after he was done.

He finally reached Logstedshire just before dawn broke, and followed the string of the bond to a little cabin outside of town.

His heart sank when he heard anguished wailing coming from the house and nearly broke the damn door down trying to get in.

Phil was on the floor cradled over something, tears streaming down his face. He'd never seen him so distraught, so small.

In his arms was a blonde hair boy, no more than 20, tucked into his chest. Actually, this very could've well been Phils biological kid. Vampires can have biological children, it's just few and far between due it being far more taxing.

Phil was begging, pleading with the corpse in hurried murmurs to wake up. There was no bargaining with the dead.

Techno cautiously walked over and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Phil didn't seem to notice and didn't seem to care.

Moments passed, before Phil took a shuddering deep breath to look up at him.

"Tech-" he started, but was promptly cut off by another gurgled sob. Techno pulled him in close, hugging him tightly with the boy in-between them.

Techno was able to get a better look at the kid, and the poor kid looked like he went through hell. The smell of illness clung to him like a tick, his eyes and cheeks sunken in. He was as white as a sheet except for the fresh blood staining his chin and neck.

"I- I didn't" Phil continued, clutching his cape. "It wasn't- he-" Phil was borderline hysterical with grief. Techno took a deep breath to ground himself.

"How long?" He asked firmly. "When did he pass?"

"It couldn't have been long- I swear I took a 20 minute nap and he was gone- I didn't- it was just 20 minutes ago" his body shook from the violent sobs.

Techno gave him a moment before he continued.

"Phil" he murmured, tilting his chin up to look at him. "Will you come home?"

Phil looked confused but he shakily nodded.

"Do you promise not to have a fledgling for the next hundred years?"

Phil sniffled. "I dont think I'll ever have another" he said in a broken whisper, gazing longingly down at his son. His baby.

Techno nodded. He'd save the lecture for when they get home.

"May I see him? Just for a moment?"

Phil snapped his head up and snarled, tugging the body impossibly closer. Possessive little shit.

Techno held his gaze with an unamused look, before Phil finally relented. He passed Techno the body, but didn't release him. Fair enough.

Techno pulled a bottle of strength and a bottle of regeneration and poured it down Tommys throat. He coaxed his throat to swallow a bit at a time until both bottles were done.

Phil looked utterly lost and hopelessly hopeful as he watched Techno work, but didn't utter a word. He watched Technos movements with rapt attention, calculating every twitch of the finger.

Techno was about to reach for the totem, and then paused. He looked back up at Phil.

"Phil. Can you promise me something if I bring him back?"

Tears sprung in his eyes with the undeniable look of relief. "Anything! I'll stay in the nest for the next thousand years if I have to- I'll plant stupid potatoes-"

"Then let him go"

There was a pause, then a quiet broken "What?"

"Let him go. We cure him, get him fully back to health, and take him to the nearest town if he so desires." He said simply. "If he so wishes to never speak to you again, than that's that."

Phil looked betrayed, heartbroken, and relieved all at once. Hurt radiated into the bond but Techno ignored it.

"If you try to find him and break your promise if he so desires to leave" Techno continued on, almost heartlessly. "You'll be buried in a coffin for the next 300 years. You can't be so cruel to turn him so violently, and then expect him to stay Phil"

Another pause.

"Okay." Phil said, a quiver in his voice.

"Okay?"

Phil nodded, wiping his eyes as tears continued to spill.

Techno knew he was hurting, but Phil had been needlessly cruel to the kid. The kid might've been already hurt when he found him, but that doesn't excuse dragging on a needlessly painful death.

The pathway to hell was paved with good intentions, and Phil swiftly got acquainted. Techno knew he learnt his lesson the moment he heard the wails and the grim empty look of acceptance.

He pulled the totem out, and clutched into the kids frail hands. He placed the kids hands over his chest, totem against his heart, and then lifted the kid. Phil followed swiftly behind.

He took him upstairs and tucked him into the nest. After he was swallowed the kid into damn near every blanket they had, he pulled up a chair. "It'll take a while, but he'll be alright. Get some rest Phil."

Phil looked unsure. "What if he doesn't come back?" Even though Phil was a grown man, he looked like the kid he met a long time ago.

Techno just smiled. "Have I ever been wrong before?"

Phil didn't laugh, but he exhaled through his nose. It counted.

Phil crawled into the nest, curling tightly around the soon to wake boy.

—

Tommy wasn't exactly sure what happened. One moment he was fuzzily watching Phil pace before he finally settled on the couch beneath him. Phil didn't offer any heat but the comfort was nice.

There was also someone else in the house, a ghostly figure on the floor by the couch.

The figure looked so achingly familiar, brown hair, red eyes and a warm smile. "C'mon Tom, ill keep you safe for the time being."

"Tubs?" He slurred. It wasn't the cruel apparition that the fever produced, this Tubbo was nicer, sweet almost.

"Yeah Boss Man. C'mon, just for a bit and we'll come back. You're not quite done yet, but you deserve a break don't you think?"

Tommy just smiled weakly. "Can we go visit Henry?" He whispered.

"Sure thing. Not for long, but you can go say Hi"

"Will Phil be okay?" He rasped.

"He'll be okay. I promise."

Tom blinked.

Tommy woke up, this time in the nest. His memories of the in-between were fuzzy at best, though he vaguely remembered being in a field of grass with someone, with a big fuzzy cow.

He blinked again, the fuzzy memories turned into distant dreams. He registered his sire had his arms around him and Tommy was tucked into his collarbone.

Tommy studied his face, and even though phils eyes were still red and swollen from tears, his face was peacefully asleep.

He pushed a soft hi-missedyou-loveyou into the bond and curled up closer.

Phil stirred for a moment before relaxing back into sleep. Unfamiliar hands tucked the blankets around them tighter.

"Hullooo" the familiar non-threat said. Tommy made a questioning sound at the back of his throat.

"Everything's fine" he soothed. "Everything's gonna be alright. Go back to sleep"

Tommy sighed, his lungs clear of disease, and happily obliged.

—

"Phil C'mon! I'm just going to the park!" Tommy whined. Phil insisted he wear 50 fucking layers going anywhere, despite the fact he's double dead.

"Nope, not hearing it. I don't want you getting sick" even though Tommy hadn't been sick since back then, Phil is absolutely paranoid. Fair enough, but Tommy was over it.

After the incident, Tommy and Phil was moved to Technos mansion so Tommy could fully recover. Tommy was given the option to leave many times, but Tommy declined every time. Even though he had a rough start, he loved Phil and Techno.

Of course, Tommy wasn't at 100% and probably never will be. He had shitty blood pressure, and was constantly weak with a couple of other health problems.

He had a really hard time eating for one. Drinking animal blood so early tore up his stomach lining, and caused severe internal bleeding and blood poisoning. According to Techno, he shouldn't have even looked at animal blood for two years let alone two weeks.

Another thing he was susceptible to was fainting spells, and even though they weren't as bad after the incident, he still passed out here and there.

Due to modern times, he was able to treat some of the symptoms with a slew of medication, but he'd still never be perfectly healthy.

Honestly though, that was okay. He had Phil and Techno. Phil had been there for him since the very beginning, Techno close behind.

Phil constantly fretted over him and if Tommy felt even a slightly bit off, he was rushed to the hospital.

Sometimes it was over reaction, but sometimes it meant something pretty serious, and Tommy wouldn't have done anything about it otherwise.

Having an overbearing Momma Bear had its benefits, but it could be pretty fucking annoying.

Tommy was about to bite Phil until he finally fuckint pulled away. "Alright! That should do it. Tell Wil I said hi!" He said as he finished putting the final layer on.

"Yeah yeah, Love you dad" he grumbled.

"Love you too mate! Technos gonna pick you up at 7pm" Tommy rolled his eyes. Phil wasn't the carefree clueless vampire he once knew, he was now the worst mother hen he'd ever met.

"Be safe for me okay? Call me if you need anything?" Phil fretted, looking over Tommy.

Tommy groaned "at this rate I'm not never leaving the house!" Phil chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Yeah yeah off you go, I'm serious though call me if you need anything!"

"See ya later!" Phil waved as he left the mansion.

When he got to the park, he ran up and gave Wil a quick hug. Wil returned it, hugging him tightly before giving him a noogy.

"Fuck off man!" Tommy whined, pushing him off.

Wil just laughed. "Your dad keep you too long?" He said teasingly.

Tommy just snorted. "Yeah."

He wouldn't change it for anything.