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Wilbur stumbled over a patch of mud, resisting the urge to gasp for breath in the way whatever was left of his human instincts begged him to. The extra oxygen would only make him dizzy and unable to think. He tripped over a fallen branch and nearly fell over. Tommy moaned in his arms from the sudden jostling.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes flitting between the paths ahead. He locked onto the path that led back to the house.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I let you out of my sight.”
Tommy was silent, but he clutched onto Wilbur’s jumper. The stench of lavender wafted into his face, and Wilbur stumbled against the sudden wooziness.
He looked down for just a second at the bundle in his arms. Tommy’s face was all scrunched up. Purple stained his hands, pollen caked his lips and chin.
Wilbur screwed his eyes shut, letting muscle memory guide him for a few seconds, and wondered how what started as a good day could have gone so wrong.
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Thirty minutes earlier…
Wilbur peered out the window as the last rays of sunlight dipped down below the horizon. With a grin he threw the blinds open and bounded to the back door to check the thermostat. He untied the jumper from around his waist and threw it on over his head.
“Tommy! It’s dark!” he called.
“Coming!” Tommy yelled back. A moment later came the sound of footsteps pattering over the hardwood floor. Tommy appeared in the doorway with a beaming smile. “Can we go out now Mumma?”
Kristin smiled over her cup of coffee. “Just be careful. Do you have your flashlights?”
Wilbur held up the two flashlights, handing one over to Tommy.
“Communicator?”
Wilbur held it up, too.
“And you know when you need to be back?”
“Midnight, I know Kristin. Can we go out now?” Wilbur groaned. Kristin was such a killjoy.
“Yes, go ahead. Call me if anything happens, alright? Oh, and tell the other boys to bring the washing in when they’re done in the shed.”
“Yes, mum,” Wilbur said, rolling his eyes. Kristin stuck out her tongue. “Come on, Tom. Let’s go!”
Tommy eagerly followed behind. They made their way to the shed first. Wilbur knocked, but didn’t bother waiting for an answer before he barged in. He kicked their sungear out of the way from where it blocked the door.
“Is it dark already?” Tubbo asked, looking up from his glue gun. His hand swung out to the side, the tip of the gun catching on Ranboo’s arm.
“Ow!” Ranboo cried.
“Sorry!” Tubbo set the gun down. Ranboo furiously swiped at his arm, glaring at Tubbo.
“Kristin wants you to bring the washing in,” Wilbur said. He glanced at the mess of cardboard and paint on the craft bench. “What are you making?”
“Spaceship,” Tubbo grinned.
“We’re gonna go to the moon later,” said Ranboo. “Do you wanna help?”
“We were gonna go into the woods.”
Tubbo groaned. “The woods are so boring!”
Tommy tugged on Wilbur’s jumper. “Wil, I wanna go to the moon!”
“But you said you wanted to go to the fort earlier.” Wilbur stomach twisted a bit. “But if you wanna stay here…”
“No! I wanna go!” Tommy frowned, looking between the two.
“We can go to the moon later!” Tubbo said. “After you get back!”
Tommy stared at the ground with a scrunched-up expression. “Wil, when’s midnight?”
“In four hours,” said Wilbur.
“We’ll be done with the spaceship by then,” Ranboo said. “If Tubbo doesn’t keep getting glue all over the table, that is.”
“Oi!” Tubbo shoved him. Ranboo shoved him right back. “You’re on washing duty for that!”
“No fair, I did the dishes earlier. It’s your turn.”
The two continued to bicker for a few more minutes, before Wilbur decided he was done with it all.
“We’re going now!” he called out, nudging the door open. Tommy squeezed out ahead of him.
“Wil! Woods, please!”
“Yes yes, coming. Remember the washing.”
“Yes Wil!” the two called in unison.
Wilbur rolled his eyes and shut the door. He held his hand out, but Tommy didn’t move to take it.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, frowning.
Tommy shrugged and rubbed at the skin of his arm. “Not a baby,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to hold my hand. Just stay in my sight, got that?”
Tommy perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay!”
Wilbur watched as Tommy ran ahead, his hand clenching beside him. He felt stupid. He always knew there’d come a time when Tommy was too old to hold his hand anymore. He’d already stopped wanting to before he got turned. He’d hoped that him turning would have given him a little more time, and it had! But a year didn’t feel nearly long enough.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for when Tommy would start looking less and less like his younger brother. He’d already stopped ageing at a normal rate, but Tommy had a few years of normal ageing left. The gap between them would creep closer and closer. Phil had said Tommy would probably end up looking seventeen or eighteen. Wilbur would be lucky if he reached twenty. Those six years between them meant nothing in undeath.
Eventually, Tommy would stop seeing Wilbur as his older brother.
The thought of that made him nauseous.
“Wil!” Tommy called, snapping him out of his daze. “You coming?!”
“Yeah!” Wilbur hoped his voice didn’t sound too shaky. “Coming!”
He jogged a little to catch up with Tommy, gesturing for him to lead the way to the fort. Tommy happily obliged, Wilbur trailing not too far behind him. It only took ten minutes to reach the creek. The two hopped across, flashlights guiding the way. Tommy bounded up to the fort and parted the cloth in the doorway. Wilbur slid in behind him.
“Turn the light on,” Wilbur said.
Tommy flicked the lantern on, lighting up the little room inside. It was big enough to comfortably hold three kids, maybe four if they squeezed in. The outside was insulated with a tarp and leaves to keep the heat in, and the ground inside was covered with old tattered blankets Kristin and Phil had set aside for them. A small pile of books sat in the corner from the last time Wilbur had been here.
While Wilbur got himself situated in his corner, Tommy rummaged around in the little bucket off to the side. He pulled out a plastic shovel.
“I’m gonna go explore now,” he announced.
Wilbur hummed. “Don’t go too far,” he said.
“I won’t.” Tommy scooted out of the entrance. Wilbur listened to the sound of his footsteps getting further and further away, until he couldn’t hear them anymore.
He picked up the book from the top of the pile– an encyclopaedia on plants– and turned to the dog-eared page. He flipped through, the occasional rustling noise coming through from the outside. He technically wasn’t supposed to leave Tommy on his own, but he really wanted to read his book, and it wasn’t like there was any real danger. Tommy was old enough to shout if he needed help.
He continued flipping through the book, only pausing when he heard a loud thump coming from outside.
“Tommy?” he called. “Are you okay?”
He expected to hear a “fine!” or an “I’m okay!” Neither came.
“Tommy?!” Wilbur set the book down and crawled outside. He shivered against the wind and scanned around with his flashlight. While he could see better in the dark now, the flashlight certainly helped. “Tommy answer me right now! This isn’t funny!”
Still nothing. Wilbur’s stomach clenched.
“Tommy!”
A groan, faint but audible, came from the direction of the creek. “Tommy!” he yelled, running to where he’d heard the noise.
Something smelled wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. Wilbur swallowed against the nausea building up in his throat and pressed on. He got to the creek and nearly tripped over a lump on the ground.
“Tommy!” he cried for a third time, dropping to the ground beside him. “Tommy, what happened? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”
“Wil?” Tommy groaned. “Feel sick.” He turned over onto his side with a cough, arms hugging his midsection.
“You feel sick? Did you eat something?”
Tommy unwound one of his arms from around his stomach and opened his hand.
The stench became near unbearable, and Wilbur suddenly knew exactly what is was.
“Tommy, that’s lavender! Oh my god, you idiot! How much did you eat?!”
Tommy coughed. Tears leaked from his eyes and trailed down onto the dirt beneath him. “The book said I could,” he sobbed.
“The book. Oh my god, the book.” The encyclopaedia– the one he’d gotten from the open market a couple weeks back. The one that had been written by a human, for humans. The one that had said lavender was edible. “Lavender’s poisonous to vampires! Nevermind, that’s not important. How much did you eat?”
“Just one,” Tommy said. He visibly swallowed, and Wilbur leapt out of the way in time for him to vomit all over the ground.
“Okay, okay. Did you throw up before this?”
Tommy swallowed again. “Once. Wilby, I can’t see.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Listen, I’m gonna call Kristin, we’re gonna get you to the hospital, okay?”
Tommy nodded. Wilbur pulled his communicator out and pressed the on button. It didn’t respond. A big battery symbol flashed on the screen.
“No, no no no no no!” He slapped the side of it. “Come on, work!”
The communicator refused to listen. Wilbur threw it with a frustrated yell. It hit a tree and fell into the creek. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Did you bring yours?”
“For-forgot,” Tommy gritted out.
“Okay. Okay, okay okay okay. We need to get you back to the house. Can you walk?”
Tommy shook his head and heaved another sob.
“Okay. I’m gonna carry you. Hold on tight.”
Wilbur scooped him up, adjusting him until he was secure, and began to run.
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Present time…
“Kristin!” Wilbur cried, freeing one of his hands to pound at the door. “Kristin I need help!”
“One minute!” Kristin called from inside, “can it wait?”
“Kristin please! Tommy’s hurt, bad!”
Wilbur heard a loud clattering sound before Kristin appeared at the back door, apron covered in water and food residue. She took in the sight of Tommy’s sickly pallor and Wilbur’s panicked expression and flung the door open.
“What happened to him?” she demanded, taking Tommy from Wilbur’s arms.
Wilbur followed her into the living room. “Lavender. He threw up twice, but he’s still sick.”
“How much did he eat?” Kristin set Tommy down on the couch and ran back to the kitchen. Wilbur watched as she rummaged through the medicine cabinet.
“He just said one. One branch I think. I don’t know. Shouldn’t we be taking him to hospital?!”
“We can’t just let it sit in his system. We have to neutralise it. Otherwise he won’t make it to the hospital.”
Wilbur swallowed thickly and went back to sit beside the couch. In the brighter lighting of the house, he could see patches of raised, angry dots covering Tommy’s arms, hands, face, and neck. His eyelids were hooded, and he didn’t seem to be all that present.
Kristin rushed back into the room with a carton of milk and a bottle of a thick yellow liquid. She handed Wilbur the jug and set the bottle down on the coffee table, beginning to measure out a dose.
“Have him drink as much milk as you can,” she instructed.
Wilbur wasn’t about to argue. He opened the jug and held it up to Tommy’s mouth. There was about enough left in the jug for one full glass.
“Come on Tommy, you gotta drink this.”
Tommy opened his mouth, letting Wilbur slowly pour the milk. Wilbur had to coax him into swallowing. Tommy got about half of it down before he turned his head away, coughing and spluttering.
“Come on,” Wilbur urged, near tears. “Come on, you gotta drink it!”
“Wilbur,” Kristin said, voice firm. Wilbur stilled. “It’s okay. Back up a bit, let me see him.”
Wilbur obliged, scooting back and letting Kristin crouch down next to his baby brother.
“Toms, look at me,” she said. She planted a hand on his cheek and turned his head. Tommy’s eyes glistened with tears. She held up a medicine cup, half full with the amber liquid. “This will make you feel a lot better. Then we’re gonna get you to the hospital, okay? You’re gonna feel a lot better.”
Tommy sobbed. He tried to turn his head away, but Kristin held fast. She helped him sit up and poured the liquid into his mouth.
Tommy swallowed, gagging a bit. Kristin leapt up and grabbed the phone.
“What was that?” Wilbur asked while she dialled. He slid his hand into Tommy’s, only for Tommy to yank it away.
“Antidote,” she said.
“Then why does he need a hospital?”
“Because he could have internal damage. Yes, hello, ambulance please. I’ve got a fledgling with lavender poisoning.”
Wilbur looked back at his brother, worrying his lip between his fangs. Tommy looked almost green. He glanced at the hand he’d tried to hold, holding himself back from trying again. He could help with words instead.
“It’s gonna be okay Toms,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You’re gonna be okay now.”
Tommy’s hand clenched where it rested against his chest. Wilbur closed his eyes and prayed that the ambulance would get there soon.
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.
“Hey Wilbur, how’re you holding up?”
Wilbur looked up. Phil was stood in front of him, still in his hunter gear, a heavy-looking bag nestled in the crook of his elbow.
“I thought you were at work.”
“Kid in the hospital’s much more important,” said Techno, grunting as he collapsed into one of the chairs.
“Kristin phoned. What happened?”
“Didn’t she tell you?” Wilbur looked out the window. It was around four-thirty now, and still completely dark outside, the only lighting being the street lamps. He’d been waiting for hours now. Kristin was back with Tommy. He’d not been allowed back. Tubbo and Ranboo were at home with a sitter, and she’d tried to get him to stay back too, but he’d refused.
Phil settled down in the chair next to Wilbur’s. “I’d like to hear it from you.”
Wilbur shrugged. “‘S my fault,” he said. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands.
Phil leaned forward too. “What happened?”
“We went to the fort,” Wilbur said, robotically, like he was reading off a script. “I was reading, and I let Tommy out on his own. I only thought to check up on him when he stopped responding.”
“After that?”
“I carried him back to the house, and Kristin called an ambulance.”
Phil hummed. “You know why we have those rules, right?”
“Tommy’s not little anymore,” Wilbur blurted.
“Sorry?”
“He’s not. He’s getting older. He’s seven. I thought… I thought he’d be okay on his own. He didn’t– doesn’t need me.”
Phil frowned. “Wil, Tommy’s still very young. He’s not quite used to his instincts yet.”
“I know that!” Wilbur whisper-yelled, one hand swinging up and chopping the air. “I know!”
Tears pricked at the corners of Wilbur’s eyes. Phil’s eyes locked onto his, and he seemed to search through them for a second.
“This isn’t just guilt,” he said. “What else is bothering you?”
“Tommy’s in a hospital bed because of what I did, and you’re worried about what’s bothering me?”
“Whatever it is, it’s not just gonna go away. I do not want a repeat of tonight, you hear me? We’re trying to keep you and your little brother safe.”
Wilbur stood, placing his hands behind his head. A few tears streamed down his face as he swung around to face the other man. “Don’t say that!”
“Say what?”
“That! I’m not a big brother! Come a few years, I won’t be a big brother anymore! What’s the point of looking after him if he doesn’t need looking after?!”
Phil glanced around the room. “Let’s go outside,” he said– more of a command than a suggestion. He placed a hand on Wilbur’s back and led him out the door. They reached a little bench just outside the entrance to the waiting room, and Phil guided Wilbur to sit.
“What do you mean, you won’t be a big brother?” Phil said slowly.
Tears streamed down Wilbur’s cheeks. “You said it yourself– I’m probably not gonna age past twenty. Tommy’s got a good chance of ageing past me. He’ll be bigger and stronger than me. He won’t need me anymore. I need him to need me, but he doesn’t even want to hold my hand anymore, and I can’t– I can’t! I can’t!”
Phil leaned over and wrapped him in his arms. “Wil, Wil, shh, it’s okay,” he said, rubbing his back.
“It’s not okay!” Wilbur sobbed. “I’m nothing if I’m not a big brother!”
“Wil, that’s not true at all,” Phil said, pulling away. He placed his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders. “You are so much more than that.”
Wilbur hiccuped. He gasped for air, not even realising he’d been breathing. His head spun. “What am I if he doesn’t need me?” He rasped, looking into Phil’s eyes.
Phil held his gaze. “You’re right– Tommy won’t need your help forever.”
Wilbur blew out all the air he had left in his lungs, letting out a few stuttery sobs. His throat spasmed.
“But– just because he won’t need it, doesn’t mean he won’t still want his big brother.”
Wilbur hiccuped. “No he won’t. I’m useless. Who wants a useless big brother?”
“Wilbur, you are not useless,” Phil scolded. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“But it’s true,” he mumbled.
“It’s really not.” Phil turned to sit normally on the bench, leaning against the back of it. “You can’t help him growing up, and you can’t control what ages you both look, but you’re always going to be his big brother. Weird vamp ageing can’t change that.”
“But if he looks older than me–”
“What does it matter? You’ve been his big brother for his whole life. That’s not gonna change, mate.”
Wilbur sniffled, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He pulled his legs up and hugged them against his chest, shivering. He was cold and a little bit miserable.
“Is that was this is all about?” Phil asked.
Wilbur gave a tiny nod. “He didn’t wanna hold my hand. I thought… that meant he didn’t want me anymore, or need me. I was sad, and angry. I was gonna check up on him, I promise, but it all happened so quick, and, and I–” Wilbur’s eyes filled with tears again. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want any of this to happen, I swear.”
Phil reached around him to hug him to his side. “I know, mate. I know. Shh.”
“Am I in trouble?” he whispered, terrified to know the answer.
Images flashed in Wilbur’s mind– curling up on the patio with snow covering his windbreaker, gasping for air in a bathtub full of ice, grumbles from his concave stomach keeping him up at night, curling up in bed dizzy from blood loss with his neck aching.
“Not this time. This is punishment enough, don’t you think?”
Wilbur nodded. He wasn’t sure whether it felt better or worse.
Phil rubbed his shoulder a few times, then stood. He held his hand out.
“C’mon, let’s go see your brother.”
Wilbur took it and stood.
They walked in, together.
Nothing was fixed, and Wilbur didn’t feel much better, but it was a start, and maybe that was all he needed.