Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hey, buddies! It's been a while!" Simon high-fived Oren, fist-bumped Pinki, and nodded to Sky. Sky smiled back shyly, but Simon didn't miss how he shrunk away ever so slightly, pressing into Pinki's side. Pinki adjusted her mask slightly as they walked past.

Vineria slowly made her way to a nearby park bench, the white cane in her hand slowly tap-tap-tapping against the floor. A white strip of cloth had been wrapped around her eyes.

After... the incident, she'd stopped wearing her vine wig, but as time had passed, she'd slowly started putting it back on again... sometimes.

Raddy pushed past Simon without comment as he went to join the group. Normally Simon would just chalk it up to Raddy just being kind of a jerk in general, but it was all too easy to notice the way Raddy's eyes darted away from him.

Tunner had already sat down on a bench, his hat pulled down over his forehead as he watched the geese on the nearby lake. On his left, Jevin had plopped down for a nap, while on his right, Brud was just staring off into space, as per usual.

Gray was sitting at the opposite side of their bench, playing some cards with Garnold and Clukr. Garnold's mechanical suit was gone, and instead he was wearing a yellow cloak Jevin had given him after...

Simon shook his head and turned his mind away from that. OWACKX was ambling around semi-aimlessly, like usual. A thick scarf was wrapped around the lower half of his face. Durple and Fun Bot were just staring at the birds like Tunner.

Wenda had seated herself a small distance away from the rest of the group, and Simon went to join her.

Everyone felt more uncomfortable around them specifically ever since things went down the drain. To be honest, Simon couldn't blame them.

Brud's head crunched deliciously between his jaws, savory iron flooding his mouth-

Simon shoved the memory away, ice crawling up his spine. "Sooo..." He stared off into the distance. "How's the new job goin'?"

Wenda shrugged. "S'okay, I guess. Doesn't cover my medical expenses and I'm only being paid minimum wage, but you can't look a gift horse in the mouth, right?"

Simon winced. Even though it was well known that Sprunkis mutated into Abnormals weren't truly themselves, it didn't stop them from becoming pariahs. Ever since... it had ended, whispers filled the air whenever a former Abnormal was around. Wary looks were cast in their direction, and there always seemed to be a zone of completely clear space surrounding them.

His train of thought was interrupted by Wenda elbowing him. "How've you been?"

"Fine. Oren and Pinki let me stay with 'em. Still lookin' for a job. In the meantime, I'm stuck as a street musician." His antenna drooped a little. "I tried to apply to my old job singing barbershop at the barbershop, but they won't take me back. Say I'm bad for business."

Wenda raised a hand and gently squeezed his shoulder. "Okay, that sucks. Shame, too; you're honestly really good at singing barbershop." She snorted. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that you and the boys were raking in at least half the traffic the barbershop was getting."

"Thanks. Being a street musician honestly isn't too bad, but I kinda don't wanna keep taking up space in Oren and Pinki's house."

Wenda's voice wavered a little. "I-I'm sure they don't mind."

They sat there for a little while, an awkward silence hanging over them. Simon twisted his wrists, feeling his joints pop. Wenda just stared down into her lap.

Grasping to break the silence, he said, "On a scale a' one to ten, how big of a pair of saps do you think they are? Oren and Pinki, I mean."

"Can I say a number higher than ten?"

"Just to be annoying, I'm gonna say no."

Wenda rolled her eyes. "Pfft, you can't be serious. I swear, I can actually feel my blood sugar rising whenever I'm within a hundred feet of them."

"Tell. Me. About. It. " Simon punctuated each word by slamming a fist into his palm. "Me and Vineria were steering that ship; we were raisin' the sails, hoistin' the colors, all that jazz. We got those front-row, VIP, gold-star, premium seats to Idiots in Love: I'm Getting Diabetes and a Brain Tumor Watching These Two ."

"One day, I was hangin' out with the girls at a cafe, like you do, and Pinki goes off to the bathroom 'cause Orange Man is calling her. I go later 'cause, y'know, nature calls, and I swear, I heard those two doing that stupid 'No, you hang up first!' 'No, you hang up first!' 'No, you do it!' 'No, you!' that you only ever see in those stupid rom-coms."

Simon rolled his eyes, a grin spreading across his face. "Oooof. Y'know, I still remember this one time..."

Chapter Text

After waking up from being, well, dead (getting your chest torn open by your possessed friend-turned-slasher-killer tended to do that), and recovering from almost being suffocated by the weight of his wife bear-hugging him, he'd been overjoyed to see that the sky was its normal, beautiful blue instead of hellish red.

Of course, just because everything was back to normal didn't mean everything was fixed. Whatever friendship-powered, My-Little-Pony-style ritual that Jevin had cobbled together had been able to heal and/or resurrect everyone who died or been injured during Black's... rampage, but it wasn't able to rebuild the destroyed town.

It was sheer luck that a handful of their group managed to get their houses up fast enough that everyone else could stay with them until they got houses of their own (and he and Pinki had been planning to move in together for a while now anyway, so that was convenient).

To be honest, they'd almost turned Simon away when he first asked.

"Hey! Buddy!"

Oren turned to see a yellow Sprunki in the distance running towards him, waving. Thick, purple scars ran from the corners of their mouth all the way up to their ears. An involuntary shudder ran down Oren's spine.

For a moment, an image flashed through his mind - a  wide, ravenous grin, insane with hunger-

"Oren?"

Oren jumped, whirled around, half expecting to see the thing that had tried to kill them... only to see Pinki pointing at Simon, with a hunched-over Sky at her side. Her other hand was feebly trying to cover what remained of her face.

"Oh, yeah. R-Right. About that..." Turning back, he saw that Simon had stopped a couple arms' lengths away. "W-What's up?"

Simon's gaze dropped to the ground and he wrung his hands.

"I get it if you guys really don't wanna say yes to this, but, um... I don't think I'll be able to get a house - or a job - for a while, and I was kinda-sorta-maybe thinking that I could ask you guys if... uh..."

Oren raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Could I... uh... stay with you guys for a while?"

Oren blanched. "Um..." He turned to look at Pinki and Sky.

Pinki shifted her weight slightly. "Well... I-" Her head whipped down to Sky, who was gently tugging at the fur on her side.

"Maybe we should say yes. It's not fair, but since he became a... you-know-what, I don't think a lot of people will wanna hire him... or let him stay with them, for that matter."

And so it'd happened. It was hard at first.

The rational part of his mind knew (and hated) that Black had been using Simon, yanking him around on strings like a puppet. The un-rational part still wanted to run away screaming every single time he saw Simon.

The former Abnormals did their best to make up for everything they did under Black's influence, and were the most active participants in the rebuilding efforts. But, of course, trauma - and hate - never allowed facts to get in its way; the amount of times Simon and Wenda had to hide in a basement, attic, cellar, or the back room of a restaurant or store because of rioters had been far too many for comfort.

Even with... the incident, and the long time it had taken to rebuild the town after that, Oren could say that life was actually going fairly well now. Things were (mostly) back on track and running smoothly, and while they definitely weren't going to forget what happened anytime soon, he hoped that they could heal someday.

He was settled in bed right now, happily drifting in that hazy grey area between awareness and sleep. He was vaguely aware of Pinki pressed against his back, arms wrapped around him, as well as the thick blanket draped over the two of them. He turned his head a little, tucking his face into his pillow slightly-

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His blood froze and he shot up from the bed. Sky!

Pinki had already grabbed the two baseball bats they kept under their bed. She shoved one into his hands and the pair rushed together to Sky's room.

Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay-

Oren entered first and searingly bright light flashed into his eyes, forcing them shut. A second later, he heard a sheepish "sorry."

Through his eyelids, he could sense the light fading, and he slowly opened his eyes

Sky was huddled in the corner of his bed farthest from the door. He had a flashlight, pointing in their direction but slanted down, enough so that it wasn't pointing at their faces. Even though he was wrapped in a blanket and buried in a pile of teddy bears, Oren could still see him shaking.

Oren dropped the bat on the ground and closed the door. "Hey, hey, it's okay. We're here."

Slowly, he and Pinki made their way to Sky's bed and crawled over to sit next to him.

Pinki wrapped an arm around him. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Sky sniffled and nodded. "We were running away from W-Wenda... She had a-a knife and grabbed you-" he pointed at Oren, "a-and she... she..."

He shoved his face into his blanket and let out a sniffle.

"Hey." Oren gently squeezed his shoulder, trying to smile. "It's okay. I'm here."

Sky turned his head a little, just enough so that his one functional eye was visible, and stared at Oren for a moment. Then he tossed off his blanket and teddy bears and threw his arms around Oren, burying his face in his shoulder, his body shaking with sobs. Oren hugged him and ruffled the fur on top of his head.

After a long while, Sky's crying died down and he pulled away, staring down at his hands.

"Um..." He sniffled. "Can... can you guys sleep with me tonight? Please?"

Oren and Pinki spoke at exactly the same time.

"Of course."

Chapter Text

Even with the entire population of the town (which did include a handful of pretty magically competent Sprunkis) working together to clear away the rubble so that rebuilding could start immediately after the... apocalypse was over, it was still a taxing job. They'd already had a few close calls-

Sky had been trying to weave his way into a half-destroyed building to see what could be salvaged when a heavy iron beam above him shuddered and groaned-

Wenda gulped and forced the memory away.

Having 17 Sprunkis crammed on one table while taking a break from rebuilding wasn't the best situation ever, but Wenda had survived worse. She was sitting on the bench, leaning on one elbow, zoning out (as you do).

She'd stretched, drowsy from both the strain of physical labor and how comfortable the sunlight was (it wouldn't hurt to get a bit of shut-eye, right?), when a group of Sprunkis sitting on the side of a hill caught her eye.

A gray-blue and a burnt orange Sprunki were chatting about something, while a few feet behind them, a black Sprunki with a bunch of tentacles growing from their spine was enjoying a snack-

A black Sprunki-

A black Sprunki-

A̶ ̵ b̴l̵a̴c̸k̴ ̵ S̴p̶r̶u̸n̶k̶i̸-̷

Her field of vision seemed to narrow to just that one Sprunki. The sunny day suddenly felt frigid. The world seemed to spin around her.

Puppet strings strangled her-

"Wenda?" Pinki's voice felt like it was drifting on the wind from miles away. Wenda turned to look at her-

Pinki's screams were like music to her ears as she tore the pink bunny's face off-

Wenda jerked away, the taste of bile flooding her mouth. One hand flailed and latched onto the edge of the table, barely stopping her from toppling over. Oren reached out, looking concerned-

His flesh and bones gave in so easily under the blade -

Wenda's grasp slipped and she collapsed onto her back, sweat soaking her fur.

Oren's eyes went wide. "Wenda!"

His beating heart reminded her of a candle's flame. One she was dying to snuff out-

She grasped at her chest, her own heart racing faster and faster. She tried to breathe, but her chest constricted, leaving her gasping. Her gaze was forced skyward now-

Beneath a bleeding sky-

Before she knew what she was doing, she staggered upright and bolted, heedless to the cries of her friends behind her. Moisture flooded her eyes, blurring her vision.

She didn't know where she was going and didn't care. She just needed to get away-

Durple screamed, flailing in a vain attempt to escape her grip-

Tunner's eyes widened in horror as she raised the gun. "Wenda, no!"

A droning melody forced itself into her ears, pounding against her skull, boring into her brain-

By chance, she happened to look down at her hands-

No matter how hard she scrubbed, she could never wash the blood out-

She didn't look where she was running and tripped over a root-

Vineria dragged herself on vine-threaded limbs, eye sockets bursting with plant roots, her lower jaw hanging on by a mere thread of sinew. "Do you r̵e̶a̶l̷l̶y̶ think that running will change what you've done?!"

Durple's voice carried across the air like a trumpet blast. "Wenda, please! Come back-"

"- and F̷A̸C̸E̸ ̵U̸S̸! Look us in the eye, you C̶O̸W̴A̷R̶D̵!"

Wenda tried to get up, her voice came out as screaming, gasping sobs. "I'm sorry!"

Pain shot through her chest, forcing to the ground-

"Hug me, auntie!"

Sky rushed at her and grabbed her, lifting her up as if she was a ball of feathers, before crushing her in a hug. The metal bar stabbed into his chest speared through hers-

"Stop it, stop it, stop it! Leave me alone, please!"

She curled into a ball, clawing at her ears, gripping and tearing at the grass, clenching and unclenching her hands, trying to get the world and her mind to shut up. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as her frame shook with sobs.

Eventually, someone had to find her.

She tensed, expecting judgement, or anger, or frustration. Instead, she felt something gently nudge her hand. Slowly, cautiously, she cracked one eye open.

Lying on the grass, palm up, was a yellow hand. Without thinking, she reached out and grasped it. The hand gently squeezed hers, grounding her a little bit.

Her eyes traveled up the arm attached to the hand, up to the owner's face. Simon.

"Do you need anything right now?" he asked.

It took all her strength to speak. "Just... stay here."

She didn't know how much time she spent like that - lying on the grass, grasping Simon's hand like it was a buoy and she was trapped on a storm-tossed sea - but it worked. Eventually her heart calmed and she tried to get up. Simon helped her, and wrapped an arm around her once she was sitting up.

He gently squeezed her shoulder. "If you need anything, I'm right here."

She sniffled, nodded, her face buried in her arms.

After a long while, she raised her head again.

"I... I need help."

--------------------------------------------------------

Therapy wasn't easy. It forced her to dredge up all the awful memories of what had happened when she still danced on Black's strings like a puppet. So many times, she'd shut down and refused to talk; one time, it'd lasted for over an hour. But slowly, little by little, it made its mark. It was like peeling away the layers of gauze and bandages bound over an already-infected wound, allowing it to be slowly (but surely) purged and cleansed.

It'd also taken her forever to truly internalize that fact that, no, her friends did not hate her, even if they did flinch when she got too close. Still, every single time she or Simon or Durple broke down, the rest of them were always there to pick them back up again.

They took care to save their true ire for the one who started this disaster.

"Maybe we should put up a picture of Black and use it as a dartboard," Raddy huffed.

Vineria reached up to scratch under the strip of cloth that covered her empty eye sockets. "Naw, let's just live our lives and forget about him. He'd probably hate that even more."

It was all about taking at least one little step forward every day, and trying not to stumble any steps back. Granted, that was easier said than done.

Even though years had passed ever since... the incident, she could still feel the wary, hard, fearful looks from the people she'd terrorized, who were many. Everyone tried to pretend that they didn't see her any differently for her past, but she could tell otherwise.

Still, even if opening up and remembering did make her feel even worse in the beginning, it did help. Little by little, day by day.

After all, you didn't always need to soar above the clouds to say you accomplished something. You didn't always need to sprint for the finish line.

Sometimes, you just needed to walk, and keep walking.