Jason Funderberker was being stubborn on the worst day possible.

As Jennifer was walking away Wirt was trying to get Jason Funderberker back in his bag, which he was stubbornly refusing. "Jason…" Wirt all but growled. He could feel his antlers coming out with the stress of the day. He had been getting headaches lately as his antlers grew, becoming larger. The headaches had been growing in severity as his antlers grew taller and taller every time he released than from where they were hidden in his skull. As his annoyance grew, the leaves rustled in the trees dramatically. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jen stop at the door and glance back at him, confusion prominent on her face. He quickly hid the antlers and willed the wind to calm as he tried to reign in his frustration for the frog. "Jason…" he sighed. "Why do you have to do this to me today of all days?"

Jason's eyes filled with regret and we hopped in bag quickly. Wirt sighed. Four more periods. Four more periods until he would be going back to town, staying the night, then attending the funerals of his step dad and mom.

The funeral was a blow.

Closed-casket ceremony

Two simple eulogy's

Several friends spoke

Each one of them told Wirt and Greg they were so sorry for their losses and if they needed anything…

Greg was crying the whole time in his fancy suit, an old one of Stevie's.

Wirt's was also an old one of Stevie's one he had decided he was bored with.

His father didn't bother showing up.

Sara was there, and Jason Funderberker the human.

They gave him their condolences, and it was good to see them but he hated to see them in such terrible terms.

Sara brought a gift for Greg, a beautiful adult coloring book and a pack of colored pencils, all for him.

Greg hugged them to his chest and whispered a thank you.

She didn't bring Wirt a gift but he didn't mind in the slightest.

It was good enough seeing her.

When Wirt got back home he found a bluebird sitting in a tree, eyes attentively on a sidewalk opposite the way he had come from.

Giving a faint smirk for the chance to scare her, he quietly approached from behind until he was right under her branch.

"Looking for someone?"

"Cheese and crackers!" She shrieked, nearly falling out of the tree. "There you are!"

"Here I am" Wirt agreed sadly, the amusement of the moment gone.

Beatrice was in her bluebird form, but as he watched she shifted to the human form that was her normal guise, a skill she had had ever since her wings had been clipped off. Her real last name was McDonald or something but everyone was already started calling them the Birdies as a joke. The rest of her family had inherited the talent to shapeshift as well, and for the last several weeks, at his request, they had been flying all over the Unknown on their spare time, spreading the word that the Beast was dead and a new, kind, Caretaker had taken his place.

Wirt had been regularly going to the Unknown on weekends and such, fixing the damage his predecessor had wreaked. It was hard, the Beast had decades to basically ruin the Unknown, but Wirt was fixing it, little by little as he drew out the darkness and chased out shades and minor demons.

The Facebook page he had set up as an experiment for the Unknown had been gaining popularity, and the other day he had received an email on the account he had set up for the Caretaker of the Unknown that the Unknown was officially recognized as a magical society by the national alliance of magical society and species. He had been working with Beatrice and the rest of the Birdies to bring things like technology and an actual, stable government to the Unknown. They were contemplating setting it up so a president and various lower officials ran things politically so the Caretaker could focus on the more magical stuff. Even the Woodsman had shown up the the impromptu meeting they had held. He was suspicious of Wirt, but at least he wasn't trying to kill him.

That was an improvement over his predecessor

His history teacher had even given an over enthusiastic lesson on this new magical society that had popped up, pulling up pictures of old sketches on worn pieces of paper and museum photographs of pottery shards featuring the The Unknown and it's various Caretakers throughout the centuries. Someone in the class though to ask why the Caretaker always looked different in the relics. Mr. J looked delighted someone has asked and pulled up the Unknown Facebook page on the smart board. "Well I have been asking the Caretaker several questions on Facebook-"

"So internet stalking him?" Some smart aleck at the back of the class quipped, Wirt turned around to see a loud tiger shapeshifter high fiving his friends at the joke. Wirt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't that wrong. Mr. J had been basically stalking his Caretaker account, asking him everything from how old he was to why Caretakers look so different. Wirt has shut him down on most questions, refusing to give his name, age, etc. He knew Mr. J meant no harm, he was a kindly history teacher who loved his job, but that was the internet, anyone could see it.

Mr. J had finished pulling up the page and was showing them the answer Wirt had provided when he had asked about the different Caretakers. Wirt knew all this already, of course, and tuned it out, doodling a new idea for a poem in the margins. It was a bit of a surreal experience for him, having Mr. J at the front of the class talking about him, but not him. He sadly wondered if his life was ever going to be the same again.

That night he heard soft sobbing coming from Greg's room, knocking on the door and entering, he saw Greg curled up on the bed, crying his little eyes out. Wirt didn't bother asking what was wrong. He already knew.

And he comforted his little brother until he finally fell asleep.

A/N: bIg OoF. You know the world is messed up if Greg's Bawling