A/N: Sorry this has taken so long! It probably feels longer than it actually is, but whatever. I'd written down a load of notes for this chapter and it turns out that the notes were probably better than the actual chapter, so I'm a teeny tiny bit disappointed, but no matter because it's up now at least.

And, Spyder-pig? Sorry about the knife. Happens a lot *slowly removes knife from your chest* just watch out for more.
Stabbity stabbity, y'know.

-Whisker

Of course, just telling Dab to take care of his errands before going outside to fool around in the garden in the sun wasn't going to do a whole lot, least of all stop him. He stayed in his room as he'd been told, waiting until all of his childminders' distractions were removed, and then crept out as quietly as he could, opening the back door when nobody was looking, without a sound, and sneaking out alongside Evan. He didn't care what he did because Dan didn't seem too bothered and Phil didn't look like he was about to dish out the discipline any time soon.

It was still hot outside in this June sun, and Dab and Evan weren't going to waste the rest of the day cleaning floorboards. They went and played outside for half an hour instead, just because they could, and hurried back inside before anyone realised they'd been out. They hopped up onto the kitchen counter then and talked away, scoffing all the biscuits from the tin in the cupboard.

They weren't gone for too long, but they didn't go unnoticed, especially since there were now two extra pairs of muddy footprints leading from the back door, which didn't go overlooked, either, by a sharp, green-blue pair of eyes.

Phil swallowed as he stood with his hands in his pockets – as was his manner of late – and watched the kids swing their legs as they sat on the bar. His breath whistled slightly with every inhalation, the rings around his eyes were still dark and his skin had almost no colour to it whatsoever. Not that that was tremendously irregular, but recently he was even more pallid than usual.

Dan was watching very closely from the sofa, because Lester had a very different air about him: something like irate disappointment with a hint of antagonism that was quite abnormal for his usually temperate and tender personality. Dan knew it was coming sometime, of course, but he wished it had been directed at him rather than… them.

Getting the house a mess was bad enough, but twice refusing to clean and ignoring the fact that they had to do what they were told, then promptly creeping out of the house after just being told not to? It was a matter of authority, and you don't just ignore the very person responsible for your entire existence.

Phil had coped with it well so far, and deserved commendation for that much alone. He hadn't lost his temper really and had dealt – or not dealt – with everything as calmly as he could, but there was only so long he could put up with being pushed aside by virtually his own creation, and he wasn't going to stand there like cheese at fourpence any longer.

Dan sat back, book in hand, pretending to read, but secretly watching everything unfold. He had seen his friend get gradually more irritable as the day went on – the years of friendship had taught him to recognise every hint of emotion from the slightest facial expression or movement – he at least felt a little bit sorry for the kid, he supposed, but he felt a whole lot more sorry for his best friend, having to be the antagonist for once in his life.

Dan certainly knew how that felt, and he knew what the aftermath would feel like, too.

It had started with an exhausted 'get down,' in the very sharp Lancastrian tone (that still surprised Dan even after over 7 years), then a more annoyed 'down!' when the realisation sunk in that he was being ignored again.

But it was one sentence that did it, really.

"Why should I listen to you? You're not my dad," Dab said, blankly.

Phil hadn't been too fussed before that point, really, and had even considered calmly talking to the kid about everything, but those words made something in his min click. There was a heavy moment of silence where Dan could swear he could hear his friend's heartbeat.

"…'Why'?" Phil repeated, tilting his head to the side, his neck making an odd click sort of sound as he did, "Why?" He said again, his voice an undistinguishable snake-like mix of disbelief and something else, "Who do you think is responsible for your entire life, who got your parents together after creating your father, so they could create you? Do you know who that was?"

"…Dan? And you?" Dab replied, awkwardly looking to Dan for help, yet Howell didn't maintain eye contact with him, but looked back down to his book.

Even Dan was notably taken-aback when his friend ended up snapping – he wasn't used to such a mild-tempered soul having such a voice: one of those usually gentle tones that made your heart drop like a brick when it bit. Dan watched discreetly from the sofa, his heart heavy, slightly timorous of his friend's Lanky twang and manner; every speck of mellow warmth had been shattered and replaced with a sort of rawness like a new wound being washed over with salt, and it really wasn't habitual of him.

It was odd seeing him like that, and maybe it was because of his docile nature that gave his voice more impact – Dab certainly looked like he was a bit knocked for six, too – as he kept barking questions and reciting everything he'd done, all with what could either be tears or sweat rolling down his pale cheeks. He had a right to be annoyed, Dan supposed; he'd kept it all in for this long, and the dam had to break sometime, sure as eggs is eggs.

Dan knew that the most sensible thing to do was to step in, but Phil was making a fairly good point, and he supposed Dab got what was coming to him.

Phil had dragged the kid, by the arm, off the worktop (where he shouldn't have been sitting) and held him in place by the wrist whilst he gave him a very stern talking-to. It seemed to be doing a very good job: Dab didn't answer back, probably because of the surprise of it, and Evan had slowly gotten down from the breakfast bar to stand quietly in the corner and listen.

"I've given you everything you asked for," Phil had choked, his breath staggering, "Don't I deserve a bit more than… this?"

He paused for a moment, almost panting, and licked his dry lips as if he was in very deep thought about something. Eventually he heaved a sigh, adjusting his gaze to see the back door, and swallowed before looking back to Dab.

"Go play. Go!" he ordered, in a slightly regretful manner, letting go of the kid's wrist and pointing to the door, which Dab gingerly sloped out of, with Evan close behind.

Dan waited until they were both outside before closing the book in his hand and shakily getting to his feet, heading over to attempt to console his friend. He hadn't really expected the actual spontaneous breaking to be this out-of-the-blue, but at least it was through now. He laid a soft hand on his friend's shoulder and led him away a bit, past the kitchen.

"Are you OK?" He asked, gently, and Phil quickly lifted his head up to him with his wide eyes and contracted pupils that gradually dilated the longer he stared.

"I don't know," he swallowed, his eyes darting over Dan's face like little sea-green lasers. He honestly didn't know if he was OK, too, "I'm sorry," he apologised.

"Don't be; just… calm down, alright?" Dan hushed him, seeing the beginning of tears forming, and stroked down his arms to give his hands a tender squeeze.

"I feel… terrible," Phil hissed, making a little gasp for air, "He's gonna' hate me even more now-"

"No, no, don't say that," Dan replied, shaking his head, "Remember our talk earlier? This isn't our life; we're in virtual reality. Don't get too stressed out, it's… a game – they're a game, sunshine-"

"Don't 'sunshine' me!" Phil snapped, and Dan promptly apologised, even though he'd meant it more affectionately than anything.

Dan pulled his friend into a hug in an effort to pacify him, and it worked to some extent. Both Howell and Lester knew that it was risky to leave things as they were, and it was especially important to try to fix things before the Howlter parents got home – and they only had a few hours to do it.