A/N: I HAVE RETURNED. MWHAHAHAHA. ALRIGHT.

Cassandra Cat: Thank you! Canon would be when a ship is real, and non-canon would be when it isn't. Here is the next one!

Polydactyly Zodiac: Ooo I like that one. Cool. Thanks! Here is more!

Shadowfang14: Lol, well, thanks!

This chapter…this is a soft chapter and I apologize if it seems like some people are out of character, but it's just so...out of it a bit. I think it's because now Wirt's getting back into the swing of things, so I'm doing just the same thing to adapt to his character being one hundred percent him. Just as a forewarning, this isn't my best writing (in my opinion). On we go…

Wirt's POV:

Wirt could only describe the feeling he was having currently as being high. Not that he'd ever been that way himself, but the exhilarating thing that was coursing, no, rushing through his veins, was so shocking and fresh, and cold, that he could feel it affecting every part of him. Oh, the first time they'd kissed, that had been something, but now…now that he had done it with meaning and with purpose…everything was sharper, and clearer. Beatrice was guiding him over the creek now, the mill in sight. He wasn't sure he wanted to face his brother or Lorna in this state; he knew he looked bad but he also felt so-so amazing, that he figured he would sound wrong if he spoke. Greg would be confused, but Lorna would know.

The multiple wounds along his body hurt so unbelievably much that he held back every groan as each step was taken. He refused to let it hurt him. Wirt felt so high that he was able to block out the pain and hold down the groan. Beatrice didn't need to know what he was feeling. In fact, he wished she hadn't had to see what had happened. Thinking about it wasn't something he could do, it made his head hurt more than anything. The Beast had lost. That was all that mattered.

One single groan as they stood at the door while Beatrice knocked was all he emitted that entire time. Her dark eyes scanned his face; he knew she didn't like the state he was in.

"Keep going a little longer, Wirt." It was in a sad tone, not a concerned or cautious one that Beatrice said this in. Like she knew he was suffering, but also was careful to say anything wrong that might offend him.

With a slow nod, he tried to get his body upright the tiniest bit. It was an effort, as most of it was leaning against Beatrice, but it worked somehow. The Woodsman was the one to open the door. First just a crack, as if he was scared of who was answering, but then he thrust it open wide. Wirt saw something on the old man's face that he had never seen before on it. Shock. Utter, pure, amazement and shock. It was all the old man could do to continue staring until Beatrice cleared her throat swiftly, and Wirt sent a silent thanks to her in his mind.

"Get in here, get him on the couch, quickly now!" With a bit of a cry, the Woodsman came and assisted Beatrice and picked up the other end of Wirt's body. He gave a small groan as his leg was touched, but ignored it, and let them carry him in.

The couch was the most comfortable thing Wirt had felt in a long, long time. His back practically melted into it. Sleep had not been a friend of his for quite a while; he hadn't realized just how much he'd missed it. The sounds of Greg bouncing into the room, demanding to see Wirt, and Lorna holding him back slightly, brought his drifting mind back to the present. Beatrice was now standing over him with bandages, and the Woodsman was taking large swabs of some sort of cloth and dunking them in what looked like water. They hadn't applied anything yet, but Wirt could tell they were going to as soon as things were ready. It was going to hurt.

The surest thing that had come out of the past few hours, as far as Wirt could tell, was that he had experienced pain, true pain, and even this would never compare to the demon's torture.

"Do not fall off this couch out of pain." Beatrice commanded when she caught sight of his eye. He could only nod. "And grab my hand if you need something to take ahold of." She said this a bit quieter, loose red hairs nearly in his face, eyes shining with worry.

"Got it." It was definitely a grunt that came out of him now, but he ignored how horrible he sounded.

The wet cloth was soon cleaning the various wounds on his body. Wirt never would remember much of those few moments, just like the minutes spent fighting the Beast's spirit. It was about as painless as anything while they performed the rituals. Beatrice took his hand in hers before he asked her, as if it was something comforting. If it was, he was fine with letting her hold it. The bandages were not fun to put on; they kept having to lift up the limb or his entire body just to wrap it around him. Wirt had taken note already that most of his shirt was gone, and his pant leg, at least the injured one, was mostly gone as well.

And then, as quickly as everything always went, it was done. Beatrice stepped back, breaking free of his grip, and the Woodsman gave a small smile at him as they stood there, breathing heavily. Wirt couldn't find the strength to lift his head at all; but he allowed the corner of his mouth to perk up a little bit.

"You're a brave soul, boy. That was not an easy feat, defeating the Beast. I have no doubt in my mind that it was hard. I'm amazed you survived." The Woodsman looked at the floor saying this.

"I'm just as amazed as you." He gave a sigh; glad he could talk without sounding quite as dead as he felt.

"Wirt?" Greg was right there, large eyes looking up at him with a bit of fear.

"I'm so sorry, Greg," everything broke inside of him as he looked at the younger boy, who was holding the frog, "it was not a good idea to let you…"

"Wirt!"

He suddenly found he was being tackled by the boy, who had managed to get up on the couch. Wirt smiled against Greg's shoulder, despite the small shooting pains up his body. Greg was clutching him like he was going to float away and leave him if he didn't. The scary thought was that it had probably felt like that for Greg the entire time. Wirt tried to hide the sudden tears that threatened to appear at the rim of his eye, it was bad enough he wanted to cry from the pain and soreness. Beatrice was watching them both from the other end of the room, but he sent her a smile before turning back to Greg, who had finally gotten up and was grinning at him again.

"Lorna's helping in the kitchen. I'm helping with dinner, Wirt! I'll make yours special!" Greg bounced off, Jason Funderberker in tow. The Woodsman gave a chuckle.

"It was right of you to apologize, but it took something, didn't it, eh?"

"Yes."

Everything felt a little cheesier now. The feeling grew as Beatrice approached, and the high tingling sense returned to him. It was something more electric than "high" now, something he felt he could grow used to. After what they'd gone through earlier…anything was better than that. Wirt felt more mature than he ever had, but for some reason, he felt like Beatrice would always be more mature than him. She sat down next to him on the couch, hand reaching for his, giving a quiet smile.

"That was…I didn't think of you like that, ever, Wirt. Being the, well, you know, hero of it all, destroying some evil thing or other…you're just so unlike that in every way." Beatrice said very quietly.

"I…I get it." He sounded really weak, but it wasn't like that was shocking or anything.

"But… what if I don't?" Beatrice suddenly turned away. "You're going to go back now Wirt, I can't hang onto you like this anymore, the truth is…you don't belong here. We all know it. You and Greg…We'll talk about this some other time but … I'm sorry, Wirt."

It was such a sudden change of temperature and attitude that Wirt just stared at her as she got up and left the room. He had not realized the truth until now. The Beast had kept down any hopes of home before, even when it was just him in charge of his body, and so the realization that he did have to go back…it hurt. Even if he was well aware that if Greg had to go home alone and he tried to stay here, it would be too harsh on Greg. Wirt moaned at the thought that he was going to have to move anytime soon.

The sooner they got back, the better, and he knew it. Beatrice probably did too, and Greg must've been aware of it somewhat. Or he would be. Time was short when one needed to get back to their own place, and perhaps it would be fine, but for some reason, a sinking feeling had emerged in his stomach. The real world was so different…was it even the real world?-The very thought made his head hurt.

For a little while, he managed to catnap, but far too soon, it was dinner time. Maybe they had to leave after dinner. Greg would be sad, but Wirt would be heartbroken.

"We have to talk about your options now." Beatrice addressed it almost immediately as they had sat down and begun to eat.

"Options for…what?" The mystified look Greg sent around nearly caused Wirt to stand up and leave now, for it hurt to think that Greg was trying to be as oblivious to the obvious as he was.

The Woodsman gave a light chuckle, "For going home, young traveler."

"Well, our parents will be happy." Greg sounded disappointed, but Wirt knew he was also looking forward to their parents, as the boy was particularly attached to them. Wirt didn't blame him.

"Yes, they will." Beatrice was avoiding his gaze; things weren't going to be okay, as if they ever would. "You're leaving after dinner. We decided to send you quickly. It's best to … for everyone, and especially those back where you come from."

"What if we don't want to go quickly?" Brown eyes looked up into his, Wirt knew he was expected to have an answer and not for the first time, he had none.

"It's for the best."

The remainder of dinner was silent; Wirt chose to not speak at all. He hated to talk about anything with such pain in his heart. Beatrice didn't look at him once. He didn't see how he'd made her angry, but at the same time, he knew it wasn't that. They were not going to see each other again. It would never happen. As much as it hurt to think that-and it did more than any part of his body that hurt-he knew it was true.

The last fork to hit the plate was his. He had eaten slowly, it hurt to move pretty much anything, and so when he looked up, everyone was looking around in fear. Beatrice was the first to stand, and she came over to him, eyes looking over his face. Then she took a hand and put it on his arm, pulling him up gently so he was leaning on her. The others followed behind as they began slowly walking out the door and down the steps, and out to the creek where it had all started.

A/N: Guys it's still not the end I'm not sure how to say this but…until next time! Which will hopefully be soon. Once more, I'm sorry if this chapter seemed like crappy writing...it just wasn't good material or something currently I guess I'm just struggling to write it. But hopefully the next chapter is much better writing. Thanks for reading and putting up with me! I hope you enjoyed, and please, review, review, review!