Phil knew all about small town politics.

He'd grown up in one. It might have been wiped off the map by now since it barely managed to scrape by when Phil was a kid. A pathetic collection of farmhouses clustered together near some cobblestone that really didn't pass as a town square. He had fond memories of his childhood, but he'd also known already back then that the world was a lot bigger than the distance from the creek to the hill on the other edge of town and back. And while everybody knowing everybody definitely inspired people to band together during hard times, it was also the prime breeding ground for gossip and nepotism.

Not that those weren't also intrinsic parts of the human experience, Phil wasn't a fucking idiot. But there was something about the makeshift community in small towns that had always tasted bitterly off to Phil rather than saccharine.

If there was one thing Phil learned during his years of traveling since then, it was that no good deed went unpunished.

Kindness rarely came free. Phil had no issue with that so long as everybody was on the same page. He was generally an easygoing guy and extended his own kindness rather unconditionally, but that wasn't the same as extending his trust. He would not be taken advantage of. Naivety went punished in this world almost as quickly as good deeds.

Tommy was the kind of kid that would get eaten alive by the world.

Phil felt bad for him, not unlike how you'd feel bad for pitiful small animals. But Tommy was pretty obviously bored out of his mind. Phil couldn't really see any other explanation for why Tommy had decided to cling to him like a leech. The town they were currently in was a merchant's town first and foremost, not many people lived there permanently. As a result, it managed to have a weird dichotomy in how it felt. Big enough to lose all its small town charm but with so few actual residents that those people still were prone to band together somehow.

It was an 'othering' experience, though not one that Phil wasn't used to. As a traveling salesman, he'd always been the odd one out.

Tommy lived in this town, he belonged there. And yet somehow he didn't. After meeting him once, Tommy started coming by the stand every single day. He'd look at the books at first but then dropped all pretense of wanting to buy something and started chatting with them instead. He told Phil everything about the town, about being an orphan and how the townspeople had helped him, how he wanted to travel when he was older but also wanted to do something to repay the town for its generosity. He talked and talked and talked. And Phil listened.

Then he'd talk too and Tommy hung on every word like he was parched and Phil was pouring him the only glass of water he'd ever had.

Tommy loved hearing about Phil's travels. He kept asking questions and prodding for more stories. Phil didn't mind, he enjoyed recounting his experiences. And God knew the twins were sick of hearing him tell the same events for the millionth time.

Speaking of the twins, Tommy got along with them too. While he mainly seemed interested in Phil at first - there was a nagging feeling there in the back of Phil's mind about parental instincts and Tommy craving for an adult to look up to which he quickly shoved aside because it was a little fucking weird to think like that about some kid he hardly met a week ago – Tommy quickly warmed up to them too. In a way, Tommy reminded Phil of them. He had the same boundless zeal and constant extroverted nature as Wilbur but a certain stubbornness and reckless attitude similar to Techno.

Come to think of it, maybe that's why Phil found himself getting attached to Tommy so instantly.

And part of him already felt guilty for that. Phil loved the traveling lifestyle, and his boys never complained much about it either. They were raised on the road, Phil couldn't see either of them settling down. But they also didn't get to have many friends growing up. Never sticking around anywhere long meant that it was only painful to get invested in people you'd most likely never see again.

Wilbur and Techno had learned to deal with it pretty well. Phil saw Wilbur chat with the girl that owned the local bakery. He noticed Techno had a few short but intense conversations with some guy who sold potatoes (Techno used to farm potatoes in the one place they'd ever stayed over a year at. He said it calmed him down. Phil wasn't aware his interest in the craft had stuck around, but also not exactly surprised by it). Phil wasn't worried about their feelings being hurt when they inevitably moved on in a couple of weeks and had to leave Tommy behind.

He was very worried that Tommy's feelings would be hurt.

"What's this one about?" For what was probably the eighth time in as many minutes, Tommy was holding up a book. The cover was velvety and deep red, with gorgeous gold inlays on the spine.

Phil sighed, more fondness than exasperation. "Mate, if you want to know you should just start reading instead of asking me."

"I don't have time for that," Tommy said. His expression told Phil he was dead serious. "Just give me the shorthand, I'm curious."

Phil took the book from him, turning it over. "Oh, this is a good one actually, one of my favorites. It's about a town that slowly is taken over by monsters."

Kicking his legs from the crate he was sitting on, Tommy looked up at him expectantly. He wanted Phil to tell him the story rather than having to read the book himself. As if he was way more interested in hearing Phil talk and this was simply an excuse.

"A family of vampires moves in and starts turning the people in this small town one by one. Everybody thinks there's just a disease going around killing people, only the doctor notices something's up. But by the time he can convince others, the humans are getting outnumbered."

"Do they kill the vampires by the end?" Tommy asked. "I feel like that's what always happens in these stories. The heroes kill all the bad guys."

"Well, they try but…" Phil put the book back down, smiling at a passerby who didn't stop to look at his wares. It was their loss. "The book switches narrator a lot and so you get to learn more about the vampires. And it's very fucking sad, actually. They are so used to being hunted everywhere they go, they just want a place where they can live in peace and feel safe. They just don't want to feel lonely anymore. The humans get desperate enough to start burning everything and the entire town ends up destroyed either way."

Tommy was staring at him intently. His eyes were deep-set and an autumn brown that reflected the light in weird ways. Ways that almost made them appear red to Phil.

"So you think the vampires are right?" Tommy asked.

"I think human nature is too complicated to divide into just good and evil," Phil said.

Tommy's smile was thin and a bit too amused to feel natural. "I think so too."

For some strange reason, it made Phil very uncomfortable.

Then as if a cloud had shifted away from the sun, Tommy's face brightened. And his eyes were a simple hazel again, reminding Phil of his sons. The change was both so sudden and so convincing, Phil felt incredibly silly for feeling on edge, even just for a second. For thinking that the boy that was staring at him knew more about the world than Phil could ever begin to phantom.

Thus he chalked it up to sleep deprivation. Phil hadn't been having the most restful nights lately. He kept waking up, unable to pinpoint why. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was being watched. But the curtains were closed, the silence only broken by the soft sound of Wilbur snoring away in the other room. Phil always left the door slightly ajar.

He'd sit up, a shiver running down his spine. His throat felt too tight, like he could hardly breathe. An invisible snare closing around his thorax and digging into his skin.

But before he could process it, he would always get sleepy again and go back to bed.

"Explain this one to me?" Tommy asked. He was holding up another book already, the previous one instantly forgotten. Phil relaxed his shoulders.

"Sure."

Tommy knew that they would leave eventually, he was old enough to grasp that at least. Phil was certain of it.

So surely indulging him couldn't do much harm?

"Where the hell are you going this early?"

Wilbur almost fell over because he was trying to get his shoe on his foot while also moving across the room. This resulted in a sort of hopping that looked incredibly comical, if somewhat disastrous if Wilbur were to slam into a wall. It was impressive, honestly.

"I'm meeting up with Tommy," Wilbur said, finally managing to wrangle his laces.

"We usually don't head to the market until noon." In the morning, people sold fish and other fresh food wares. Phil knew from experience not many people dropped by to buy books until the sun started to set.

"So?" Wilbur asked, comically raising one eyebrow. His facial expression told Phil he found his comment to be completely unrelated to the issue at hand, so Phil shrugged.

Wilbur snorted a laugh at his sheepish reaction, grabbing his guitar from where it was leaning against the wall.

"Tommy asked me yesterday if I could teach him a chord or two. Not like I have anything better to do," Wilbur explained. Phil knew they had been hitting it off, but he had no idea Wilbur had gotten this attached this quickly.

"At least have some breakfast first," he said.

"I'll stop by Niki's." Phil had no idea who that was but assumed it could be the girl with the bakery. "Techno's still sleeping but tell him to come by later, we'll be at our secret spot."

Phil tilted his head, sitting down at the small table that served as a desk. These two rooms they were renting were above the town's inn but were fully equipped to serve as a little makeshift home away from home. There was even a kitchen area. "Secret spot?"

"Tommy showed us that there's a little nook beneath the bridge over the river. It's pretty cool, you can sit in the shade and chill." Wilbur opened the door but Phil called after him.

"Wil, you know we're not staying forever."

"Of course I do," Wilbur said dismissively. "Don't let Techno sleep in too late, you know what it does to his mood."

And then he was gone. Phil sighed, rubbing at his face. At this rate, he was going to start to feel guilty.

It wasn't like they'd never made friends with people before in the towns they stayed at. But something about the way Tommy interacted with them, hopeful and desperate and looking for approval. It twisted his gut unpleasantly. The last thing he wanted was to break the poor kid's heart.

Plus, he'd have to deal with a sulking Wilbur. Nobody wanted that.

"If Wilbur slams the door like that again we're going to be kicked out," Techno said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Phil hadn't noticed Wilbur being particularly loud in leaving but didn't want to say it because he'd probably just get some joke about his age and his hearing leaving him.

"I paid to rent the rooms for the next two weeks," Phil said. "So if that happens they better give me my gold back."

"Where did he go in such a hurry anyway?"

"Hanging out with Tommy." Fondly, Phil watched Techno walk over to his bed and fall down on it face-first. He really was the worst in the mornings.

Techno's response was muffled in the pillow, though it sounded vaguely teasing in nature. Most likely at Wilbur's expense. Phil reached over for an apple that he'd bought the day before and left on the table. For some reason, he had little of an appetite.

He hesitated for a moment, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Do you think that's, like… concerning?"

"What?" Techno asked, enunciating a little more clearly after lifting his chin an inch or two. "Wilbur and Tommy hanging out?"

"I don't know," Phil said. There was still something he couldn't place his finger on that he didn't want to voice out loud.

"You know how Wilbur is," Techno mumbled. "He's just relishing being the center of somebody's universe for a change since he's definitely not the favorite child. He needs to get attention somewhere."

Phil laughed at the joke, chasing away some of that stubborn worry stuck at the back of his mind. "If you keep being so cheeky I'm going to end up disowning you both."

"And I'll mourn losing out on my inheritance which is a book collection that nobody wants to buy," Techno said with a chuckle. Phil flipped him off, though Techno ignored it. "Seriously, it's fine. The kid adores him. And you too, he never shuts up about you. It's annoying."

"He seems to look up to me for some reason," Phil conceded.

"Must be the dad vibes you give off."

"Wilbur said you should meet up with them later. At your 'secret spot'." He didn't even bother to try and conceal his amusement at the nickname.

"Maybe after a nap," Techno said, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. Phil laughed.

With all the other things going on, it was comforting to know some things never changed.

The day was slow going, so Phil was pretty bored. Wilbur and Techno hadn't come to keep him company for a change, probably because they were once again hanging out with Tommy. They left early to visit Niki because she was ill, then the three of them went on little adventures around town. Phil didn't mind - not beyond that nagging feeling of him needing to make sure everybody's expectations aligned - but it did make time feel as if time was crawling by.

At least until some sort of ruckus across the square drew Phil's attention.

Glancing around to confirm it wasn't likely somebody would steal his books while he was checking things out, Phil headed over to the cluster of people gathered around. He got a few shifty glances for his trouble, nothing unusual because again: small town politics were rarely open to outsiders. But whatever issue they had with him must pale in comparison since they quickly turned their attention to each other again. And to the piece of paper hurriedly nailed to a wooden noticeboard in the middle of town.

There had been a murder.

Phil blinked, not really registering what he was looking at for a moment. The descriptions were painfully lackluster, clinical and almost devoid of emotion. But somebody was killed, right there in the town. And the perpetrator had not been caught.

Anxious whispers rippled through the crowd around him, soft little tones of worry or more pressing words of warning. The killer must still be around, they said. Phil didn't exactly agree with that, wouldn't it be more likely for whoever did this to flee town?

But then he read what else it said on the notice and he understood.

Nothing stolen, a body completely massacred. An act of senseless violence, or something with personal motivations? This poor guy got fucking torn to shreds. Whoever did this wouldn't just walk away from it.

Another few shifty-eyed looks were thrown his way and Phil retreated back to his stand. He could feel them glaring like daggers digging into his back.

Their suspicion would fade soon enough, Phil wouldn't take it to heart. When something like this happened, strangers were the first people turned on. But when that first reaction of paranoia and doubt faded, there would still be a murderer on the loose. That was a much bigger issue.

Phil should tell Wilbur and Techno to not go anywhere alone for the time being. Traveling in pairs would be much safer. Tommy too, Phil would hate it for him to get caught up in all this. Until this was all sorted out, maybe it would be better for the boy to stay with them even? There was a fourth bed in their rooms, technically. It would be better than Tommy living all by himself.

Quickly, he started to pack up his books. He could sell more tomorrow.

When he left, Phil threw one more look at the notice and it struck him he recognized the name of the victim. Vaguely, he recalled the man that spoke to Techno about potatoes. Who invited Techno to come and check out his farm even, chest puffed in bragging bravado.

(Tommy had grabbed Techno's sleeve and pouted, telling him he couldn't ditch Tommy and Wilbur because he promised to hang out. The expression on his face inching just a tad too close to anger when Techno shrugged and said he could do both.)

What a strange coincidence.

Odd looks trailed him on his way back to their rented rooms.