"Come now, Peach Pot. We ain't gonna hurt ya, ya know that." The Tavern-keeper cooed in her high voice, petting Wirt's head softly while Auntie Whispers held him in place on a table.
The women were in The Tavern, Lorna holding a medical kit and having a worried look on her face. Auntie Whispers and Lorna had been on a rare errand together and had come across a panicked and irate Wirt, calling out for Greg, his singing more or less wails while he leaned against one of the thin trees near The Tavern.
They'd all known Wirt and Greg ever since The Beast brought them there and most of the residents, though keeping hesitation at times, were friendly and knew the boys were simply trying to survive, so when The Siren was out most of the time and there was no younger brother alongside him, the intuitive residents grew worried, but could never catch a time to find out what was happening.
"Are we-*cough-sure this is wise?" Lorna asked, taking one step forward.
"It will be okay, Lorna. I doubt he will pass from these." Auntie Whispers' low voice assured, her, like her sister Adelaide, being some of the oldest residents and of the few who dealt with The Beast differently; Adelaide in awe and Auntie Whispers' in indifference.
"Haven't seen 'im since his brother brought those strangers to my Tavern. Can't recall who they were." The Tavern-keeper spoke up, bringing out some meat scraps to see if a full belly would help heal, as it used to.
"What do you need from me, Auntie?" Lorna asked, trusting the old woman and walking a bit closer.
"The Siren has always been different from The Beast, but like him, he is sturdy and stubborn. He also will not hold ill will towards who hurt him." She smiled, trying to make sure everyone was calm, as it would hopefully help their poor friend do the same and allow them to assess his wounds, oily blood slowly dripping down the table and onto the covered floor below it.
Lorna nodded, understanding Auntie Whispers was right. Wirt was sweet. The Siren was probably hunting and the resident who'd injured him simply fought back. A trait keeping them alive.
"I'm gonna have to burn this thing and replace the wood now." The Tavern-keeper sighed, frowning as Wirt didn't take the food, only responding to Greg's name and calling it out, head turning and pinpricked eyes scanning passed everything, the name still like a high wail out of his mouth.
"I apologize that you will, Tavern-Keeper…he is still wailing for his brother and won't lay still, could you put away the food?" After a pause, she asked, "Have you heard any gossip, Tavern-Keeper?" Auntie Whispers asked, hoping they could find answers.
The Tavern-keeper hummed, placing the tray down and tapping her chin to think. "Not sure. I hear lotsa things goin' around. I'll think while I put this away and get more rags."
'Poor Wirt. He looks so frightened.' Lorna thought, observing her once-crush and hoping they could help find Greg, of whom she was worried for now as well. If he wasn't with Wirt, she couldn't bear to think of what dangers one of her turtles could be in.
"Lorna, be a dear and pass me the scissors and grab a candle for some more light." Auntie Whispers asked, holding out a black smeared hand, her having been poking him to see where the worse of the injuries could be before she decided to heal as much as she could.
While the women saw a panicked creature, cornered and in pain, that's how Wirt felt. He saw them, clearly, could hear them speak though it sounded muffled, like when Greg would cry as a tot and his father would force a starving Wirt to listen from afar, unable to go comfort his brother, even when his instincts had him screaming and crying to be freed.
He couldn't describe his feelings ever since he returned.
Out of body…was probably the closest to fit, even as he struggled through the finger numbing cold, sluggishness of his body and tried lifting his arms to push Auntie Whispers away.
With that forehead kiss, he'd given up, he would admit. He forced back his feelings deep in his Human heart and let those dark thoughts, the impulses, his natural desire he'd fought for years, free. Let them wash over him and allow his mind to numb and ignore the him that kept yelling at how cruel he was being. At how he was a fool to do as his father wanted and not lean on Dipper.
He'd fought for so LONG…he was tired of it.
Then, to survive, he'd searched for his lantern.
It had been fine at first. He simply hunted, knew in that Human chest of his that he was overindulging when he'd hunt so much.
Then, he'd sneak from his territory to check on his lantern, which just seeing him from afar, the deep blue-to-sickly purple flame snaring part of Greg's own vibrant, burnt orange flame, was enough to keep that Human part of him close in panic (and a cowardice he chose to ignore) and yet calm the base level instincts that had him so violent and dangerous to anyone else.
At times, he would hunt just so his father couldn't gather more Edelwood. Just so his father could starve for a bit. His instincts saw his father as a threat, yet loved him dearly.
On some nights, when his Human heart was wracked with nightmares and his instincts unable to understand why, he'd travel to Greg, in hopes of stealing him back, in a split second of Humanity, even if that meant destroying his current protector; their mother.
But…then if he strayed too close, he'd see his father with not only his own lantern, but Wirt's first one. The one his father made in a hurry as Wirt was born too soon. His father would take the small thing and walk almost too close to his mother's house, causing Wirt to freeze in place before bolting away.
"Gre~~g…" he wailed. All he could see were cores of Edelwood oil within the women he knew. None were his lantern. He couldn't feel Greg. It was cold. "Co~~~~ld…", he could make out. It was all…cold. Where was Greg? He had to find Greg NOW! What if their mother decided to hide Greg from Wirt before she attacked him? What if he picked up Wirt's bad habits and she let him have it?!
With a new bout of energy at his realization, part of it as if the monster he was realized his own was in danger, his panic and fear turning to rage quickly, he thrashed more, baring his fangs with Edelwood oil and saliva dripping from them and he snarled. "RELEASE ME NOW!" He tried struggling, but Wirt wasn't known for his physical strength as Auntie Whispers put pressure on his torso and Lorna returned, going to assist her aunt.
"Wirt! Please, calm down! We're trying to help!" Lorna hacked momentarily after from raising her voice in her sudden panic of Wirt's mood swing, her hands on his clavicle and her own grip firm. "You'll continue to bleed like this!"
"I thought you said this would calm him! Get him out of my Tavern before he breaks something!" The Tavern keeper yelled, walking out and dropping the rags, seeing his shadows reacting to his emotions.
Auntie Whispers still tried to hold him still, trying to be gentle as well, but the oil and blood caused her hands to slip, Wirt taking his chance and sitting up with a speed that told of him wishing to escape but a unhealthy amount of blood splattered to the wood below. Ignoring the head throbbing pain and dizziness, Wirt attempted to stand quickly, preferring to run than attack, his mind solely on his lantern, but was stopped by the feeling of his chin against a soft clothed shoulder and dainty arms embracing him.
With a growl, he gripped Lorna's middle, claws digging and tearing into her apron and dress. He could vaguely hear Auntie Whispers and The Tavern-Keeper gasp. He suddenly couldn't do much else, his body heavy and mind slowing as the blood loss continued.
"It's okay, Wirt. We're here-*cough, cough*- I don't know why you're like this and been so for so long, but we'll help find Greg so- *cough, cough, cough*-come back to us, please?" She asked sweetly, though knowing it would hurt him, she couldn't help the little squeeze she gave to emphasize how serious she was and how much she cared for him. "R-remember the songs-*cough*- and dancing with Greg and starting the fire-*cough, cough*- with tea when Auntie was out?" She fought the nausea at the reek of blood, both old and fresh and old meat on him. Tears came to her eyes, remembering it herself. "Even for a little…come back…my turtle." She whispered, missing her friend and his stories of a world she could never experience, nor would she wish to.
"Lorna, it's dangerous." Auntie Whispers warned, getting closer with her arms reached out incase Wirt attacked.
The Tavern-keeper kept her distance but held a broom incase.
"I'm fine, Auntie. I trust Wirt." Lorna smiled, though she would admit she was frightened. If word of the The Siren being on a rampage for years was true…there was a slim chance her best friend was still in there. But she had hope. He and Greg always told her to have hope. So she did.
Wirt's eyes widened, the bags underneath them hollow. Lorna…trusted him?
'"…if we're gonna trust you to get us home, you gotta trust us too."
"Didn't all of us tell you, over and over, to communicate with us?! STOP FUCKING TAKING ON ALL THE BURDEN! Listen!"'
More oil mixed with water dripped from Wirt's eyes. 'I miss them. I want Dipper to hold me again! I want to be happy again, in my little bubble I had for that short time in Gravity Falls! I DON'T WANT TO BE THE SIREN ANYMORE!'
The shadows began to recede and the ashen color that had been covering Wirt's being for years began to fade away, his pinpricked eyes turning iridescent as the tears continued to flow, his nose running. 'Oh no…it's bubbling to the surface…I'll break my promise at this rate and Father might try and kill them again!' he thought as his grip loosened. His vision blurred and he lost all his strength. "…Lorna…" he spoke, voice rough from years of singing and head throbbing before everything went black, him passing out, Lorna being the only reason he was still sitting, his weight against her heavily, though he was light.
Lorna almost panicked at it, his limp body, but the sight of Auntie Whispers' smile and soft gaze made her look questioning to her. "Auntie? Is he alright?"
"He is still half Human after all. There's hope for him." Auntie Whispers went to help with him, finally able to see his wounds and tend to them while The Tavern keeper huffed, both at all the blood and with relief.
"That Pilgrim owes me a new table and that area of flooring." She huffed, a hand to her chest as she decided to make them all tea and grab some clean rags for Auntie Whispers. Perhaps even something warm and full of iron for her Pilgrim.
Near Sara's Edelwood stood The Beast, The Woodsman, and Mildred.
The Beast held out Wirt's lantern towards The Woodsman, the small blue flame within quivering as if one wrong move and it would blow out.
The Woodsman looked to The Beast, unsure what that meant. He huffed out his nose when Mildred wrapped her arms around one of Beau's, the crazy bastard having revealed his Human guise. "Why are you holding onto him like that, Mildred?" He asked, his nose crinkled. He knew Wirt wouldn't like they were near his friend's tree, The Woodsman unsure where the boy even was and it left a bad feeling in his bones.
"The Other side, of course. Beau promised to take me. It's been so long." She grinned, her face similar to Wirt's, even when smiling.
"But you're DEAD. You wouldn't have a body to go to, unlike Gregory and Wirt. That is, if I recall correctly?" The Woodsman looked suspiciously to Beau, who didn't smile except for the corner of his mouth, his icy blue eyes crinkling slightly.
"Quite nosy, Woodsman." Beau spoke, his vines thick and wrapping tightly around the tree, wet and dripping with oil.
"Of course I am." The Woodsman didn't elaborate more, until a gasp left his mouth and one hand reached out as Edelwood oil began to leak from the cracking bark, "NO! Leave that one be!" He took a few quick steps forward.
"Why? She means nothing to you, Woodsman. Besides, why not put Wirtham's hard work to use?" Beau laid a hand against it, feeling a sense of glee. He loved his son, he was part of The Beast, after all, but he would admit he spoiled him too much. He should have removed Wirtham's heart when he was a child. But…oh, well.
"If you feel the need to torture him so, why did you have him?" The Woodsman scowled, then sent an equally seething glare to Mildred. He'd only met her a couple times but he never liked her and it wasn't his place. Even now, he had questions for her, but Beau got his attention again when he gathered some of the Edelwood oil and filled the small lantern, looking at it softly for a moment, like he was recalling a fond memory.
"What's that look about, Beau? Hey, how long have you had that rickety old thing? That's-" Mildred began, Beau setting it down and sending her a look and squeezing her waist with one hand, effectively shutting her up.
With his other hand, he raked his claws against the tree, slicing through like the axe The Woodsman still held, opening it to create an opening.
"DON'T! BEAU! If you have any care for him-" The Woodsman tried running towards them, but Beau's vines wrapped around his legs swiftly, sending him tumbling to the ground.
"Let's go, my lady." Beau said, bowing slightly and kissing the hand Mildred gave. "I have quite the surprise for you when we return." He practically purred lowly, leading her through first, even as they both became drenched in the Edelwood oil.
The Woodsman couldn't follow, not only because he had no physical form outside The Unknown, but because the moment the end of Beau's cloak went past the threshold, oil drenched vines slithered around the tree like starving snakes, essentially closing it, the vines spreading and snaring through the bark and deep into the wood. "Why?" His voice quivered, standing on his old legs and looking long and hard at Sara. "Why have him if you are only going to harm him?" With a sigh, he bent down and grabbed the lantern, the flame a little darker, a little bigger, but not by much. It was small, like the wooden pails Aren would play with as a child. He wondered if Wirt knew about it? "Beau…what are you doing now? If you could travel with this, why go after the tree?" The Woodsman breathed through his nose, holding the lantern close as he took one more look at the Edelwood before going back, thinking of where to go to find the boy.
"Gotcha!" Greg laughed, having thrown a water balloon at Beatrice, the Bluebird unsuspecting.
"Ack! Greg!" She complained, but didn't warn him when one was tossed at him.
"Who-?" He asked, the water freezing against his back, turning to see Dipper snickering, having taken a break from the hot sun. "DIPPER! I'm telling Wirt you betrayed me!" He gasped and stuck out his tongue, making some hand motions to boot.
Dipper laughed at that before running to lift the child in the air, squeezing. "Not if I make you swear you won't!" He began twirling in a circle, hoping to make Greg dizzy.
"Nonononono~~!" Greg yelled, beginning to feel sick but didn't want to give in.
"Ah!" He heard Dipper yell and almost fall with them both but was able to catch his footing as he continued to get sprayed with water. "What the Hell, Grunkle Stan!" Dipper yelled after he set Greg down and they both caught their balance, all while Grunkle Stan wouldn't let up on the water gun.
"Hahahaha! Never bring a water balloon to a water gun fight, kid! You'll always lose." He laughed evilly, seeming to have a supply at his feet.
"Grunkle Stan, that's cheating." Dipper pointed, liking the cold, but hating Grunkle Stan kept shooting only him with the water gun.
"You don't see any cops around here, do you? Anything is fair game." He grinned.
"Yeah!" Greg smiled too, knowing how to get away with a lot more than cheating at a game.
"Dipper! Can I speak with you?" Grunkle Ford called out passed Grunkle Stan, rolling his eyes at his more rambunctious twin.
Dipper nodded, ruffling Greg's wet hair. "Yeah, of course. Don't listen to anything Grunkle Stan tells you." He warned, knowing the old man would fill Greg's head with criminal knowledge and he would prefer not having to tell Wirt (when they found him) that his brother was a criminal in training.
Greg stood straight, saluting. "Yes!" He waited until Dipper nodded and went to speak with Grunkle Ford before he looked to Grunkle Stan with a mischievous smile, showing his other hand with his fingers crossed, the action having Grunkle Stan rolling with laughter until his dentures fell out.
Dipper found Grunkle Ford looking at the calendar. "What's up, Grunkle Ford? Need help with an experiment?" He grabbed a dish towel and tried drying off some.
Grunkle Ford turned to Dipper, a small smile there before he cleared his throat. "So…it's been a good few months since Gregory has been staying here and I haven't heard from anyone about how long he's staying. Or for that matter, no letters or calls from his family. Don't look like that, Dipper, I'm simply asking if we need to file any reports, make any calls, or dye his hair and disguise him?" He asked, then sighed when Dipper gave him an uncomfortable look.
Dipper wasn't expecting that, but he supposed they couldn't ignore that for long. But, he supposed he still didn't know much himself. What would they do with him when summer was over? Mabel and Dipper said they were going to a university close, and the Grunkles still went to sea. Speaking of school, did Greg even go? He had to have. They could forge Greg's guardian's signature to enroll him, he supposed.
"Dipper. Hey, are you listening?" Grunkle Ford snapped his fingers in front of his face, startling Dipper from his thoughts.
"Oh, sorry, Grunkle Ford. Uhm, it's a bit complicated. His dad isn't anywhere to be found and his mom is dead. We can't find Wirt at the moment either." He explained, having no troubles saying how it was about the two adults in Greg's life. Thinking about them made his blood boil.
"No one put reports out?" Grunkle Ford's brows raised high in surprise.
Dipper shook his head. "He's safer here. I promised Wirt I'd take care of Greg." He turned his head, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.
"That's something Mabel would do, not you, Dipper. Wirt is his brother, correct? Did you think about this? So you just took in his brother and yet don't know where he is? Or their father?" Grunkle Ford asked, wishing Dipper would've just explained before this could turn into an unknown kidnapping.
He shook his head. "Just trust us, Grunkle Ford. As long as he's here, we know how to keep him safe."
Grunkle Ford looked long at Dipper before he sighed with a smile. "We'll figure out education later, but I expect you to take responsibility for him." He chuckled, patting Dipper's shoulder on his way out. "I have some things to pick up for my recent invention. I'll be back later this afternoon."
Dipper nodded. "Alright. Hey, will you pick up pizza for dinner? We don't know how to cook." He laughed, Grunkle Ford laughing after and waving as he left, humming a tune.
"Come on, Dipper! Come play before Grunkle Stan gets bored!" Greg yelled, waving for Dipper to come back outside to play with them in the sun, both turning their heads and seeing Mabel and Paz return from an artists convention in Cali. "Mabel! Paz! You're back!" Greg yelled, running to the women to give them first hugs.
Dipper went to help and Grunkle Stan cleared the way of his water guns. "You weren't supposed to be back for another few days. Why so early?" He asked his twin, having no problem grabbing multiple suitcases at a time.
"Mabel got kicked out due to getting into a fight. She's lucky the authorities weren't called." Paz answered for her girlfriend, knowing she'd try and sugar coat it.
"That asshole deserved it! He's lucky I didn't go for his balls!" Mabel yelled in defense.
"Mabel being defensive? What happened?" Dipper laughed. It could've been something mundane to something serious. There was no telling with her.
"That sleaze touched MY Pacifica NorthWest! Then continued to FLIRT with her when I was right there! My arm was literally around her waist. Ugh!" Mabel fumed, becoming irritated all over at the thought.
Paz smiled fondly, even as she opened her mouth to defend, noting he only brushed against her shoulder and that Paz ignored the flirts.
While they brought the things in and listened to the girls stories, Dipper and Greg got dried off, deciding to call it a day with the water.
In town, Grunkle Ford was getting the ingredients for homemade pizza, thinking it would be more fun for everyone to make the kind of pizza they'd want, no matter how creative. He was about done when his muscles tensed, a long arm reaching towards the meat next to him.
"My apologies, my good man. The wife wanted this, I was so busy I didn't see you." A deep voice caught his attention and he turned to see the man. He was cloaked in black, even for the hot weather.
Grunkle Ford gave a smile, just a polite one. "Of course."
The man stared at him for a moment. "You're Stanford Pines, yes?"
Ford rose a brow. "I am. How can I help?"
"Yes, well, I know my boys would frequent your home/souvenir shop, and I have been busy the last few months at the hospital with my wife, leaving our youngest, Gregory, with his elder brother, Wirtham. We can't get in contact and their mother is finally well enough to see them after so long in the hospital.
I was wondering if they crashed there for the last while? To prove we're their parents." The dark clad man pulled out a few photos to prove it was true and he wasn't lying. "So, if you don't mind, I can grab my wife and we can follow you there to get them. If they're there, of course? They weren't home." He smiled small.
Ford frowned. "I suppose it should be fine. Might I in-" He went to speak more when a sickly pale woman walked towards the dark clothed man, wrapping her thin arms around his own.
"Beau, I can't find anything Greggy would like." She pouted, some parts of her wrapped in bandages.
"It'll be fine, Mildred. This is Stanford Pines. He has Gregory and Wirtham." Beau spoke.
Ford couldn't explain the smell on the woman, it being hard to ignore since it wasn't there until she showed up. Too much perfume, he thinks. "I just need to check these out and let my family know there's people coming over."
With a nod, the couple went back to their own shopping and while on the way to a more "private" area of the store, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. He was a little famous, so recognizing him wasn't hard, but what Dipper told him versus what he was seeing was setting off alarms. Dipper wouldn't lie to him, but those pictures were both old and incapable of being photoshopped.
He pulled out his phone to call Dipper, since he still thought Mabel and Paz were gone, but someone bumped into him roughly, causing him to drop his phone and to avoid hurting himself, he stumbled against a produce rack but heard a crack under his boot. "Oh, hot Belgian waffles." He grumbled, picking up the broken phone and decided he'd have to risk it, seeing the couple in checkout, where he was headed. "I hope the uneasy feeling is wrong." He put the broken phone in his pocket and went to checkout himself, seeing the couple waiting for him near the front.