This is for the whumptober prompts: PTSD, truth serum, nightmares, traumatic flashbacks, "why wasn't I enough?"


In his dreams, the woods are a lot darker than Techno knows they actually were that night.

Maybe his mind just enjoys playing tricks on him. Maybe the shadows that cut sharply across his memories during sleep are only there to make the paleness of his mother's face stand out to him, so it is easier for him to imagine there were tears in her eyes back then.

There weren't. Why would there have been?

She thought she was getting rid of the monster that had invaded her life and had taken her real son from her.

Except Techno is a human, a child. Her child. And in this nightmare, he feels his fingers wind into the fabric of her skirt more tightly, holding onto it with cold desperation. He is eight years old again and his world has never been bigger than his family's farm. He has never known anything except the rolling green hills he runs across to feel the wind in his hair. The dark woods are frightening to him, making his heart beat faster even more so than his father's grip on his elbow wrenching him away from where he is clinging to his mother.

"Stop that!" his father spits at him. "You don't get to touch her."

Techno's eyes widen in surprise. Not because his father has never yelled at him before - no, he can barely remember a time when that man wasn't raising his voice at him. But because his mother doesn't say anything, holding her hands to her chest and turning away.

She doesn't stop Techno's father from pulling him back and pushing him to the ground.

She always used to. When Techno played with the horses and whispered at them to have secret conversations. When he got so excited he needed to flap his hands because his heart felt like it would burst from his ribcage. When he spat out food because the texture felt weird on his tongue, or he tore off a sweater his grandma knitted since its itchiness drove him up the wall. His father would get angry and his mother would be the calm in the storm that could settle him. She would protect Techno from his father's rage, to remind him that Techno was merely a child. It wasn't his fault.

She was supposed to protect him.

When had things changed?

"Do you have to be so rough with him?" his mother asks, almost mournful. Almost close to what Techno thinks she should sound like. But not quite, as she still doesn't stop Techno's father from curling a hand around his shoulder to keep him pushed to the earth. The grass is cold, a little wet with the dew of early morning. It soaks into Techno's clothes and makes him shiver.

"We can't let it trick us anymore," his father says calmly. There is a harsh sort of disdain in his eyes when he looks at Techno, patience that ran out. "You heard what the elders said. This charade has gone on long enough. I want our son back."

"What are you talking about?" Techno asks, the slight tremble in his voice foreign to his own ears. As if he hadn't seen their worried glances or overheard the whispers.

Once, late in the evening when his parents thought Techno was asleep, he had snuck down the stairs. He wanted to climb outside through the hallway window so he could visit the chickens again. They were nesting. Techno had been spending hours with them already, curious to see the eggs hatch.

Instead, he overheard voices from the living room. His father's deep sighs and his mother's smothered talking. She sounded upset. There was another voice too, somebody Techno didn't recognize. So he slowly shuffled to the door and pressed his palms against it, inching it open into a little crack for him to peer through.

It was one of the town elders. She had long hair clipped up into a bun and was burning candles. The smell was foul, making Techno scrunch up his nose.

"-if it is true." Techno could barely make out her words. He squinted, pressing a little closer to the door. "Its evil presence is all over this house."

"Are you sure?" his mother asked, fingers tapping on the table. "He's so young, maybe he just-"

"What child doesn't speak for days at a time?" Techno's father burst out angrily. His arms swung wildly, stopping his mother in her tracks. "Or the way he zones out? It's not natural. He's dreamwalking, there's no other explanation."

"But-" Techno's mother started, then stopped herself. She looked down, conflicted.

"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear," the elder cut in quickly. She stood behind Techno's mother and put a consoling hand on her shoulder. "This is a burden no parent must bear. But we cannot allow a changeling to reside here, or it will infect the entire town with a fae's curse."

Numbly, Techno's mother buried her face in her hands. There was something there, too close to resignation. Like she was giving in to a truth she had long since known. And she nodded, as sobs tore from her throat.

"What about our real son?" Techno's father asked.

The elder looked at him sympathetically. "If you surrender the fae's offspring to the woods where it belongs, your boy will be returned to you. That is how it's described in all the tales."

Techno stepped back from the door, more confused than ever. He didn't know what they were talking about. Fae? Changelings? These were words that the adults whispered about sometimes, but they'd always shrugged off discussing the matters further. When the kind woman from the village who sold them milk had an infant that never cried, Techno knew that the word 'fae' had passed his father's lips too.

He went back to bed, too scared to be found out for sneaking around. But it wasn't three days later that he was dragged out to the woods in the earliest hours of morning.

The dream always starts when he's torn from his bed and taken into the dark.

"We want our child back." His father has a length of rope looped on his belt. He pulls it off so he can wind it around Techno's shoulders, forcing his arms against his side tightly. Techno squirms, trying to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. His father always hates it when he makes too much noise. "They'll trade you. They have to."

The other end of the rope circles the trunk of a tree. His father pulls on it until Techno can't move, until his spine is pressing painfully into the bark. He pulls on it, but finds himself unable to budge an inch.

His father barely looks at him as he starts to walk away.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" Techno cries out. "Wait, mom-"

His mother looks at him, with those shadows across her face. Techno wants to believe that the soft sunrise is reflecting the tears stuck in her lashes. Maybe he can distract himself from the hatred burning in her eyes.

"Shut up!" she screams back at him. "Shut up, just shut up! Give us our son back!" She's not screaming at Techno anymore, directing her desperate plea to the looming trees around them. "Enough of your tricks, just give me my child back. Please." Her chest hitches once, she turns away. "I just want my child and not this wretched thing."

That's always when Techno wakes up. Maybe it's a mercy because the hours after he was tied to that tree were torturous. Hunger and thirst slowly overtook his senses, the coldness of that winter day creeping into his bones even as the sun rose. His chin fell onto his chest as he faded in and out of consciousness for what felt like days.

Techno snaps out of sleep before all of that haunts his nightmares. He wakes up in a pile of pillows and blankets that smother him, binding him tighter than the ropes did. He starts to push them off wildly, hating that constricting feeling - not being able to stand it for a second longer. He itches to get out. But Wilbur's arms wind around his chest and pull him back.

"Techno, oh Techno. It's okay. I'm here." Wilbur hushes him softly, immediately using his fingers to weave through Techno's hair in gentle motions. "What's wrong, did you have another nightmare?"

Techno shakes his head, though he knows that the way his shoulders tremble gives him away. If there is one thing he learned very quickly, it's that his new family can see right through him. Techno never manages to hide something from them for long, so most of the time he has given up on trying.

This is different, though.

When Phil found him, Techno was nearer to death than he thought possible. For all intents and purposes, the woods should have been his grave. But there was a strange sort of pity in the fae's eyes when seeing him. And Techno - delusional with exhaustion and fever - had looked up at him and smiled. He had given Phil his name when he asked.

His parents would never get their son back.

The fae are wickedly possessive over what is theirs. Techno was surrendered to the forest, to them. He belonged to them the moment he was left there.

Techno never told them how he got to that tree, but he'd always had a sneaking suspicion they knew. He could see it in Wilbur's eyes that narrowed whenever somebody mentioned the village. He could feel it in the way Kristin braided his hair, as she never used any plaits that his mother would use.

Still, as his exhale halts in his lungs and Wilbur whispers reassurances in his ears, Techno finds himself quivering more. And he can't stand to talk about that night, not now.

"You can tell me," Wilbur says. He is stroking along Techno's back, pulling him closer. His body is warm, warmer than a human's would be. It is branded with the light of the sun in his veins, the inhuman nature that burns inside him. Despite his reservations, Techno leans into it.

Yet he also shakes his head and stubbornly holds his tongue. "I don't- don't want to talk about it," Techno manages to say between fragile breaths.

Wilbur frowns deeply, displeased. Techno pushes away from him.

"It's okay, I just want to go back to sleep." He tries to pull the blankets up again as if trying to form a protective barrier between them. It's not enough to get Wilbur's prying eyes off him.

"Don't lie to me," Wilbur says firmly. Even the smallest edge of anger there makes Techno want to cry after the nightmare he just had. But he won't let himself. "You're being difficult."

"And you're being nosy," Techno answers. "Let it go, Wilbur. I'm too tired for this." He burrows down into the nest again, sighing. Wilbur stays silent for a moment longer, long enough for Techno to think he has won.

Another thing he should know better about by now.

"Fine," Wilbur mutters. "Come here, at least drink something before you give yourself a migraine again with all that brooding of yours." He has something in his hand, a glass of clear water cold enough that condensation clings to the outside. Techno's first mistake is not wondering where he got it from so quickly.

Fae magic is weird like that though, so he doesn't bother to question it as he sits up again and takes it. "Will you leave me alone if I do?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to do," Wilbur promises. And since a fae can't lie, it's reassuring.

That's Techno's second mistake.

As Techno drinks, he notices he didn't realize how thirsty the nightmare had left him, skin clammy with sweat. Before Techno knows it the glass is empty and Wilbur is taking it from his hand with a pleased little hum.

"There," Wilbur says, leaning closer to him again. "Doesn't that feel better?"

Techno wants to shrug, to lie back down and just go to sleep and hope that maybe by the time sunrise comes around, he'll have forgotten all about this. Instead, his mouth opens. "Yes."

He blinks, surprised at himself. His head feels… dull, somehow. Not in a bad way - actually quite pleasantly so. As if he can't think beyond the cloying warmth that has settled around him. His fingers scramble against a pillow, trying to get up. He can't.

"Wilbur, what did you do?"

There's a soft chuckle from his brother, fondness translated in the way Wilbur reaches out to pull him down against the blankets again and into his arms. "The same as always, Techno. I'm just trying to help you." His fingers find their place in Techno's hair again, combing their way through the strands tenderly. "And we both know sometimes that means I have to do something you don't like."

Techno really wants to snap at Wilbur, to make it clear how much he does not appreciate this. But whatever magic Wilbur weaved into the drink - aside from making him spill whatever thoughts Wilbur wants for him to reveal - seems to have left him pliant and tired. He can't lift himself away from the softness of the nest. His heart aches for it, craving it almost as much as he craves Wilbur's comfort.

And Techno hates how pathetic that probably makes him.

"Was the nightmare about your parents?" Wilbur asks next.

Not answering isn't even a thought that pops up in Techno's mind, the very notion that he should resist smothered down by the magic's effects. Techno nods. "Y-yeah."

"I figured." Wilbur smiles slightly. Techno thinks he should be offended by that cruel smugness. It's not that his family takes pleasure in his suffering, more so that they love how thoroughly they know him. Techno is theirs, they deserve to read him like a book without a cover.

Right now, with Wilbur's magic settling on his brain like a haze he can sink right into, that doesn't even feel like such a bad thing.

"You know I could go and kill them if you'd like?" Wilbur pulls him closer, so he can press a kiss to Techno's temple and whisper into his ear. "They're terrible fucking people. I should go kill them for hurting you."

Techno shakes his head, hand reaching out for Wilbur's wrist. He doesn't know if the quickened pulse he finds there is his brother's or his own. "Don't."

"Why not?" Wilbur asks.

"I don't-" He blinks, mind feeling so heavy. He can't stop the words from forcing their way out of his throat no matter how much he wants to. "I don't think they deserve it."

Wilbur clicks his tongue. "And you're wrong about that."

Techno closes his eyes. It wasn't a question.

"But I did make a promise," Wilbur continues. He returns to messing with Techno's hair, knowing how it relaxes him. No strange truth serum magic needed to figure that one out. "So it's whatever. I'd just like to know why you think their lives shouldn't be forfeit the moment they abandoned you."

"I still need to ask them," Techno hears himself say.

Wilbur goes completely still, surprised. This is something even he never figured out.

"Ask them what, Techno?"

"Why wasn't I enough?" Techno smothers his answer into the pillow, but it's not sufficient for his brother not to hear.

In the next moment, Wilbur's hold on him tightens. "You are enough, Techno. You always were. It's them that's lacking." A hand brushes at Techno's hair so his face is clearly visible. Wilbur's eyes are piercing, glowing gold in the darkness of the room. It reminds Techno of the woods. "You're perfect and they're the ones who were foolish for not realizing that."

Techno stares back at him, head swimming. He is so tired, the cold and the fear he felt during that nightmare sliding off him like it's nothing. He just feels… content. He feels safe because Wilbur wants him to feel that way. Techno's emotions are like clay in his brother's hands right now.

It'd be terrifying, if it wasn't so full of love.

"Do you believe me?" Wilbur asks.

Techno doesn't break eye contact before answering. "No."

Wilbur laughs, the vibration of it in his chest felt against Techno's skin where he's pulled into his older brother's embrace. "Of course you don't. So fucking stubborn, Techno." Wilbur tucks him under his chin. It makes Techno feel small.

It makes him feel nice, though that might just be the magic's foggy influence prompting him to give in.

"That's alright, I'll keep repeating it until you do," Wilbur tells him.

And Techno knows that a fae never lies.

"Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?" Wilbur asks then. "I mean, if murdering your terrible human family is off the table for now, there's gotta be something else."

Techno reluctantly finds his fingers curling into the fabric of Wilbur's shirt. It is a pathetic mimicking of the grip he had on his mother's skirt, pleading and terrible. His body moving under the magic's power to betray him.

"Stay," Techno says lowly. "Please, don't leave me too."

He hates it, he hates sounding like this.

Wilbur presses another kiss to his forehead this time and smirks against Techno's skin with too much glee for it to not be noticeable.

"Oh, you poor thing. No need to worry about that, Techno. You know we'll never leave you. You're ours to keep forever."

Somehow it ends up sounding more like a threat than a promise.