Chapter 2 of 5

The Game is Afoot

Wilbur was, admittedly, getting twitchy. He had drifted off for a short bit, catching slivers of rest in the warmth provided by the bramble shelter. When he fully woke up though, the sun was up, and Winona still wasn't back.

He snapped into alertness in less than a second, ash skittering away from him as his tail swiped over the recently burnt out fire. "Winona?" He called uncertainly, eyes flicking from side to side. When he heard no response, he wriggled his way out of the brush and stood on the ground outside. The temperature seemed to have taken a shift towards something more pleasant. It was no longer below freezing, and while it was still cold enough to be innately uncomfortable, he could sense warm breezes on the horizon. Slush dripped from his fingers as he pulled himself into a bipedal position, face creased in concern and stress. "Winona!"

Wilbur felt one ear twitch slightly as he heard rapidly approaching footsteps. He twirled around, immediately preparing a defensive posture before relaxing as his companion called back out to him.

"We're here! It's us, we're here!" Winona exclaimed. She broke into his sight, arms out as if exposing herself as an innocent. The act was meant to show that she had no weapons, but the illusion was broken by the glowing blue sword that she held. A few paces behind her, a familiar, very despondent looking child hovered.

"Tyler!" Wilbur immediately shot towards the boy and clasped his hands on Tyler's shoulders. In response, Tyler squirmed and grumbled, pulling away without any real force behind it. "You are in so much trouble mister!" Wilbur scolded. "Where in the world have you been?"

"Be careful with him," Winona warned him gently. Wilbur pulled away on instinct, catching the levels of misery shadowing the child's face. Now that he was looking at Tyler properly, he noticed it looked as though he had been through Hell and back. His fur was dull and matted and sticky to the touch (Wilbur didn't point this out, but he did furiously wipe his hands off in the slushy snow the second he could). He reeked of metallic blood, though laced with something sour and acidic, so likely not his own. His face was stained with green and black sludge, painting his fangs an odd off-shade of sickly yellow instead of gleaming white. A quick examination showed to him that Tyler didn't seem to be injured, save for a small infected-looking wound on his leg, and, once more, his pupil was visible, although this time in a sort of cracked orange glow rather than golden.

All the while, he looked profoundly ill. Where there wasn't blood or strange sludge matting his fur, it was slick with sweat despite the cool temperature. His breaths were harsh and labored and reeking of decay, and his eye, although glowing, was glazed over as if in pain. Wilbur had felt the heat rising from beneath his fur when he grabbed his shoulders.

Wilbur took another step back, frowning deeply. "What... happened?" He asked again, calmer this time. "Winona, where was he?"

The woman shook her head uncertainly. "He was in a... a graveyard." She swallowed hard around the word. A graveyard? He didn't even want to think about the implications of that. "I don't know what happened. He hasn't said much."

"Tyler?" Wilbur said quietly as the boy turned his head away and coughed into his elbow. There seemed to be a real force behind his cough, and Wilbur didn't miss the foul forest-green phlegm that was loosened from the fit.

"It's not going away," Tyler murmured. His voice was as distant as his eyes, cloudy and wavering.

"What's not going away?"

For a moment, Tyler said nothing. Instead, he swayed gently in place as if on the verge of passing out. Finally, he answered: "The goo."

'The goo'. What a fantastic kind-of-answer.

"Come on. Let's at least get somewhere warm. Can you light the fire again, Wilbur?" Winona nodded at the prime ape, who gave a hesitant nod himself. Winona had her hands clenched together, and even though Tyler seemed unaffected by the chill, Winona was shivering faintly.

He kept that in the back of his mind as he led the duo back to the shelter in the brambles. Tyler blinked hazily at it, clearly unsure of his whereabouts. "Where's Wilson?" He asked, his voice slurred ever-so-slightly.

Winona winced in the corner of Wilbur's vision. "We had an… ah… argument." The answer was vague, but Tyler seemed to buy it without any further questions about it. He hummed noncommittally instead.

When the fire was built, Winona hung back slightly, instead leaving plenty of space for the sick boy who seemed entirely uninterested in the heat. Wilbur frowned at her as she massaged her fingers. She caught his eye and gave a tight smile. "I'm fine," she said before he could ask. "I don't think I'm frostbitten at all."

"Whether you are or not, you've been out in the cold too long. Get closer, there's plenty of room." To make his point, Wilbur pressed himself against the opposite side, attempting to create as much open space as possible.

"Wilson would know," Tyler muttered.

"Yeah well, we're ignoring him," Wilbur huffed. "He's a jerk and I'm still mad."

As Winona brought herself closer to the fire, Tyler leaned against her. His eyes were fluttering as if he was struggling to stay awake. Wilbur sighed and inched up on the boy's other side. When Tyler didn't move, Wilbur reached forward and gently began to clean his fur. Grooming was a common bonding time in prime ape society, but having lived on the fringes of it, Wilbur rarely partook in such activities. Yet, at the moment, he couldn't help but focus on how terrible Tyler needed a good groom.

That seemed to be the straw that broke the water beefalo's back. In only a few short minutes, he had all but passed out against Winona, snoring slightly around the congestion in his throat and nose. Wilbur didn't immediately acknowledge this, instead choosing to put all of his focus into cleaning his fur without waking him up or startling him.

"What… happened?" Wilbur asked Winona quietly. The woman said nothing for a moment, instead continuing to massage her fingers with hyperfocus. Then, she shrugged.

"I… I don't know exactly," she admitted. "I was just looking around like I said I would and I nearly tripped over… over a grave." She shuddered. "Wilbur, there were so many graves. I didn't even know that many people came to this world, let alone this deep into it. It was dark so… I really couldn't see anything. He attacked me." Winona lowered her head. "He wasn't acting right. He wasn't acting like Tyler or Webber. More like… he was acting on pure instinct."

"Like a normal spider," Wilbur guessed darkly. Winona nodded, then froze very suddenly as the movement disturbed Tyler. As soon as he settled again, she looked back at Wilbur.

"Then, he seemed to break through for a moment, and I…" The handywoman ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching on tangles and knots. "This… thing happened. I just started… saying things, but it wasn't anything I wanted to say. Like something was speaking through me."

Wilbur went still as something icy tore through him. Something… speaking through her? But… the only one who should be able to do that is… "Nightmare?" He choked. Winona's face immediately lit with alarm and she visibly flinched.

"No, no. Absolutely not. It wasn't anything like that. It was just these weird questions. Like… like what happened with Wilson last time."

"I noticed the orange glow," Wilbur said after a moment. "You think that was it? What was the 'thing' this time?"

"Tenacity."

"Tenacity." It had a sad note when Wilbur repeated it. He pressed his palms into his eyes with a heavy sigh. "To think he hadn't already achieved that…"

"This is so wrong. It's all wrong." Winona returned to rubbing her fingers, with a bit more force this time.

"There's nothing we can do to stop it," Wilbur answered grimly. "He's the Young Heir. No matter what we do or how we try to stop it, it's destiny."

"Well, destiny and I have always been at odds," Winona growled. "We will all get out of this together."

"Winona…" Wilbur sighed. "It doesn't work like that."

"Well it will!" She exploded. "I don't care about what some old cave rhino says, we will stay together after this. We'll find a way to save Charlie, stick it to William, and take everyone home."

"Winona, we can't-"

"Why not?! What is stopping us? Is it because you think you and Tyler wouldn't be able to fit in? We'll find a way, I swear! I know that Charlie and I could come up with something, and then nobody has to worry about darkness or freezing to death or monsters ever again! We can find a way to make it work-!"

"It won't, Winona!" Wilbur shouted. He flipped around to face her and abandoning his task of grooming Tyler's fur. Guilt and pain flooded through his system at the look of pure betrayal on her face. He felt his shoulders slumping and he turned his back to her to add more fuel to the fire instead. "It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?" Her voice was something sad, almost begging.

"Tyler and I are natives," Wilbur said quietly. "We're bound to this world by a force stronger than anything else. If we tried to go to any other world, we would be torn apart for the attempt. The only thing that might be able to break that bond is Nightmare, and even that is doubtful. It would take so much raw power to break it that nobody can even wield it without perishing only seconds later." He swallowed, preparing himself to say the harsh truth despite how badly he didn't want to. "And… I think Charlie would be bound too."

He didn't have to look at her to know that she had stiffened in fear, perhaps anger. Anger at him or the rules of the land? He couldn't tell.

"Why would you say that?" The question was posed with a tight voice, almost through gritted teeth.

"With any luck, that isn't the case. I just can't help but be worried given that she is Nightmare's vessel. That fact alone might bind her to this world as much as Tyler and I."

"So that's it, huh? There's no chance of saving either of you?" Wilbur could hear the defeat in her voice. He turned to face her again, trying all the while to ignore the pure pain written all across her face.

"I have a home," Wilbur reminded her softly.

"Does he?" She dipped her head towards the boy leaning against her, who had somehow remained asleep despite their raised voices.

"He has a home with me either way."

While this clearly wasn't the exact answer she wanted, it seemed to be enough. There was still a deeply pained expression on her face, but there was only so much they could do. They were doing the best with what they had.

"You know we're gonna have to go back to camp soon, right?" Winona sighed. "It seems like we might be able to leave the world now, and we both know how impatient Tyler got the last time we waited."

Wilbur puffed out his cheeks in frustration. "He wanted to leave Tyler behind! I say we leave him behind and see how he likes it."

"We're not going to do that. He may be acting unnecessarily rude, but he's still just as deserving of freedom as he was before this."

In my land, I would gladly throw anyone like that into the volcano. The jerk tax. Even then, he knew very well that they wouldn't leave Wilson behind. If nothing else, then because he might still be needed for further trials. Otherwise, Wilbur would gladly cause a nasty 'accident' to happen to the scientist just for bringing Roslyn and Elizabeth into the argument. He must have been making a face, because Winona reached over and shoved him lightly.

"Just as deserving," she repeated, more stern than before. Wilbur rolled his eyes but didn't argue the point, even if he thought it was extremely incorrect. "We'll let Tyler sleep and when he wakes up we'll see if he feels up to a bit of traveling, okay?"

Honestly, Wilbur thought with a grimace. If we wait until he feels up to it, we might be waiting for a while. He didn't share the thought, but he knew it must have crossed Winona's mind as well, for the concern creasing her face seemed to grow deeper as she watched the boy's breathing, heavy and labored even in his sleep.

…

He didn't realize he had closed his eyes until he found himself startled awake. At first, he laid still and kept his eyes closed, trying to figure out the situation before actively participating in it. He heard Winona gently speaking, coaxing Tyler back into a sitting position as the boy coughed violently. Wilbur pushed himself onto his feet as he glanced over at his companions. He could tell by smell alone that Tyler had been sick, although really all he saw was more of that repulsive green-black goo. His eye was open, although watery and bright with fever.

"Is he okay?" Wilbur asked. Winona only shot him a worried glance before putting her attention back on Tyler. The prime ape shifted closer and peered closer at the sludge. The smell was awful, like rancid meat, or a rotting carcass. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, or why there was apparently such a build up of it in Tyler's lungs and stomach. It wasn't until the sour, acidic smell hit him again that he realized what it reminded him of.

"Tyler, what have you been eating since we last saw you?" Wilbur tried to keep the panicked note out of his voice, but inevitably failed. The boy winced as he was addressed, but he didn't respond. He panted hard, clearly still trying to catch his breath after being sick. Winona kept her hand on his back, steadying him.

"Has he been eating?" Winona asked cautiously. He didn't seem prepared to answer any questions himself, so Wilbur turned his attention to the woman instead.

"I've seen this before. Or at least, something similar."

She nodded for him to continue.

"Monster meat is both poisonous and highly acidic," Wilbur explained after a long moment of consideration. "There's a lot of animals that are immune to it, like hounds, but that's because of a life-long buildup of tolerance to the poison and a special, erm, mucus that coats their stomachs and prevents the acidity from harming them." He frowned. "Spiders are one of the animals that can usually eat monster meat." Winona opened her mouth and Wilbur pointed one finger her way. "Don't ask how I know this. I've done some really weird things in my lifetime."

"So what's the problem? If spiders can eat monster meat just fine, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well." Wilbur spared another glance at the goo that Tyler had coughed up. "That is a healthy mixture of blood, stomach acid, that 'mucus' that's supposed to stop the acid from burning through your stomach, and partially digested meat."

Winona looked sick at the explanation. Truth be told, it was pretty disgusting now that he said it out loud. Well, he had already started info dumping, might as well go the whole nine yards.

"Prime apes are not immune to this stuff. I've seen prime apes die from this toxicity before, although it wasn't quite as goopy as this." He waved a hand to reference the slime. "That's how I recognize it."

"Die?" Winona repeated in a small voice.

Tyler was showing clear signs of this toxicity. Somehow, the implications of that didn't hit him until now.

"If he's coughing up the mucus, then shouldn't that mean he would also be immune to the acidity?" Winona sounded frantic, and it wasn't hard to know why. Tyler leaned heavily against her, his breath wheezing in his chest. He certainly looked sick enough to be considered in danger, and that wasn't counting the glazed, empty look in his eye.

"I've never seen him eat monster meat before," Wilbur said thoughtfully. "He wouldn't have immunity to the poisonous part, at least. As for the mucus… this is way too much to be normal. Especially if it's in his lungs. I think this is new, and it's really thrown his body for a loop. There might be some internal injuries that formed before it even started to protect him against it."

"Wilbur…" Her voice was tight with fear. "Will… will he be okay?"

Wilbur could be good at compartmentalizing when he focused on a subject. Rambling about the biology of spider stomachs was one thing, but the second he stopped talking about it and started realizing he was basically diagnosing his son with a dangerous toxicity that had killed dozens of animals before him, the panic really started to set in. Wilbur audibly gulped as he gazed at the ill boy.

"Yes," he answered, although he was fully aware that he was speaking hopefully rather than truthfully. He waved his hand as if brushing the issue off. "Listen. Prime apes die from just about anything. Weather too rainy one day? Dead. Trip on a crabbit? Dead. Get into spicy meat? Terrible night, then dead. Really, I wouldn't compare their strength to Tyler's any day. He'll be fine."

Maybe he had already scared her enough for her to not believe him, or maybe it was the look on his face, but whichever the reason was, Winona didn't look comforted at all.

"Why would he eat this stuff if it was… this bad?"

"I think it's pretty obvious," Wilbur sighed. "You said he wasn't acting like himself. He must been acting purely on instincts. You'll eat anything when you're starving, especially when you're half spider and probably familiar with cannibalism."

"Cannibalism…?"

"Spiders will gladly eat each other if given the chance. They usually don't hunt siblings from the same Queen, but that won't stop them if one of them dies normally. And, he doesn't even belong to a queen so…" he left the rest of the words unsaid. It was obvious how he had been sustaining himself until now. Wilbur shook his head and growled lowly. "Usually, when others would fall ill, the best we could do was make sure they drank tons of water and ate something that wasn't acidic. But… we're probably gonna have to go back to the camp in order for me to make something since that's where all the food is. Not that I want Wilson in on this situation, but I'll put aside my hatred for him for now."

"Wilson might be able to help, though. He's more knowledgeable in this stuff than I am."

Well trivalves and cockles, that was a good point. Wilbur grumbled under his breath, but he had to admit that she was right. He knew how to keep himself alive, and he knew what insides looked like and did, but he didn't know how to really use medicine or heal others. Maybe, if he was lucky, nobody would nearly get themselves killed after this and he could spend the rest of his life happily ignoring Wilson's existence. "Fine. But I swear, if he hurts Tyler at all, I'm going to make that scientist wish he was never born." He felt his tail twitching in anger as he started pacing to the best of his ability in the small area. "Believe you me, I know torture. I know exactly how to make someone hurt as terribly as possible without killing them-"

"Wilbur."

"Right. Yes. Later."

Winona bent down to pick up the sick hybrid, shuddering as she lifted him in her arms. "He's so light," she said with a pitiful tone. Wilbur said nothing to her observation, instead choosing to grab Tyler's sword and take the lead. The last thing he wanted was for Wilson's first glimpse of their return to be Tyler, so he hoped he would take the brunt of any lasting anger that Wilson had from their fight.

On their journey out there, Wilbur and Winona had been lively speaking, sharing some of their stories, and apparently bonding. Now, they were both cold and silent. Wilbur pondered the bubble of quiet as they walked. What caused it in the first place? Deep worry for their companion? Concern with Wilson's actions? Maybe it was simply because it was warming up now, and they didn't feel the need to speak to keep their temperatures up. Whatever the reason, no words were shared between them this time, and the only thing to break their silence was the ragged sounds of Tyler's breathing.

How had he gotten this bad? He must have consumed an incredible amount of poisonous meat to put him into such a deep lull like this. Even prime apes who fell ill with this sickness were typically conscious until the later stages of it, even if they didn't want to be.

(He chose to ignore the other possibility. That this was the late stages of it, and he had been suffering from this toxicity for days now without any help or support. He couldn't even begin to imagine how miserable those days must have been if that was the case, with nothing but his own demon to support him during such an awful time.)

"Wilbur, is this… normal?" Winona broke the silence after a good two hours of walking. He looked back at her and followed her gaze to a weeping wound on the boy's leg. He had noticed it earlier, but even though it looked infected, it was still the last thing he was concerned about at the time. Now that Winona was specifically pointing it out, though, he took a closer look at it to see something he hadn't expected.

Green and black muck crusted the edges of the slash. Blood still leaked sluggishly from it, undeterred by scabs or any signs that it had even tried to heal, but for the most part, it was only plasma leaking through the wound and not much of actual blood. However, the sludge that Tyler had puked up earlier was coming from the injury as well in a much steadier stream. Thick and sticky, it clung to his fur and only worsened the matting already present.

Wilbur cursed heavily under his breath and gently touched the area around it. Hot to the touch. As if he expected anything else. "We need to get him back now."

"What is it? What's going on?"

"It's not supposed to be in his blood," Wilbur's voice cracked, betraying his terror despite his attempt to keep a straight face. "Winona, it's not supposed to be there."

Her grip noticeably tightened, and Tyler let out a small whine of protest as she squeezed him. Wilbur could see the strength it took for her to loosen her hold again.

At this point, they were no longer walking back. They were on the verge of sprinting. Despite Tyler's small size, Winona was falling behind a bit, so with just a look shared between them Wilbur decided to shoot forward to prepare Wilson. His hatred of the scientist had gone on the back burner.

What if Wilson's not there? What if decided to try to leave without us? What if he refuses to help Tyler? What if-

The swirling thoughts stuttered to a halt as Wilbur broke into the clearing and nearly collided into the scientist himself collecting bark from the edges of the trees. Wilson had a scowl on his face that immediately turned to shock and confusion as he saw the state of the prime ape. Wilbur could barely catch his breath, his legs trembling beneath him as he tried to keep on his feet.

"Tyler," Wilbur sputtered after a moment. "He's sick. Really sick. We don't know what to do."

For a moment, Wilson just stared at him. He pointed a single finger towards Wilbur, and he looked more confused than concerned. "You just spoke."

"Congratulations! You win! We'll talk about this later, okay?" Wilbur spat. "Winona and I- we found him. But he's in a terrible way and I swear you can laugh at how right you are later and I won't even be mad. Just help him."

Wilson opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Finally, he pressed his mouth into a line and nodded a single, short time. "Right. Where is he?"

Wilbur directed him towards where he left Winona behind and started to set up an area to work. There was only so much he could do in the way of bedding and supplies, but he did his best before turning his attention to the fire. It was still set up to cook, in the same way Maxwell had formed it, and Wilbur was ecstatic to see that there was still some food left. None of them had gotten ill from it, so it had to be safe enough, right? Whatever. It's not like this food would be any worse on his system than the food he had been eating.

When Wilson returned with Winona and Tyler in tow, he didn't waste any time in motioning for the woman to set him down. Wilbur stepped aside to allow for them to get closer to the fire as they worked.

"Monster meat toxicity. Severe," Wilbur reported without looking back. "He's got poison in his system from that and internal bleeding from somewhere. Probably from the acid." Wilbur had to take a few deep breaths to continue. "It's in his bloodstream."

"He needs to get it out of his system then. Has he thrown up?"

"Yes," Winona said. "I don't think he has any left in his stomach."

"Okay." Wilson hovered for just a moment, one hand moving towards the injury on his leg and the other towards the boy's face. Then, he clasped his hands together and closed his eyes as if deep in thought. "Wilbur, I need something to clean and wrap his leg. Really, just water if you can."

Wilbur nodded loyally, already one step ahead of him. He already had melting snow preparing for food.

"Winona, remember what we used to wrap his claws? I need more of that."

"What about the toxicity?" Wilbur demanded as Winona moved to follow the instructions. Wilson didn't respond for a moment, with his full attention on moving Tyler's head slightly. Even when finished with this, Wilson still didn't seem to be able to provide an answer. "Wilson. What about the toxicity?"

"I don't know," he murmured, defeated. "For the kind of damage you're talking about… that would require surgery, which is not feasible."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a surgeon!" Wilson protested. "I would kill him if I tried, and the infection from this environment would kill him even if I didn't. It's safer to let him try to recover on his own."

"He'll die!"

"I'm doing all that I can. Water?"

Wilbur growled under his breath, but still provided the liquid. Some of it, Wilson did use to clean the wound on Tyler's leg, but the rest of it he tried to coax into the hybrid's mouth. To the surprise of no one, he only coughed it out as soon as Wilson tried. Wilbur felt his stomach clench in fear. Wilson had never dealt with something like this before. Wilbur had, but never in a productive manner. He had only ever watched others die from it. The combined knowledge of all three of them wasn't nearly enough.

They did what they could, but it wasn't much. Winona managed to coax the boy into enough of a conscious state to swallow some water and food that Wilbur had made, but that was the extent of their progress. Wilbur kept close to Tyler's side, shivering slightly at the feeling of heat pressed against him.

Still, though, there was nothing else he could do. Nothing but keep watch and pray to no one that he wouldn't have to watch another member of his family die.

…

Wilbur never meant to fall asleep. He jerked awake as soon as his body realized it was meant to be keeping vigil. All of his claws dug into the ground as he gazed at his companion beside him. Tyler was still breathing, but each breath was shallow and punctuated with awful rattles that rumbled deep in his chest. The sound was familiar in the most terrible, sickening, excruciating way.

"No, no no," Wilbur muttered desperately. He shook Tyler desperately, receiving no response. "No no, please, I'm begging you, please."

"I know how to save him."

The voice came suddenly. Wilbur had been so focused that he hadn't realized someone had come up behind him. It was pitch black at this point, with the only light around for miles being the fire that was burning low and hot. He turned quickly to see Wilson standing above them, Tyler's sword held loosely in one hand.

"Then do it!" Wilbur spat. "I swear if you even think of pulling any tricks-"

"I'm not pulling any tricks." Wilson's voice was eerily calm. "You just have to trust me."

"Trust you? Trust you? Like I would trust you with my drink let alone my son."

"If you don't trust me, then I can't do anything. He's dying anyway. Surely you've heard enough death rattles in your time to recognize it from anywhere."

Wilbur swallowed heavily and gazed back at the dying hybrid. He didn't know what to do. Tyler was dying from poison and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

What if Wilson…

What? Kills him? It would just be speeding the inevitable at this point. Finally, Wilbur pressed his forehead against Tyler's and gave Wilson a single nod of permission.

"Good."

Wilbur couldn't have even stopped it if he wanted to. Wilson moved in a flash after that, the sword arching high above his head and plunging down with frightening speed. Wilbur only had the time to shoot his head up and see what was happening before it did.

Wilson stabbed Tyler clear through the stomach with his own sword.

It was so sudden, so shocking, that Wilbur couldn't even process what was going on. His brain fired off conflicting signals, demanding him to do a million things at once, each demand so intense that his body simply reacted by not reacting at all. And so, all he could do was stare at the man, at the sword in his grip that impaled Tyler through the stomach, at the stillness of the form of a boy receiving a wound that would kill most anyone.

Then, with careful precision and a startling calmness, Wilson withdrew the sword. Wilbur braced himself for the horrible squelch of a blade tearing through muscle and organs, but it was as if all sound was turned off. There was nothing of the sort.

A thick, sickly slime coated the blade, but there was no blood to be seen. Wilson seemed almost disinterested as the weapon glowed in eager acceptance, absorbing the sludge without any traces left. The glow of it turned a bit brighter, and the color a shade darker.

Finally, a single command won out against the storm in Wilbur's head. Defend. With an extremely delayed reaction, he turned on Wilson, growling furiously.

Wilson immediately dropped the sword the second he became the target of Wilbur's anger. He raised his hands innocently, which didn't even begin to make Wilbur consider sparing his useless life.

"You… you…!" He snarled through the emotion crowding up his throat. There wasn't any reason to even try to treat the stab wound. Tyler was weak enough that a smaller injury would have killed him almost instantly. Fire surged in the prime ape's gut and he tore towards Wilson with a primal roar of agony.

Wilson's hands shot out, gripping Wilbur's arms at the wrist before his claws could make any contact. Without even hesitating, Wilbur snapped forward and sank his fangs deep into Wilson's skin. Blood immediately pooled around his teeth, but Wilbur couldn't even be bothered to care.

Wilson let out a sharp cry and immediately dropped to the ground, effectively crushing Wilbur against the earth. He lost his grip, but Wilson's own grip had loosened considerably, allowing Wilbur full control over his claws again. He buried them into the scientist's stomach and used the new grip to push Wilson away from him.

Before Wilbur could renew his attack, though, a hand was grabbing his shoulder and dragging him back. He almost turned the attack on Winona, recognizing her just a second early enough to prevent from mauling her. "What are you doing?" Wilbur hissed, struggling from her grip. "Didn't you see that!? Didn't you see what he did-?"

"He's awake."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and then another moment for Wilbur to properly distinguish their meaning. "...What…?"

Wilbur immediately disengaged and allowed Wilson to drag himself back to his feet with a groan of pain. A tiny spark in Wilbur's chest told him to go back at it, to rip the scientist's face off like any self-respecting primate would, but his attention had been fully drawn elsewhere.

Where Wilbur had fully expected to see a terrible, gaping stab wound decorating Tyler's stomach, there was only smooth fur, blemished only by the scrapes and scratches he already sported. And, true to Winona's word, he was awake. He looked a bit out of it, clearly still feeling the effects of it, but his breathing had improved considerably, and he had effectively coughed the rattle from his throat. For a moment, the hybrid met Wilbur's gaze with hesitant confusion, but it was enough for Wilbur to see how clear his eye had become. No longer clouded with sickness and pain, shining a brilliant orange and highlighting his pupil.

"It worked…!" Wilson exclaimed. While Wilson was clearly bothered by his new injuries- he was barely moving his injured arm- he suddenly seemed much brighter than he had a moment before. He rushed towards Tyler without even looking twice at a growling Wilbur and nervous Winona.

The boy hesitantly raised one hand towards Wilson, who took it with a beaming smile. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Awful," Tyler immediately responded. His voice was rough and scratchy, but undeniably his. "What… happened…?"

"What happened was that Wilson…! Freaking…! Stabbed you! No explanation! No elaboration!" Wilbur pushed past the man in order to make his own observations. Truthfully, Tyler still looked awful. He clearly felt sick still, given he had a hand loosely clutching his stomach, but his breathing was much clearer. Deep and full breaths. The wound on his leg no longer seemed to be seeping the green slime. By all accounts, he looked a million times better.

That still didn't change the simple fact that Wilson stabbed him.

"Do you plan on explaining what that was about?" Winona demanded, turning a sharp gaze to Wilson.

Despite the circumstance, and everything that just happened, Wilson had the audacity to look delighted at the question. He grinned. He grinned! As if he took pride in trying to murder a kid!

"Well, it was mainly a theory, but it was a good theory!" Wilson grabbed Tyler's sword and thrust it towards the boy. He stared blankly at it as if unsure of what to do with it. "Fine. Winona?" He offered it to her, and she took it after only a moment's hesitation. "Alright! So. Stab me."

"Oh, let me do it!" Wilbur exclaimed. "Please please, let me stab him."

"No one! Is stabbing anyone!" Winona immediately dropped the sword as if it was on fire. Or as if the simple act of holding it would cause her to stab someone.

"I'll do it." In one smooth motion, before Winona could even stop him, Wilbur had taken up the sword and plunged it into Wilson's chest.

Winona let out a cry of horror, but Tyler remained silent. Wilbur, in the meantime, actually almost tripped over himself. He expected to get resistance, but instead, it was like thrusting a sword into thin air. Wilson held his arms out with a grin, clearly unbothered by the sword impaling him.

"That was unsatisfying," Wilbur muttered, drawing the sword back and dropping it lamely on the ground. There was no wound, no blood, not even a tear in his clothing. It was like nothing had happened at all.

"What? Was that!?" Winona shouted. Her voice was tight with fear and anger, and Wilbur couldn't help but feel a little bad at seeing that she was shaking. But hey, no harm no foul, right?

"So what? It's a magic fake sword?" Wilbur guessed. Tyler scoffed, clearly taking offense from the observation.

"Nope! It's a real 'magic' sword." Wilson picked it back up and made a show of using the blade to try to harm himself, slicing at his arms and stomach and even neck. Nothing happened. "Do you guys remember what happened when Webber attacked the Ancient Guardian?"

The reaction was surprisingly intense to the simple question. Wilbur glanced at his companions in confusion. Winona's face fell into a cross of worry, discomfort, and guilt, and Tyler physically flinched at it. His expression twisted into something so pained, so hurt, that Wilbur felt it in his own chest.

"It absorbed the corruption and spared its life," Wilson elaborated. "It purged it."

"So you took a gamble and…" Wilbur wildly moved his arms towards the boy beside him. "Stabbed? My son? On a guess?"

"I had evidence that it wouldn't hurt him!" Wilson protested. "And it worked! It takes whatever is corrupting its victim and absorbs it."

Wilbur opened his mouth to continue the argument, but he immediately closed it again when Tyler started to struggle to his feet. He dropped everything to assist, allowing for the full weight of the boy to press against his shoulder. It was awkward, as even on two feet Wilbur was shorter, but apparently good enough. Tyler scowled and held a hand out expectantly. Wilson seemed to take the hint and handed the weapon back to its owner.

"Come on. Let's get out of here," Tyler growled. His voice was low and angry.

"Hey, you might still not be dying of poison anymore, but that doesn't mean you've magically healed all of the damage you already did to yourself." Tyler glared at Wilbur's protest. He ripped himself away from the prime ape and transferred his weight to his sword. He buried the tip in the ground, clearly relying entirely on the weapon to keep him from falling. "You nearly died, Tyler! In case you didn't realize that!"

"Well I didn't," he snapped. "I don't know about you, but I'm sick of this place. I don't want to be here anymore." His voice wavered, some unknown note entering it as he spoke.

Wilbur and Winona shared a concerned glance.

"Don't you want to-"

"Nope! Don't want to rest, relax, heal, wait, whatever it is you were going to say." He waved one hand at Winona and nearly fell in the process as it threw off his balance. Wilbur had to physically bite his tongue to prevent speaking out. He was well aware that trying to speak sense into the kid when he was this determined would only end with Tyler doing exactly what he wanted anyway just without any support. Therefore, it really was best to just follow with what he said.

Even Wilson seemed slightly uneasy about the boy's sudden eagerness. His face furrowed slightly, a question clearly on his tongue that he couldn't figure out how to word. It seemed the trio was entirely in the same boat, then.

Finally, it was Winona who decided to break the stalemate. "He's right. There's nothing left for us here."

Except for decent weather, Wilbur lamented. The frozen hellscape was finally thawing and they couldn't even take advantage of it. Oh well. The faster they moved on, the faster they could finally beat this stupid game, right?

Wilson let out a heavy sigh. Without hesitation, he grabbed the burlap sack that Maxwell had left them with- now empty- and started to calmly fill it with scraps of back and tinder that had already been prepared for the fire. Impressive, for the scientist to do something intelligent without being led into doing it. Wilbur could almost imagine that he was someone other than the worst person on the planet.

Tyler shifted impatiently, his features sharp with irritation and impatience. When both Wilbur and Winona offered assistance with his walking, he snapped at both of them. It only made Wilbur's anxiety fly off the roof even further.

He was doing better physically. Again, it was clear he was still feeling weak and sick, likely due to the damage the acid had done, but he was alive, awake, aware. What wasn't doing any better was his mental state.

In fact, as Wilbur watched him, some nasty feeling in his chest told him that his mental state was worse than before.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

"Ready," Wilson said, throwing the bag over one shoulder and casting his gaze towards each of his companions. "Next world? Into the breach?"

Tyler responded only with a tight nod.

He set the pace, given he was both their leader and the slowest of the group at the moment. And really, it was a slow pace. The boy could barely stand, let alone walk, yet he stubbornly trudged along without assistance from his companions. The entirety of his weight fell to the sword with every step as he used it like a makeshift cane. But even then, it was too short and certainly not designed for that, making the effort even more difficult. Wilbur felt his chest ache in sympathy pains at the twisted expression Tyler made with every movement.

He fell once. His wrist suddenly gave sideways and caused him to lose his grip on the sword. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground hard and rumbling with frustrated growls the entire time. When he tried to get his footing again, it was clear his legs were too weak to lock in place. Finally, he seemed to reach a point of rage. An unexpected shout of anger tore through his throat, claws suddenly swinging towards his arms to bury themselves in his fur.

Wilbur immediately stepped up, gently tugging Tyler's claws away from his skin and helping him once more to stand, except this time with assistance. Tyler gave, but it was clear he didn't want to.

As they walked, a few paces in front of the others, the fury on Tyler's face started to melt away, replaced only with a dull sort of resignation.

"Hey," Wilbur murmured, drawing the hybrid's attention towards him. Wilbur gave him a loose smile. "What are you thinking about?"

The response was delayed. When Tyler finally did reply, his voice had fallen to a soft whisper, tiny and weak. "Why did you guys save me?"

Wilbur flinched, causing Tyler to flinch as well. "Wh… what do you mean?"

"I haven't been myself since… since I last saw you guys." He swallowed hard and blinked tears out of his eyes. "I was gone. And… and you guys still saved me. I don't understand why you…" He shook his head. "Why you guys keep trying to save me. Even when I hurt you…"

"Because we love you," Wilbur said immediately. "Obviously. How many times do we have to reiterate that? We're not in the business of killing family here, no matter what you seem to think."

Tyler's breathing was starting to become shaky. He inhaled deeply through his mouth, and Wilbur could practically see the struggle to stop from crying harder than he was.

"Would you guys miss me if I died?"

"Again. Obviously. Do we need to explain the meaning of 'we care about you a lot and don't want anything bad to happen to you because Winona and I have adopted you as one of our own'?"

"What if I deserved to die?"

"Well, you wouldn't. Ever." Wilbur frowned at the shiver that ran through Tyler's body. He tried again to breath deeply, but it caught on his throat on a stifled sob. Wilbur cast a look back to Wilson and Winona, who seemed to get the message.

"Let's sit down for a bit. It's been a few days since I've walked this much and I need to build my resistance up to it again," Wilson said purposefully. Tyler didn't even protest, instead allowing Wilbur to ease him back into a sitting position. However much he hated Wilson's guts, he would have to thank him later. Especially when after sharing a look with Winona, both of them moved far enough back to allow for a conversation to happen without their prying ears.

"Hey, what's going on, buddy? I promise, nobody will be mad."

Tyler tried to look away, but Wilbur caught his face with one hand. Tyler shuddered at the contact. When fresh tears started to slip through his defenses, Wilbur wiped them away without hesitance.

"I don't want to be here anymore," Tyler whispered. It was as if he was sharing some grand secret. Something he hadn't told anyone before. Wilbur hummed in acknowledgment.

"We're leaving soon, Tyler. We won't be here for much longer."

"That's not-" He choked on another hiccup, which prompted him to bury his palm into his eye as if trying to physically keep tears back. "That's not what I mean."

"I don't think I understand, then. Can you explain what you mean?"

Tyler's defenses snapped in half. The boy suddenly threw himself forward, clinging onto Wilbur as if the prime ape was the last thing keeping him present. Violent, almost screaming sobs tore from the boy's chest, lurching his entire body as if something was being physically ripped from him. Wilbur didn't even pause before wrapping his arms around him in equal force. He could feel scars buried beneath his fur, layers upon layers of injury after injury that never had the opportunity to heal right. Scratches and bruises and wounds that nobody had ever been able to cover up. Wilbur was struck with the sudden realization that Tyler didn't always look like this. Underneath the fur and chitin was a normal human boy. Was there anything left of him under it? Or was he fused so thoroughly with the spider that there was no separation between human and arachnid anymore?

Little did he know that was the exact same question Tyler had been asking himself this entire time.

"Wilbur," Tyler suddenly gasped into the prime ape's fur. Wilbur hushed him, moving his claws away from the scars to rub circles between his shoulder blades. "Wilbur…"

"Take your time. It's okay."

"I don't want to be here anymore. I… I don't want to be alive anymore."

Wilbur suddenly froze. His blood slowed to an icy slush in his veins, and he knew very well Tyler felt the shift. Instead of it causing the boy to rebuild his defenses, though, he rushed to speak further.

"I'm so tired. I'm so tired. I hurt all the time. I'm scared all the time. I'm so tired of being scared and sick and hurt. I just want it to stop."

"Tyler…"

"Why won't it stop, Wilbur?"

It was more than his defenses that broke. Something vital had shattered in the boy's head. Tyler was whole, in one piece in Wilbur's arms, but despite that, he still felt like he was holding sand. Struggling so hard to keep it from slipping between his fingers and ultimately failing. "I… I don't know," he admitted with a broken voice. "I… god Tyler, you have no idea how much I wish I could take it away from you. I would do anything to take your fear and pain just so you can be happy without downsides. I want nothing more than for you to be happy."

Tyler was so delicate. Fragile, like glass. Wilbur was afraid of holding him any tighter in fear of breaking him. But even a break would be preferable to this. Breaks can be mended easily enough. The thing that Wilbur couldn't mend was something so thoroughly shattered as this boy's mind.

"I love you, Tyler," Wilbur promised into the boy's shoulders. "I love you so much. Winona loves you. Wilson loves you. We all love you so, so, so much. I was so scared today, when I thought I was going to lose you. I was so scared."

"What if… what if you saved me," Tyler asked quietly. "And I just end up… hurting you?"

"Then so be it. I'd still love you all the same. You're my boy now, got it? And there's no way that could ever change."

Tyler nodded slowly. Wilbur could feel the boy struggle again to take deep breaths, each pause between hiccuping sobs becoming further and further apart.

"I love you. I'll tell you that a million times if that's what it takes to get that through your thick skull."

"I… I love you, too," Tyler whispered. For a moment, Wilbur thought that was it. But after what was apparently around a full minute of searching, he finished his thought with a single word. "Pa."

Warmth blossomed suddenly in Wilbur's chest. It was a pure, innocent sort of warmth, akin to hearing his own flesh and blood daughter call him that for the very first time. For her, though, it was a simple fact. He was, in fact, Elizabeth's father. It was undeniable just by looking at them.

But this was different. They didn't share a drop of blood, a single fur of similarities, not even a species. And yet, he finally got to hear that word again. Not used as a fact of blood, but a fact of mind.

Wilbur couldn't help but smile.

'Pa'.

It fit perfectly.

…

Wilbur knew he would have to keep a close eye on Tyler for the foreseeable future. After everything that had happened, there was a very real, very terrifying chance that the boy would follow through with his wishes. He made a mental note to warn both Winona and Wilson to never let him be alone. If something ever happened, if he ever tried something, someone would be there to stop it.

After regaining his composure to the best of his ability, Tyler was able to confidently lead the group to their destination once more, this time much more effectively with Wilbur's assistance.

The Teleportato was exactly as it was before. The buildup of Nightmare Fuel wasn't present, but as soon as Tyler neared it, the black substance immediately started to drip from the frame. Wilbur stuck out his tongue in distaste, but he seemed to be the only one affected by it.

Tyler reached out and gently touched the machine, and it almost seemed to hum in response. The runes painted across the surface started to glow a brilliant orange, akin to the light shining in his eye and from his chest. There was still something sad and pained in his expression, but he forced a smile nonetheless as he faced the rest of the group.

(It was fake, but Wilbur wouldn't be the one to point that out)

"Are you guys ready?" He asked softly. His voice carried against the marble flooring, soft but bold.

Wilson nervously shifted the bag between his hands and Winona planted her hands on her hips. Wilbur gave the boy a thumbs up, earning something closer to a real smile from him.

"Alright… hold your breath."

His voice was drowned out by the mechanical whir of the machine's activation. Wilbur was almost used to it by now, so when the shadowed hands sprouted from the ground to take them away, he didn't even fight back. Instead, he simply closed his eyes and let it take him one step further… into the depths of the world.