Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Terry's vision faded in and out, overlaid in a hazy purple as he looked down at his hands through the blur of tears to see this body losing opacity. Ron was still hugging him but the feeling quickly numbed to a fuzzy, staticy nothing. And he saw, rather than felt, Ron's arms pass through him.

He felt a tug slowly tightening in his core, persistent and unyielding. It was pulling him, from here, from Ron. Terry swallowed down a sob. What was happening? A spell? Did he open the way to the other plane somehow? He didn't want to go. Not now. Not after all of this. He wasn't ready to be strong again.

Terry looked up at Ron, whose face was crumpled, furrowed in distress and dismay, but notably not surprise. That did something to ease his panic. Ron knew what was going on. Terry sucked in a shuddering breath, fear, grief, and guilt heavy in his tightening chest. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't know if he was coming back. He needed to say something. This could be the last time they saw each other and he didn't know what to say. There was so much, so much they still needed to talk about, but he didn't have enough time.

he never had enough time.

Terry forced the tremble out of his voice, “I'm– I’m really sorry.” he choked out.

Ron met his eye, bringing up a hand and “placing it” on Terry’s shoulder, hovering it over his form as he continued to lose physicality. Misting away steadily as the tugging pulled tighter. “I love you, son.”

The tug in his core turned to a violent yank. Terry clutched his chest, choking on a cry of pain. Doubling over as the air was punched out of him. As he felt his body being torn through space. It ripped and pulled him apart before weaving him back together. The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than a fraction of a second but it felt so much longer. The magic, (some kind of teleportation spell Terry recognized as the wisps of his mind knitted themselves back into place), quickly evaporated into the air as the spell ended. Leaving him only with the faintest whiff of freshwater and cheap cologne. He willed nausea down as his vision churned and spun unevenly.

After a few seconds, his inner ears popped and his world mercifully stabilized. The rush of cool wind from the top of the tower was gone, instead replaced by stuffy, stale air that Terry choked on as he tried to catch his breath.

He pulled his head up, disorientedly blinked around the room, catching familiar gothic architecture and stone walls. Despite its similarity in time period and… suspiciously vampiric themed furniture, it was very clearly not the tower he had left. 

The room was more grand, in the style of a medieval palace. He was in a bedroom, an extravagant king-sized bed adorned with silk sheets sat against a wall. A gothic couch stood in front of it before a large stone fireplace that was lit curiously with purple flames. That same purple coated a large oak door with a shimmering veil of magic that rippled and flowed across the surface hypnotically. A nest of blankets was bundled in the far corner, across from a half-cracked open door of a relievingly modern-looking bathroom.

But the reason it was most obviously not Roqueporte, was the presence of three kids from his soccer team.

There was a beat of silence as all eyes locked on Terry who sat there blankly, too stunned to do anything but blink. They looked different than they had the last time they'd seen each other, weathered by the new world. Nicholas, who had preached a frankly ridiculous level of personal grooming and upkeep, looked just on the wrong side of unkempt. dark bags under his eyes spoke to a lack of sleep, while his wrinkled polo spoke to a lack of available clothing irons. The twins looked relatively unchanged, The only real changes Terry noticed was one of them wearing a much-too-large hooded cloak that pooled on the ground around him and dragged an extra four feet past his own. While the other had (mostly dead) flowers, leaves, and sticks wound into his rats nest of hair. A pang of disappointment hit as Terry realized that Grant was not among the kids assembled.

“Oh god of course they got you too.” Nicholas broke the silence, voice tight and stressed. “why wouldn't they? We’re so fucked-”

“Terry Jr!” both of the twins interrupted.

One of them (He didn't know them well enough to tell apart) bounded up to him happily. Offering a hand which Terry accepted with a minor hesitance, letting himself be pulled to his feet. 

The other walked up after his brother to stand beside him. “Thank god you're here, Narkolas was becoming unbearable.”

“I am not unbearable.”

“-and now you can join us in our rebellion!” The twin continued, ignoring the other boy, “your height and powerful kicking legs will be most advantageous.”

“what's-” Terry felt the itch of salt on his cheeks as he spoke and quickly wiped his face on his sleeve, composing himself. “What's going on? I… I was with Ron and-”

“-you were mysteeeriously transported by weird purple magic?” the twin still holding his hand finished, “yes, it happened to Lark and I as well-”

“Is my dad okay?” Nicholas blurted, “no he’s- of course he's okay. He's an officer. He can handle himself. But he is right? He’s okay? Terry jr?”

“y-yeah, yeah he's okay.” Terry assured quickly, a bit thrown off guard.

“Terry senior, I invite you inside.”

He swallowed back guilt, “Everyone’s okay.”

Nicholas exhaled shakily, shoulders visibly sagging with relief. “I mean, I knew he would be. Of course he would be. I just…” he trailed off, leaving something left unsaid as he cleared his throat, “I'm glad you're… uh– in one piece.”

“You too. Where… are? We?” Terry went back to taking in the room around them, mentally noting the combination of a fireplace and lack of windows as some sort of fire hazard. “What's going on? Why are all of you here?”

“Granddads.” Lark and Sparrow chirped in unison.

Terry squinted, glancing over at the twins who, he supposed, the one holding his hand must've been Sparrow if the other was Lark. “That really didn't answer any of my questions.”

“It answered the last one! And kinda the second one!” Sparrow supplied.

“And the first one!” Lark added, “We are in the grandfather's laaaair~” 

Terry blinked, lost, “Who's grandfather's? Yours?”

“Ours, yours, and…” Sparrow glanced at Nicholas who looked personally scandalized by the action, “Well, he claimed he was Nicholas's, but apparently he's the father of Glenn. So who knows.” he shrugged, “Old people get confused allllll the time.”

Nicholas crossed his arms, huffing, “He's not my granddad.”

Lark jumped onto the arm of a red velvet couch and flopped back onto the cushions upside down, “ Our grandfather is very boring.” he lamented with a groan, “He forces us to sit still and “meditate” and do “yoga.” Lark scrunched up his face in disgust, “it's torture.”

Sparrow cocked his head and made a high pitched “ehhhh” sound that Terry recognized as a trait inherited from Henry, “those things are not much different from what we do at home anyways. But… he does this strange thing in his speech where he will speak to us nicely but in a foul way. As if he is insulting us secretly.” Sparrow growled.

Lark sat up, “and then Nicholas' grandpa-”

“He's not my grandpa!”  

“-He's just never around.” the other twin continued, “He drops in for five minutes maybe once a week and leaves. He doesn't really talk to us.”

“I wish he would.” Lark mumbled, flopping back on the couch, “he's cool. Wayyyy cooler than our grandfather.”

“He's not cool.” Nicholas seethed, “he's just like Glenn .”

“Mmm friend Nicholas it seems you're beginning to catch on.” Lark grinned, “that is why he is cool.”

A scoff, “You only think he's cool because he wanted to use non-kid-friendly fire on the fireplace.”

Lark jumped off the couch, vaulting over to said fireplace, still flickering a pleasant purple. Lark slid his eyes over to Nicholas with a deadpan expression and outstretched his arm into the flames. 

“Oh! don’t–” Terry tried, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

None of the other boys looked at all phased. Infact, Nicholas just looked annoyed. Lark waved his arm around, flames licking up the limb harmlessly.

“This fire is borrrrrringuh! Completely useless for any flame-based projectiles!” 

“It's safe .” Nicholas corrected self-importantly, “Besides, I can't trust that you two arsonists won't try to burn down the castle; which is stone by the way; on the vague hope that it might get us out of here. Likely killing me in the process!”

“Narkolas looooooves the boring fire.” Sparrow droned to Terry, rolling his eyes.

“Yes he loves it oh- so much.” Lark agreed, face twisting into a smile that spelled trouble. He reached into the coals, grabbing a stick engulfed in flames, “He must wish to marry it.”

Lark threw the flaming stick at Nicholas who shrieked, ducking his head. The stick hit the back wall, clattering on the floor. Purple flames flickered for a second more before harmlessly extinguishing.

“Lark!”

“Mmm yes Terrance?”

“Could you stop terrorizing Nicholas? please?”

“Oh, Terry jr. You sentimental fool whose soft heart will lead to an early death on the battlefield.” Lark tutted in a sing-song voice, “Nicholas is fiiiiine.”

“Brother, we should not be attacking each other in times like these.” Sparrow lectured, “We should be coming together, I’m sure Nicholas has other useful qualities that don’t include his bad taste in fire. And Terry jr is here now! We must work together to find a way out of here! The stronger our bond, the stronger our forces.”

Lark stuck out his tongue and pretended to gag, “ugh. You sound like father .”

Terry massaged his temple, trying to stave off the coming headache. He wasn't sure how the three of them kept from lord of the flies-ing each other before he got here.

“Nicholas, are you okay?” Terry called.

Nicholas rose from the ground, face beet red with anger. He snatched at the stick that lay abandoned on the ground. “I will be.” he gritted, glaring down Lark with a hellfire.

Said Oak boy smiled widely, raising his fists, “are you finally going to show us what Glenn taught you when he allowed you the glory of fighting in a battle ring?”

That seemed to have struck a nerve, “He didn't teach me anything! He tricked me in there and bet on me!”

“You should be grateful!” Lark announced loudly, “I would kill to be in a fighting ring! In fact I would kill! My opponents! In the ring!”

Nicholas shot Lark a withering glare, “shut up or I'll break your jaw!”

Lark eyes shone with a feral verocity, “oh, what an honor it will be to single handedly end the Foster bloodline.”

“Stop. stop.” Terry put his free arm out between the boys, “No one is ending any bloodlines.”

“Well certainly not Narcolas since good brother Sparrow will surely avenge my death should I fall in the glory of battle.” Lark stated confidently.

“Of course brother.” Sparrow affirmed. 

Enabler. Terry mentally groaned, realizing he was getting absolutely no help from the other Oak boy. “Okay, lets-”

“That's cheating.” Nicholas hissed.

“It is not cheating ! Simply a battle tactic. You are only jealous that you do not have a brother whose aid you can call upon.”

“Sparrow’s not a Pokemon. ”

“I am not a pokemon. However, were I a pokemon, I would of course be a Lycanroc.”

“As would I brother. But unlike you, I would be the cooler midnight form.”

“It's not cooler.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn't.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn't.”

“Yes it–”

“Okay!” Nicholas interjected, “are we fucking doing this or what?”

“Ooo such foul language." Lark cooed, sounding way too excited. "Your nark father would surely be disappointed.”

Nicholas’s knuckles whitened and Terry caught the smell of charcoal, “Don't talk about my dad.”

“Or what? You'll strike me down?” a laugh, “You can certainly try.”

The air was heavy with animosity that seemed to have been building for a while. As much as Terry did not want to be playing middleman, he wanted to be breaking up a fight even less. He needed to find a way to diffuse a situation before this sinking ship exploded. Or at least distract them for long enough that they forgot what they were fighting about. 

“Guys!” Terry shouted, all three boys turning to look at him like a pack of hungry wolves. He suddenly felt nervous, “Stop just- please. Let's calm down okay? Fighting isn't going to solve anything right now. Everyone needs to find some way to get along. My mom, when she’s trying to find common ground between people who won't stop fighting, she has them use “i feel” statements to try and– like– bridge the communication gap.” Terry recited the therapy terms, not confident that he was using them right, “so, maybe we should do that?”

Nicholas and Lark stared at him like he was stupid, but Sparrow seemed receptive. 

“Ooh! Excellent suggestion Terrance. I will start: I feel that myself and good brother Lark are the only ones who have been trying to escape this castle, whilst Nicholas has spent his time impeding all efforts to do so.” Sparrow said pleasantly. 

Nicholas scoffed in protest, “How have I been-”

“-by removing tools from our arsenal to be used against the enemy for reasons so simple as fear for personal safety .” Sparrow continued, irritably, “You would not tell a hunter how to remove a wolf's claws.”

“Oh god enough about the fire.” Nicholas groaned, “ It wasn't safe. You two would’ve killed us trying to make it useful in this situation.”

Lark scoffed, “It is not just the fire. You also informed the grandparents of our plans to curate explosives, release a poisonous gas, escape through the window, and bribe the dragon. Two of which resulted in them relocating us to a completely new room!” Lark gestured exasperatedly around the room, “rendering all the information that we had gathered on the floor before useless! And completely eliminating the potential for using the window at. all.”

Nicholas’s nostrils flared and Terry could swear he saw steam coming off his shoulders,  “Okay. Well, I feel like all you guys have done since I got here is terrorize me, disregard any of my ideas, and roll your eyes at my instance that getting out of here won't matter if we’re all already dead because your guys’s “plans” are nothing more than suicide missions with extra steps!” Nicholas snapped, marching forward with purpose. 

The twins were a bit younger than the other members of the soccer team. A grade below Nicholas and Grant and two below Terry. Middle school was a gross time of puberty and growth spurts but neither Lark or Sparrow had quite hit them yet, so when Nicholas stood close enough to jab Lark in the chest, the difference in height was evident.

“Also, I feel like you two don't give a shit about what happens to me! As long as the both of you make it out, you don't care if it means leaving me behind! Alone.” his voice broke on the last word.

Lark did not react, but Sparrow winced. Seemed like the two had at least discussed the possibility. 

“Yaknow what?” Nicholas tossed the stick, looking angry and burnt out. “My dad taught me better than to get into fights.” he turned and walked towards the bathroom.

“So you yield?”

Nicholas flipped off Lark and slammed the door.

“An honorless victory.” Lark lamented, staring stoically after Nicholas.

That… could've gone worse he supposed. 

Terry didn't really know what to make of the situation the three boys had been stewing in over the… however long the three of them had been stuck together. But as much as he felt he should talk to Nicholas, he needed to know what was going on more. And with the twins and Nicholas separated, as guilty as he was to admit it, that would just be easier for now. 

“Can we just… circle back to the questions I have?” Terry spun his fingers around each other,  “Like, why on earth would your grandparents want to kidnap you? Kidnap me? ”

Lark and Sparrow glanced at each other.

“They told us they were going to raise us and do a much better job than our fathers.” Sparrow explained, then grimaced, “they did not speak kindly of them, least of all yours.”

My dad?

Terry furrowed his brow, “He’s not- he's gone. Why would they-”

“No no, not your namesake.” Lark interrupted, “your step-father.”

“Ron?” he mumbled. 

Terry could think of plenty of reasons someone would not speak kindly about Ron. Ron was weird. Ron was blunt and aloof and he stole the flags off of Terry’s soccer field and Terry was certain that Ron had been stealing his otter pops for at least the past three months. Ron said inappropriate things at inappropriate times and, oh yes, of course, how could he forget, Ron killed his dad. 

And yeah, maybe that version of Terry senior wasn't really his dad, but it still hurt. It ripped open those old wounds that Terry had been trying to cover. So, no. The idea of someone hating Ron was not at all far-fetched. Terry had hated him until very recently, or maybe he never hated him. Maybe he still did. He didn't know. Terry wasn't sure about anything anymore. He thought he hated him, it gave him a direction for all of the everything he didn’t process or know how to deal with after his dad died. But now… Terry just felt tired. He wanted to go home. He wanted to not be here, thinking thoughts and feeling feelings he'd been avoiding for years, trapped in a stone room who-knows-where. 

But he didn't have time to pity himself. He didn't have time to “feel his feelings” like his mom told him to. He didn't have time to care that he watched his dad die again. That he might have just lost whatever he could’ve had with his step-dad. That he just got the briefest chance to let go, to allow himself to break down, to fall apart. But now he was out of time, and he had to put himself back together.

And it was at least half Ron’s fault.

Despite that, Terry didn't think he hated him. Not really. Not after all that. 

“The granddads,” Sparrow went on, “they spoke of collecting something from us. Some kind of magic.” 

“They discussed it whilst they were unaware we were listening.” Lark added smugly.

Sparrow slid his eyes to his brother, “or they just did not care to disguise it.”

Lark waved his hand flippantly, “regardless, a foolish error. We are not known as the lord of chaos for our willingness to lay down and die without a fight.”

“Pained as I am to admit it, I do believe Nicholas may be right. A fight is not a good idea.” Sparrow said apprehensively, “especially not against Terry jr’s grandfather.”

Lark looked appalled at the statement. He stared at his brother, baffled, before snorting and rolling his eyes as he gave an incredulous look, “He is only a man.”

Sparrow didn’t respond, shaking his head pensively. 

Terry’s mind was lagging behind the conversation, stuck on one phrase. “Hold on hold on, did you say my granddad?”

Lark sighed loudly, “I suppose he would be your step-grandfather.”

The air in the room was suddenly tense. Terry looked around in apprehension at the sudden shift in atmosphere, “yeah? …what's he like?”

Sparrow grimaced, “He's-”

Sudden shouting from the other room caused all the kids to jump. The words of the exchange were muffled through the large oak door that shimmered with magic. However, Terry could clearly hear that the source of the voice was a man. An adult. 

Sparrow’s grip on Terry’s hand tightened.

“He's back.” Lark finished gravely, slipping a dagger from behind his back to hold half hidden at his side.

“What?” Terry asked, dread pooling in his stomach, “That's him?”

The door to the bathroom burst open from where Nicholas was sulking and he stood in the frame. Rigid and pale. Previous anger wrung into something skittish and vulnerable.

The shouting got closer, accompanied by a calm, placant voice that sounded like it was unsuccessfully trying to pacify the other. As they both got louder, the voices became clearer. Bits of conversation broke through the muffle of the door. 

“- –ink it’s bes- —  – – -alm dow-”

“--ry. sh— – –ck up. - -on’t care! Open the door!”

The purple magic that had been lazily rippling over the door sizzled out. Busting into particles that Terry, from his time picking up magic at the tower, could recognize as runes before they completely dissipated into the air. The door slammed open violently, causing all the boys to flinch back.

Looming in the doorway stood a tall man draped in a purple robe. His strikingly handsome features twisted into something dark and furious. He took a step into the room, followed closely after by another man, standing a bit shorter with pointed ears. The tall man's eyes scanned the room, landing and holding on Terry. 

The glare was dark and withering, burning with more than just anger, something bitter and stale. A deep, primal fear; the instinct of an animal being hunted; prickled under Terry’s skin along with the senation of Sparrow nails threatening to break skin with how tight he gripped his hand. Both Oak boys were unusually, alarmingly silent. Terry twitched with the instinct to turn towards Nicholas, but he didn't dare move his gaze from the man in front of him.

The man– his step-grandpa? snapped and gestured at Terry, who jumped. “you,” he said, voice low with authority, “come on.”

“...I-” Terry stuttered, frazzled. “uh- wh– where– who are-” 

“Shut up.” He ordered. Terry shut up. 

“Willy…” the other man chimed in, voice soothing and melodic. But Terry could hear the strain beneath it, “we have the fourth of the boys. We got what we wanted. It doesn't matter if-”

“It does .” Willy stated firmly, his glare flitted back to Terry who pulled his lips tight. Something close to amusement flickered in Willy’s eyes but it was quickly swallowed by the dangerous anger from before. 

“You and I are gonna have a little chat.” Willy informed Terry, “Now, you can either walk there willingly or, I can grab you by the scruff of your neck and drag you .”

This was Ron's dad? This was the guy he was worried about being proud of him? Terry found himself instinctively stepping back, meeting Willy’s eyes with alarm while all that stared back was cold indifference.

“No.” Sparrow announced.

Willy snorted, “ no?”

“He's not going with you.” Lark agreed, holding out his dagger defensively.

Willy turned to the twins and laughed mockingly, “Oh really? God you and your fuckin’ dad.” he pinched the crease of his nose, “I’m not dealing with another Oak temper tantrum today.”

“Where do you plan to take him?” Sparrow hissed, holding Terry's hand tighter. 

“Uh, wherever the fuck I want.” Willy shot back, “He’s going wherever the hell I say he’s going. I’m not in the mood for games, kids. Now sit back, and shut up.” He leveled that withering glare at the Oak’s. “Because, I promise you? you will not like what happens if you continue to be annoying pains in my ass.”

Sparrow stepped in front of Terry, holding out his free hand to Lark, who didn't even look over before passing a knife to his brother. There was something almost unsettling about how in sync they were. Both twins armed their blades, preparing for a fight. 

“Barry. Put a leash on your dogs.” Willy groaned, rolling his eyes at the display.

“We are not mere canines, we are wolves,” Sparrow snapped, “and we bite.”

“Funny.” Willy replied, striding up to the twins who lowered into fighting stances, “I’ve got a little trivia question for you boys,” he said in a mocking voice, crouching in front of them, “what do you do to a dog that bites?” 

Neither twin responded, Willy faked a pout.

“No guesses? That's fine,”

Willy raised a hand, his veins glowing with purple magic that coated his fingers and flowed upward from the tips. He smiled a horrible shit-eating grin and lowered his voice to just above a whisper.

“you put it to sleep.”

Lark’s eyes fluttered and he dropped. 

“Brother!”

Sparrow fell to his knees at Lark's side. From behind him, Nicholas yelped in shock and horror. Terry’s breathing stopped as he stared down at the limp body.

The elven man– Barry, still looked completely calm but the corner of his mouth twitched down, “Willy.” He criticized pointedly.

Willy caught his eye and waved his hand nonchalantly, “He's fine. Jesus calm down.”

Terry came to this conclusion at the same time, as both him and Sparrow caught the rise and fall of Larks chest. Sparrow clenched his teeth and glared up at Willy with absolute hatred, clutching tightly at the knife in his hand.

“Brother, I will avenge you.” He growled, eyes wild.

Willy looked unimpressed, raising his hand again with that same purple glow.

“Stop! Don’t! I’m going!” He grabbed Sparrow's shoulder to stop him as he held eye contact with Willy, swallowing thickly. “I’ll go. I'm going.”

Sparrow didn't move a muscle. Taunt and pulled like a rubber band about to snap, but his breath hitched, “Ter-”

“It's okay.” Terry said with all the confidence he could hodgepodge together last minute, trying to disguise the tremor in his voice, “It's gonna– It'll be fine.”

“Great. Was that so hard? Let's go.” Willy ordered, pushing open the door behind him.

Terry's body hesitated, but after a second, he forced himself to stagger forward. Behind him, Nicholas mumbled something barely audible about second locations. 

“Oh, and Barry,” Willy half turned back to the room when Terry made it up next to him, “take those knives while he's down. I don't know where the hell those two keep getting ’em.”

“Reconsider grandfather. lest you wish to lose your fingers.” Terry heard Sparrow snarl before the door slammed shut.

Chapter Text

"Good job, Terry Jr. I am so very proud of you." the heavily accented voice of Terry's father rang out through the high ceilings and open air of the tower. Terry rubbed at the back of his neck as he was helped up from the chair, woozy and uneasy. Still, he preened at the praise.

"Thanks dad."

"How are you feeling my son?" 

He felt... tired. Terry felt tired alot lately. Even after sleeping or eating, he still felt this perpetual exhaustion. His father said it was probably the training, that learning magic was difficult and Terry was learning fast. But he couldn't help but notice that his own reflexes were dulling, his reaction time slowing. He wasn't getting better at magic, he was getting worse.

"Um, fine. Good even." Terry lied, he was already falling behind on his training, he didn't want to worry his dad on top of that. 

His father beamed at him with a wide toothy grin and Terry froze. A thrill of adrenaline shooting through him. Urging him to run, to hide, to attack. Filling him with the instinct that he was not safe, that something was deeply, horribly wrong. 

Just like every other time, Terry swallowed it back and returned a nervous half smile. "I'm... I'm really glad you're back." Terry rasped genuinely, looking away from the fangs.

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, Terry didn't think about how the nails were stained with dried blood. "I am so happy to hear that, my son. It sounds sweeter each time you say it." Terry senior said, leading him out of the room. "But you seem a bit down, I'm sure blasting the head off of your step-father will cheer you right up!"

"Right... okay." Terry really didn't want to do any more training. He was dead on his feet and wasn't sure how he felt about the fact it was getting easier to kill Ro- the mud monsters. But he didn't want to disappoint his dad, not after he just got him back. So Terry followed him down the hallway. Trying not to notice the screams from the basement, or the recent spotting of his memory, or that Terry Sr. wasn't breathing. This was good. Terry was happy.

"I love you dad."

"And I love you as well Terry jr."

___

The hallway was much colder than the room he’d just left, and Terry was made suddenly very aware that his soccer jersey and shorts were not-so-great at preserving heat. He grabbed the sides of the cloak his da– the vampire gave him, and bundled it around himself. Suppressing a shiver.

Willy started striding down the corridor while Terry stared down the opposite hallway. Considering if he should make a run for it. It was a selfish thought that Terry immediately felt guilty for. Nicholas and the twins would still be stuck here, with these guys, by themselves. Despite the logic, Terry's own self preservation instincts had him stalling. Hesitating.

“You won't make it out.” Willy said on cue, reading his mind. Terry hadn't realized he'd stopped walking, “you could try I guess. I wouldn't.” Willy picked at his teeth casually, “The entrance is the only way in and out, that's magically locked. If you tried to break a window, you'd fall. We're surrounded by a thousand foot drop. And if you somehow by the grace of whatever-the-fuck, managed to make it outside of the castle, we've got a dragon circling the place. But hey, you're a smart kid.” He paused at his own statement, then snorted, “Well, I guess it doesn't take much to be smarter than those three ding dongs.” He hooked a thumb back over his shoulder to the oak door, “Whatever. If you don't wanna listen to me, that's fine. A kid shaped scorch mark on the side of the castle would make for pretty entertaining reactions when your dads get here.”

Terry's heart dropped.

Taunting laughter erupted from the man Infront of him, “Oh my god I’m fucking with you! You should see the stupid look on your face right now! Priceless .” Willy’s laughter tittered off into a sigh, “Lucky for you, You dying would actually be pretty inconvenient for me.” he said cheerily, patting Terry on the shoulder a little too hard. Like that was supposed to be at all comforting, “So you're sticking around, whether you want to or not. Worse case scenario, Bill and Barry have resurrection spells. You'd come back all fucked up. That's not really an issue for me. But I assume that's probably something you would like to avoid.” 

It took a second for Terry’s scattered mind to sift through the thinly veiled threats and realize that Willy was waiting for a response. “No! No of course I don't want– I- I mean, yeah– yes. Yes I want to avoid that.” 

Willy rolled his eyes, whatever enjoyment he’d been getting out of freaking Terry out was quickly replaced by annoyance. “Jesus fucking Christ. You and Ron really are made for each other.” he spat, Terry frowned.

Willy resumed his pace back down the hallway, this time with Terry in tow. As Terry watched the rich purple fabric of Willy’s cloak ripple with the air behind him, He vaguely registered that they were matching. 

Terry followed Willy down the twisting stone corridors. They passed by a hallway lined on one side with extravagant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the landscape. If Terry still had any lingering suspicions that Willy was bluffing, they instantly withered upon the sight of snowy mountains and sheer cliffs. Terry couldn't even see the bottom of the pit that surrounded the castle, all that seemed to lie beneath them was dead air and cold rock.

Nicholas wasn't kidding. They really were fucked.

Willy led him through several more turns before stopping at a door. Terry stumbled to a stop half a second before running into his– god– his grandpa. Jesus. He was really starting to understand the intricacies of Ron's behavior if this guy was his dad. 

Willy pushed his way into the room and ushered Terry inside. It was an upsettingly tasteful study. Decked out in rich velvet curtains overlooking the cliff; two loveseats in front of a coffee table; and another, smaller, fireplace. Unlike the room he arrived in however, this one crackled a bright orange that cast a warmth over the space not present in the one he left. 

It felt like a trap.

“Sit.” Willy gestured, it wasn't an offer.

Terry sat.

Willy strode to the opposite couch casually while Terry’s eyes slid to the door, notably not shimmering with that purple sheen of magic that’d kept the other room locked. Weak relief fluttered in his chest, at least he wasn't… locked in. Well, technically he was. Technically the whole castle was locked in. Technically, even if he got out of the castle, he'd probably die out in the snow from exposure, or scorched to ash by a dragon, or falling off a cliff, or any other number of horrific ways that resulted in him paying his dad an early visit. But technically even then, he wouldn't have the mercy of death because Willy promised he'd bring him back, horrible and deformed and wrong . Technically he was totally, completely, screwed so there was no reason to run anyways . A gravely groan from across from him snapped Terry back to reality as Willy leaned back in his seat.

“Terry jr ,” Willy addressed him, sighing. 

Terry licked his lips nervously, “You know me?”

“I've been keeping an eye on your dads.” Willy explained, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, “Or, in your case, step-dad.” Willy cocked a brow at him, “I suppose you don't know who I am.”

“You're…” Terry hesitated, a story flashing across his mind, “...Ron's dad.”

Willy pointed a finger gun at him and made a “chk chk” sound with the side of his mouth. “Bingo. Got it in one.” 

“Were you the one that brought me here?”

The man smirked knowingly, there was something odd about it that Terry couldn't place. An extra layer of context beneath the surface he wasn't privy to.

“You could say that.”

What did that mean? 

“...why?”

Willy buzzed his lips “your ‘step-dad’-” he made a dramatic show of doing air quotes and rolling his eyes, “-has been doing a pretty shitty job. He's fuckin’ needy , trying to replace your old man, doesn't know shit ‘bout how to raise a kid. Same goes for your friend's dads, they don't know how to be good fathers .” Willy explained easily, as if rehearsed, “So me, and the other kids’ Granddads, took it upon ourselves to fix that. Give you the dads you actually need instead of blundering idiots who are causing more lasting harm then they are parenting.”

Terry’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at the explanation he was handed. He had never been particularly good at telling when someone was lying, but it didn't take much to see that this guy was full of shit. Terry would hardly call casting sleep on a kid that mildly sassed him “good parenting” even if that kid was Lark Oak-Garcia. But what bothered him most wasn't the obvious lie, it was the truth that that was how this guy thought about Ron. 

“Ron's… he's trying. I mean, he's not perfect or anything but like… I– I don't– he's not that bad.” Terry wasn't really sure why he was defending Ron's parenting. Maybe it was the– the whatever– fleeting connection they’d shared. It changed things. It didn't fix them, but it meant something . Terry thought it did. 

Willy exhaled through his nose slowly, and despite the fireplace happily crackling four feet away, the room felt colder. Silence stretched for an endless moment, “Terry, Do you know how great it was to find out about you?” he eventually said.

That caught him off-guard, “What? ” 

“Him raising someone else’s kid, a step-son who clearly couldn't stand him? You were so. Fucking. Perfect for this. The phone call, That whole stunt with tricking him into letting you into that tree chicks house so you could sic a vampire on them? I'll be honest! You even had me fooled at first!”

Guilt churned low in his gut as Willy praised him. Terry looked at his hands.

“I mean they killed it, pretty anticlimactic. But then, you took up the mantle it left. You went back to that tower and used what It'd taught you to try and reach another plane! And I was like, ‘damn, this kid might not be a waste of air like anything Ron made himself would've been.’ grabbing and twisting the magic around you to your will, turning the world into your power source, That's the Stampler way kid. I thought you might have been worthwhile. That we might face a common goal. A common understanding.”

Then Willy sighed deeply, a sound that quickly lowered and graveled into anger.

“And then-” 

He kicked his feet back to the ground and slammed his hand down on the table. Terry's head shot up in alarm.

“-you fucked everything up!” Willy shouted, glare furious and indignant. Terry shrunk back out of instinct, trying to retreat into the couch. “ God, you are so stupid. What the hell was that!?”

“wh- I- I- I- I don't understan-” Terry’s voice came out frazzled and appeasing. Trying to placate the sudden dangerous anger.

It didn't work. “ I- I- I-” Willy mocked, “Shut up! Just stop talking. You can’t even speak a full sentence without fucking that up too?” 

Terry did as he was told, shame burning hot in his chest. 

“Better.” Willy said, “Ya’know, you really screwed me over kid. I had this whole speech prepared,” he returned to lounging back on the couch. Looking relaxed at first glance but the tension in his jaw contradicted him. “-and then Ron spun you a sob story about how I was never proud of him and you- you what? Forgot how he infected your life like a parasite after your dad kicked it? Oh! That's right! He said he loves you! That changes everything!”

Anger overtook his fear and Terry sucked in a breath, “That's–” then sudden alarm shot up his spine and he swallowed, finding his words before he continued. “it wasn't like that.” he gritted.

“It was exactly like that.” Willy challenged, leveling him a look. “were you just so desperate that you’d settle for fuckin’ anything?”

“I- I wasn't settling for anything!” Terry retorted. Sounding less angry and more defensive, even to his own ears, “I-”

“I saw you yaknow. How you reacted when Ron said all that sappy bleeding-heart shit.” Willy cooed mockingly, “it's the same way he looked all the time . Like a kicked dog that keeps coming back to beg for scraps. It's embarrassing.” 

Terry bit his lip, face feeling hot. He tried to channel that anger and bitterness he’d held onto before with his step-dad, but the persona was impeded by the tremor in his voice. “I don't care that he loves me. I don't need him to.”

Willy squinted at him and cocked his head, a look that might’ve been mistaken for pity on anyone else, “awww, kiddo, yeah ya do. I know that's your whole thing, lying to yourself, but you can't lie to me. I know what desperation looks like. Once the vampire couldn’t play daddy anymore, you hopped to the only other thing you could get. Despite how much time you spent hating him. Despite how much time you spent showing him his place in your house. Showing him that he can't just show up and take over someone else's life just because your mom was in a vulnerable enough position to lower her standards. But none of that mattered. Once you needed a new dad you were willing to leech onto whatever you could get.” he lowered his voice condescendingly, “God that's pathetic.”

The words punched through him, leaving him winded and reeling. That wasn't how it happened, that wasn't how it felt . It had been so much bigger than that. But Willy made it sound stupid, spineless, desperate . Terry felt small.

“You weren’t there.” Terry shot back, anger and embarrassment making his face hot, “you don't know what it was like and you don't know what i've been through. You don't know anything about me or my mom! Ron makes my mom happy . He looks out for me. So however I reacted, or whatever common ground we found is between me and my step-dad . It has nothing to do with you.” Willys eyes flickered purple, Terry swallowed, “And from what Ron said about you, and what I've seen, I don't think you're in the position to judge.” 

Willy’s smartass grin fell and his bored gaze hardened to a glare. “Oh, I know a lot more than you think, kid. I know alllll about you and your stupid little friends. Who the hell do you think set all this up?”

“Set this up?” Terry echoed, “what do you mean “set this up?” set what up?”

“You think Bill would put in all this work?” Willy laughed wolfishly, “No. his idea was to just throw you through the portal and let you kids “figure it out.” Let you be auctioned off to god-knows-where. To people with questionable intentions at best. I looked out for you. Way more than anyone else here has. Especially Ron.”

Terry’s brows furrowed in confusion, “You- wait hold on, you brought us here? To the forgotten realms?” righteous anger returned a second later, “you sent us to get trafficked?!”

“Oh my god, no.” Willy looked insulted that he would suggest it. Terry had no idea how he could possibly be shocked by someone coming to that conclusion after he literally magically kidnapped them. “Jesus you're paranoid. It was just an easy indirect way for you all to end up where you needed to go.” 

“You rigged the auction.” Terry realized aloud

“Did you really think that it was pure dumb luck you managed to be sold off to a guy who’s whole goal was to look and act like your dead dad? That you just, happened, to be in the right place at the right time? The one thing you’ve wanted since he kicked it just magically fell into your lap?” Willy asked incredulously, “and I thought Barry was self-centered.”

“I just-” Terry tried to defend himself, “I-I thought-”

“Didn't wonder why the other kids didn't get sent there instead? I'll tell you why kiddo, because that shit wouldn't have worked on them. You think Nick wouldn’t notice the second his favorite fuckin’ person in the world was acting a bit off? That the twins wouldn’t have been running that place like the goddamn navy? That Darryl’s kid would even look up from his phone long enough to even be a willing source of energy?” Willy tilted his head, sticking Terry with a denigrating look, “Nope. That was all you bud.”

Terry felt sick. 

All of this- everything he’d experienced since getting transported here was planned. Not only that, it was observed. How long had Willy been watching him? Long enough to know about his dad. Long enough to know that Terry would be easy to lie to. Long enough to know that he'd been right about Terry from the very beginning. That he was spineless, desperate, a fuck up. Guilt, self loathing, and humiliation burned in his chest and behind his eyes as he tried to remind himself that this wasn't about him. This was a mind game, Willy was trying to get inside his head, rattle him;

“You're our best striker Terry jr and they know it.” Coach Darryl’s voice carried well, even above the chanting and yelling of the Soccer field. It had been a particularly rough match. One of the kids from the other team had been goading Terry all game and as a result he'd missed every shot. A time out had been called after Terry had gotten tripped again and the oak twins were issued a yellow card for tackling the kid to the ground, “They’re trying to get to you, make you screw up ‘cause you're too inside your own head.” Mr. Wilson jabbed a finger at his temple, “you gotta block it out. They know they can’t beat you normally so they're trying to rile you up, wear ya down until you're exhausted.”

“I can't .” Terry panted angrily, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he felt it running down the back of his neck, “I can’t block it out. I’m trying, but they're just- just-”

“Alright bud.” Mr. Wilson said nodding, “if you can't do it, you can't do it. But if you can't block it out, then you gotta hit back.”

Terry balked, “what?!”

“Not literally.” He rushed to clarify, “ don't hit anyone, we don't want to get a red card. I just mean, if they're getting in your head, get in theirs.”

Terry scoffed in exasperation, “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“You're a smart kid Terry jr, I'm sure you could find something that really screws with ‘em.”

Terry stayed quiet for a long moment, reorganizing his thoughts. Recontextualizing the last month, this conversation, Willy.

“Why would you do that?” Terry asked finally, almost under his breath. “Why would you bring us here? Why would you coordinate where we all ended up?”

Willy, who seemed to be taking great joy in Terry’s horrified silence, pitched himself forward, “I told you. Your dads are dumbasses, they're screwing you kids up. We’re going to be the fathers you actually need. As for making sure you don't end up with weirdos , uh, you're welcome.”

“Why did you even have a middle man?” Terry demanded, “why send us all to separate locations? Why not just pick us up yourselves instead of all those extra steps?”

For a fraction of a second, Terry saw it. The twitch of his eyebrow, adjustment of posture, flash of surprise. For the first time in this conversation, Willy seemed unprepared. 

It was gone in an instant, and Terry almost wondered if he imagined it.

“Our tanks were running a bit empty after opening the portal.” Willy explained carefully, obviously leaving out details and context, “we all needed a bit of a top-up before taking you kids in.” Terry's lost expression must've tipped off Willy who waved his hand dismissively, “It's a bit outside your realm, kid. All you need to know, is you were never gonna be stuck there for long. Once your dads came for you, we were always gonna pick you up.”

Terry recalled what Sparrow mentioned earlier about the grandads potentially garnering some kind of magic from them. Was this related to that? Was that magic somehow connected to their location? Or their dads coming to get them? Either way, it was clear Willy was only relinquishing half the story. Terry's question must’ve had a real answer, but it likely didn't line up with the projected image of the situation Willy was portraying.

Terry was so lost in his own thoughts that his mouth moved and a question slipped out before he could stop himself, “…why do you care? ” 

“Why do I care? ” Willy parroted, easy smirk falling into a furrowed brow, “would you rather be sold into slavery? You're lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth here kid.”

“I just meant-” Terry hesitated, looking for better phrasing, “why are we here?”

His step-granddad rolled his eyes, looking irritated again, “For the last. Fucking. Time. Your dads-”

“That's not why.” Terry cut in, testing fate and Willys patience, “You clearly can't stand us, and you don't like our dads, but you brought us here anyways. You say that you're trying to be ‘the dads we need' but you’ve been keeping three kids who hate each other crammed in one bedroom and casting sleep on them when they get too lippy .” damage control was out the window as the floodgates opened and Terry’s frustration and growing animosity tumbled from his mouth. “You don't care about being a good dad because a good dad would never do the things you've done. My dad and Ron are three times the man you'll ever be.”

The second the last word passed his lips Terry knew he’d gone too far. The crackle of outrage weighted the atmosphere. The heat of the fireplace had become less a pleasant warmth, and more a stifling heat. It made the room feel tighter, the air thicker, as it was trapped within the walls just as much as Terry was. Willy was furious. But he wasn't yelling. A chilling hush had befallen the room, making the fireplace’s roar and the blood in his ears so much louder. Terry could hear his own heartbeat thrumming faster as he met Willy’s eyes. Their stare was icy, dark, and dangerous. Despite the temperature, a chill ran through him, anticipation prickling under his skin. 

This was worse. This was so much worse than being screamed at. The emptiness stretched and Willy’s eyes narrowed as he seemed to be considering something. Anticipation prickled beneath his skin as Terry waited for Willy to say something, to do something.  

His stomach dropped as the glow of magic moved up Willys neck, through veins stained black by necrotic magic.

Terry's breath caught, “wait-”

Willy’s eyes lit purple, latching onto Terry's with the indignant anger of a man slighted, “ Terry jr, ” Terry felt the magic embedded in the words dripping at the entrance of his mind, “ you will not speak unless I explicitly allow it. ” 

The spell clamped itself on Terry with a vice-grip. Like the jaws of a beast, sinking its fangs into his free will as Terry sat like a deer in the headlights. He tried to push back against the magic that hissed Willy’s suggestion into his ear, but it was like trying to close a door against the might of a flood. The water rushed past, waves crashed into him, knocking him down and submerging him in its depths. Terry’s jaw snapped itself closed and he breathed hard through his nose, trying to will himself to keep his composure at the terrifying theft of autonomy. Content that Terry had lost the fight, the spell washed over him. Waves lapped at the edges of his mind, Terry could feel the pressure there, as if it was something physical taking up space. The promise of a headache thrummed against his skull. 

“What do you know,” Willy said, sounding self-satisfied, “looks like I was right. You can't speak without fucking things up.”

Terry's nostrils flared but he stayed obediently silent. He felt the spell itching at the back of his subconscious. Fear warred with anger as he felt his eyes traitorously water. 

Willy had been gloating but he was not smiling, what Terry said must've really struck a nerve. 

“So here's what's gonna happen.” Willy began, “when I finish talking, you're allowed to speak. And the only thing I want to hear out of that ugly mouth of yours, is an apology for screwing up my whole thing with your desperation for a pat on the back and an “atta boy.” From Ron of all people. For being an ungrateful little shit after all I did for you, and for the back talk .” he snarled.

Terry felt the spell loosen just as Willy said, but he hesitated. That hesitation stretched into something more intentional, and Terry came to the conclusion that he wasn't sorry for a single one of those things and he certainly didn't think that Willy deserved an apology. 

Willy seemed to notice Terry's pause hardening into rebellion, “do it. or you get to be mute for the next eight hours.” Terry's breath caught, “I can make it longer too. I'll even set a timer on Nick's phone to cast it again and again until you get your head out of your ass and learn some respect.”

Terry didn't want that. He scanned over Willy’s features, looking for a sign, a tell, something that insisted he was just trying to scare him, that he wouldn't actually waste spell slots just to force a power play, but came up short. Willy was not bluffing. He was petty enough to follow through, Just to make a point. And Terry hated that it would work. He wanted to be able to stick up his chin with a bravery he did not possess and refuse to comply with what Willy wanted. To prove that he was wrong about him and that Terry wasn't scared, or desperate, or backed into a corner. But his skin was crawling with the effects of the spell still dug into his mind like a parasite. 

Ever since he’d gotten here, Terry had felt a bit like he was falling. Boneless and untethered but far, far from free. Every scrap of agency; learning magic, choosing to build something with his step-dad, the world he stood on, his mom waiting at home; it had all been ripped away from him without his control. Sure, It was spineless. An urgent grasp at dead air for one last thing he didn't want taken away. And Terry knew this was exactly what Willy wanted, not an apology, but for Terry to submit to the fact he didn't have the choice not to apologize. For Terry to realize exactly how little power he had in this exchange, and by extension, exactly how much power Willy had. But knowing all of that didn't matter because despite the fact that Terry knew this was a game, he realized he was always going to lose. He could either go out with dignity, or clutch to the dwindling strands of his own autonomy that may or may not be confiscated at a later date. 

It occurred to him that Lark and Sparrow would be disgusted by his choice. Self hatred prickled in his mind at the knowledge they would’ve been strong enough to make the right one.

“I'm sorry.” Terry murmured between grit teeth.

“I'm sorry, what? ”

What? What more could he possibly want? “Mr. Stampler?” no reaction, “... Grandpa? ” he tried tentatively.

A glare, the smell of ozone, Terry swallowed back panic. “wha- I don’t- I'm sorry s- uh- sir? ”

Willy nodded, looking the closest thing Willy Stampler could look to “pleased” with someone other than himself. “There ya go. Now how about a thank you? ”

“For what?! ” Terry blurted before he could stop himself. The spell crashed back into him hard and that earlier threat of a headache made good on its promise.

“For not letting your ungrateful ass end up somewhere worse. ” Willy spat, patience evidently waning, “This doesn't have to be a tug-of-war. You're making things more difficult than they need to be. I've been, frankly, very charitable to your emotional outbursts. Despite that fact you keep needling everything I say. So all I'm looking for here is a little goddamn gratitude.”

Pressure built behind Terry’s eyes, he blinked it back. This wasn’t fair. 

“The longer you stall the longer we're both stuck here.” Willy said, kicking up and leaning back like he had all the time in the world, “I have things to get back to, and I'm sure you want to talk to your little friends. Or not talk to them! It's your choice. We can always have this conversation again in 8 hours when I recast the spell.” he clicked his tongue thoughtfully, “Actually… Now that I think about it, I think you'd feel a lot more thankful after a week.”

Don't cry. don't cry. don't cry. Not here. Not in front of him. Stop it. Come on. You're a fuck up but you can do this one thing. Don't give him this.

“You're not getting any younger here.”

Terry stared down at his hands, knuckles whitening. His breathing was shaky and wet. This was humiliating. He could just say it. He could just say it and be done with it and this whole nightmare would be fucking over. 

Say it. 

“Terry jr.”

Say it.

He felt eyes on him and heard Willy mumble something, he didn't look up.

Say it.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Willy moved to stand.

“thankyou” Terry forced out, the words tumbling over each other in his haste. 

Willy didn't stand but instead leaned closer, “what was that?”

Terry swallowed back what felt suspiciously like a sob, “Thank you.” he said a bit louder, still not looking up. “...Sir.”

Willy didn't say anything for a beat but Terry could feel him still staring. He stared at his hands and the ground beneath them, wishing it would swallow him. Wondering if there was a way that this conversation could've ended that wasn't this. Maybe if he had been better, or someone else, or if he wasn't exactly the person Willy said he was. Part of him that sounded a lot like his mom told him that he should be proud of himself, that he shouldn't judge himself on being ill-equipped to deal with a situation like this. But he didn't feel like someone to be proud of. Humiliation, anger, and fear knotted in his stomach and he couldn't help but feel that he'd made everything worse.

After what felt like forever, Willy sighed deeply, sounding satisfied. “Ohhh that's good, kid. That's what I like to hear. Yaknow, honestly, I was- eh… not worried but I was prepared for disappointment. When you're used to one kind of beer for 30 years, switching brands can be a shot in the dark in terms of quality. But, damn, count me as pleasantly surprised.” Terry could hear the smile in Willy’s voice and when he looked up he saw it extended to his eyes. It was unsettling, and came with the realization that this was the first genuine smile Terry had seen from him. “Yeah, I'm not gonna have a problem living off this. Thanks kiddo.” 

What? What the hell was he talking about? Was this about the magic? Did Willy take something from him?

“Okay yeah. Good job. We're done.” Willy said, slapping his knees as he pushed himself to stand. “c’mon, I'm sick of looking at you.”

What about the spell? Terry tried to ask, but the words stayed locked behind unmoving vocal chords. The magic still pushing at the edges of his mind squeezed tighter at his attempt to undermine it. He winced at the building tension headache.

On cue, Willy snapped like he forgot something, “Oh that's right, the spell. I guess I implied I'd take it off.” he tapped his chin like he was considering it, Terry wanted to scream, “Eh, what the hell. You've been a good sport. I'll do it when we get to the door. Don't want you feeling chatty on the walk over.”

That was… fine. Terry could be fine with that. He could wait just a bit longer. He didn't feel chatty anyways. That would ideally be a choice he'd made himself but it was fine. He could be fine.

Terry staggered to his feet, dizzy with relief and exhaustion. He followed Willy to the door and out behind him.

The walk back to the room was silent, save for The sound of two sets of footsteps echoing down the massive hallways. The air was much cooler out here and though the frosty chill of it nipped uncomfortably at his skin, it oddly soothed him. The crisp chilled air of the empty corridors filled his lungs much smoother than the stuffy heat he'd just escaped. He was almost done. He just had to make it through the rest of the walk there. 

When they turned a corner and the oak door shimmering hypnotically with purple runes popped into view down the hallway, Terry found himself releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

Willy led them both to it and Terry looked at him expectantly.

Willy looked back, annoyed. “Jesus, you're impatient. Fine.” he flicked two fingers dismissively and Terry felt the spell snap. It felt like a cork had been popped off the bottom of his skull, and the spell drained slowly. He shivered at the sensation of it trickling down his spine and hissed at the pressure release. Despite the fact it had not at all affected his breathing, Terry felt oddly like he had just surfaced for air. His brain nearly choked him as it tried to cough up non-existent water. From the corner of his vision, he saw Willy rolling his eyes.

“So before I open the door I just want to clear something with you.” Willy said, leaning against it.

Terry’s barely controlled breathing hitched as he just managed not to fully break down in tears from that one sentence. He blinked hard, willing himself to keep it together.

“I'm gonna be real with you, the shit that I dealt with earlier, with the twins. It happens all. The fucking. Time.” Willy groaned, “It’s gotten better since Bill’s grandson got here, but it's really just a huge hassle that I have to keep coming back to deal with. It's gotta be some annoying genetics that were passed down or something. None of the Oaks like being told what to do. They’re all huge fucking babies about it, but you and I have sort of come to an… understanding.”

Pretty charitable wording. Terry thought critically, but was too tired to feel anything stronger towards it than dim exasperation.

“I assure you, you kids don't want me around just as much as I don't want to be around. But I have to keep coming back to get rid of explosives, or keep one of those idiots from throwing themselves out the window, or trying to set each other on fire or something.” Willy rolled his wrist as he rattled off examples, “ideally someone on the inside would be keeping things in-check so I don't have to keep getting dragged down here.”

Understanding flooded him as Terry realized what he was getting at.

“Pretty sure you're the oldest, you're definitely the tallest.” Willy squinted as he looked Terry up and down, “They seem to care about what happens to you. So you keep everything running smoothly in there, and we won't have to have another talk. Cool?”

Did Willy just assign him as the babysitter? The babysitter directly responsible for everything Lark and Sparrow did? Not even their parents could control them. How the hell was Terry supposed to keep them from trying to break out of a real-life escape room?

It was literally an impossible task, but Willy didn't seem to care as long as he wasn't the one dealing with it, and Terry didn't have the energy to argue. The earlier adrenaline was beginning to ebb away, exhaustion replacing it. It's not like he had a choice in the matter anyways.

Terry opened his mouth to agree but hesitated, instead choosing to clench his jaw and nod. 

From the way that Willys smirk went a bit crueler, he noticed the change. “atta boy.” he brought down his hand on Terry’s shoulder, slapping the top of it too hard. With the other hand, he placed his palm firmly in the middle of the door. A now familiar purple glow moved up his veins, the energy pulsed from his hand and rippled across the door, glowing brighter for a second before the rune broke in a burst of particles and Willy swung it open.

The room was much quieter than how they’d left it, but maybe that was because everyone inside went still at the sound of the door.

Nicholas had been sitting by the fireplace but was already jumping to his feet when Terry noticed him. Dark eyes scanned over him, holding and furrowing into concern when he reached his face. He couldn't bear to hold the gaze.

Sparrow, mercifully, was looking past Terry from his position on the opposite end of the room, huddled defensively in the corner by the nest of blankets and pillows he’d noticed earlier. Behind him, Terry could make out the still unconscious form of Lark, cocooned protectively in the pile.

Terry had somehow forgotten about the hand on his shoulder and the pressure from the ball of Willy’s wrist against the back of his shoulder blade was all the warning he got before he was unceremoniously shoved into the room. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the edge of the couch.

The sound of quick footsteps and baby blue flashed in Terry's vision as Nicholas’ polo came into view but he didn't dare look up, keeping his head low as he stared at the patterns in the cotton before they began to swim with the threat of tears.

“Great chat.” Willys voice said from behind him, “Later kids.” Terry heard the creek of the door as it began to close.

“Wait.” Nicholas squeaked out.

Shut up . Terry’s mind pleaded, as if he just thought hard enough, Nicholas would get the message. For the love of god, just let him leave.

The creak of the door stopped, “What.”

Terry heard the shuffle of fabric from Sparrow's corner of the room and a voice clipped with concern, “What about Lark?” he asked defensively.

“What about him?”

Nicholas made a frustrated sound followed by fluttering uncertainness on what to do with his hands as he gestured to Lark insistently, “He's still sleeping!”

“That's not my fault.” Willy said, annoyed. “The spell ended like half an hour ago, ever heard of melatonin?” 

Nicholas made a noise that sounded like the start of a word but stopped abruptly when Willy snorted, “Yeah you look like you do.” 

“what's that supposed to mean?”

“don't fucking talk back to me.”

Despite his eyes blurring with tears, Terry could see the moment Nicholas shrank back. A sudden pang of sympathy hit him, along with a guilty feeling of solidarity.

Sparrow broke the silence, “my brother is still asleep.” 

Willy groaned, “Jesus christ. He's fine. He'll wake up normally in the morning.”

Sparrow made a dissatisfied hum but didn't argue.

“Anything else? ”

The boys stayed silent. 

“Good.”

The door slammed and the room collectively breathed a sigh of relief followed by tense silence. Terry could feel both sets of eyes on him and though he couldn't see Sparrow, Nicholas’ hands were awkwardly gesturing to him as he guessed they were mouthing something to each other. 

After a moment, Nicholas hovered a hand over Terry's shoulder but evidently thought better of it, instead clearing his throat. “um, are you okay?”

Terry swallowed, he didn't feel okay. Tears were already wetting his eyes as he kept his head down, not wanting the after effects of their conversation to be obvious. Terry was selfish, he’d wanted Willy to leave so badly that he didn't even think about Lark. About how freaked out the other two kids must've been as they were powerless to do anything. He didn't want to put more on the other kids plates. Didn't want them to see exactly what Willy saw. Didn't want to prove Willy right.

“Yeah.” he said curtly, voice higher than normal. Terry wasn't sure how convincing it was by the way Nicholas turned to look in Sparrows direction. 

“...what did he say to you?” Nicholas asked hesitantly.

He couldn't do this. 

Terry pushed past Nicholas towards the bathroom.

“Terry jr wait-”

“I need a minute.” Terry choked out, tremble fully evident in his voice. Embarrassment burned in his chest but it did seem to be enough of a deterrent that Nicholas backed off. Whether it be because he wanted to give Terry space or because he was just as disgusted with him as he was with himself. 

He grabbed the handle to the bathroom and shut himself inside, the lock clicking loudly. Terry pushed his back against the door and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his wrists to them as he tried to block everything out to focus on breathing slowly. When he opened them, he jumped at the sight of his own reflection.

It was then that he realized that he hadn't seen himself in awhile. There weren't really any opportunities while he and the others were being auctioned off by the lance, and the vampire didn't keep any mirrors in the tower. What hints of his reflection he'd seen in silverware, the black of his phone screen, and pools of blood on stone floors Terry had pretended to think were something else, he hadn't been able to get a good look. It wasn't something he'd thought to look closer at. 

But now, Terry was forced to take in a crystal clear image of himself. His eyes were red, lined with dark circles and the shine of unshed tears. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his face and Terry couldn't help but think he looked older. He was thinner, not filling in his soccer jersey like he used to, and practically swimming in the stupid cloak he was still wearing. 

Terry never thought much of his appearance, good or bad. It just wasn't something he ever really considered. It still wasn't. So it wasn't how he physically looked that bothered him, it was who he was looking at.

He couldn't think of anyone he wanted to see less.

Terry slid down the door to the cool stone tile, curling in on himself tightly, Like if he squeezed himself small enough, it would make him sink into the ground and disappear. Like if he closed his eyes tight enough, he'd be able to imagine he was someone else, somewhere else. Like if he could hug himself hard enough, he'd be able to lie to himself, and pretend it was his mom. 

Whatever few threads had been holding him together, snapped. The weight, the exhaustion, the guilt and self-loathing and embarrassment and everything. It all collapsed down on him in the fraction of a second, crushing him under the endless weight. Sobs shook him and he pulled the hood of the cloak over his head so that he wouldn't have to risk seeing the fuck-up in the mirror. 

Terry wondered if somehow in the process of falling apart and putting himself back together that he’d done it wrong, or if the fractures had been there since the beginning. Terry had been molded by the experienced loving hands of his mom and dad but he still somehow shattered their hard work by being who he was. By being this.  

Willy hadn't broken him, he’d just pointed out the cracks. 

Chapter Text

Terry didn't know when he'd managed to doze off but he was suddenly made painfully aware that he had. The rumble of a knock on the bathroom door reverberated through his body; slamming him back into consciousness with a happy helping of leftover adrenaline.

He jumped to his feet and stumbled back, ribs digging painfully into the sink as he did so. He glanced backwards in surprise and caught another glimpse at his reflection, disheveled, half asleep, but not stirring the same self-loathing as before. Terry ran a hand down his face and hesitated for a second before swinging open the door. 

“Ter- oh!” Nicholas startled, closed fist hanging awkwardly in the air where the door once was. He dropped the hand and paused for a moment, eyeing skating over him from the other side of the frame. “Were you sleeping in there?”

“Uh-” Terry cringed at the broken rasp of his voice, “Not intentionally. Sorry, I didn't mean to take so long in the only bathroom.” his eyes widened in sudden understanding, “Oh, is that why you-”

“No.” Nicholas shot down quickly with no small amount of disgust, “you've just been in here for like, two hours. Sparrow and I saved you some food.” He pushed a plate Terry hadn’t realized he’d been holding into his sternum, winding him slightly and Terry’s hands felt shaky and uncoordinated as he groped forward to take it. 

“Oh, thanks.” When was the last time he ate? Roqueport was almost always dark so the days blended together and Terry was never really sure when one started and another ended. He'd definitely eaten pretty consistently there though, and the last meal he remembered was probably a good few hours before Ron had arrived in town. Was that today? Was that yesterday? It suddenly occurred to Terry that he hadn’t slept since then either.

Well, okay, maybe now he had.

“Thanks.” Terry croaked again.

“You already said that.”

“Right. Yeah you're right, sorry.”

Nicholas squinted at him in a way that felt critical, “Maybe you should go back to bed.”

Oh, that sounded nice.

“No, no, later I will but-” Terry rubbed his face, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes, “What… what time is it?” he padded the pockets of his shorts with his free hand, looking around, “I think I lost my phone.”

“Those douchebags probably have it.” Nicholas mumbled sympathetically, “mine went missing when I got like-” he gestured wildly in the air, “-magicked here or whatever.”

Willy probably has it then. Terry realized, pushing away the feeling of dread that accompanied it. It was too soon to work himself back up into a panic. That and Terry was too tired to properly devote energy to losing his shit again.

“As for the time,” Nicholas continued, grumbling like he'd been asked to do this a lot since he'd gotten here. He flicked his wrist, glancing at an outdated fitness tracker. “It'sss 11:26.”

“at night?”

“yeah.”

“Huh.” Terry wasn't sure what he was expecting but still somehow managed to be surprised. He looked down at the plate he’d thanked Nicholas twice for but hadn't even glanced at. Two slices of… if he was being honest, pretty gross looking pizza. Topped with green peppers and olives. The paper plate was soaked with grease and the pizza was lukewarm at best. “It's a little late for dinner.” And, after a second's hesitation, “I didn't know they had pizza here.”

Nicholas cracked what was almost a smile, “Usually we only get like, oats and berries and… I dunno, weird vegan food. But I think Lark and Sparrow's grandpa was too pissed off to feed us after Sparrow bit him so he made Bill do it.”

Oh… Now that Terry was paying attention, there were a few spots of red dotting the pale wood floor near the back of the couch. He'd been staring at that spot pretty intensely when he came back into the room. How hadn't he caught it then? The stark contrast definitely should have made its way through the watery blur that'd clouded his vision. The memory of blood on stone floors flashed across his mind and it occurred to him that pretending not to see blood was a skill he'd been practicing routinely. Something in him was unsettled by that realization, he swallowed uneasily.

The sight was so familiar by now that it was only after a second and an, also familiar, thrill of alarm up his spine that Terry remembered to be concerned.

He frantically looked around for the twins, “Is- oh God, is Sparrow-”

“He's fine.” Nicholas assured quickly, reading his mind, “that's not, uh, his. What you saw earlier… it's not how things usually are. There wasn't any more magic or anything like that. No one was hurt.” he snorted, “Except for Barry I guess.”

The panic that Terry's body was so valiantly trying to work him into began to ebb, but still buzzed unpleasant and unignorable under his skin, “what did he do?”

Nicholas shrugged, “He just left. Said something about how, “this would never happen in Oakveil” and re-locked the door.”

Weak relief gusted through him that at least nothing worse had happened while he was gone. “That's good. That you guys are okay. Well maybe not okay but- whatever.” Terry sounded winded, “Where are the other two?”

“Sleeping.” Nicholas waved a hand towards the nest of blankets in the corner. Lark and Sparrow were curled up together. Or, more accurately, Sparrow was curled around Lark who lied limp in the embrace. “Usually they'll try and stay up all night ‘planning ’ but with Lark already sleeping I don't think Sparrow really had the motivation to stay up any later.” Nicholas smiled in a way that was a little guilty, “it's actually pretty nice. I mean, not that I'm happy Lark was knocked unconscious-” he grinned, looking pretty happy, “I'm just saying, it's quiet. I'm not complaining.”

It was quiet. Thankfully a comfortable one as opposed to all the loaded silences Terry had experienced today. That was good, he didn't think he could deal with any more excitement. He bit into the pizza to spare himself the guilt of verbally agreeing.

“Soooo…” Nicholas rocked back and forth from the balls of his heels, swinging his arms and looking around the room, “The talk with your granddad didn't go well?” he ventured.

“Not really.” Terry mumbled through the food in his mouth. It was weird to eat while standing, especially next to the bathroom. He scooted around Nicholas and made his way to the couch.

The other boy followed him, “what did he want?”

“uh…” to get mad? To feel superior? to gloat? “Someone to yell at.”

“Well what did he say? ”

Terry sat down. He didn't think that it felt very quiet anymore. “a lot.”

“ yeah?” Nicholas pried, beginning to look exasperated by Terry's evasive answers as he leaned over the side of the couch.

Terry wracked his brain for something he could throw him, “um… yeah. He has your phone.”

“ugh what . Of course he does.” Nicholas groaned, sticking Terry with a half-serious look, "He didn't happen to give it to you did he? As, like, a grandpa gift?”

Terry scrunched his nose, “that doesn't really seem like something he'd do.”

“I dunno, maybe he's tolerable with you. Making up for… missed birthdays or something.” Nicholas said, rolling his eyes.

Terry laughed dryly, “no. He didn't give me your phone. Just waved it around threatening to set a timer on it.”

“He threatened to set a timer? What the hell does that mean?”

Terry nearly choked on the pizza in his mouth as he realized his mistake. The memory of the suggestion spell rolled over him like a wave. Saltwater in raw wounds. He could've sworn he'd been punched from how suddenly the air in his lungs disappeared. He coughed instead of answering, buying time as he reminded himself how to breathe.

“Looks like I was right. You can't speak without fucking things up.”

“He Uhhhh… he-” Terry scrambled for an explanation, bouncing his leg with the nervous energy that had nowhere to go. Terry was never a good liar, and the intense look Nicholas was giving him was kinda intimidating, “Remember when you said there wasn't any more magic? like after I left?”

“...yes?” Nicholas drew out the word with suspicion.

Terry picked at the edge of the paper plate with his nail, “Yeah. Well. Maybe that wasn't, uh- super… Super accurate. For… from my experience.”

A disturbed look fell over the other boy. “...what do you mean? What happened?”

Terry exhaled slowly, “I… pissed him off. I guess. Provoked him. pushed too far. I dunno.” he was stalling. Telling Nicholas that he hadn't been able to talk for a few minutes felt like a stupid thing to be freaked out about now that he was able to look back on it. It wasn't a big deal. Terry was making it a big deal. It was stupid. he was stupid and spineless and-

“Asking the weather is pushing too far for that guy.” Nicholas scoffed, cutting through Terry's spiraling, “It's not you. He's just a dick.” His eyes flicked to Terry, chastising, “seriously. don't defend him.”

Guilt burned in Terry’s chest and he buried his head in his hands, “I'm sorry. You guys have probably had so many bad experiences with him since you got here and I'm just… justifying for him.”

“and don't apologize!” Nicholas said, sounding more offended, “this isn't about me! You don't need to- ugh.” He hissed out a slow breath like he was recollecting himself, “Terry jr I'm worried about you, okay? Clearly something happened and if you don't want to talk about it right now then thats… that's fine.” It didn't sound fine. it sounded kind of strained to Terry. “We can talk about it when it's less recent.

Terry took another bite and hummed noncommittally.

“... or never.” Nicholas added after a seconds hesitation and with some amount of effort. “If that's… what you need.”

Terry glanced at Nicholas and felt some small amount of fondness at how hard he seemed to be trying. “Yeah… thanks man.” he said genuinely.

Nicholas kicked at the carpet, “… don't mention it.” he grumbled sheepishly. 

An awkward, teenage boy styled, silence followed as neither of them seemed really sure how to continue the conversation after showing a genuine emotion. 

Nicholas was first to break it with a stilted: “so… how's the pizza?”

Terry squinted at the soggy slice in his hand with an appraising look, “bad.”

Nicholas snorted in agreement, “yeah.”

He took another bite regardless, weakly relieved for the change of subject. “How is it both soggy and burnt?”

“Because Bill is the worst .” Nicholas groaned, “the apple clearly didn't fall far from the tree.”

For someone who hates Glenn so much you seem pretty obsessed with him . Terry secretly thought but decided he'd get a boiling glare for his trouble. So instead he gave a half-hearted laugh which relievingly seemed to lift Nicholas’s mood a bit.

After a few minutes of mindless chatter, Terry had finished his pizza. Setting the plate to the side and doing his best to continue the conversation. But the gentle crackle of the fire mixed with the soft tones of both of their voices were traitorously working together to get Terry’s eyes to droop and his responses to become fewer and farther between. He felt a bit fuzzy and detached before blinking back from his doze at Nicholas’ voice. 

“What?”

Nicholas rolled his eyes, “I said if you're gonna sleep, you should do it on the bed.”

Terry groaned in annoyance but pushed himself up from where he'd slumped back. Despite the urge to just sleep on the couch, the allure of a soft mattress and silk sheets was too enticing to ignore. Terry turned and blinked at it hard, trying to wake his brain up, “why did they put us in a room with only one? ” he asked.

Nicholas puffed up his cheeks and exhaled slowly, “well, we used to have more but- uh- when we got moved to another room…” he trailed off, looking guilty. 

“Oh.” is all Terry managed to say, feeling bad for mentioning it. “at least it's pretty big.” he tried.

Nicholas shuffled, “I've been sleeping on it but, I mean, you look like you need it way more than I do so I can just sleep on the couch.”

Terry scoffed, already staggering over to collapse on the mattress. “That's stupid. It's huge.” Nicholas’s brows furrowed and he opened his mouth like he was going to object but Terry was faster, “We can put a pillow between us if it's a big deal. But it doesn't bother me.” 

Truthfully, the idea of sleeping next to another warm, living body, with blood pumping through it was oddly comforting. But Terry didn't know how to phrase that without it sounding weird. So he clambered into the bed and under the silken sheets, landing face down in the pillow for a second before half rolling over to glance at Nicholas, who seemed to be in the process of making a mental pro and cons list.

Nicholas opened and closed his mouth a few times before clenching his jaw. “Are you sure?” 

Terry just gave him an exasperated look which seemed to be the final push Nicholas needed as, at long last, he stood up and made his way to the other side of the bed and rigidly crawled under the covers. And, after a second, predictably placed a pillow between them. 

Terry let out an amused huff. 

“You might’ve picked up a disease from wherever you were before.” Nicholas justified.

“I didn't.”

“Well,” Nicholas’s critical tone sounded performative, “it's not my fault you look like you've got a foot in the grave. You look terrible. Get some sleep.”

Terry hummed in sleepy agreement, already beginning to doze. Half-registering a scoff from the other side of the bed before the exhaustion in his mind and body pulled him into much needed rest.

—

The firebolt raced through the tip of Terrys fingers and into the last mud-Ron. Terry squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing the sad, kicked-dog, look they all gave him before they collapsed into a puddle. At the sound of its defeat, Terry wheezed breathlessly, dropping his hands to his knees and ducking his head between his shoulders as the prickles of sweat on his forehead cooled. He shivered.

“Very Well done my son!” His dad praised. “Though, your constitution is clearly lacking, would you like some water?”

It shouldn't be. Terry knew it shouldn't be. He was a soccer player. He was a good soccer player, his endurance should be higher but he's just so… tired. Even before they had begun training he had the fatigue of running a marathon. Still he felt the sting of inadequacy at the comment. He nodded, grateful as a metal chalice of water was pressed into his hand.

He felt the water slip past his chin as he downed it. Why was this so hard? Why was he so bad at it? He could cast spells, he could cast quite a few at this point but it just… drained him. He felt spent. Wizards were supposed to have more endurance than this right? He was doing something wrong. He had to be. It was the only answer that made sense. His dad was doing his best to teach him but he couldn't even cast cantrips without feeling a little like he was going to pass out. 

He felt a hand settle lightly, coldly, on his back and groaned miserably.

“It seems that's enough for today.” His father said sympathetically and Terry could've collapsed with relief. Though, he supposed he wasn't too far from collapsing regardless.

“How- how did you-” Terry struggled to catch his breath, “how did you learn magic after you…” Terry's lips tightened, “arrived here.” He decided.

His father laughed, high and cheerful, and the sound hurt Terry's head a bit. “Ohhh my son. Always with the questions. The ability to do magic has felt as simple as breathing in my experience.” He said lightly, Terry felt a cold feeling in his chest as his eyes unconsciously flicked to his father's unmoving diaphragm. Terry swallowed and tried to convince himself he hadn't noticed it. His father didn't seem to as he continued, “almost a part of my nature.” 

Well that was just great. Not only was Terry practically pooling in sweat after just casting a few spells, but he was humiliating himself in front of his dad over something that was clearly meant to come naturally. The frustration must've shown on his face because his father gave a light chuckle and the hand on his back rubbed soothingly.

“But you are quite young Terry jr. You are making slow progress but you are making progress.” He said and Terry felt worse. “You must try just a bit harder. You understand, no?”

…he could try harder. How much harder? This was already so hard. His dad came back and now he finds out that his son doesn't even have the fortitude to cast simple spells and worse yet Terry's not even trying hard enough. 

“I… yeah. I can do that.” Terry mumbled, “I'll try harder.” He promised.

“Good. I am happy to hear it, my son.” And Terry felt a weak desperate feeling of… something. He wanted his dad to be proud of him. He wanted to prove to him that he hadn't somehow changed too much to recognize from the person he had loved before.

He tried to think of something his dad had been proud of him for. Before all this. He was sorta aware that tying his self worth to something he was clearly bad at wasn't doing great things for his mental health. Or, he thought that was something his mom might say. But his father had felt pride for him before, certainly. Terry wanted to prove that even if he wasn't really good at the whole magic thing right now, there were other things his father would still find praiseworthy. For sure. 

…

…

…Terry's mind drew a blank.

There had To be something?! Like, logically, it made sense that if Terry had lived in a good loving home, which he did, that he would have some good memories of feeling, supported? Pride? From his dad. but it's all…

…

He just couldn't quite… remember right now.

This had happened a few times since he'd gotten here, drawing on memories he knew should be there and coming up empty. A sick hollow feeling opened in Terry's stomach that something was terribly, horribly, wrong .

“Dad?” Terry swallowed the shake in his voice, “what's your um- favorite memory? from before?

“Hm?” his father hummed Looking down at him with red- red? Were His eyes always red? Terry didn't think so, but couldn't place what color they should've been.

“with the two of us.” Terry added, a little desperately. He tried to smile but it probably looked forced. Terry glanced at his hands. Away from the eyes that were wrong that he could still feel looking at him. “I'm just- just curious. feeling nostalgic.” he lied.

His father Let out a soft sigh and the hand on his back lifted, “oh my son, how could I dwell on a memory of the past when you're here right in front of me?” He said, petting the top of Terry’s hair. “My favorite memories are the time I've spent with you since your arrival.”

Terry felt… a little sick. 

That was sweet wasn't it? He should be elated. He should feel guilty for dwelling on the past when his dad is right here in front of him. But the days go by and…

For the life of him Terry couldn't remember what his dad had been like before.

He'd always been this way hadn't he? Sure maybe the forgotten realms had changed some minor things, (were his eyes always red? Did he always have an accent? …he had used to breathe hadn't he?), but that was to be expected wasn't it? Who was he to judge? He got his dad back. don't be picky, don't be ungrateful, Don't ask so many questions.

…Don't wonder why he couldn't picture his father's face. 

Terry jumped at the light pat on his head, “My son,” his dad, his Dad's voice cutting through Terry's train of thought “you do not look well. Perhaps It would be best if you get some sleep, yes?”

Yeah. He was just tired. That was it. He'd feel better once he slept. He'd just been sleeping poorly that's why. That's why he was so drained, why he couldn't remember. 

Terry nodded, fatigue pulling his head a little lower than necessary and kept pace as he was led to his room.

Once they reached the door Terry hurried ahead into the room and forced out a quick “goodnight.” avoiding eye contact as he shut the door. He slid the deadlock shut behind him. The heavy scape of metal half-drowned out the replied: “goodnight my son. I love you.” 

Terry didn’t respond.

The man on the other side of the door didn't seem to mind as the click of heels retreated slowly down the hallway. Terry hissed out a slow breath feeling guilty at the relief. Why was he relieved? It was his dad. It was his dad. It was. He trusted him. He shouldn't be scared. 

This was normal! Terry was fine! Really! 

He wasn't scared. He wasn't losing his mind. Everything was normal. This was normal. His dad was normal. Calm down. You're fine. You're fine. He was fine. 

He was tired. Just tired. It sunk into his bones and it was just because he wasn't sleeping well. It had to be.

Terry laid down on the bed, staring up at high stone walls.

Just go to sleep. Just sleep, everything's fine. 

He was fine.

—

Terry’s brain kicked back on tiredly, a half-awake confusion setting in only to swiftly replace itself with cold clutches of panic as he pried his eyes open to the sight of familiar high stone walls.

Back in the tower. He was back in the tower. He was back. How did he get here? It didn't matter because he was back and he was alone with that THING and he couldn't remember again and-

The unfamiliar sound of quiet snoring to his left brought his terror to a grinding halt.

Vampires don't breathe.

It was then that his brain went off airplane mode and Terry calmed down enough to remember where he was and what was happening. He pushed himself up slightly, eyes landing on Nicholas as he tracked the slow rise and fall of his back. The sharp claws of hysteria that had buried themselves in Terry’s chest loosened in relief. The tight knot in the pit of his stomach unraveling. 

Terry took a second to let himself calm down. Closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. He was okay. The situation he was in definitely wasn't ideal, but he was okay.

Oh boy. Talk about an overreaction. Embarrassing. Thank god no one was awake to witness that.

He sighed and bonelessly slumped back down, staring back up at the dark ceiling. Glancing away from Nicholas and over to the other side of the bed before promptly jumping out of his skin when he was met with two pairs of green eyes looming over him. 

“A–!!!”

A hand clamped over his mouth and cut off his scream, which shockingly did not help quell the heart attack his body was currently attempting to have. 

“Shhhh! Terry jr, it's just us.” a voice hissed. Terry blinked hard through the panic and forced himself to focus on the silhouettes and recognized the two wild heads of hair. Lark and Sparrow. This, also, did nothing to alleviate his nerves. 

Terry batted the hand away shakily, “what are you doing ?!” he demanded, voice embarrassingly higher than normal. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

“Lark woke up.” Sparrow informed him.

“I see that.” Terry whisper-snapped, the heartbeat pounding in his ears beginning to slow, “were you watching me sleep???”

Lark and Sparrow blinked owlishly at him in unsettling unison, “We weren't for very long.” Lark defended.

Oh, well that makes it better. Terry groaned internally. “what- why- what- Okay, hold on sorry-” Terry rubbed at his face, trying to quell frazzled nerves, “Lark, I’m glad you're okay. That's- that's great. really. I'm just- why are you both up? And standing over me like serial killers?”

Neither twin responded. Maybe he was imagining things as he squinted at them in the dark trying to make out their expressions, but they looked sheepish. Almost like the answer ate at their pride, something Terry was far too tired to care about preserving. “Guys.” Terry coaxed.

The twins glanced at each other, both of them hesitated before finally, “We miss father.” Sparrow admitted in a whisper.

And suddenly all of the irritation at being woken up drained out of him, “oh.”

Somehow, Terry had sorta forgotten that Lark and Sparrow could feel… sad. That sounded awful but, calling the twins “weird” was a bit of an understatement. Lark and Sparrow were a poorly contained chaos, condensed and distributed between two eleven year olds. Fiercely independent and far too clever for their own good. They were more like a natural disaster than two pre-teens. That boundless force of nature made it hard to remember that they were still just, kids. That they could still get scared of the dark or miss their dad. That was something Terry could understand.

“I'm sorry.” Terry said understandingly, voice softening, “I'm sure he’ll- all the dads are coming for us. You'll see him again soon.”

“If he survives.” Lark muttered gravely.

Sparrow tugged on Larks hand in what Terry supposed was a comforting gesture between the two of them, “Don't talk like that, father can turn into the form of a mighty wolf, remember?” Sparrow said, giving his brother a light smile that Terry couldn't help but think looked a little stressed, “he is surely on his way now, come hell or high water, he will make it here.”

“Do you know what eats wolves, Sparrow? Dragons.” Lark argued back like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And even if he is not eaten by the dragon, do you think he could slay it? Father literally will not hurt a fly!”

“I don't think that dragons eat wolves.” Terry mused, “I mean there's no way they’re natural predators. Unless there's like, bigger wolves here that would satiate a dragon's appetite. But even then they wouldn't be a very good food source- Okay point taken.” Terry said, throwing up his hands in surrender as both twins gave him sharp looks, “What I'm trying to say is that everything is gonna work itself out. Sure, things look grim right now but we’ll be home before we know it.” 

It wasn't a lie per se, it could be true. Terry didn't think it was. But he'd never been in this position before. He didn't really know how to help them feel better about a truly bleak situation. 

Both of them gave skeptical looks at Terry’s blind optimism. 

“You don't know that.” Sparrow said, glancing at Lark uncertainly, “What if something like today happens again but worse?”

Lark didn't seem to notice his brother's glance, “What if the grandfathers get sick of taking care of so many of us and decide they don't need all of us?” he catastrophized.

“What if we don't see Grant again?”

“What if when we get back so much time will have passed that our mother won't recognize us anymore?” 

“what if we come back too different?”

“What if we don't all come back?” 

“Wh- I don’t- stop asking me questions I can't answer!” Terry hissed, panicked. Feeling a stab of guilt when both boys tightened with anxiety. “Look, it's all- I don't know how things are gonna go, okay? We're in a pretty messed up situation.” he said honestly, “but we’ve- we've got each other? right? And our dads are coming to get us and I'm actually- I’m shocked to say this but I'm pretty solid on their capacity to kill things.” Terry winced at the memory that flashed in his mind. “don't stress yourselves out about it. Okay? The best thing you guys can do right now is get some sleep.”

There was a pause as Lark and Sparrow glanced at each other then back at Terry. “...You aren't very good at pep talks,” Lark murmured.

“I know,” Terry groaned. “Just come and sleep in this ridiculously massive bed with us.”

Both boys gave him twin looks of incredulity.

“It'll feel like sneaking into your parents bed.” Terry whispered back in what he hoped was a comforting tone. “Everything will feel less all-encompassingly awful.”

Despite extending the invitation, Terry was still somewhat surprised when Sparrow hopped up onto the bed, scooting around him to sink into the body heat of his side. Lark hesitated for half a second but followed suit, kneeing Terry in the chest painfully as he crawled over him to get to the other side of Sparrow. Terry heard a confused half-lucid groan from Nicholas and the shuffling of bedsheets before he watched the pillow that Nicholas had placed between them be hucked across the room.

“Wh- Lark!” Nicholas squawked, before scoffing indignantly at the two sets of shushes he received from the twins. “What are you doing?!”  

“Nicholas, you're like a radiator!” Lark replied, sounding impressed.

“ Get off!”

Terry sighed at the sound of kicking. 

“Hey, come on-” 

“He started it!” two voices shouted back at him.

“You guys, I'm not even joking. If you start fighting right now and I can't get back to sleep I am going to start crying.” Terry threatened seriously, voice already breaking with exhaustion. 

There was a long pause as both of them seemed to consider this, and after a moment, Terry heard the sound of two people simultaneously slumping back into the mattress.  

“I hate you.” Nicholas hissed, just barely audible.

Lark made a snort of laughter that was just as quiet, “Use that as fuel for your future revenge.”

Once Nicholas and Lark had mutually (if begrudgingly) agreed to a ceasefire, everyone began to settle in. 

In truth, Terry's plead that if they got in the bed they’d feel better had been wishful thinking. Really, he'd just wanted them to be quiet and go back to sleep. But the feeling of all of them crowded together under the covers was unexpectedly… nice. Sparrow’s arm was slung over him like a teddy bear, with his face buried in Terry's side. When Terry lifted his head up just enough to look at the other two, he caught Larks hand intertwined with Sparrows and his leg kicked out over Nicholas, who seemed to have made peace with it as he had returned to lightly snoring.

A smile tugged Terry's lips at the scene as he lay back down. He reveled in the company, wondering at what point that had become unfamiliar. 

He hadn't realized just how isolated he'd been in that tower.

This wouldn't last and Terry knew it. This sleeping situation was definitely not sustainable and he’d likely wake up to bickering in the morning. But for right now, Terry could sorta feel Sparrows heartbeat against him. He could hear the rustling of the covers as Lark’s leg kicked out in his sleep. And even with the twins between them, Terry could sense the warmth radiating off of Nicholas, accompanied by the odd smell of cinnamon and charcoal that seemed to follow him. 

They were fucked. Oh boy were they fucked. But Terry could worry about that in the morning. For right now, for the first time in a long time, Terry felt like things might be alright.