Will Them Into Existence

Knights for Nights

Wilbur turned by the water fountain, humming lightly to the song playing on their headphones. Both hands gripped the straps of his backpack, and they looked around their surroundings with fervor. The dimness of the building cast shadows over the corners of the hallways, and the familiar building shroud in darkness made something long sense resting in them stand up on end.

They turned again down the end of a hallway, passing a display case in their haste to escape whatever new dark parts of the school that they could. From the corner of their eye, they caught something that ignited the slowly accustoming shivers down their arms. Wilbur's breath caught in their throat, and they spun slowly back around towards the display case, heartbeat in their throat.

Framed pictures decorated the shelves behind the glass, a hundred different shots of the band and a few sparse ones of the cheerleaders. On instinct, they immediately began searching for familiar faces, eyes darting with fervor anew. There should be pictures of them - them and their friends, and their brother. They stepped closer to the case, hands releasing book bag straps and coming up to rest against the glass.

Wilbur leaned forward, lip worrying between his teeth. The picture right in front of them - they'd seen it a million times. Hell, they took the picture. They knew exactly what it looked like. Sam and Colby, leaned over the banister at a football game, band uniforms on. Tommy, on the field, pom-poms under his arm, standing on his tippy toes and reaching up to grab their hands, big smile on his face.

Except-

Except this time, there was a figure slightly behind Tommy on the field. Green-hair curled around silver glasses, band uniform sticking out against the uniforms of the cheerleaders surrounding. There was even headphones around the person's neck, and dirtied converse on their feet. And- Wilbur blinked once, tilting their head and rubbing their eyes. That couldn't be right.

Instead of where green should be nestled among their features, clouded white eyes looked directly at the camera. There was no smile. No sure fire indication that anything was wrong, sure. They could've just miss remembered who took the picture, they could've climbed over the railing to meet their brother on the field - gods know they'd done it before.

But something about the white eyes. The lack of smile. With Tommy, you could tell he was there. Present. In the moment. A frozen piece of time, forever reflecting the joyous atmosphere. With who was supposedly Wilbur, there was nothing. They seemed out of place in the crowd, as if placed there after the shot had been taken.

They looked closer in the photo, hoping to pinpoint exactly what was making their skin crawl. Sure, the off-brand version of them could be enough, but the hair standing on end on their arms begged them to look just a little more carefully.

At the edge of the photo, a little bit of a hand was visible, splayed out by the photographers side. It was their hand. They knew that, being the photographer. They knew that, having looked at this picture a million times. They looked back to the twisted version of themself on the field, stepping back from the case almost immediately.

Using their hand as perspective, they could now tell exactly what set him off. The figure was not looking at the camera. They were looking at Wilbur. The real Wilbur. And they were not wavering.

Wilbur stepped back again, hands coming up to pull his headphones down and around their neck. Their breath came shallow and fast, and they stood in the middle of the hallway, eyes still on the case.

From around the bend, a small noise caught their attention. They turned slowly, keeping an eye on the case, and looking towards the darkness of the next hallway. A shadow splayed against the darkness of the hallway, and Wilbur gripped their bag again, knuckles turning white with the effort.

He allowed himself three seconds of absolute panic, searching their brain for information they knew they had to have. They couldn't have spent all that time dabbling in the world of other without retaining at least some of it. When nothing came to them, they shook their body out, and turned the other direction, moving as fast as possible while still avoiding the tiles they knew would make noise and alert whatever lurked in the darkness.

They passed a classroom with an open door, and slipped into it, hands trembling.

A hand gripped their own, and they turned, green eyes meeting brown. Dean squeezed their hand, lifting a finger to his mouth to indicate silence. Wilbur's eyes narrowed, and they looked back towards the hallway, where noises could still be heard. A chill crawled up his spine, and they took a deep breath.

'What's happening?' They mouthed, eyebrows scrunched up against the noises.

Dean shook his head, face solemnly set and turned towards the room door, which he closed with a soft click and a wince.

"Why are you here?" Wilbur whispered, creeping slowly closer to the brunette man. "What's happening, Dean?"

The man sighed, throwing his head back and running a hand down his face. "You know what's happening, kid."

"What?" The teen demanded, whisper rising a little before they fought it back down. "I have no clue what's happening. That's why I asked."

"Think, Wilbur. Just think." The man replied, finally stepping away from the door to start moving various pieces of furniture in front of it.

Wilbur looked around the room, starting to pick up chairs and move them as quickly and quietly as possible. "I still don't understan-" They started, breath caught in their throat. They dropped the chair they were carrying, practically running to the window that caught their attention and pulling the blinds shut.

From the other side of the room, Dean looked up, eyebrow raised. Wilbur looked at him, bending over to put their hands on their knees.

"It's a-" They started, voice shaky.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." The man replied, coming over and picking up the chair from it's position laying on the floor. Wilbur straightened out, shaking out their arms with a sigh.

"I thought- I thought it was dead. The one...the one we had trouble with. I thought you killed it." The teen continued, again starting to help with the efforts of room protection. 

"I thought I did too, kid. I thought I did too."

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hey guyssss this is one part of a super long chapter i split up so! you know! sorry!!!!