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Wilbur’s twenty-one when Phil comes to the inevitable conclusion that his illness is fatal.
He’s with Wilbur again, as he is every night these days- the young musician is too poor to have a safe place to sleep, and too sick to be alone, so Phil stays with him and holds him through the long cold nights.
He’s holding Wilbur now, feeling every shallow, rasping inhale of the too-thin chest. Wilbur’s so thin that Phil can count his ribs by touch, that his skin looks stretched over his bones.
And that’s when he knows, when Phil finally admits to himself what he’s been trying to deny- this is going to kill Wilbur.
He comes up with a desperate plan.
There are ways of becoming immortal. Phil knows plenty of vampires, there are a few he would trust to turn Wilbur, but the turning doesn’t always take. Especially if the person is as weak and frail as Wilbur is now; and he’d never gain back his healthy look, he would forever be unnaturally pale and far too thin and he would be cold, always cold.
It’s too risky, so Phil sets his sights on the Fountain.
He’s seen it before, of course. He’s visited it a few times, with other immortals, friends who wanted to explore the water’s rejuvenating properties or change human friends. Phil knows all that there currently is to know about the Fountain of Youth.
He knows he’s going to have to bring Wilbur to drink from it directly, or it won’t be enough to save him.
“I know a way to heal you,” Phil whispers one night, cradling Wilbur against his chest, trying to press some warmth back into the young man’s shivering frame.
Wilbur coughs weakly, wrapping thin fingers around Phil’s arm. “No more false hopes,” he breathes. “Please, I can’t bear it any longer.”
“This one is certain to work. I swear it.” Phil longs to beg Wilbur for his trust. But first, he has to explain. Has to reveal his greatest, best-kept secret. “Have you heard of the Fountain of Youth?”
A rasping scoff. “’s a myth.”
“No, it’s not.” Phil speaks quietly, in Wilbur’s ear, so he can’t be overheard. “I’ve been there. It exists, and it works.”
“Oh.”
“But Wil, you need to understand- you have to know, it would change you. You would become immortal.” Phil closes his eyes, holding his treasure close, begging please, my Lady, just this one. Please let me keep him. “Like I am.”
Wilbur doesn’t answer for so long that Phil starts to wonder if he heard at all, or if perhaps he’s fallen asleep.
“You have to promise-” Wilbur coughs, the spasms barely enough to shift his frail body. “Promise you won’t leave me.”
“Never. I will never leave you, songbird.” Phil has never wanted to protect someone so much. “Please, please just let me save you.”
“Yes,” Wilbur breathes.
Phil travels as fast as he can, because every day Wilbur is growing weaker.
They’re making their way through the jungle, along the path that Bad and his coven are clearing (they owed Phil a favor, and he hadn’t hesitated to call it in for Wilbur’s sake). Phil’s riding horseback, carrying Wilbur’s light weight in front of him, the young man’s back pressed to his chest. There are a couple other riders- Schlatt, another of Phil’s old friends, and a young human he wants to change at the Fountain.
“We’re nearly there,” Phil says, steadying Wilbur’s head against his shoulder. He’s starting to feel almost desperate, Wilbur’s so fragile, Phil can’t help the terrible fear that whispers he’s not going to make it. “Just a little longer, Wil, we’re so close.”
“Ph’l, it hurts.” Wilbur’s voice is a barely-audible whimper, he’s so weak.
“I know. I know, it’s almost over, it’s going to be over soon.” Phil can barely contain his own growing panic. “Hold on, Wilbur. Please, please just hold on.”
A sobbing inhale. “’ll try,” Wilbur breathes out.
Only an hour later, they’re there.
Phil doesn’t waste a second in dismounting his horse, carrying Wilbur into the unassuming cave. Wilbur doesn’t move, but he’s breathing. He’s still breathing, and his heart is beating, and he blinks at Phil and whines, soft and weak.
“We’re here, we made it.” Please, my Lady, please. Please, I beg you, please let me keep him. “Hold on, Wil, just for one more minute, please, god-”
Schlatt’s following, with his own human in tow- Quackity, Phil thinks the boy’s name is- but Bad is quicker, vampiric speed carrying him past Phil, he’s making straight for the spring. By the time Phil makes it into the chamber, Bad’s already holding one of the silver goblets, filled with clear water.
“Give it to him, quick,” he says, holding it out.
Phil goes to the ground gracelessly, trying not to jostle Wilbur. A strangled groan slips past the young man’s lips anyway, eyes closing for a brief second before his gaze refocuses on Phil’s.
“I need you to drink this.” Phil props Wilbur’s head up, taking the goblet and putting it to blue-tinged lips. “Please, Wilbur, please-”
And for a few awful, terrible seconds, he thinks Wilbur isn’t going to be able to even part his lips.
But Bad leans over him, opening Wilbur’s mouth carefully. Phil breathes out a thank you, tipping a sip of the water- the cure- between Wilbur’s lips.
“Come on, mate, you can do it,” he urges gently, desperately. “Swallow, please-”
Another agonizing second passes before Wilbur’s throat bobs, Phil could sob in relief.
“Good,” he breathes. “Some more now, you need to drink all of it.”
It’s slow, it’s so slow, but a sip at a time, Wilbur drinks. Phil watches with growing relief and joy (and tears burning behind his eyes) as color returns to his skin, as his face fills out, as he grows heavier against Phil’s arm. Wilbur begins to look healthy, strong and whole in a way Phil’s never seen him. By the time the goblet is half empty he’s able to hold up his head on his own, by the last gulp he’s holding the cup in his own hands.
Phil does sob when brown eyes, clear and shining with tears, turn to find his own; when Wilbur’s arms wrap around his neck, when he feels Wilbur’s chest heaving with deep breaths.
“You did it.” Phil holds him tighter, sobbing when he feels the difference- when he realizes he can no longer feel every rib and every bump of Wilbur’s spine. “You’re all right.”
Wilbur cries right along with him, clinging to Phil, and they’re not alone but right now they’re the only two people in the world.