When Dwight opened his eyes, he found himself back at the survivor campfire, leaned against one of the many logs lying around the flame.

A wave of relief hit him, knowing that in the end, the entity had put him back where he was safe, where he belonged. And yet, in his chest, he felt disappointment and longing. He, he missed them. He didn't want to be torn from their embrace before saying goodbye.

Despite this, there was nothing he could do. He slumped more against the fallen tree, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips.

"Glad you finally showed back up at the fire. Where you been? Did the Clown manage to corner you for the past several hours?" It was Jeff, a mild look of concern on his face.

"No, I-I found the hatch." He paused, embarrassment keeping his tongue tied about telling what happened after. He had to lie. "I… guess the entity held onto me for awhile? Jumping through was the last thing I remember."

"Huh, weird. Glad to you made it out." Jeff shrugged and smiled at him, before turning back to continue his conversation with Nea. Dwight sighed again, staring blankly at the fire, a part of him still wishing he had either Evan or Philip's arms around him, if not both.

After several long moments of sorrowful and silent longing, Dwight noticed Claudette shuffle up next to him, a clear look of worry on her face.

"Dwight, there's something I'd like to bring up with you."

He perked up, curious but also confused. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to face her, hoping it wasn't too bad or serious.

"What's up Claudette?"

She glances off to the side for a moment, clearly nervous, maybe slightly embarrassed. "Well, we decided to have a discussion while you were gone."

A discussion? He got up from his slumped position, moving to sit on the log instead, engaged in what she had to say.

"And, well, we decided we should finally come clean."

Now he really was confused. "Come clean? Come clean about what?"

She bit her lip, just slightly, before finally making eye contact with him, her expression shifting to something more determined.

"The truth is Dwight, we don't actually think you're a good leader."

The words what the fuck almost traced his lips, as he recoiled slightly from shock and disbelief. He glanced around the campfire, hoping to see someone disagree, but to his horror, most of his fellow survivors were nodding in agreement.

"You see, we felt bad, hearing about your life before all this, and decided to pity you. So we called you our leader, and let you think you were helping us escape."

"You, you're kidding right?" Dwight laughed nervously, hoping this was just some elaborate prank.

"No Dwight, I'm dead serious."

Dwight bolted up from his seat, head swiveling around, hoping to find anyone who would tell him she was wrong. Instead, the other survivors slowly rose to their feet, starting to surround him.

"Come on guys, you, you can't be serious?! Right!?" He laughed nervously, anxiety rising along with his heart rate. This couldn't be real, this just couldn't be real.

Jake laughed with him, but more of a scoff, a mocking tone. "Really dude? You thought you were any good at helping others survive when you can barely scrape by yourself? If anything, following you does more harm than help."

"Ugh! I can't believe we had to keep this up for so long, I've been dying to get this over with." It was Meg this time, clearly irritated with him. "Do you know how annoying it is to die several times just to keep lying to you? I'm so glad that shit's finally over. You're such a fucking loser Dwight."

Dwight was shaking. He, he couldn't believe it. All this time, all this time, he never had any friends. He was always, and would still be, alone.

As his former friends surrounded him in a tight circle, Dwight couldn't help but break down and cry. He fell to his knees, body still trembling, and wailed. His cries became a twisted chorus with laughter, as they began to laugh and mock his emotional state.

"Oh geez he's crying already."

"What a pussy."

"Yep, definitely still a loser."

"What kind of man cries?"

"Called it."

"Ugh, can someone please shut the crybaby up."

"I bet he's faking it."

"You think we should start kicking him?"

The poison filled his ears past the brim, the toxicity sleeping into his head and heart. Vision blurry with tears, he stared down at the dirt, unable to face reality.

"Come on guys, let's put this runt out of his misery."

Still choking with sobs, he glanced up at Claudette, fearful of what they had planned. She smiled darkly down at him, tightening a clawed glove on her hand.

"Time to euthanize this mistake in God's eyes."

Dwight stared up at her, a deer in the headlights, as she rose her hand to strike. It all stopped however, as a large hand came out of nowhere and grabbed her by the throat.

He remained frozen, as he watched her struggle against the pale disembodied hand. For a moment, her skin changed, a warm polished pinewood replaced with burnt and scarred flesh, before she was yanked backwards, and disappeared along her invisible assailant.

Dwight blinked and stared at the space where she once stood, tears drying and vision clearing. He glanced around, finding everyone had vanished, leaving him all alone at the campfire.

Before he had time to think, everything started to shift.

The chalky dirt beneath his feet was suddenly rich with grass, healthy and vibrant, as the sky melted away the constant gray, revealing a night sky beneath it. And within the black void above him, was an endless bounty of stars.

A gasp escaped his lips, as he fell back, splaying his body out across the soft grass. The air smelt clean and fresh, each breath full and satisfying.

He missed this.

His eyes gazed up and the star-filled sky, admiring the sizes and colors, as he began to search for constellations. Taurus, Gemini, the Big Dipper, he listed them off one by one, a smile on his face, and a warm wind blowing across his body.

Dwight felt content.

And then the world disappeared.

Dwight blinked, and suddenly everything was gone, and everything was different. Memories flooded back, as his brain rebooted itself.

Oh, it had just been a dream.

Slowly, everything came back. His arrival at the wrong campfire, his futile attempts to get away, and the unlikely kindness and mercy from the Trapper and the Wraith.

Philip still had his arms around him, Dwight leaning back into his embrace as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, vision still blurry.

Still not fully awake, he shifted in the killers lap, suddenly noticing something off. He didn't remember Philip's arms feeling this thick. Was Evan holding him now?

Huh, Dwight didn't remember either of them having navy-

He opened his mouth to scream, immediately to have a large hand clamp over it, silencing him before he could make a sound. The other arm held him tight against their chest, preventing him from writhing out of their grasp.

Body shaking, tears streaming down his face, Dwight turned his head to look up at his captor, to confirm what he already knew. A white mask stared back at him, the familiar sound of his breathing now apparent as he fought to keep the struggling survivor in place.

It was Myers. Of course it as Myers. He didn't know how the terrifying killer had somehow snatched him from Philip's grasp, but now he was forcibly seated in his lap.

They weren't by the campfire either, Michael seated on the grass, leaned against a tree, the pair surrounded by more.

Evan and Philip were nowhere in sight.

No one was around to help him.

His attempted screams morphed into muffled sobs, as he gave up his fruitless squirming. It was no use, Myers had him now, there was no chance of escape.

Not long after he stopped struggling, the arm around his midsection released its grip, and Dwight felt the immediate urge to bolt for it. He was likely reaching for his knife, about to gut him like a fish.

The urge quickly died however, as the hand instead was placed atop his head, before Myers began to stroke his hair like one would a cat. He felt himself relaxing, against his own wishes, as the Shape continued to pet him. His sobs soon silenced, and with that, the hand over his mouth let go.

Now able to breathe freely, Dwight resisted the desire to abuse his newfound freedom and start screaming again. Instead, he took in deep breaths, trying to ease his shaking, the petting somewhat helping.

Myers wasn't hurting him, and for the moment, seemed to have no desire to do so. Dwight bit back a laugh, realized just how lucky and absurd it was to have three killers spare him within a day. He didn't deserve this.

Still, he sat there, in the Shape's lap, as the murderous masked man continued to play with his hair.

He didn't want to admit it felt kinda nice.

Several minutes passed, as Michael continued to treat him like a doll or dog, he heard something in the distance. It was faint, barely audible, but sounded vaguely like voices.

Dwight focused on them, doing his best to drown out the Shape's breathing, hoping the voices would get closer and clearer. After a few minutes of still and silence, he heard them again, but this time, his wish was granted.

"Do you think the entity took him back? How could someone have snatched him out of your grasp without us noticing?"

He knew that voice.

"EVA-"

The hand was back over his mouth in an instant, face stinging slightly as it had effectively slapped him with the force. But it was too late. The sound of nearing footsteps and Evan yelling back meant he had already heard him.

He swore he heard the Shape sigh heavily in frustration, before the killer got to his feet, yanking Dwight up with him. He was held like a doll, the arm that wasn't silencing him wrapped tightly around his midsection, legs dangling.

It wasn't long before Evan crashed into the small clearing, weapon drawn, a glimmer of murderous intent in his eyes. Philip tailed behind him, a worried look on his face, and missing all the malicious aura Evan was reeking of.

"Well, if it isn't Myers."

The hand covering his mouth was quickly released, before coming out with the familiar blood-encrusted knife now equipped. Dwight went rigid, fearing the blade would turn towards him, using him as a hostage.

And yet, no such threat came. Instead, Myers directed it towards Evan, a threat of violence if given violence.

The two large murderous men squared each other up, the Trapper growling as Michael remained unwavering, holding Dwight tight. The air was tense, each waiting for the other to make the first strike.

That was, until Philip stepped between them, attempting to stop the rising chance of a fight. One hand outstretched towards both of them, he glared at Evan, until with a sigh, he lowered his crude cleaver and stepped away.

Seemingly satisfied with his response, he turned his full attention to Myers, whose knife was still poised to strike.

"H…urt?"

His voice was quiet, strained, as if he hadn't spoken in years. Michael said nothing in response, not that Dwight had expected him to do so. There was a moment of awkward silence, before Philip motioned towards Dwight.

Oh. Philip was asking him.

"No, I'm, I'm okay. Just shaken up and scared, heh."

Philip visibly relaxed, even some of the tension in Evan's stance seem to dissipate. Myers made no reaction, no movement, just watching the killers before him, still prepared to retaliate.

"L…et… go."

Dwight felt the arm tighten around him slightly, just able to hear Michael huff. The masked man otherwise remained silent, instead motioning his knife towards the other in a mask, shaking his head.

Philip seemed to get the memo, as he turned towards Evan, looking at him expectantly. Evan growled in annoyed, but understood what he wanted. He dropped his weapon to the ground, taking to leaning back against one of the many oak that filled the forest.

"Fine. But if you make one move to hurt either of them, you're dead Myers."

Michael nodded, before finally allowing Dwight to be free.

Dwight stumbled to his feet, slightly disoriented by the drop, before booking it into Philip's embrace. He clung to the man's cloak, arms wrapped around him as much as he could, Philip rubbing his back to comfort him.

Evan approached them, still disarmed, but clearly irritated.

"What the hell did you want with him?"

Michael make a motion with his hands, extending his fingers as if they were claws, swiping at the air.

"Krueger? You really think that bastard would fuck with him with us right there?"

Michael nodded, and Evan huffed, clearly not buying it. He turned towards Dwight, laying a hand on the shaken survivor's shoulder, his tone shifting to one more gentle and soft spoken.

"Dwight, do you remember your dream at all?"

He took a moment to think, the memory fuzzy. He'd been too distracted by being in Myers' lap to focus and solidify the events in his head.

"Vaguely. I remember there being a starry sky and soft grass. Something happened at the campfire. I think I remember seeing Claudette having a-"

A glove, each finger decked with a metal claw. A flash of mutilated skin.

"Holy shit. That was Freddy."

Both his "guardians" seem shook by his response, Evan especially. His grip on Dwight's shoulder tightened slightly, and it didn't take a genius to realize he was also bubbling with rage.

"I'm going to kill that bitch."

Myers seemed uneasy as Evan became heated, Dwight noticing the masked man tense up, likely worried he might lash out. And to be honest, Dwight was nervous too.

Philip however, drew Dwight in closer to his chest, placing a hand on Evan. A strange purring-esqe sound rumbled out of him, and Evan growled slightly in return, before with a huff, his grip on his shoulder became more relaxed.

"…I know." It was quiet, muttered, spoken to only be heard by Philip's ears. More hand motions and pointing, and Evan let go of his shoulder to cross his arms and pout.

"I don't want to."

There was an audible huff from Philip, as placed his hand on his hip and glared at Evan. Moments passed, until after a long dragged-out sigh, Evan turned to look at Myers.

"Thanks for getting Krueger off of Dwighty boy, Myers."

His tone was clearly rude and irritated, almost sarcastic. Myers nodded in reply, seemingly accepting the shitty attempt at appreciation.

Dwight felt guilty about it.

He, he felt the need to make up for the insincerity, the leader in him wanting to be a good example. Even if there was a chance it would backfire horribly. He felt responsible for this whole incident.

He hadn't hurt him yet, even when he'd had all the time in the world, so it had to be at least somewhat safe, right?

So with that hope in mind, he left the safety of Philip's embrace. He felt a hand grab at him, but he kept going, determined to right the wrong.

"Dwight! What are you doing!?"

Ignoring Evan's distressed call, Dwight approached Myers cautiously, despite every fibre of his being screaming at him to get as far away as possible. He swallowed, gathering up his courage, and staring up at the pale mask.

"Th-thank you, for uh, getting rid of Freddy."

Myers moved towards him, Dwight freezing up in fear. This was a mistake, he shouldn't have left their side.

Michael patted him on the head.

Relief flooded his system as he quickly realized what he was doing. He let him touch his hair again, assuming this was the silent killer's attempt at saying "you're welcome".

Dwight smiled in return. Eventually, the pats stopped, leaving them standing there in silence.

Then, without another motion, Myers turned around and left, disappearing among the trees.

By the sounds behind him, he could tell he wasn't the only one who was relieved it had all turned out well, and glad it was over. Large arms wrapped around him, and Dwight found himself leaning into the touch.

"Well, at least I now know for sure that Myers hates that piece of overcooked liver. And I'm glad you're still in one piece."

Dwight gave a small chuckle. Even the killers seemed to agree that Freddy was awful. It was nice to know that even among fellow murders, that bastard was scum to them.

"The fog's cleared up. Want me to walk you back to your campfire?"

Oh, right. How could he have forgotten? He was still on the killer's side of the entity's realm, far away from where he was safe, where he belonged.

"…yeah, thank you."

"It's fine, don't think you'd want to run into the wrong person this time."

Dwight blushed, slightly embarrassed by the memory Evan had recalled. Running directly into his chest was not exactly something he was proud of.

The hold around him was lost, as the arms loosened around him, allowing him to move around once more. He turned towards Philip, who watched him with a warmth in his eyes.

"Are you coming with us?"

Philip shook his head.

"Oh. I uh, guess this is goodbye then? Until, you know, another trial I guess."

A sadness flickered in his eyes, but he smiled down at Dwight anyways, opening his arms wide. Without hesitation, Dwight took the invitation, wrapped in his embrace once more, and well, maybe the last time in a long time, if ever again.

He lingered in the hug, reluctant to leave, heart aching for so much more, before eventually breaking away.

"I… I'm gonna miss you. At least, like this. Good… goodbye Philip."

"Goo…d b...ye Dw…ight."

He fought the urge to cry, as Philip continued to smile at him, warmly, the air of a proud parent in how he held himself. Reminiscent of being dropped off at school, his father watching him from the parking lot.

So with a small and sorrowful sigh, Dwight turned back to Evan.

He held out a his hand, large, littered with scars, open and ready for Dwight to take. And he did, fitting his small soft hand into it, allowing it to be engulfed. Then, like a parent leading their child, he was gently tugged forward, as Evan lead him deeper into the woods.

The fog was in fact, thinner, still lingering about, but clear enough for him to see fairly far ahead. A strong contrast to the soup he'd tried to wade through earlier.

Dwight remained quiet through the trek, enjoying the walk as well as the lack of paranoia he normally had while wandering the woods. There was no fear of a killer finding him out here, not when one of them was currently his guide.

It was nice to not be fearing for his life, able to finally enjoy a stroll in the woods.

Evan seemed, distracted, small twitches and movements every now and then. Something was toiling in his mind, rolling around in his head, and it was clearly bothering him. Not wanting to intrude, he didn't ask, and tried to act like he didn't notice.

The silence was eventually broken, as Evan revealed his troubling thoughts.

"No hard feelings when I kill you in trials?"

Dwight's response was hesitant, his grip loosening, but he didn't pull away. It was just business after all, right?

"Y-yeah. I don't like it though."

"Didn't think you would, there's no reason for you to like them."

"But do you enjoy the trials?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Dwight regretted saying them.

There was an uncomfortable silence, Evan turning his gaze away from him, before he eventually spoke up.

"If, if we don't perform well enough," with his free hand, he gripped at one of the many shards of metal lodged in his body, "We get punished."

He paused, seeming to consider his words.

"Pretending to enjoy it makes it easier. You have to get used to hurting others if you want to survive."

Dwight suddenly felt guilty, as he realized him and his fellow survivors weren't the only unwilling participants in the trials. He was about to apologize, when Evan cut him off.

"So to answer your question, sometimes. Especially when you survivors get cocky or act like an asshole, it can be satisfying to get those on the hook, or even kill them with my own hands."

Dwight nodded in acknowledgement. His answers made sense, and if he was on his shoes, he might've felt the same. And yet, a part of him still recoiled, knowing fully well what atrocities Evan had done to his friends, and most importantly, Dwight himself.

And yet, it explained so much. Especially the desperation he'd seen in killers when no sacrifices had been made, their last ditch attempt to please the entity as they camped an unlucky survivor on their first hook. He'd always thought the shards of metal embedded in his flesh seemed oddly out of place.

Was, was that why Philip had trouble talking?

He shuddered, slightly overwhelmed by all the information he now had, and the weight it held.

So, he didn't pull away, staying by his side. The knowledge was comforting, knowing that just like him, the Trapper had a role he was forced to play in the entity's twisted game.

They continued their trek in awkward silence, Evan's posture now slightly glum, his stride lacking just a bit of the confidence it usually had. Dwight felt his anxieties bubbling up again, the urge to pull away from the much larger man slowly getting stronger. It was uncomfortable.

The silence needed to be broken.

"Thank you, for being so nice to me. You didn't have to."

"No, it's quite alright. It felt good, being able to take care of someone again. Kind of like an act of defiance towards what the entity always wants me to do to you. And…" His voice trailed off, gaze turned away, clearly reluctant to say what he wanted to say.

"…Philip always wanted a family."

Breath hitching, Dwight felt his heart skip a beat as it broke, realizing the gravity behind those words. It was a desire that would never come true, not here, not trapped in this hellscape with no chance of escape.

Suppressing the urge to tear up, he gripped Evan's hand tightly, unsure of what to say, but trying to reaffirm him. Evan turned back to look at him, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth, and squeezed back.

The rest of the walk was silent, but now the silence was comfortable.

Sooner than he realized, he could see the flickering light of the campfire. It was the signal he'd been searching for last night, only to follow the wrong one. Relief flooded his system, as the shapes around the flame became fellow survivors, not those who constantly killed him. This was really it, he was finally back.

Dwight stared out at the campfire beyond the treeline, his friends seated around it, chatting, obvious to the unusual pair just beyond their sight. It was where he belonged.

And yet, he couldn't just return. Not yet, at least according to the aching in his chest. He turned back to Evan, the Trapper, one of the many who eviscerated his body everyday, and hugged him.

The hug was clingy, desperate, arms attempting but failing to wrap around the man's torso, clutching onto them as tightly as he could. Face buried into bloody overalls, he muffled his crying, as he found himself suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

"Thank you."

Thick scarred arms wrapped around him, pulling him even closer, a hold caressing the back of his head. His chest swelled with love and hope, as he was affectionately smothered by the massive murderous man.

"You're welcome son."

He was wanted. He was loved. He'd found himself a family in this hopeless place.

After a long time, maybe a little too long, the pair let go, separating but still lingering. Tears still stained Dwight's cheeks, smudged and drying, and he lifted his glasses to wipe at his eyes.

In the not to far distance, the campfire still crackled, its company still oblivious to the two. Dwight looked towards his eventual destination, knowing he'd have to go, but still cast a look back.

"Well…" A laugh, both genuine and nervous. "…guess I'll see you later. Goodbye for now Evan."

He could see a smile on his lips, the maw of the mask revealing the warm grin.

"Farewell for now, Dwight."

And with nothing more needed to be said, they headed there separate ways. Smiles greeted him, questions were asked, but most importantly, he was home, he was safe. Dwight was finally back where he belonged.

And yet, his heart told him that maybe, he belonged back there too.

As the final generator rumbled to life beneath his hands, Dwight sighed in relief as the sound of the gates powering up echoed in his ears. They'd made it relatively unscathed, only one hook, but no sacrifices. Feng hadn't been lying when she said she could loop the killer for days.

So running on adrenaline and survival instinct, Dwight made a beeline for the open exit, relief flooding through him as he made it past the open doors without a hitch.

Behind him, he heard the Wraith's bell toll.

…no, Philip.

Deciding against his strong desire to guarantee his survival, Dwight stopped before the threshold, and turned to look behind him.

Philip stood just beyond the doorway, weapon by his side, almost bloodless. He gazed into Dwight's eyes, a mix of emotion flickering through him. Recognition, joy, regret, sorrow, fear, hopelessness.

For once, Dwight didn't feel afraid to turn around, to approach, to stand right in front of the killer. There was no one left to yell at him to just run and leave anyways, the others had escaped, they were alone.

So he walked up to him, allowing himself to be bathed in the killers stain, heart beating rapidly in his ears.

"Philip?"

His words only brought the killer distress, Philip looking conflicted, as if he both wanted Dwight around and didn't.

"You get punished if you don't sacrifice anyone, right?"

There was a hesitance, Philip no longer making eye contact, looking aimlessly to his left as he reluctantly gave a nod.

"Well…" Dwight knew what he had to do. His mind screamed at him, telling him to run, to leave, to live. But what did getting stabbed by a spider leg once more time have on endless torture and irreversible mutilation?

"…you can sacrifice me."

Philip gasped, taking a step back and shaking his head furiously. He didn't want to hurt him, even if it hurt himself more in the end.

"Look, I, I know what happens if you don't sacrifice anyone, and I know you don't want to hurt me. But, I think I can stand being hooked one more time, especially if it means you don't have to suffer."

Eyes met again, as Philip finally made eye contact once more. There was a sadness in those glowing voids that he called his eyes, but also something warmer, hopeful, appreciation.

A moment of quiet passed, before he reached out a hand, the one not clutching his weapon, and cupped the side of Dwight's face. He lightly caressed his cheek with his thumb, like a parent would their child.

There was no sound, but a "thank you" was mouthed out, a warmth spreading in Dwight's chest as he read the words on his lips. He didn't need to hear it to know and feel it.

"You're welcome, and, thank you for caring about me."

He placed his hand over top Philip's, leaning slightly into the touch. Something comforting and pleasant, before the pain and suffering would begin.

Eventually, contact was broke, Philip's hand lingering before fully pulling away. The pair exchanged looks, both of reluctance, but also understanding. It was time. They couldn't stay in a trial forever.

"Well, let's get this over with."

Dwight took in a deep breath, as with much hesitance, Philip brought the sickle down on his back.