Chapter Text
It felt like a lifetime had passed before Skeppy felt like a whole, living person again, and then another before he was ready to finally talk, and by the time he was, the suns had already mostly set, with the sky darkening with every passing minute.
“Bad?” He spoke softer than he ever had to the demon, his voice cracking embarrassingly, more than likely a result of his dry, scratchy throat.
Bad picked up on this, like he somehow always did, and after swiftly rustling through a few of his pockets, pulled out and pressed a flask of water firmly into Skeppy’s hands. “Hey,” the greeting was hushed, and was as much of an acknowledgement as it was an encouragement for Skeppy to take a drink. Cold water sounded like heaven, and Skeppy had no qualms about complying and finishing off what was left in the flask as quickly as he could.
“You alright?” Bad asked, and for such a simple, short question- it just didn’t make sense.
It was the way Bad had spoken: he sounded genuine, like he was verging on desperation just to know that Skeppy was ok. The very same person who’d antagonised and relentlessly bothered him, who’d prodded into his shrouded past and left him at the first chance he got, and here he was, completely open and watching over him, he was honestly far suited to the label guardian angel rather than he did demon.
“I’m…what?” Skeppy replied dumbly.
“I asked if you-“ Bad made to repeat himself, slightly louder than before before Skeppy cut him off.
“No, no, I heard you. Just- why?”
“Why what?” And for all his intelligence, Bad honest to god seemed like he had no idea what Skeppy was asking, prodding with a gentle but genuine tone.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” It all came out in flood, the result of agonising fear, confusion and desolation pushing him over the edge, “I literally robbed you today, and I keep asking you all these questions- I went behind your back to find the person you’ve been hunting down for months! And you’re just fine with that?!”
“Skeppy, of course it’s not fine,” his tone is still so soft, but his words are hard, impactful, like an unmerciful punch with every letter, “but I think there’s been some miscommunication here, and I should’ve sorted that out earlier. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who fucked up! You got ambushed and I ran off!” The moment he finished, he clamped his mouth shut. Why was he yelling at Bad? That was the last thing he needed or deserved right now; there was just something about his overwhelming gentleness that made Skeppy want to scream, to tell Bad that he was justified to be angry, to just be mean for once.
“Skeppy, please,” Bad pleaded, his voice coming out even more strained, “we can talk about this later, just please…can you forgive me?”
“Bad, I-“ Skeppy paused, too stunned to continue. How could Bad be the one asking for forgiveness when he’d been nothing less than perfect? When the guilt and shame for abandoning him had been eating Skeppy up ever since he’d been saved from being killed by Dream?
But saying that wouldn’t help Bad right now, if anything it would just make things worse. “I forgive you.” Skeppy said, as earnestly as he could, looking Bad in the eye.
Bad's shoulders dropped immedietly, it was like one, tense string had been holding him up- that snapped at those three words; and that seemed to be the unspoken cue that they should get moving, as Bad shifted after a minuet, slowly rising to his feet.
The ground was a tempting place to stay, where everything was still and quiet and solid, but he knew he couldn't stay here forever, even if Bad was looking at him like he might wait that long. So he set his hands firmly against the ground pushed himself up.
It was embarrassing enough, needing Bad to swoop in and save him like he was some damsel in distress, he didn’t need any more pity or coddling; and yet, there was Bad, helping him up like the perfect gentleman as his legs shook too hard for him to get to his feet alone, and placing a strong hand on his back as he tried to keep his balance as the world spun around him.
“Are you sure you’re ready to see him?” Bad asked after a moment of Skeppy regaining his balance.
"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied, steeling himself and taking a step forward.
A bare-bones fire was set up when they stepping into the clearing, and Skeppy’s jaw dropped at the sight of the other two hunter’s firmly pressed, shoulder-to-shoulder, against a maskless Dream from either side.
Once the initial shock of seeing that set in, it occurred to Skeppy just how bad of a state Dream was in.
The dried blood Skeppy had caught a glance of earlier coated his cheeks and the entire lower half of his face. It was clear where all the blood had come from: thick, scabbed-over scratch marks that overlapped around his luminescent purple eyes.
Those scratches looked human.
Congealed blood had spilled over his mouth, and from the crooked state of his nose, Skeppy could give a pretty accurate assumption about where it came from. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were a myriad of other cuts that he couldn’t even see that had added to the mess, but staring too long only made his head swim and his stomach churn.
None of the trio seemed to care about the disturbing sight though, sitting as close to each other as possible in silence, yet the hunters fluttered around him, diligently and carefully bandaging a large burn mark that marred Dream's side with Bad’s satchel sitting open next to them.
It was only then that Skeppy realised that Dream didn’t have any other burn marks, not one singe apart from the large mass of burnt skin across his midsection.
It was a surprising revelation to put it lightly, considering one of the three people hunting him specialising in evocation, hell, not only did Sapnap ‘specialise’ in it- he embodied it. Every part of him seemed to scream heat, light and burning, and yet it was like he’d never landed a single attack on Dream.
Thinking back on it, Skeppy wasn’t sure he could remember a single occasion when Dream had been burnt, sure, there were vivid descriptions of Sapnap using fire magic in their encounters, but all the hits he’d landed on Dream over the course of Manhunt were all from weapons and fists as far as he could remember. There was no doubt in his mind that other people had caught onto this and pointed it out before, but Skeppy never paid too much interest in the after-fight recuperations and healing of wounds, those scenes were all vaguely described and miserable sounding, accounts of flesh knitting over gashes never failed to make him tense up and squirm.
Bad seemed oddly stoic as they both watched the other hunters work, he clearly wasn’t distressed, which was worrying considering how serious he took his role as a healer. He was never one to shy away from helping those hurt, but now he was still, not frozen, just unmoving.
Skeppy could sense he was conflicted, his white eyes flicking over the trio silently, and devastatingly, part of that was likely down to him.
If only Bad hadn’t been so friendly, and Skeppy hadn’t been so willing to engage with and rile him up, things would’ve gone differently earlier- maybe, without even trying, he’d changed the outcome of Manhunt far more than he’d intended, simply by existing.
The smoke from the campfire got in his eyes briefly, causing him to squint and turn away. He didn’t know if facing away from…all of that made him feel better or worse.
A warm hand landed on his shoulder, and Skeppy almost jumped out of his skin, turning towards the source to see Bad looking at him with a strained façade of composure.
“We’ll probably settle here for tonight,” he spoke quietly, hoarsely, and while it was definitely loud enough for the others to hear, he couldn’t shake the idea that Bad was speaking solely to him, “my wings are done for today, so I’m gonna go try and find some water.”
Dream remained completely unresponsive to his words, his eyes completely unreadable, as did George, who didn’t give any indication he’d heard the demon as he continued carefully unwrapping a roll of bandages. Sapnap briefly looked over his shoulder and gave a firm, small nod before resuming helping out George.
When Skeppy looked back over, Bad’s mouth was pressed into a narrow line, tense lines spanned across his whole face, and then he turned back to Skeppy, and for a second, his demeanour softened.
“I’ll be back in no time, just sit tight and try to keep warm until I get back, ok?” Bad said with a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes, briefly tightening his grip on Skeppy’s shoulder before letting go and picking up the large metal pot that often hung off Sapnap's pack and walking off into the woods.
Sitting down there was not something he wanted to do, but just standing there over them wasn’t really an option- the other hunters might see it as a threat, a challenge, and the last thing he wanted to do was get on their bad side right now.
So, reluctantly, Skeppy sat down a few feet away from the fire, just far enough that he could barely feel its warmth. Thankfully, none of the others acknowledged his presence, wrapped up in each other, while he found himself watching, unable to touch from what might as well have been another world.
His stiff position did not last long with his current state, and it was only when he extended a hand to lean himself on, did he see where he had sat. The first thing he felt was something wet coating the grass, as well as something hard and cold brushing the edge of his fingertips. Immediately he snatched back his hand and inspected his palm, only to find a fresh smear of dark red blood overlapping what was already on his hands.
Was it one of the hunters or Dreams? Which would’ve been worse?
He quickly moved on, trying valiantly to ignore the stain and instead allowing what his fingers had brushed to capture his attention. It was Dream’s mask; lying discarded and unassuming among the grass, smiling wide in contrast to the messy smear of red on its side.
All this red was making his head spin, and after a minute of locking eyes with those of the discarded mask, he moved his gaze elsewhere, but he could still feel those painted, lifeless eyes on him as he tried desperately to put it to the back of his mind.
Before long, the muted light from the sky faded completely, leaving the light from the fire as the main source of light, casting an orange glow over Dream’s face as he stared at the ground, and if Skeppy hadn’t been watching him so intently, he might have missed the slight twitch of his face when George dabbed something he assumed was an antiseptic onto the wound.
It was almost inaudible over the crackling of the fire, but if he wasn’t mistaken one of them, who he wasn’t sure, was shushing him- a quiet, soothing sound.
Skeppy sat and listened to their wordless and muttered reassurances as they finished patching the wound on his torso and watched as Sapnap sat by as George patched what seemed to be a surface level sword-slash on his left forearm.
The whole situation was remarkably similar to earlier that same day, when he'd watched George braid Sapnap's hair, so much so that he had to ask himself if Bad was doing it on purpose as a way to make them ‘get along’, if so his plan was failing miserably. If anything, seeing them interact with each other on such a raw, human level only made him want to run; not because it was breaking the image he’d had of them, but because it served as a reminder of how deeply out of place he was.
How —or why— he had ended up here he still didn’t know, and the idea that he might be stuck here, so painfully out of place, wasn’t a thought he’d let himself entertain.
He let his eyes slip closed and thought about it, willing himself to ignore the smell of the campfire and the murmured assurances from the hunters.
Huh. He was gonna have to find a new name for them- it’s not like they were ‘hunting’ anymore.
No, he was getting side-tracked, he needed to seriously consider that things wouldn’t magically fix themselves, that just because this was a story book, they were guaranteed a happy ending. His survival right now was precarious as it was, balanced on the fact that the hunters had initially taken him with them, and it wasn’t like things were going to get any safer from here on out; in fact, going to another dimension to fight an incredibly powerful dragon was the least safe thing he could imagine.
————————————————
When Bad finally stumbled back into the clearing, he was walking carefully so as not to spill any water, but with a hurriedness that indicated a poorly concealed anxiety that seemed to alleviate when he saw everyone sitting unhostile and unharmed.
He silently set the pot of water over the fire and gave a short, approving nod to the other’s bandage-work, before picking up his splayed-open messenger bag and hefting it over his shoulder. George muttered a short ‘thanks’, but the other two don’t acknowledge him as he sat heavily down, like his bones are made of lead and it was taking all of his energy not to collapse then and there.
The forest around them buzzed with life, crickets and cicadas, or rather, this world's equivalents, and the tattered whistle of leaves blowing in the treetops, but amongst the group, only the fire made a sound.
Usually by now the tents would have already been set up, and Bad would be nearly done with whatever he scraped together for a meal, but the demon didn’t even seem to consider any of this, keeping his gaze low and to the embers, only briefly glancing up the see Dream and the other hunters where they stayed pressed together, as if someone they might vanish into thin air if he looked away too long.
It had hurt to see Dream attack him. Hurt like a bullet straight through his chest to see someone who was such a big comfort and inspiration to him standing above him, depraved and seething, with a sword pointed right at his jugular.
But to see Bad, the loveable, heart-of-gold demon who had cared for him so tenderly, despite all that should have stopped him doing so, so broken and desolate? It hurt in a different way. It hurt like nothing has ever hurt him before, a slow spreading, all-encompassing ache that started right in his heart.
He wasn’t sure there was much, if anything, he could do to help- but he had to at least try.
Before he could overthink what he was about to do, he reached over and dropped his hand on Bad’s knee, catching his attention. Bad looked over, curiously staring as Skeppy tried to put his offer into words.
“Do you...want me to make something? For dinner, I mean,” was what he ended up saying, in a rushed, barely audible mumble. Bad blinked down at him, before tilting his head to the side.
“…you can cook?” He asked skeptically.
No, he could not. But he was never one to back down from a challenge.
“Of course I can cook.” he lied.
He knew he couldn’t, and from the look Bad was giving him, he probably knew it too.
Nonetheless, he shrugged and reached into his bag, pulling out a thin, wooden board, a wooden spoon and a few vegetables: carrots, potatoes and onions.
Lastly, he pulled a polished knife out of a small sheath on his hip and held it out to Skeppy, offering him the handle with the blade pointed towards himself. The sheer trust he placed in Skeppy in that one moment almost floored him, before he shakily reached out and grasped the polished wood of the handle.
Blindly, Skeppy reached out and grabbed a potato, it was covered in a thin layer of dirt, and if he remembered correctly, Bad peeled them before cooking them.
Easy enough, right? Just repeat the same motions he’d seen Bad do, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t peeled potatoes before.
However, as it turned out, using a knife was a far cry from using a peeler, and on his first pass, the knife gilded right off and nearly sliced open his palm. Out of the corner of his eye, he could clearly see Bad staring pensively down at him, clearly ready to take over at a moment's notice.
Goddamn it, he was supposed to be helping Bad, not making him worry more.
The second attempt was marginally more successful, meaning that he actually made a dent, but instead of taking off just the skin, he carved a whole chunk out.
“Ok, stop,” Bad’s soft tone interrupted him, before clawed hands reached over and took it out of his hands. “How about I peel, you chop? I don’t want you losing a finger over a potato,” he said, with a flicker of a smile as he handed Skeppy the chopping board and brought out another knife from his other hip.
Skeppy watched as he worked, the expert way he handled and angled the knife, the slow, methodical slices, the way the tips of his claws tapped against the blade as he readjusted his grip.
It was relaxing, watching someone cook, something so mundane in all the chaos of the last few hours. In fact, it was only when he felt himself being watched did he remember that he wasn’t yet in the clear.
Slowly he turned his head away from Bad’s hands and towards the fire once again, and just above it was Dream, sitting with an unreadable expression with the light of the flames dancing on his face as he stared right at Skeppy.
“Skeppy?”
His head snapped back to see Bad holding out the peeled potato towards him, his faintly-glowing eyes jumping between Skeppy, more specifically the cut on his face, and Dream, but he remained silent.
“Right, yeah- thanks, Bad.” Skeppy muttered, taking it and setting it down on the cutting board. It was something he was much more familiar with, just dicing into bite sized chunks like his dad taught him when he was a kid- and the repetitive motions kept him suitably distracted from Dream, who didn’t seem to have looked away.
When he was done, Bad motioned for him to put it into the now gently simmering pot, and the process continued as the night darkened; shadows grew starker as the fire dimmed, with no one adding more wood to it, and the only sources of light when it went out would be the moon and Bad’s eyes where the both shone, suspended in the darkness.
While Bad’s eyes had once been alien, frightening at the right angles, it was easier now to see them as safety, as a candle when the power went out or a streetlight on an empty road. Only a few days ago Skeppy was a stranger to him, and Bad was a villain to him. Now it seemed each other were all they had, if the way Bad would stare at the other with an air of lostness was any indication.
By the time he and Bad had finished peeling and chopping all the vegetables, and it was left to simmer, Skeppy was starting to take more notice of just how badly he was doing. He winced as he ran a hand down his calf- slowly checking for any glass shards that were still embedded and brushing away a few stray pieces with a wince, only pausing when he heard Bad’s horrified gasp.
“Skeppy!” Bad hissed in a whisper, immediately ransacking his bag and pulling back out the medical supplies that had so recently been stashed away. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?!” He huffed, turning back to Skeppy.
“Can I?” Bad asked, his voice less panicked as he scanned over the small wounds with a tight-lipped frown. Skeppy simply nodded, rendered speechless as Bad balled up the bandages and dabbed on something from one of the small glass bottles he had taken out.
The moment it made contact with his skin, Skeppy hissed and instinctively jolted back. Bad paused briefly to give him an apologetic frown before continuing as Skeppy willed himself to sit still and ignore the sting of disinfectant. Bad worked diligently and professionally, and if Skeppy didn’t already know of his background as a healer, he would’ve been surprised by his speed and efficiency.
When the painstaking process of having Bad patch him up ended with the thin cut across his face. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to bring it up and risk starting more tension, or maybe he just didn’t know how to make the offer help, but by now it was unavoidable.
Bad sat up tall, with his wings tensed and still as he held up a fresh ball of gauze, already doused in disinfectant.
“Is it ok if I-?”
“Yeah,” Skeppy interrupted, swallowing the lump in his throat, “go ahead.”
Bad nodded and raised his hand, shuffling closer as he pressed the gauze ever-so-lightly against his face. The sharp sting of the wound was discordant with the gentle touch of Bad’s hands as he cleaned the blood with practiced swipes and dabs. Through the whole process, the only place he could look was Bad’s face, those blinding, intense eyes, the stern lines of his focused expression, the splotch of slightly darker skin under his left eye- a nearly invisible birthmark, he realised.
Finally, Bad reared back, cutting a short strip of bandage and holding it over the cut, cupping his face to hold it in place as he let out a short, inaudible utterance- and the bandage shifted from dry and slightly rough, to the same, slightly sticky texture of a band-aid; but Skeppy barely registered the sensation, distracted by the large palm cupping his cheek.
Bad retracted his hand and gave his work a one over before sitting fully back in his previous position. “It’ll come off with water so be careful with that one.”
The fire was dying down by now, cracking pitifully as if determined to fight off the silence the other three had succumbed to. Sapnap and George stared right at Bad, as if seeing him for the first time, but Dream was staring right at him- maybe he had been the whole time.
“So are we going to talk about this?” George finally broke the silence with a tone that hadn’t changed the whole time Skeppy had heard him speak.
“...Talk about what?” Bad spoke in a deliberately dismissive tone, levelling George a stern look as he turned back to the pot on the fire and stirred in some dried herbs he’d taken out of his satchel.
“Don’t act dumb, Bad, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” George scoffed, unphased by the demon's glare, returning it with equal spite before crossing his arms and turning to Skeppy. “How did you know Dream was here and why do you know who we are? I’m done avoiding it because Bad has some weird soft spot for you.”
“George, do you really think right now-“ Bad started, before Skeppy cut him off, sensing the augment about to take place.
“No, Bad. It’s fine,” he said, the last thing he needed was to cause any more division among the group already fraught with tension.
“I heard about you guys a few years ago,” Skeppy began, pushing past the nerves and speaking as loud as his torn-up throat allowed. “My aunt travelled a lot, she watched you stop a lot of tragedies from happening. I was such a sheltered kid that those stories were all I had from this world, they were the only connection I had to this place,” the lies flowed effortlessly off his tongue as he kept his eyes firmly downward, refusing to look any of the hunters in the eye.
“I thought someday I might get to see it for myself, but when I was travelling, I heard around that something had gone wrong, that Dream had disappeared, and I don’t know why but I was sure I could find him,” he swallowed the lump in this throat, the image of the sword at this throat flashing behind his eyes. “Now I realise that was pretty stupid of me,” he finished with a hollow, self-deprecating laugh.
It was clear that the hunters were processing what he'd said, and Skeppy waited with baited breath for one of them to speak up- to accept or to challenge his words.
However, it wasn't any of the hunters that spoke next.
“Yeah, it was. If I had a few more seconds I would have killed you.” Dream said, like it was nothing more than a detached observation.
At that, even George seemed to let his stoicism slip, staring with unabashed surprise and confusion. Bad, with his back to Skeppy, froze up- his expression out of his line of sight, but his tail and arms still as a statue.
“...are you still going to?” Skeppy croaked, unable to tear his eyes off Dream.
“Do you want to ‘help me’, Skeppy?” He asked, titling his head to the side, blinking those luminous purple eyes.
“Yes,” he answered hoarsely.
Dream shrugged, his head lolling back slightly like a doll missing some of its stuffing, his expression void of emotion beyond neutrality, “that’s what they all say.”
With that the silence washed back in like waves on a beach as Bad resumed stirring, his tail twitching every so often, brushing against Skeppy’s leg.
‘That’s what they all say’, that was what Dream had said, so who were ‘they’?
Surely he didn’t mean those ‘possessed’ people Dream had been forced to kill? The ones who had come under the spell of the Ender Dragon, spinning a story about saving him with impossibly wide, painted smiles...? Ig he really did mean them, and it seemed like that was the only option, had they all been genuinely trying to help him, just like Skeppy had been?
Nausea washed over him as he looked over at Dream. What had really happened during those encounters?
Skeppy doubted he would ever truly know.
After that realisation, his appetite vanished, a sour taste filling his mouth and a pit forming deep in his stomach.
Time passed slowly as the food cooked, but the dread never dulled in Skeppy's mind. When it was finally done, he turned down the bowl of soup Bad tried to offer him and pretended not to notice the distressed look on the demon's face as he set the bowl by the fire where it lay, growing cold as the others ate.
Surprisingly, Dream accepted the bowl handed to him, taking his deadened stare off Skeppy to look down at the meal he’d been offered. He ate slowly, methodically, with an almost performance in his movements, but he chewed with a sort of desperation that was...alarming.
Watching Dream was strange, he acted almost identically to how he’d pictured the hunters to be, back when they were just fictional characters up for interpretation; like a feral animal whose only safety was two hunters by his side, like they were the only thing keeping him contained.
He wondered what would happen if they weren’t, if they left right now, what would Dream do?
Then Bad shifted closer to him, and he realised that wasn't a reality he was going to have to face in the near future anyway.
Logically, after all of that, sleeping should’ve been practically impossible- yet the moment the tents were set up and he laid down, Skeppy was out like a light while Bad was still outside cleaning up. Falling asleep was the easy part, but sleeping was another story. His dreams were filled with shadows, the ringing of bells that just wouldn’t stop and those sickly, purple eyes that followed his every move.
He knew he was dreaming, but was unable to wake up, helpless to do anything but run as the shadows closed in and the ringing faded- the only sound was his laboured breathing as he tried to hide from those eyes -
Skeppy woke up to near complete darkness in a frenzied panic, his eyes opening with a sharp intake of breath, barely registering the hands that had gone still, tangled in his hair.
After a second, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing white eyes instead of purple ones, staring down at him from a few feet above him. The hands, the eyes- they were Bad’s, he was safe. His breathing steadied, his fight or flight reflexes slipping away as Bad started speaking.
“Sorry, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I know I should’ve asked but you looked like you were having a bad dream and…” Bad began apologising in a flustered whisper, clearly trying to avoid waking the others, and if Skeppy had the energy, he should’ve rolled his eyes.
“Dude. I don’t care,” he slurred, his eyes already slipping shut.
Hesitant hands returned to carding softly through his hair, and while Skeppy tried to stay awake, to drink in the comfort he so desperately needed, it wasn’t long before sleep enveloped him once again.
When Skeppy woke up, the warmth and gentle touch was missing, but that was what he expected. The sun shone bright through the filter of the tents walls, and that was the first indicator that today was going to be different from the previous ones he had spent with the hunters, the first indicator being the sheer brightness he was met with when he opened his eyes.
Usually they were up early, when the sun had barely risen and the morning chill had yet to be chased away, but as he dressed and exited the tent, it was clearly much later than when he was usually awoken by; though by the sound of idle chatter from outside the tent. Surprisingly, from what he could make out from the tone alone, it was a relatively cordial- friendly, even if it was awkward and jarring in some aspects, it was still a sharp contradiction to the heavy atmosphere from the previous night.
Even with that small observation giving him hope, Skeppy still had to take a moment to compose himself by the entrance of the tent, taking a deep breath before pulling back the fabric that covered the entrance.
Skeppy instinctively squinted at the sudden shift in brightness, looking up through narrowed eyes to the sky above to try and gauge roughly what time it was. The clouds were like brush strokes of white on a dazzling, blue canvas and from the position of the suns, it was barely mid-morning: Skeppy took it as a good sign. The night was over, the suns rose like they did every day and he was alive.
“Mornin’ Skeppy, you ok?” a groggy, nasally voice asked, and Skeppy jumped at the promise, looking to his left to see Bad sitting cross-legged right next to the entrance of the tent, hunched over his dagger sharpening it.
“Hey, Bad,” Skeppy spoke cautiously, “yeah, I’m good- are you ok?”
Still with his head bowed, Bad inhaled an uneven breath and exhaled as he looked up at Skeppy, who nearly did a double-take at his appearance. He looked exhausted, truly worn down, with even bigger eye bags than the previous night, his whole frame seemed deflated and dull.
“Yeah, I’m ok. Just a little tired s’ all,” he murmured, sheathing his dagger and standing up, groaning as he stretched first his arms and then his wings, sprawling them out to their full, grand scope.
Bad must have caught him staring as he was quick to fold them back up, looking almost embarrassed, “don’t stare, you...muffin,” he finished lamely, and Skeppy couldn’t help the quick laugh he let out at seeing Bad coming back to his regular self.
“Oh, I’m the muffin? Not the guy who didn’t sleep a wink last night,” he guessed, and was proven correct by Bad’s guilty wince.
“It’s not like I didn’t try, it’s just…” he trailed off, looking towards the others.
For the first time, Skeppy actually looked around and found the hunters and Dream packing away the other two tents, talking in quiet, fond tones. It was almost normal, almost as if the past months had been nothing but a bad dream, if it weren’t for the way Dream sometimes paused to blink rapidly and rub at his eyes like he was trying to get something out of them, before quickly moving on with a slightly-forced smile.
Looking closer, his eyes seemed less vibrant than last night- it might have just been fear and the darkness making them appear more ominous the last time he’d seen them, but he could've sworn they seemed slightly clearer, slightly cloudier.
“So what now?” Skeppy breathed out, not taking his eyes off the trio, and for the first time that morning, one of them looked over at them. It was Sapnap, who nodded briefly at Skeppy in greeting when he saw him before turning back to the conversation he was having with George. Skeppy’s jaw just about dropped- for such a simple gesture, it was a world of difference to how he’d previously treated Skeppy; it wasn’t anything overly friendly, just a polite nod, an olive branch.
“First things first we need to get this packed up,” Bad said, distracting him before he over-analysed anything, “then we’re gonna find the stronghold.”
“The- sorry, did you say the stronghold ?” he asked incredulously, his eyes widening.
“Yes,” Bad said slowly, “is that...alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s just-” he choked out a half-laugh, “I didn’t think I’d get this far,” he admitted, and Bad turned to him with his mouth pulled into a small frown.
“You know you don’t have to come, right?” He asked quietly as he began disassembling the tent.
“Don’t really have any other choice, Bad.” He said, light-heartedly in an attempt to lighten the mood that fell flat.
“Skeppy-”
“Sorry, I mean- I’m coming with you. That’s definitely happening, it just feels kind of unreal, you know?”
Bad sighed. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” the demon turned back to the trio, where they’d already packed up and were standing in a circle, making stilted, but promising conversation. “It feels like everything’s happened so fast, y’know? One minute Dream’s acting kind of weird around us, the next we’re going to try and kill the Ender Dragon.”
“Yeah,” Skeppy mumbled, watching Sapnap aim a playful punch at Dream’s shoulder
It was almost like things were before when they started off again, after Dream explained that they needed to follow the statue’s eyes and that they were very close by, they set off; George, Dream and Sapnap up ahead, clearing the way whilst Bad and Skeppy remained a few paces behind, side by side.
Bad had lost his previous tendency to ramble on, taking on a much more muted variant of his usual personality, now he just seemed to watch the others, however, the wing extended behind Skeppy’s back remained a constant. Just when Skeppy had started to accept that this was the way the whole journey to the stronghold was going to be, Bad turned to him, a wistful look on his face.
“You know, this reminds me of the first time I left the Nether.” He said, not in a particularly negative or positive tone, he seemed to be reminiscing more than anything, offering a piece of his past to Skeppy- and that was an offer he wasn’t going to refuse.
“Yeah?”
“Mm. George, Sapnap, Dream, they all already knew each other back then. Obviously they weren’t nearly as close as they are now, just a group that happened to come together to scrape up enough money to get by, but it was still a companionship that you don’t see in the Nether.” He smiled up at the trees, “they saw this terrifying demon who was obviously out of his depth and the next thing I knew, being in Edkuo felt more like home than the Nether ever had.”
While the Nether wasn’t something Skeppy knew much about, Edkuo on the other hand was something he adored; for Bad to be able to call it ‘home’ was...well, Skeppy couldn’t think of a better place for the demon to feel at peace.
“Sometimes it feels too good to be true, that I got summoned, Edkuo is so beautiful...it’s hard to believe I actually belong here sometimes,” Bad spoke, a smile still present through a bittersweet tone as he looked back to the others in front of them.
“I know what you mean,” Skeppy found himself saying before he could stop himself, “everything about this place is just- wow. I still have no idea how I even got here,” it felt good to get off his chest, even if Bad wouldn’t take it literally.
Bad laughed, a light, care-free noise, “I can tell,” he hummed, his tone teasing and mirthful.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Skeppy snapped back, though the grin on his face betrayed him.
“Nothing, nothing! You just- I’m not stupid, Skeppy, you’re very clearly out of your depth in the real world, I bet you’ve never even killed a mob, have you?”
Skeppy didn’t grace him with a reply, sticking out his tongue and lightly swatting at Bad’s wing as he’d become accustomed to doing.
“You act like you’re doing so much better, when was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”
“Oh, come on, that’s not a fair question and you know it.”
“Isn’t it, Bad?” Skeppy replied, knowing he was pushing too hard but too desperate for answers to allow the conversation to die, “the other hu- I mean, George and Sapnap, you can trust them, you know? You don’t always have to be on the defence.”
Bad fell silent, for the next few paces of their walk, frowning down at the dirt before finally speaking again.
“I know I don’t have to protect them, they can handle themselves- it’s you I’m worried about.”
Skeppy nearly stopped dead in his tracks at that, dragging his feet as he tried to process the new information he’d been given. “Me?” He repeated dumbly.
Bad shrugged “I probably shouldn’t trust you, all things considered,” he mused “but I do. That means I’m gonna let you get hurt if I can help it.”
“I…don’t know too much about you, Skeppy, other than that you like annoying me and your extensive knowledge about us and seemingly nothing else,” Bad continued, “but your heart seems to be in the right place,” he paused, pursuing his lips and scrunching up his face, “metaphorically speaking of course, physically it’s on the wrong side.”
“Not wrong, just…different,” Skeppy protested, floored by how open Bad was being.
“That’s not how human bodies work,” Bad argued, defaulting to their easy back-and-forth.
“How would you know?”
“Ok, that was rude.”
“Kidding, kidding!”
Inbetween bouts of arguing and teasing, Skeppy managed to pick up a few things about the three others ahead of them. Sure, he wasn’t the most observant person, but other than Bad, there wasn’t anything else to take notice of, daytime in Balbrook was significantly more still than it was at night.
The first and most obvious thing Skeppy noticed was Dream’s weird behaviour; one moment he’d be active and absorbed in conversation, listening intently to catch up on what he’d missed out on- before he’d suddenly shrink in on himself, rubbing his temples and slowing his stride significantly.
It seemed like George and Sapnap either didn’t notice or were trying their best to pretend they didn’t see what was happening. Initially, it happened once every half-hour or so, but as they trailed deeper, he was near permanently falling behind, his discomfort plain on his unmasked face.
Sapnap was the first of the two to give in, placing a hand on Dream’s shoulder and asking if he wanted to take a break- but Dream merely shook his head. “We’re close now, too close to stop now.” He said, with such a firmness that Sapnap didn’t make any further attempt to sway into taking a break.
Another thing Skeppy noticed was how different George seemed. While Sapnap had remained largely the same —if losing most of his sternness— but George barely seemed like the same person once he dropped the layer of stoicism and irony. Skeppy would hesitate to say he was the most affected by Dream’s infection, it was easy to assume he’d changed the most without him.
That wasn’t to say that he was especially open, sometimes it was hard to remember they were mercenaries, but that fact most certainly came into play with how they interacted with each other, they were rougher with each other than Skeppy had been expecting them to be, but he couldn’t be sure if that had always been the case or was a result of the months they’d spent fighting against each other.
They all defied his expectations in one way or another, some for the better, some for the worse.
Despite not lining up perfectly with his previous expectations of how interactions between Dream and the hunters would be without the divide of the Ender Dragon, it was still uncannily similar, a sense of Deja vu washing over him at the sight of the three of them clad in worn armour, welding gleaming weapons as they passed through the dense forestry of Balbrook.
The illusion of it was swiftly broken however, whenever Dream would pause, groaning and clutching his head for a second, or when he would turn around to reveal those opaque, amethyst eyes; which, at this, point was happening frequently, yet Dream still refused to take a break, even when Bad stepped in to try and get him to rest for a moment.
Worst of all, Skeppy had no idea how to feel regarding Dream, especially seeing him the way he was- broken, in pain. He wasn't the hero Skeppy had been picturing, not by a long shot, the danger he'd been in when he first came face-to-face with Dream was far more severe than any he'd been in when he'd first encountered the hunters, but he couldn't dismiss all his past pretences so quickly. He didn't think he could bring himself to hate Dream, despite the hostility Dream obviously felt towards him- which left him lost in his own head, unsure where he stood and what he was supposed to feel. The times when Dream would pause, stagnant from pain, just made everything worse- heightening the clash of wanting to run and hide, and to panic at the sight of the fallen hero.
Now was one of those times, where Dream had paused breathing deeply as the hunters stood around him, silent and waiting, ready to intervene and help at a moment's notice.
“Don’t worry about me, we’re so close, we’re-” Dream heaved out dismissively through gritted teeth, before straightening up abruptly, looking startled, but strikingly focused. Skeppy stared in shock as Dream suddenly moved, quick as a bolt of lightning, darting forward and past Sapnap and George with a grunt.
“Dream!” Sapnap yelled after him, quickly following suit with George sprinting alongside him.
“Come on, Skeppy,” Bad said, taking hold of Skeppy’s wrist and gently tugging him as a hurried jog after the others.
They followed the sounds of footprints and barely five minutes passed before they stopped dead silent up ahead, and he and Bad emerged through a particularly thick curtain of vines to see Dream and the other hunters standing stock still, staring up at a large stone structure.
It was an entryway- looming and solid, carved out of stone centuries prior, and surrounded by long, thin marks and cracks that stretched outwards from the opening. The entrance itself was around ten feet tall, but a cursory, closer look showed that it was a downward spiralling staircase despite it’s height.
“This is it.” Dream breathed out, “the portal…”
Everyone else fell silent, wordless at both the scope and implications of it.
“It looks dark down there, really dark." George voiced, stepping a little closer to peer into the emptiness beyond the stone. "We’ll need to make some torches before we go down there if we're gonna get anywhere,” he muttered, unceremoniously dropping his bad and walking towards the treeline.
Well, it was good to see he was just as unphased as ever. Some things just never changed.
Now that they were actually here, at the very acclimation of months and months of danger and close-calls, even though Skeppy had only been here physically, he’d been waiting for this moment for years .
“It’s gonna be a maze down there.” Dream said, his voice by now was brittle, obviously from the over-use of going from days of silence at a time to talking all day. “It’ll take at least four hours to find the portal, maybe even a day depending on my sources.”
Skeppy’s mind reeled for a minute, a day down there? The stronghold was no walk in the park —that he knew— but the extent to which they’d be trapped down there with no way to turn back just built onto his mounting anxiety. Were they even going to make it to the portal, nevermind to the Ender Dragon?
A familiar, clawed hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Bad looking at him with a determined, yet empathetic expression on his face. “You don’t have to do this," he paused, waiting until Skeppy nodded hesitantly, "and if you do choose to, I’ll keep you safe, ok?”
Skeppy swallowed the lump in his throat, “promise?” he asks, well aware of how childish he sounds.
“Promise,” Bad replies sincerely.
“Then yeah, fuck it- doubt you’ll get far without me anyway,” he jokes, delighted in the small snicker he gets in return.
“Oh my god, stop flirting we’re literally about to go on a suicide mission,” Sapnap bemoans as he takes a few branches George hands him.
Despite himself, Skeppy laughed- half flustered, half amazed that Sapnap is actually talking to him like he would any of the others. Sure, there was a good chance he’d find himself wiped out by an Enderman or burnt to a crisp by a dragon, but at least it seemed like the story was back on track; and he really couldn't ask for anything more.