Chapter Text
Wilbur said farewell to Tommy a short distance from Dream’s cabin. He promised to see Tommy again soon, his eyes darting to Dream’s home as he spoke. Then he disappeared between the trees, leaving Tommy to wave at his back.
Tommy stood on the path for a while, eyes fixed on the point Wilbur had disappeared from. It didn’t know when Dream would let it leave the cabin again, and the knowledge sat heavy in its stomach.
Dream hadn’t ordered Tommy to return by a specific time, so the pull to obey felt only like a dull tug, but it was there nonetheless. Tommy faced the cabin and went home.
Inside, Dream stood at the fireplace, his face lit orange by the fire crackling within. At its center, something burned blue. Tommy approached, and it was only when it held out the pack to Dream that the man startled and looked at it.
“Oh good,” he said. “Put it on the table.” Tommy obeyed. When it turned back to Dream, the man regarded him with a pinched look.
“Why is there dirt on your face?” he asked.
Tommy brushed a hand to its face where the boy had hit him with the stick, finding it rough. “Some people hit me with sticks.”
Dream jerked. “What? What happened?” The man hurried to Tommy’s side, hands cupping the sides of Tommy’s face and turning it to either side.
Tommy recounted its shortcut through the alley, and the way the boys had hit Tommy and tried to take Dream’s things.
Dream curled a lip. “Fucking idiots,” he snapped. He jerked Tommy’s head to the left, forcing it to take a step. “What did they take?”
“Nothing,” Tommy said.
“Nothing?” Dream said. “They were mugging you. Of course they took something.”
“What does mugging mean?” Tommy asked.
Dream sighed, low and angry. He ran a rough hand through Tommy’s hair. “It means they wanted to steal from you. Take something that isn’t theirs by force. You’re handy most days but explaining simple shit to you is getting old. Don’t go in alleys anymore. Now why didn’t they take anything?”
“Yes, Dream,” it said. Dream was mad he had to explain things, but Tommy couldn’t help that he didn't know. And if it didn’t know things, it wouldn’t be able to follow Dream’s orders. Something curtled in Tommy’s stomach at Dream’s tone, the man’s words looping in its head. “Wilbur told them to go away.”
“Wilbur again?” Dream’s hand paused on the back of Tommy’s head. Then he pushed Tommy’s head forward and combed through its hair. “Shit, there's a crack.” As Dream brushed aside Tommy’s hair a whisper of dust ran down its neck. “Did he see this?”
“No,” Tommy said. “I didn’t let him touch me.”
“Did he follow you?”
“No.”
“Good.” Dream stepped away. “I have an idea to improve you. Go downstairs to sleep. I’ll mess around with the spell while I repair you.”
Improve? The word shook something inside Tommy. It knew it wasn’t cold–the fireplace was only steps away–but it could have sworn there was a cold creeping up its fingers. Tommy hesitated to follow the order that tugged at his feet, threatening to pull it down the stairs and into the dark.
Tommy didn’t look at Dream, its gaze locked on the basement steps. “What does that mean?” it found the words slip out. Its voice seemed… smaller than usual.
Dream stopped and was silent for a moment. Tommy found its gaze drawn to the man in his silence.
Dream stared at him, one eyebrow raised and a frown on his lips. “It doesn’t matter,” Dream said. “Now, Tommy,” the name rang loud in its ears, “go downstairs and go to sleep.”
The name locked around Tommy’s limbs, snapping them into motion and it was walking toward the stairs. More questions, the request to explain–to wait–were locked behind Tommy’s teeth. Its legs carried it down the steps and into the dark, across the study, and to the table.
Its arms hoisted it up and its spine curved as it lay down on the table it had first woken from.
Tommy didn’t want to close its eyes. Something at its core burned to keep them open–to know what was about to happen to it.
The order slid its eyes shut and the world drifted away.
________________________
“-wake up.”
Tommy opened its eyes.
Above, the spiderweb glittered in the weak light filtering down the stairs. Tommy stared and remembered the circumstances of the last time it had been awake.
It sat up.
Dream lounged at his desk a few steps away, thumbing through a book. “Come over here, Tommy.”
Tommy got up from the table, feeling somehow heavier than usual and crossed the space to Dream.
“Give me your hand.” Dream set down his book and extended a waiting palm.
Tommy set its hand in Dream’s palm. The man gripped it, the warmth of his touch seeping into Tommy’s wrist. With his free hand Dream picked up a tool from the desk. It had a wooden handle and a long thin metal piece–flat with criss cross marks.
Dream set it against Tommy’s arm and with a swift motion drew it across its wrist.
A sensation, sharp and sudden, flashed across the point where the metal had grated across its wrist. Tommy jerked its hand away and out of Dream’s grip. It hadn’t even considered the motion. It had just happened–almost as if Dream had given it an order–but sped up to an intense degree.
“That–” Tommy said. “I didn’t mean to.” It stared at the rough patch on its wrist, flaking dust and clay onto the floor. The sensation continued to writhe there–demanding Tommy’s attention.
“Good!” Tommy looked up to see Dream grinning. “That means it worked.”
“What did?” Tommy asked, pressing a thumb to its broken point. The sensation flared at the touch and it drew its hand back.
“You can feel pain now,” Dream said, retrieving a jar from one of the shelves. He popped the lid and returned to Tommy’s side.
“Pain?” Tommy asked. The sensation–pain–dragged its mind back to its wrist over and over again.
Dream scooped clay, gray and damp from the jar and smeared it across the scrape. “It's an unpleasant sensation that lets humans know when we’re hurt. Now you’ll know when you're damaged.”
Once the clay covered the damage, Dream spoke something soft and low, with Tommy’s name somewhere in the swirl. The pain faded at the words, and Dream brushed aside the now dry clay to reveal Tommy’s wrist, uninjured.
“Oh,” Tommy said.
Dream raised his arms over his head and stretched. “Alright, enough of that. Go and gather more quartz from the north cave I showed you. Enough to fill up this bag will do, but come back by tomorrow night even if you don’t find that much, Tommy.” Dream held out a small leather satchel, and Tommy took it.
“Yes, Dream.” Tommy climbed the steps out of the basement. The sunlight fell across it and warmed it to its core. Its chest felt tight and somehow light at the same time. When Dream had ordered it down to the basement It wasn’t sure it was going to see the sun again.
It stepped in the patches of sunlight as often as it could on its way through the forest and to the cave.