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Dream wasn't stupid. He saw the towers, the pictures, evidence of Tommy's existence inside Techno's house everywhere. Thankfully, it seemed like he didn't want to remove Tommy from his house, as Techno had learned in their short interaction. Just to know where he was. Know he was staying out of the SMP's borders.
Now, Tommy will never let it go that Techno was the stupid one for believing him.
To get to Tommy, he needed Techno. Or, more aptly, he needed someone to use as a catalyst. A show of betrayal, the last person in the realm who Tommy would run to letting the boy back into Dream's clutches for something like a promise. Stab the boy in the back and let Dream heal the wound, ensuring his hold on his strings.
It was almost too perfect. But, like any good show, Dream needs to set the stage.
So the second Techno leaves Tommy alone in the house, he marches in. Dream doesn't bother with keeping quiet, he knows full well that Tommy is at his weakest and most vulnerable when he's without his precious big brother figure.
He doesn't pause when he sees the house empty. He knows where Tommy is. Three slow steps to his left, winning grin on his face, "It's cute that you think you're safe here, Tommy. That you 'escaped'," He makes quotations with his fingers with a shrug, "which is rather dramatic, don't you think? You're the one in exile, if anything I'm keeping you from yourself." He rests his hand on the wooden top of the box, and he can hear the short stuttered breathing of the boy under his hand like the fluttering heartbeat of a hummingbird.
"You don't seem to understand this Tommy, but you need to learn the value of listening--" He throws open the top, ignoring the panicked cry from the invisible boy and grabbing him by the shirt, slamming him against the wall when he raises him from the box, "And if I need to fucking break you so that the lesson gets across, I will." He holds Tommy by the shirt and drags him out of the box, feeling Tommy's fists beat against his chestplate and ding off uselessly. He pulls him over to a chest, grabbing a milk bucket and splashing it on the wavering form in his grasp.
Tommy sputters, letting out a choked sob, and becomes visible once more. Dream can't help but let his face curl into one of disappointment. He was dressed well, blue antarctic colors and a red sash across his middle. His gaunt cheeks fuller, dark circles beneath his eyes lightened.
"Jesus," Dream laughs, "Have they been treating you well out here? That's sweet. They're good people, Phil and Techno. It makes sense they'd give in to your 'victim' schtick." He yanks the boy face to face with him, sneering; "You're not a fucking basket case, Tommy. You're a criminal and a disgrace to the fucking nation. Not a hero, not a victim. You're a delinquent who finally got what he deserved by being kicked out. And now that you're paying the price, you're running to dad and brother?"
Tommy sobs, fingernails digging into Dream's hand and shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut, "Tha-that's not tru-true! I-I'm--- Phil--"
"Phil doesn't know you, Tommy," Dream scoffs, squeezing his forearm until the boy cries out in pain, "I know you. I've seen what you've done and even in your punishment, I gave you fucking mercy. And you even got me convinced for a second. But this," He waves at the sobbing snotted mess in his grasp, "This is pathetic."
He leaves it at that, keeping Tommy in one hand and pushing open the doors to the cabin and dragging Tommy over whatever terrain. He tries to bust out, twisting and hitting Dream, but the heavily armored man barely even feels it. His breath is quick and panicked;
"Te-TECHNO! Techno! Please!" He cries out, his voice getting caught in his throat as he screams. The resounding silence is dreadful, volumetric, and deafening.
"Techno--" He tries again, tears slipping into his mouth and souring the already bitter taste on his tongue.
"Shut up already, fuck--" Dream groans, yanking Tommy down the stairs and pulling him through the snow, "Who do you think told me you were here, idiot? He's gone, Tommy."
Tommy whimpers, "No-- No-- He s-said-- Techno! Techno, please!" He wails, voice broken. "Help! Anyone!" He sobs, his muscles turning into putty as the silence grows harder and harder.
He sniffles, wild eyes scanning the treeline for any movement, any person.
No one.
Dream chuckles, "What did I tell you? Even now! You don't listen to me."
Tommy just cries, now weakly tugging at Dream's grip. Some part of him still fought, the fire in his stomach that told him Phil and Techno wouldn't clothe and care for him just to give him to Dream again. That they'd left without any signs, that maybe Techno was out of ear shot--
Then he sees the cliff.
His heart feels heavy in his chest and his fight renews, pawing at Dream, "No--No-- C'mon-- Dream I-I can't-- You'll k-kill me--"
Dream doesn't answer, pulling him through the thick frost until he's sat at just he edge of the drop off. Dream then grabs him by the throat, avoiding pressure on his trachea to let the boy scream, and holds him above the edge.
"Scream, Tommy." He says, voice low and deadly.
There didn't need to be a request sent, Tommy was already hoarse with screaming. His voice wrecked as he belted out the most heartwrenching voice, screeching at the top of his lungs.
"Dream?" A voice pipes up behind Dream, and for once, Dream is startled. He turns bringing Tommy just back on solid land.
Tommy's relief is palpable, voice thick with grief as he blubbers, "Wilby--"
Before them stands the yellow sweater spirit, eyes wide and surprised as he looks between them. Wilbur, Ghostbur, with blue dye crushed in his hand. Tension seems tight in his jaw.
"What are you guys doing?"
Tommy opens his mouth, gasping out, "Please! Dream's gonna--to--" Dream finds that place on his throat and squeezes a warning, cutting off Tommy's voice suddenly. He begins to choke as Dream calmly talks to Ghostbur.
"We're playing a game, Ghostbur. Tommy's just lost it."
"I-I don't think... this doesn't seem like a fun game." Ghostbur frowns, biting on his lip, "Y-you're making my head hu-hurt. Can you please put him down?"
"Don't worry, Ghostbur. It's just a game! Tommy's not hurt, is he? Nod, Tommy, go on!" Dream loosens his grip, but not before squeezing it a little tighter to send a silent threat. He throws Tommy on the ground before them, fine with this little detour in his plans. Ghostbur was, well, dumb. He'd forget any of this happened before Dream could even kill the kid.
Tommy coughs, hacking as he tries to regain his breath. He hiccups out a sob, stuttering out, "G-game--S'agame. G-go-- Run--" His fists curl in the snow and turn bright red in the cold without any proper warm covering. If Dream could take Tommy apart, he didn't want to know what he could do to the vulnerable Ghostbur.
Ghostbur looks between them again, taking a step closer and crouching beside Tommy. His hand briefly cups Tommy's face, leaving a bright blue smudge on the boy's cheek. Still, with strange interest, Ghostbur drags his thumb under Tommy's eyes, wiping away hot tears. Tommy watches him with hesitant hope. Something looks so familiar in Ghostbur's eyes, but neither party seems to know what it is.
"Game?" Ghostbur whispers, not really asking.
Dream grins, all teeth, and walks over to Tommy, planting a foot on the boy's back. Wilbur stands at that with his eyes flickering between the foot and to Dream, then back to his sobbing brother on the floor. His eyebrows furrow, horror dawning on his expression.
"Exactly, Ghostbur," Dream says, not paying attention to the spirit, instead relishing in the soft sobs Tommy gives him, "Now tell him, Tommy. In this game of heroes, you're the villain, aren't you?"
Something breaks in Wilbur, a glass wall shattered and spilling sharp edges across the space. His eyes harden, fists curled tight, and a rage begins to fill him. That was Tommy, that was his fucking little brother and this asshole has his fucking foot on his brother's back like he was goddamn cattle. He called Tommy a villain.
He called him a fucking villain.
A memory crawls through him and into the forefront of his mind. He sees a hazy image of two men on a wooden path. Tommy is there, dressed in his rebel uniform. Arrows cocked, bows raised. Him and the other, Dream, walk ten paces from each other.
And then he sees Dream shoot Tommy. No hesitation, deadly precision. Watching the arrow cut through the boy's chest, piercing his heart, and push him onto his back, dead.
Wilbur can feel, even in the memory, his breath quicken and his muscles tense. Horror drowning his gaze. All he can see is Tommy, laying stock still, with blood dribbling out of his mouth and eyes glazed over, empty. And he can tell, if he doesn't do something now, that'll happen again, and Tommy won't wake back up next time.
Wilbur pistons back his shoulder and punches the fucker right between the eyes with a satisfying crack.
The mask bends under his hit, splintering. He doesn't even feel near done, the fiery rage and inferno burning within him now consuming everything in it's path.
Everything feels like fuel to the flames. His FOOT on his back. Calling his baby brother, one of the only good people Wilbur's ever met, a villain. Holding him by the throat over the cliff. Manipulating him. Hurting him. Hurting all of them, everyone. In the red haze, he can see Tommy's choked and injured face wet with tears, and he's not sure if it's from ten seconds ago or seven months ago, when he was the one making Tommy like that. Alivebur's memories were fucked, and they're nothing like what Ghostbur remembers life being. He remembers Tommy being a happy little boy, bouncing around the garden. Watching the bees. Teaming with him to build a new country.
It only drives his fist back into Dream's face, throwing two, three, seven, eight, punches down onto the man's face until the pieces of porcelain cut up his fist and he can't see any skin between the two of them with all the blood. Maybe it's self-hatred, the way he sees less and less of Dream and more and more of the villain he was all those months ago, lost in his insanity, but he doesn't care. He doesn't. He's wanted this for so long. To ruin the men who hurt his brother. Even if that meant himself.
He hates Alivebur. Resents him. Curses his fucking guts for hurting his family. And as such, he fucking hates Dream.
Wilbur doesn't stop until hands come under his arms and force him away from his target. He goes limp, letting the new person drag him away and feeling sick satisfaction in the pool of blood he'd left behind. He's screaming, yelling, lip curled and teeth grit as he hurls every insult he knows at the green clad man on the ground. He doesn't even know if Dream can hear him. He doesn't care.
A hand rests on his arm and, fueled by adrenaline, Wilbur whips his head to the side with that same icy anger still brewing.
It's Tommy.
His expression softens, feeling the blue hue fade from his eyes and drain from his face. He wipes his hands off in the snow and move them to Tommy, framing his jaw.
"Are you okay?" He whispers, back to thumbing away tears and small cuts on his nose.
Tommy nods, small and timid, choking on renewed tears that spill out of his eyes at the soft gesture. He reaches up and holds Wilbur's wrist, sniffling, "I-I thought--he-he was gonna kill--was gonna kill me--" He sobs, letting his head weigh into Wilbur's hand.
"Never," Wilbur hushes him, giving him a small smile and pulling the boy into his arms, hand immediately carding through the back of his hair on instinct, "Not ever again." He knows it's a flippant promise, one he probably can't keep, but he'll try and that's all that matter right now.
Tommy sobs into his collar, arms around his torso. He's so small and shaky in Ghostbur's arms. He had grown, he knew, from the younger lad he remembered before Alivebur took over. But as he rubs circles into his nape, he recognizes that Tommy's still a child. Still just a kid.
"I've got you." He mumbles into Tommy's hair, relaxing into the hold, "I've got you, Tommy. I love you."
"I love you, t-than--thank you--" The boy chokes out, chest heaving with the power of his sobs. They sit there for a bit, planning to return to the cottage soon. It was cold, and Tommy didn't have gloves on! But right now, Ghostbur needed to hold his baby brother for a couple seconds longer.
It'll never make up for the months he spent not being there. Being the one who made Tommy cry, making Tommy feel hopeless and alone. It'll never repair the damage Alivebur did.
But it's a start.