Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hello?”

The voice echoed unnaturally through the room, horribly familiar. Heads turned towards Dream, who had gone perfectly still. 

“I thought I told you to stay hidden,” he said calmly.

“Sorry,” the voice replied. “I just-- I heard people?” A head poked through the blackstone wall, obscured by a smiley mask. “I haven’t seen anyone else since I became a ghost, and I was curious!” 

The ghost stepped fully out of the wall. Weapons were leveled at it and it instantly backpedaled, hands raised. “Wait! Please don’t hurt me, I don’t know what I did but--”

“What the fuck, ” Tommy demanded. 

“Dream,” Sam said softly, “What is the meaning of this?”

“What’s the meaning of what?” The ghost asked blankly. He stared at the assembled group, then turned to Dream. Dream, who was very much alive, and currently sprawled on the floor next to his own ghost. “Wait, what’s going on? Why’re you on the floor?” 

“They’re trying to kill me,” Dream answered. The ghost blinked.

“Why?”

“Because they hate you.”

“They-- they hate me?”

Dream sat up and shrugged, his expression hidden under his mask. “You did some pretty bad things while you were alive.”

The ghost paled. “I-- I did?”

“Dream,” Sam repeated warningly, stepping forward. Both Dream and his ghost turned to face him. “Dream, how are you alive?” 

“I’m not,” the ghost said, head tilting sideways in confusion. 

Sapnap made a frustrated noise. “Then how did you die?” he demanded.

“I--” Dream shook his head at the ghost, who winced. "Uh, whoops, sorry, can’t tell you that.” 

Tubbo cautiously inched out from behind the safety of the group. “Um. Dream?”

“Yes?” The ghost asked. 

“What-- what happened to you? How are you both alive and dead?” 

The ghost seemed to be staring at him, though it was difficult to tell with the mask. “But-- but I’m not alive?” 

“You seem pretty alive to me,” Punz deadpanned, gesturing at Dream.

The ghost paused, turned to Dream, then straightened with realization. “Oh! No, that’s not--”

It screamed as water splashed over it, shooting backwards as Dream tossed the empty bucket away. The object clattered to the floor as the man pushed himself to his feet. Weapons were instantly directed at him. “Don’t move,” Sam snapped. “Explain.”

Dream slumped a little, adopting a casual pose. “I’d rather not,” he said nonchalantly. 

Sapnap took a threatening step forward. “You don’t have a choice.” 

The ghost shook the remaining water off of itself, shivering and rubbing at its translucent skin. “Wait, don’t-- don’t hurt him!”

“Shut up,” Sapnap snapped at the ghost before turning his attention to the man. His jaw clenched with barely-restrained fury. “Dream. Explain.”

“You just told me to shut up!” the ghost spluttered. 

Dream stared at them, posture seemingly relaxed. His hands, however, were clenched into fists. He tilted his head to the side as he addressed his dead counterpart. “Why don’t you go back to your room for a while?”

The ghost slumped. “Do I have to?” it asked. “I wanna meet the new people.”

“No, you can stay,” Sapnap intervened quickly. The ghost perked up.

Dream’s mask slowly turned in its direction. The ghost gulped and floated a few paces back. “Uh, sorry, but he said I could stay!”

“So you’ll listen to a complete stranger over your best friend?”

The ghost shuffled its faded feet. “Well, when you put it like that. . .”

“No, stay,” Sam ordered. “Don’t listen to Dream.”

The ghost blinked in confusion. “I-- what? Don’t listen to myself?” 

“Uh--” Sam gestured in Dream’s direction. “Alive-Dream.”

The ghost tilted its head. “Wait, Alive-Dream?” It turned to Dream, who had tensed. “What do you mean, Alive-Dream?” 

Sapnap and Punz exchanged glances. “That’s uh, you. From when you were alive.”

The ghost stared at them. Then at Dream, then at them. “No, nonono,” it said, raising its hands. “Wait, no. This is a misunderstanding. I-- he isn’t alive-me! I’m dead.” 

“Well, somehow, you’re not,” Punz deadpanned. “Which is what we’d like an explanation for.”

The ghost wrung its hands and looked at its living counterpart. Dream ignored it, staring at the group. 

Then he suddenly sighed, dropping into a slouch. “Well,” he said mournfully. “Looks like the charade is up.” 

He reached up and removed his mask. Sapnap’s crossbow clattered to the floor.

Dream’s eyes, normally a vibrant leaf-green that matched his customary hoodie, were dull and unfocused, covered in a milky film. His skin was a pasty white, the edges of his lips tinged blue. 

He looked like a corpse. A perfectly preserved, animated corpse. 

Dream (?) twisted his lips into a smile. “Dream is dead,” he said calmly. “I killed him.”

The ghost went stock still. “You. . .” it managed weakly. “You what?” 

‘Dream’ turned his head towards it. “Oh, too bad,” he said.“You don’t remember, do you?” 

The ghost backed away, shaking its head. “N-no,” he stuttered, clasping his hands over his ears. ‘Dream’ watched it, a terrifying smile etched into his face. “No, no! Y-you’re my friend, you’re my friend --”

‘Dream’ scoffed. “I ‘befriended’ you so you wouldn’t go out and alert the rest of the world to what happened. I couldn’t carry out my plans if everyone knew you were dead.” 

The ghost had faded to a pale grey. “N-no,” he whispered again, collapsing to his knees. “No, no, no. . .”

“What. . .” Sapnap choked out, his hands twitching uselessly forward. “What. . .”

‘Dream’ grinned.“You’re going to have to speak up a little.” 

“Who are you?” Eret demanded, stepping forward. “What are you?”

‘Dream’ tilted his head. “Tubbo knows! Don’t you, Tubbo?”

All eyes turned to Tubbo, who had gone white. “We-- got rid of you!” he cried. “We destroyed you--”

“Oh, but you didn’t ,” the corpse mocked. “You gave me an opportunity. During the time that I spent in Dream’s body, I made myself a few footholds. Your stupid exorcism didn’t work, and it was child’s play to kill Dream afterwards. And none of you even noticed!” 

He laughed, a sound that soon devolved into familiar wheezing. Punz looked sick. 

“S-stop laughing!” Sapnap snarled. ‘Dream’ grinned. 

“I’m sorry, did I hit a nerve?” he cooed. 

“You--” the ghost’s echoing voice interrupted. It sounded bewildered and hurt. “You said I drowned.” 

“Technically. I didn’t mention that I was the one who drowned you.” 

“You k-killed me.”

“And stole your body, yes,” ‘Dream’ agreed. The ghost recoiled. “It’s a pity that you stuck around for the aftermath. I would have gotten away with it if you hadn’t shown up.” 

Tubbo had started hyperventilating. Tommy grabbed his arm. “Tubbo-- Tubbo, what the fuck is that thing?”

“A dreamon,” Tubbo choked out. “I thought-- I thought we exorcised it.”

“You thought,” the dreamon sighed. “Humans always assume that their stupid rituals work.” He peered at them, and Eret shuddered as his gaze swept over them. 

“You-- you’re in my body?” the ghost forced out. It was trembling, grasping at its masked face. “You’re-- that’s-- my body? "

“Yes,” the dreamon repeated, false patience barely masking his delight at their reactions. “We never met while you were alive, save for that one time I forced you to jump into the lake, but--”

“SHUT UP!” Sapnap roared, starting forward. Eret and Sam instantly grabbed his arms, pulling him back. He thrashed in their grip. “JUST SHUT UP --”

“How long?” Punz demanded over his enraged shouting. 

The dreamon’s lips curled into a smile. “Three months,” it said. 

Sapnap fell silent.

The dreamon turned towards the ghost, smile stretching wider. “And none of your so-called friends even noticed.” 

The ghost had gone white. The mask slipped from its fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering and dissolving into ghostly essence. Punz started towards it. 

“Dream, wait--”

Dream turned and fled through the wall.

Chapter Text

There was nothing but earth for miles around the base. Dream trembled as he flew through the solid stone, the tingling sensation of intangibility gnawing at his bones. Did he even have bones? He didn’t know. He was a ghost, and his body was no longer his.

In his hysteria, he stopped mid-flight and brought his hands to his face to check that they were still there, to check that they were his, but when he brought them in front of his face they were not there even though he could feel them but he couldn't see. The light could not reach underground, and the darkness pressed against him from all sides like a physical thing. He screamed but the sound only vibrated through his skull, smothered under the tons of soil pressing down on him. Panic welled in his chest, suffocating him and consuming his mind, and he couldn’t think--

He abruptly tumbled out of stone into open air, going tangible once more. It was still pitch black, but the ghostly glow emanating from his body was visible now. He clutched at his chest and gasped though he did not need to, grounding and reminding himself that he was here and that his ghostly limbs were his own. The soft light seeping from his skin, however, did nothing to illuminate the space, so when he no longer felt like he would collapse from terror he tentatively reached out into the darkness. The rough stone of a cave wall met his fingers.

Safe. Alone. He dropped down, still floating a few inches above the floor, and sobbed.

His friend wasn’t his friend. Had never been his friend. Had murdered him, drowned him, and-- and--

The bile he had been holding back rose in his throat and he choked, scrubbing uselessly at his exposed face. Did he look like that? A drowned man? His friendNot-his-friend was wearing his skin, had pretended to be him. And those people, the living--

They had known him. Alive-him. Or had they only known the dreamon? He knew he had friends when he was alive, because his frienot-his-friend had said so, but--

“--none of your so-called friends even noticed.” 

He had died. Not-his-friend had stolen his face. None of his real friends had noticed the difference.

He didn’t remember them. Didn’t remember any of them. His head was empty and his skin was cold and his body was no longer his. 

His tears glowed, skipping down his chin and falling into the darkness. He curled into a ball and watched them disappear, swallowed by the murky shadows. They did not make the drip-dripping noise of water. They did not make any noise at all.

He stayed there until the tears stopped falling, staring blindly into the dark. He should get up. Leave. Return to the surface and find his f̶̧͉̳͗́r̰̠̝̪͕̖̎͐̏͡í̠͚̜̲̰̎́͞͞ë̫̺̪̟̎̃̃͘n̷̺̬̱͍͊̑͐̎̈͠d̨̘͓͙̀̓͢ṡ̢̞͇͍͟͜͡.

He didn’t move. His head was empty and now his heart was too. He was tired. Could ghosts sleep? He didn’t know. 

He didn’t know anything.

He lay in the dark and waited for it to swallow him as well.

He drifted. Nothing could touch him here, in this cave. Time slipped through his fingers like dust, unnoticed and uncared for, and he let his thoughts fade away. His glow faded with them, and soon his hands had become nothing more than faint outlines against the dark. The silence engulfed his mind and he sank into it. It welcomed him and smothered him, and as he drowned once again, he felt nothing but peace.

Then the peace shattered. There was a voice nearby, muffled by layers of stone, rambling on and on and pausing occasionally as though listening for a reply that only the speaker could hear. A pickaxe accompanied it, chipping away at the walls of the cave.

Dream did not open his eyes. Would the voice go away if he didn’t move? 

The voice did not go away. It instead grew louder and louder, clearer and clearer, until it abruptly stopped. The blissful silence was restored, and as it stretched onwards, his mind began drifting once again.

The voice called out, sounding distant to his foggy consciousness. There was a muffled thump of boots against stone.

And then the backs of his eyelids lightened into a dark gray, the voice spoke only foot away from his face, and something brushed against his skin. He jerked away, his eyes flying open, and cried out as the dim light seared his retinas. Through his hazy vision, he could see a humanoid figure leaning over him. Torchlight outlined its form, throwing its face into a misshapen, grotesque shadow, and Dream cried out again, throwing up his faded hands in an attempt to protect himself. The figure jerked back, and Dream scrabbled at the floor of the cave, dragging himself away from the perceived threat. The figure lowered into a crouch and raised its hands in a placating manner. It was speaking, but Dream could not make sense of its words. They rattled around in his head and collapsed into an incomprehensible mess. His eyes burned from the light and he shut them again, covering his head with his arms.

The figure did not approach, instead staying at a distance. It continued to talk, and as Dream gradually fought his way out of the haze, its words became clearer. 

“. . . not going to hurt you,” it was saying. Dream cautiously opened an eye, squinting against the light. “You’re safe. Uh, relatively safe. Not sure how the mobs didn’t find you, but. . .”

Dream slowly uncurled, blinking tears from his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the light. The figure continued to ramble, but the way it shifted slightly at his movement let him know that it was paying attention to him. He blinked again, his vision gradually sharpening. 

The object protruding from the figure’s face was a skull. 

Dream screamed, scrambling backwards. The figure cursed and hastily lowered further into the crouch. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Uh-- shut up Chat, that’s not going to help-- the mask? What mask? He’s not wearin' a mask-- oh. ”

They reached up and grasped the skull. Dream cringed as it fell away, only to reveal a human face. Crimson eyes blinked at him, framed with pink hair. 

The stranger slowly reached down, hooking the mask onto his belt. He raised his hands once more, then grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. “Chat, please, I can’t hear myself think.”

Dream watched him warily. Who was he talking to? 

The stranger straightened slightly, once again addressing Dream. “Okay. Uh. I come in peace.” He snorted. “Sorry, that sucked. What I’m trying to say is-- I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Dream remained silent. 

“Right. Not very talkative, then. Not like Ghostbur.” The stranger shifted a little. “My legs are fallin' asleep, so I’m gonna stand up now. Please don’t panic, I don’t know how to deal with panicking people. Ghosts.” He made a face and slowly stood, carefully keeping his hands visible. He backed away a few steps, gaze still fixed on Dream. 

Still, Dream did not move. 

The stranger sighed. “Okay, here’s the thing. I can’t just leave you in this cave, Phil would kill me. So. . . uh. . . mind comin' with me?”

When Dream failed to react, the stranger exhaled slowly. “Orrrr we can just sit in this cave and be miserable together. That works too.” He flopped down on the floor and crossed his legs. 

The silence was painfully awkward. The stranger stared expectantly at Dream, who had closed his eyes and tried to drift again. The light and the presence of the stranger, however, railed against his senses and forcefully anchored him to the world.

At last he gave up, opened his eyes, and blurted, “Who are you?” His voice crackled like static and he winced, rubbing at his throat.

“Right, of course he wouldn’t remember,” the stranger muttered. “M’name’s Technoblade.” 

Dream hesitated. “Did you. . . did you know alive-me?” 

Technoblade nodded. “We were. . . rivals? I think.” He smirked. “You’d randomly show up and pester me for fights.”

Dream frowned. “Oh. Sorry.” 

Technoblade waved a hand. “Nah, it was fun.” his smile gained an edge. “We won a championship together too.” 

The ghost fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. “Were we. . . were we friends?”

There was a moment of silence. Dream glanced at Technoblade, who was staring at the wall with a slight frown on his face. “Sort of,” he said at last, a little too casually. “I’m not exactly sure what you saw me as, but I like to think that we could at least trust each other in a fight.” 

Dream nodded and went back to fidgeting. Technoblade was no longer looking at him, instead studying the floor like it contained the secrets of the universe. A torch crackled merrily behind him, casting shadows across the walls.

“How long?” Dream asked suddenly.

“Hah?” 

“How long was I. . .” he gestured around the cave. 

“Oh.” Technoblade shifted, leaning back against the stone. “About a week and a half. Have you been here this entire time?”

“Yeah,” Dream mumbled. “I. . . drifted. Can ghosts sleep?”

Technoblade shrugged. “I know another ghost. Haven’t seen him sleep before.” 

Dream straightened. “You know another ghost?”

“Yeah.” Technoblade grimaced at the floor. “His name’s Wi-- er, Ghostbur. Obsessed with the color blue. He lost a lot of his memories when he died, so he’s a bit. . . absentminded, but he’s also ridiculously optimistic and trusting.” His gaze shuttered and he looked away. “Too trusting. . .”

Dream rubbed his fingers against the rough ground. Ghostbur was too trusting. (Like him.) He was also a ghost, and both of them suffered from some form of retrograde amnesia. 

On one hand, Dream really didn’t want to leave the cave. Outside, there would be confrontations. Outside, it wasn’t safe.

But on the other, he wanted to meet this ghost. He was safe in the cave, but he was alone. Under the hurt that made him recoil from the idea of trusting another person (what if they betray me too?), there was still an aching loneliness. And Ghostbur. . . Ghostbur would probably understand him better than anyone.

Technoblade seemed to sense his inner conflict, remaining silent as Dream considered his options. At last, the ghost looked up. “I. . .” he started hesitantly. “Could I. . . could I meet Ghostbur?”

A wide smirk spread across Technoblade’s face. Dream knew that it should make him uneasy, but he only felt a vague sense of familiarity. He watched as the man pushed himself to his feet and said, “Sure. Let’s get outta here.” 

When Technoblade held out his hand, Dream did not hesitate to take it.

Chapter Text

Technoblade was mining. 

This wasn’t exactly his preferred way to spend free time, but Chat had been particularly bloodthirsty that day, his head was pounding, and he needed a break. Mining and slaughtering his way through mob-infested caves wouldn't satiate his bloodlust, but at least it would exhaust some of the energy burning through his muscles.

So here he was, chipping away at rock, verbally sparring with Chat in an attempt to spam out the more. . . aggressive voices, when a baby zombie jumped out of fucking nowhere and tried to eat through his netherite armor. He killed the thing with extreme prejudice and stomped on its dissolving corpse for good measure, ignoring the cheering and BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! from Chat. 

His pickaxe broke through stone and into empty air. He drew back, because blessed by the blood god or no, he was not about to stick his hand through a mysterious hole. Chat buzzed with curiosity. 

dark? can’t see anything. put a torch put a torch! E. go inside! explore explore explore. Dora the explorer. NO. i’m getting flashbacks. no. NO. mY CHILDHOOD! focus. torch torch torch. Look in the hole! guys I see something! E. what? something to kill? BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! I think I see it too! is it a mob? RUNRUNRUN! i think its glowing is that normal?

Technoblade squinted into the darkness. “I don’t see anything,” he muttered dubiously. 

torch! put down a torch. stick your hand in, be a risk taker! a hand’s not risky enough, stick your head in! NO.

Technoblade sighed and rolled his eyes, stuck a few extra torches around the area (if he accidentally trapped himself in some mysterious void dimension, at least there wouldn’t be mobs joining him), then hefted his pickaxe and mined out the stone surrounding the hole. It revealed a small, secluded pocket of space, cut off from the rest of the cave system by a wall. Shadows blanketed it, the torches he’d placed doing nothing to illuminate the space.

definitely something there. its not moving is it a block? SHINY! E. poke it with a sword. yesssss do it. NO DON’T! why are you like this. don't ruin our fun!

“It’s like you want me to get killed, Chat,” Technoblade deadpanned as he pulled another torch from his inventory and stepped into the alcove. “Believe it or not, I do have a sense of self preserva--” 

He cut off as the shadows fled from the light, pulling back to reveal a translucent, humanoid figure huddled against the stone. Chat exploded.

DREAM! DREAM!!! GHOST!11!1!! WE DID IT BOYS WE FOUND HIM! ohhh boy he looks fucked up. is he ok? of course hes not, idiot. GHOST DREAM!! ghream? disgusting. POKE HIM WITH A SWORD! NO DO NOT. can you killa ghost? killa haha killza! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! Not the time. DREAM NEEDS HELP AAAAAAA! TECHNOHELP! technohelp? TECHNOHELP GHOSTWASTAKEN! ghostwastaken lol

Technoblade barely heard their screaming, focus instead transfixed on the ghost. When Dream failed to respond to his presence, he took a few hesitant steps forward and set his torch against a wall. 

“Dream?” he called warily.

The ghost did not respond. Frankly, he looked dead, still and unmoving as he was (could ghosts die?). His body was a pale, colorless outline against the rock, missing the healthy glow that emanated from Ghostbur. His face was unmasked, and his hair was sprinkled with dirt. Technoblade crouched down next to him. 

“Dream?” he called again.

Dream remained silent. Technoblade hesitantly reached out and poked him in the arm. 

Dream’s eyes snapped open. Then he started screaming.

Technoblade jerked back, raising his hands in an automatic attempt to calm the ghost down. The ghost did not, in fact, calm down, only panicking further and scuttling away from Technoblade like a deranged cave spider. Realizing that looming ominously over someone wasn’t exactly the best way to help them feel safe, Technoblade lowered into a crouch. Chat was squabbling in his head and he rambled with them, drawing on whatever came to mind in an attempt to ground Dream.

“Uh. Okay. Today’s Monday, February first. We’re in a cave. It’s a very nice cave with lots of rock. Um. It’s daytime, or at least I think it’s daytime. It was daytime when I started minin’, and I can’t have been down here for long, right? Going off topic. Uh. We’re in a cave. I already said that. This part of the cave is made of. . .” he squinted at the dimly lit walls, “stone and coal ore. I found some iron out in the main cave, but I don’t see any in here. Did I already tell you that it’s Monday? I hate Mondays. Tuesdays are worse though. Shut up Chat, you know I’m right. Anyways. It’s Monday. We’re in a cave. Very far underground and very far away from everyone else. The mobs hopefully won’t bother us because I used like fifty torches on my way here, but there’s always a chance that something will go wrong. You’re safe-- actually, Murphy’s Law says you’re not but I’m tryin’ to calm you down so we’re just gonna forget I said that. Uh. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Dream’s trembling had died down a little. One of his eyes peeled open, blinking rapidly.

“You’re safe,” Technoblade repeated for good measure. “Uh, relatively safe. Not sure how the mobs didn’t find you, but I guess the cave kept you safe? That makes it sound like the cave is sentient. Uh. . . I’m just gonna leave that train of thought now, because the concept of sentient caves is honestly disturbing.”

By now, Dream had uncurled from his fetal position, opened both of his eyes and was blinking at him. Just blinking. Was something wrong with his vision?

Then Dream screamed. Again. Chat screamed with him. Technoblade cringed and lowered further into his very uncomfortable crouch. Maybe Dream was hallucinating? Could ghosts hallucinate? “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. There was another suggestion from Chat to poke Dream with a sword, followed by a deluge of mask! “Uh-- shut up, Chat, that’s not going to help-- the mask? What mask? He’s not wearin’ a mask-- oh.”

So apparently his pig-skull mask was frightening Dream. Hooray. He hastily removed it and hooked it onto his belt for safekeeping, raising his hands again.

Chat was still shrieking in his ears, and his headache had returned tenfold. “Chat, please,” he muttered. “I can’t hear myself think.” 

Mercifully, Chat quieted until only about a third of them were constantly yelling. Technoblade refocused on the ghost in front of him. 

“Okay. Uh. I come in peace.” Wow, wasn't he the paragon of eloquence. “Sorry, that sucked. What I’m tryin’ to say is-- I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Dream stared mutely at him. His face was blanker than his missing smiley mask. 

Technoblade sighed. “Right. Not very talkative, then. Not like Ghostbur.” The icy numbness creeping up his legs prickled uncomfortably as he shifted. “My legs are fallin’ asleep, so I’m gonna stand now. Please don’t panic, I don’t know how to deal with panicking people.” He paused. “Ghosts.”

He slowly pushed himself to his feet, and regretted it instantly when a tingling sensation flooded his legs. Gritting his teeth, he took a few shaky steps back, every impact with the stone sending pins and needles jolting up his calves. 

Dream watched him warily. Still, he didn’t move. Shit, Technoblade would have to be the talkative one, wouldn’t he? 

For a moment, he considered just turning around and leaving. Dream obviously didn’t want to go anywhere, and it wasn’t like he could die a second time. 

But. . .

Technoblade sighed. Curse his metaphorically cold, dead heart. “Okay, uh, here’s the thing. I can’t just leave you in the cave, Phil would kill me. So. . . uh. . . mind comin’ with me?”

Technolame, Chat mocked, and Technoblade opened his mouth to protest except yeah, that was kinda lame. Dream was still staring at him like he was the most interesting thing since sliced cake, so Technoblade rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, prayed for patience, and flopped to the floor. “Orrrrr we can just sit in this cave and be miserable together,” he drawled. “That works too.”

Dream remained stubbornly unresponsive. Technoblade resolved to stare at him until he caved from the discomfort. Dream, the little shit, shut his eyes and tried to ignore him, but if Technoblade could beat him in a duel, he could certainly outstubborn his ghost. 

The silence stretched onwards. Chat bickered in the back of his head, apparently bored. Technoblade ignored the demands for Dream’s ectoplasmic blood and the cacophony of random letters, instead testing how long he could go without blinking. Gradually, Dream began shifting, clearly uncomfortable, until at last he gave up on ignoring Technoblade and opened his eyes. “Who are you?” 

Technoblade grimaced. He’d thought-- well. Ghost. “Right, of course he wouldn’t remember,” he muttered. “M’name’s Technoblade.”

“Did you. . . did you know alive-me?” Dream asked hesitantly. 

Technoblade nodded. “We were. . . rivals, I think. You’d randomly show up and pester me for fights.” Or threaten him in a very vague and roundabout manner. Wait, no, that was the dreamon.

The ghost apparently felt bad, because he slumped a little. “Oh. Sorry.” 

For some reason, Technoblade felt like he’d kicked a puppy (possibly because half of Chat was berating him for upsetting Dream while the other half continued to demand blood), so he hastily waved the apology away. “Nah, it was fun,” he said truthfully. “We won a championship together too.” Wait, did Dream remember what a championship was? Probably not. Oops. 

“Were we. . . were we friends?”

And oh boy, wasn’t that a loaded question. Technoblade wasn’t exactly. . . sure what their relationship was, but he knew that they weren’t enemies. Sparring partners? Allies? Not friends, per se, but something close to it. “Sort of,” he conceded at last. “I’m not exactly sure what you saw me as, but I like to think that we could at least trust each other in a fight.” 

The ghost nodded and went back to ignoring him. Technoblade stared at a wall and wondered why he was still here. Chat had gone on a tangent about the Technoblade-Dream ‘friendship’, but at least they were doing it at a moderate volume. His headache slowly began to recede. 

“How long?” Dream asked, apropos of nothing. Technoblade startled.

“Hah?”

“How long was I. . .”

“Oh.” Today was Monday. The dreamon disaster went down on the 21st, so. . . “About a week and a half. Have you been here this entire time?”

“Yeah,” Dream mumbled quietly. “I. . . drifted. Can ghosts sleep?”

Actually, now that Technoblade thought about it, he’d never seen Ghostbur sleep. Or eat. Or breath. Wait, he blinked, right? Yeah, Dream blinked, so Ghostbur probably did too. He shook himself. “I know another ghost. Haven’t seen him sleep yet.”

Dream’s eyes widened. “You know another ghost?”

And that was how Technoblade found himself trekking back to his house with a ghost in tow. Dream looked even worse in the fading daylight, barely visible against the white tundra. His faded feet sank into the snow but failed to leave footprints, passing through like they were incorporeal. 

Thankfully, he didn’t try to initiate a conversation. Technoblade already had his hands full trying to ignore Chat.

GHOSTBUR! YESSS GHOST BUDDIES FOREVER!!!! guys quiet down. NO U! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! I’M SO EXCITED AAAAAAAAAAA

He went up the steps and slammed the door open, glancing over his shoulder to check that the ghost was following.

Dream had disappeared. Technoblade frowned and turned around to check that he hadn’t missed him or something. Nope, he was gone.

“What. . .?” he muttered, turning back into the house only to double take when Dream floated up through the floor. Right. Intangibility. That was a thing ghosts could do. 

“Couldn’t you use the door like a normal person?” he deadpanned. Dream shrugged and drifted over to a window, peering out into the snow. Technoblade sighed, turning back to a chest and shedding his heavy cloak and helmet, then withdrew his communicator. 

You whisper to [Ghostbur]: I found dream

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: oh! 

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: is he ok? 

You whisper to [Ghostbur]: come to my house

You whisper to [Ghostbur]: he wants to meet you

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: ok

That being taken care of, he pocketed his communicator and turned to Dream.

“Ghostbur’s on his way,” he said. Dream nodded absently. 

Okay then. He glanced around for something to do, except the only things he could think of all required his presence at some other level of the house, and he wasn’t about to leave Dream alone. He ended up fiddling with the brewing stand, glancing at the ghost every few minutes. The ghost didn’t move from his position by the window, seemingly engrossed in the landscape.

A decorative piece of wood broke off in his fingers. “Shit,” he swore, and tried to stick it back on. Of course, it remained stubbornly unfused, and Technoblade was forced to concede defeat when he got a splinter in his finger. 

lolololol. how much does dream remember? who knows? E. technolame! wtf is e? THE IGNORANCE IS OVERWHELMING. talk to green boi! eeew splinters. frick splinters all my homies hate splinters. i cant wait for ghostbur to get here. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! bored. im bored. boreeeeeed. DO SOMETHING! technobore.

“Shut up, Chat,” he muttered quietly.

“Who are you talking to?”

Technoblade did not jump, no matter what Chat said. His head snapped towards Dream, who hastily fought down a smile at his reaction. Technoblade let it slide. “Hah?”

“Um.” Dream gestured. “You. . . you were talking to someone. You did it back at the cave, too.”

“Oh.” Technoblade snorted. “That’s Chat. They’re the voices in my head.” 

“. . . Ah. You. . . hear voices?”

“Yep,” Technoblade confirmed blandly. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“No, no,” Dream assured hastily. “I was just. . .” he trailed off and looked to the side. 

Technoblade couldn’t help but compare this Dream to the one he knew. Gone was the easy confidence that the living Dream had carried himself with; the ghost looked lost, adrift in an unfamiliar world with no memories to guide him. 

Technoblade hated it.  

HE KNOWS OF OUR EXISTENCE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. DO SOMETHINGGGGGG! entertain us. HE KNOWSSSSSSSS! technobore. E! why cant ghostbur be faster? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!

 Dream looked back at him. “What do they say?”

Technoblade shrugged. “Well, it varies. Most of the time they just demand blood, but sometimes they spew random shit. They also have this weird obsession with the letter E.”

E! E! we do not! E! E! EE! E! E! e. E! E! E! you have been refuted by the rest of this chat. 

Dream was staring at him. “. . . blood?”

Right, Technoblade reflected, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, but he might as well roll with it. “Yeah. Don’t worry, though, they’re usually not serious.”

we are indeed serious! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! i think we were joking about poking dream with a sword tho. no we weren’t. YES WE WERE! PROTECC THE GHOST CHILD! hes not a child tho? SHHHHHHHHH! stab him stab him stab him!

Technoblade sighed and closed his eyes. “Aaaand now they want me to poke you with a sword.” 

Dream looked spooked ( ha ). He slowly edged away from Technoblade, who rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna do it,” he drawled, “and even if I did, it would be kind of pointless, with your intangibility and all.”

Dream didn’t look reassured. Thankfully, before he did something drastic, Ghostbur phased through the wall.

Technoblade stared flatly at him. “Couldn’t you use the door like a normal person?” he asked for the second time that day. 

Ghostbur just waved cheerily. “Hey Techno!” He turned to Dream. “Hi, I’m Ghostbur! What’s your name?”

Techno promptly turned and left. He had a splinter to take care of.

Chapter Text

“Hi, I’m Ghostbur! What’s your name?”

Ghostbur waited patiently as the other ghost shifted uncomfortably, grey eyes darting to the side. He looked nervous, his fingers tugging uncertainly at the strings of his hoodie. “Dream,” he whispered at last. 

Ghostbur’s smile widened. “Hi Dream! It’s nice to meet you!”

Dream shakily returned the smile. “N. . . nice to meet you too.” 

Alivebur hadn’t liked Dream. Had hated him at first, a hatred that became a twisted sort of respect as his madness consumed him. But Dream’s ghost was not Dream, and Ghostbur was not Alivebur. So Ghostbur smiled at the translucent ghost and shoved some colorless dye into his hands. 

“Here, have some Blue!”

Dream blinked, staring down at the block. The dye flaked off as he rubbed his fingers over it, darkening and leaving streaks of sapphire across his skin. “. . . Blue?”

Ghostbur nodded cheerily. “It absorbs your sadness,” he explained. 

Dream studied his stained hands. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Ghostbur beamed and held out his own Blue-streaked hand.

“Come on, I want to introduce you to Friend.” 

“Friend?”

“Friend!” Ghostbur grabbed his hand and pulled him through the wall. Dream stumbled, surprised, before regaining his balance.

It had begun snowing again, tiny flakes drifting down from the ashy sky and sticking to Friend’s blue coat. The sheep was trotting circles in the snow, leaving wreaths of hoofprints across Technoblade’s lawn. When he spotted them, he stopped his looping to trot towards them, cutting a line through his otherwise perfect arcs. 

“This is Friend,” Ghostbur said happily, releasing Dream’s hand. Friend peered curiously at the new ghost. Dream reached out, paused, and looked at Ghostbur, who gave him an encouraging smile. “Go on, pet him! He won't mind, I promise.”

Dream lightly patted the top of Friend’s head, and when the animal gave him a friendly nudge in return, he hesitantly brushed his hand over Friend’s wool. A small smile spread across his face as he buried fingers in the blue fur. “It’s really soft.” 

Ghostbur beamed, his own ghostly fingers stroking Friend’s ear. “I actually met Friend here,” he said. “Techno sent me outside because. . . because. . . I can’t remember, but I found Friend in the forest over there.” He gestured at the treeline to their right. 

Dream turned to look up at him. “You can’t remember?”

The smile slipped from Ghostbur’s face. Friend, sensing his sudden drop in mood, butted his leg. Dream hastily looked away. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. Ghostbur shook his head.

“No, it’s okay.” His gaze drifted absently into the distance, hands stilling on Friend’s head. “I can’t remember a lot of things. It’s part of being a ghost, I guess.” 

“I can’t remember much either,” Dream admitted, staring into Friend’s wool. “I. . . when I woke up, the first person I met was--” he bit his lip. “--was the-- the Dreamon. H-he said we were friends when I was alive, a-and I believed him because I couldn’t remember anything.” 

Ghostbur silently shoved more Blue at him. Dream shakily untangled his fingers from the wool and took it, the transparent dye darkening into a deep indigo. He trembled but did not cry. Friend made a low noise and shuffled closer, pressing against him in an attempt to comfort him. Dream buried his face in Friend’s wool and shut his eyes. 

“He w- wasn’t my friend,” he gasped, muffled. “H-he lied . He killed me, and-- and then he stole my body. He hurt so many people, and they all think that I did it be-because--”

He choked on a dry sob, unable to finish. Ghostbur swallowed. His hands twitched, instinctively reaching for his unused dyes, but he forced himself to remain still. Even if it made him sad, Ghostbur wouldn’t forget this conversation. Dream needed someone to talk to. Dream needed a friend.  

He knelt down next to Dream, drawing on his faded memories of comforting Tommy when he was younger. “Would. . . would you like a hug?”

Dream blinked, confusion painted across his face. "A. . . hug?"

"Yeah," Ghostbur smiled crookedly. "Hugs are like Blue, they take your sadness away."

Dream nodded slowly. "O. . . okay."

Ghostbur cheered quietly and cautiously moved to hug the other ghost, telegraphing his movements so he wouldn't alarm the other. Friend moved in closer, pressing against the two of them in an act of solidarity. The snow continued to fall.

Dream slowly relaxed into the hug, though he did not return it. His hands lay limp against the snow. "Thank you," he rasped eventually, pulling away. Ghostbur let him. 

"Did the hug work?"

A small smile lifted the edges of Dream's lips. ". . . yes."

Ghostbur beamed. “It’s okay if you don’t remember,” he assured. “You’ll get better if you want to!”

“If I want to?”

“I don’t like remembering sad things, so I usually forget them.” Ghostbur rubbed the cloth of his sweater between his Blue-stained fingers. “But I’ve been keeping a journal, recently, about all the things I know! Spending time with my friends helps too.”

Dream traced swirls in the snow. “I. . . I don’t remember my friends.”

Ghostbur refused to let his smile falter. “Then you'll make new friends,” he said firmly, “and who knows? Maybe if you talk with them, you’ll remember them!”

Dream shrugged despondently, gaze fixed on his ghostly hands. “Maybe. But. . . but what if I don’t want to?”

Ghostbur frowned. “Why not?”

“They didn’t even notice that-- that--” Dream gestured uselessly. “I wasn’t me anymore. Were they. . . were they really my friends?”

Ah. 

“I can’t tell you if they were or not,” Ghostbur said, because it wasn’t his place to tell Dream who his friends were. “But. . . maybe if they weren’t, you could become friends?”

Dream’s shoulders hunched uncertainly. Ghostbur grimaced. “At least talk with them first,” he advised. “Maybe. . . maybe they won’t be as bad as you think they are.”

It was a weak comfort, but Dream latched onto the hope it offered. “Maybe. . .” he turned shining eyes up towards the other ghost. “When could I meet them?”

“Here, give me a moment.” Ghostbur produced his communicator, noting how Dream stared at it. “It’s a communicator,” he clarified. “We can send messages to other people with it. I lost mine when I died, but Techno gave me a new one.”

You whisper to [George]: hello?

You whisper to [Sapnap]: hello?

There was no reply. Ghostbur pocketed the communicator and offered Dream a wan smile. “It might take them a while to answer.”

Dream looked down. “That’s okay. While. . .” he hesitated, “. . . while we wait, could I also get a memory journal?”

Ghostbur grinned. “Of course! C’mon, let’s go back to the house. Techno probably has some spare ones lying around.”

Dead eyes. Pale skin. A twisted smile, showing rows of gleaming teeth. 

“Three months,” the dreamon cooed. “You didn’t even notice.”

He remained silent. The entity circled him, footsteps echoing in the dark.

“Three months,” it repeated. Its dead eyes bored into his skull. “What a good friend you are.”

Clammy hands tugged at his ankle. A corpse wearing a broken smiley mask stared up at him, tears gathering in its one visible eye. “Why?” it asked. Its skin rotted away, until it was nothing more than a skeleton in familiar clothing. Still it spoke, jaw clacking open and shut. Its voice gained the echoing qualities of Dream’s ghost. “Why?” Click. “Why?” Click. “Why?” 

Click. 

“I didn’t know,” he said.

The skeleton trembled. 

“I’m sorry.” His fingers were cold. “I’m so sorry.”

The dreamon cackled, icy breath brushing against his ears. “That won’t change anything, will it?”

The skeleton was crying now, tears dripping from its empty eye sockets. Its hands reached higher, grasping the hem of his shirt, yanking him downwards. He fell to his knees and stared dispassionately as the trickle became a torrent, water splashing against invisible walls and quickly rising over his head. The skeleton’s jaw continued to open and close, its only question garbled by the water.

M̸̱̙̝͕̭̓̐͆̾̔͞ɥ̧̩͖̼͕͚̹̓̆ʎ̟͔̣̠̽̽͘͞¿͚̥͐͌͂̅

Sapnap opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. Sunlit shadows stretched across the room, signifying daylight. He’d slept for around two hours, then. He shut his eyes again and just breathed, trying to ground himself in reality. 

Today was going to be one of those days, huh. 

His communicator buzzed insistently from where it lay on a chest. He sighed and sat up, ignoring his aching muscles as he shoved the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He silenced the communicator without looking at it, already knowing that it would be filled with concerned messages from Karl, Quackity or George. 

He completed his morning routine in a dissociative fugue, ignoring the skeletal fingers brushing against his arms and the darkness pooling at his feet. They were hallucinations, he knew, figments of his imagination that had escaped the confines of his nightmare. He blinked and found himself standing before the door, staring blankly at the smooth wood.

Yes, today was going to be one of those days. 

Don’t go out , a voice pleaded by his ear. It sounded like Dream. You need to rest.

“I need. . .” he said aloud, his hands clenching and unclenching. His vocal cords spasmed, throbbing with pain. “I need. . .”

To find Dream.

To apologize.

To. . . to what?

He left the sentence unfinished and pushed the door open, walking into the sunlight. 

He returned to where he had left off the day previous, in the middle of a forest. He wandered for hours, circling through the trees, calling Dream’s name even as his voice cracked and his throat ached and the only response was silence. When the sun reached its highest point, he stopped to drink some water and devour a loaf of bread, then returned to his previous task. 

His eyes burned in the sunlight and his armor was too heavy; his feet were sore and exhaustion dragged him down with every step. He pushed through it, clinging to the dying hope that perhaps if he searched long enough, searched hard enough, he’d find Dream. 

His toe snagged on a rock and he stumbled, his legs giving out. He collapsed onto the grass, his armor clanking noisily. The dreamon’s cackling echoed in his head, mocking, and he shut his eyes against it. “Dr-” he choked out, his voice cutting off in a starburst of pain. 

He lay there on the ground, his breath coming out in rough wheezes, and silently wished he could turn back time. What was the point? Dream was gone. Dream was a ghost. Dream was dead.

The communicator remained silenced in his pocket. He rolled to the side and fished it out with numb fingers, scrolling through the numerous messages demanding to know where he was and if he was okay. They had grown increasingly more numerous in the past few days, with Quackity going as far as to beg him to come back. 

He ignored them all, instead typing in a /msg command. 

Dream’s communicator was gone, locked somewhere in Pandora’s Vault with the rest of the dreamon’s belongings. But even if he knew that nobody would reply, even if he knew that Dream would probably never see these messages--

You whisper to [Dream]: i’m sorry

You whisper to [Dream]: i’m so sorry

You whisper to [Dream]: I never noticed

You whisper to [Dream]: I should have noticed

You whisper to [Dream]: .

His lips twisted into a sardonic grin. He would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much.

You whisper to [Dream]: ha

You whisper to [Dream]: this is so stupid

You whisper to [Dream]: it’s not like you’ll ever see these

It was stupid, but there was some sort of symbolism, he supposed. The communicator had been Dream’s, once, until the dreamon killed him and took everything he had. In a way, it was like he was messaging a younger Dream, the one who’d been friends with him and George. Who’d remembered him and George. Who’d been willing to trust them with his life.

Who was gone. Forever. And he hadn’t even noticed when he’d died.

A new message appeared on the screen.

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: hello?

Sapnap blinked, fighting past the lethargy weighing his body down. He didn’t know Ghostbur. Didn’t know him well. He rarely interacted with the ghost, having been enemies with his living counterpart and overall disliked. The ghost made no attempts to reach out to him, either, perfectly happy with haunting his once-family and friends. The only time they had really talked in a ‘friendly’ manner was when Dr-

--no, not Dream, it was the--

--was when Tommy was in exile.

So why had Ghostbur messaged him? They didn’t know each other, and the ghost wasn’t really one to strike up an inane conversation via communicator (though an in-person conversation was another story). 

Sapnap stared at the message. There was no followup; did that mean that it wasn’t an important message, or was Ghostbur simply waiting for a response? 

He pocketed the communicator without answering the message. The sun was setting now, shadows darkening beneath the trees. He knew the mobs would be coming soon. 

Get up, the voice in his head said. Please, Sapnap, get up.

Slowly, he forced himself to his feet. His body trembled with exhaustion, and he staggered into a tree as his legs buckled beneath him. 

You can’t continue like this, Sapnap. Dream wouldn’t want you to.

“Shut up,” he rasped. “You don’t know what Dream would want.”

Dream wouldn’t want you to die.

“I won’t die.”

You will if you keep doing this.

Sapnap didn’t answer, instead closing his eyes and pressing his forehead into the bark. God, he was hearing the voice of his dead friend in his head, and it was telling him to take care of himself. These hallucinations were getting out of hand.

You can’t continue today, Sapnap. Please, go home.

“. . . Fine,” he muttered reluctantly, pushing away from the tree and forcing his shaky legs to stagger in the general direction of home. 

That night, exhausted, he collapsed on his bed. For the first time in a week, he went to sleep before midnight-- and awoke an hour later, drenched in cold sweat, leering faces and bony hands imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. 

He rubbed his face and glanced at the window. A sliver of the full moon was visible in the frame, silvery light bathing the forest outside. His body ached, weariness blanketing his mind and trying to lull him into sleep. 

His eyes slid shut, only to snap open again as dreams nightmares rose in his consciousness. He let out a frustrated huff and sat up, wincing as his muscles protested, and snatched his communicator from the table. 

You whisper to [Ghostbur]: hey

You whisper to [George]: I’m fine

You whisper to [Quackity]: relax i’m alive

You whisper to [KarlJacobs]: I’m okay don’t worry

Okay is subjective, the voice mused in his ear. He rolled his eyes.

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: I need your help

He blinked. Why was Ghostbur awake? Did ghosts sleep?

You whisper to [Ghostbur]: with what?

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: I found dream

Sapnap froze. His fingers trembled above the screen of the communicator.

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: well actually techno found dream

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: then he called me 

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: dream doesn’t remember you but he wants to talk

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: you there?

Sapnap wanted to laugh. Countless days spent searching the server, countless sleepless nights marred with nightmares and worrying, only for Dream to find him instead.

You whisper to [Ghostbur]: where

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: -1672.7/63.1/580.3

[Ghostbur] whispers to You: he doesn’t remember anything so please be careful

Sapnap gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand up, only to collapse as his legs gave way under him. Wait until morning, the voice advised. Sapnap ignored it. He couldn’t go back to sleep, not after this. 

Crawling to his chest, he downed a Potion of Healing and a Potion of Strength, sighing in relief as the aches lessened slightly. His legs remained steady as he stood up again. This is only a temporary fix, the voice warned. Don’t take any more. You’ll feel the effects when they wear off.

Sapnap listened to it for once, because as much as he wanted to see Dream, taking a Potion of Speed with his body in this condition would be pushing it. He slammed the door open and staggered into the night. 

Dream stared up at the sky, his eyes wide. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed.

Ghostbur smiled. They were a good distance away from Technoblade’s house, having retrieved a journal for Dream to use. The snow had stopped at sunset, leaving a clear sky behind, so Ghostbur had spontaneously decided to introduce Dream to stargazing. They were lying on the ground, heads pillowed against Friend, who seemed perfectly content acting as a cushion. The sparkling lights were reflected in Dream’s dull eyes, and Ghostbur knew he’d made the right decision. 

“It’s usually snowing or cloudy here, so I don’t see the stars a lot,” he said, “but I love them.”

Dream continued to stare at the sky in awe, reaching out a ghostly hand as though he could brush the stars. “I haven’t seen the stars since I died,” he murmured. “I wonder if alive-me liked them too.”

Ghostbur forced himself to remain relaxed, pointedly fixing his gaze upwards and not looking at Dream. His fingers twitched for Blue so he laced them together, resting his hands on his stomach. “Maybe,” he said cheerily. 

Dream shifted. “I don’t like that word,” he confessed.

Ghostbur’s gaze darted towards him before he refocused on the sky. “‘Maybe’? Why?”

“It’s so uncertain. Why can’t it just be yes?”

“It’s uncertain,” Ghostbur agreed, “but it's also hopeful. After all, as long as the answer is a maybe, it’s not a no!”

Dream didn’t reply for a long time, instead observing the stars in contemplative silence. “So it’s like a more. . . negative ‘probably’?”

Ghostbur blinked. “I’ve never thought about that before, but. . . yeah, that’s a good way to describe it!”

Dream shifted again. Ghostbur chanced a glance at him and relaxed when he saw the small smile on his face. 

They lay there in comfortable silence, two amnesiac ghosts and a blue sheep keeping each other company under the night sky. As the stars continued to glimmer overhead, Ghostbur found himself growing more and more disconnected, as though he was drifting away. It was a pleasant sensation, a bit like what he could recall of sleeping. 

The communicator in his pocket buzzed, slamming him back down to earth. He jolted in surprise, startling Dream, who flinched away. “Sorry,” he apologized as he took his communicator out. “Someone messaged me.”

[Sapnap] whispers to You: hey

“It’s Sapnap!” he cheered. “Um, one of your maybe-friends. He messaged me back!”

Dream bolted upright, eyes wide. He didn’t say anything, staring silently at the communicator. Friend shifted, awakened by the sudden movement, and drowsily nudged Dream’s back.

You whisper to [Sapnap]: I need your help

[Sapnap] whispers to You: with what?

You whisper to [Sapnap]: I found dream

You whisper to [Sapnap]: well actually techno found dream

You whisper to [Sapnap]: then he called me 

You whisper to [Sapnap]: dream doesn’t remember you but he wants to talk

There was a long pause. Dream fidgeted nervously, smoothing his hands over Friend’s soft wool. Ghostbur sent him a reassuring smile.

You whisper to [Sapnap]: you there?

[Sapnap] whispers to You: where

You whisper to [Sapnap]: -1672.7/63.1/580.3

He glanced at Dream again.

You whisper to [Sapnap]: he doesn’t remember anything so please be careful

There was no reply. Ghostbur pocketed the communicator. “He’s on his way.”

“R-right now? Doesn’t he sleep?”

Ghostbur shrugged. “Maybe he really wants to see you!”  

Dream looked away. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Ghostbur turned towards him and carefully opened his arms, something warm blooming in his chest when Dream accepted the hug. “Then he can wait until you’re ready.”

“Would he do that?”

Ghostbur stared determinedly into the darkness, tightening his arms. “If he really is your friend, he’ll wait for as long as you need.”

Chapter Text

There was someone on the hill.

Dream saw them first and stopped mid-sentence, tensing. Ghostbur patted his arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

“Is. . . is that. . .?”

“Sapnap,” Ghostbur finished, and smiled cheerily. “Yep!”

“Sapnap,” Dream repeated, a troubled look overtaking his face. “He looks terrible.”

Ghostbur turned to Sapnap, opened his mouth to argue, then looked closer and admitted that Dream was right. The man had dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, speaking of countless sleepless nights. His clothes and hair, or at least the parts that were visible under the netherite armor, were rumpled. He walked with a slight limp, and wisps rose off of him, signifying the use of potions. Ghostbur sincerely hoped that he wasn’t drunk.

Sapnap came to a halt six feet away. “Dream,” he breathed. Ghostbur winced. His voice sounded worse than he looked. 

“S-Sapnap?” Dream returned. “Ah. . . hi.”

Sapnap shuffled awkwardly. His legs trembled, and Ghostbur realized with a jolt that the potions were probably the only thing keeping him standing. “Sit, sit!” he chirped hastily, waving his hands. 

Sapnap didn’t sit so much as collapsed, his legs buckling under him. He fell heavily on his knees, slumping slightly. “Oh God,” he rasped. “Oh God, Dream-- ”

Dream looked panicked, half-rising to his feet, his hands fluttering uncertainly. “Are-- are you okay?”

Sapnap let out a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob. He buried his face in his hands. “Dream,” he repeated. “Dream, oh my God, I’m so sorry. ”

“I-it’s okay,” Dream cried as Sapnap hunched, repeated apologies spilling from his lips. “Sapnap, it’s okay!”

This time, Sapnap did laugh, a hoarse noise that raised the hairs on Ghostbur’s arms. “You don’t even kno-ow what I’m ha-apologizing for.”

Dream didn’t seem to know how to reply to that. “It’s okay,” he repeated uselessly, shuffling closer to Sapnap and twitching like he wanted to hug him but was unsure if the action would be welcomed. Sapnap curled away from the ghost, tears trickling between his fingers. “It’s okay--”

“It’s not okay!” Sapnap snapped, his voice cracking. “Dream, you died, and I didn’t even notice. ”

Dream stiffened, his eyes going round. His form shifted, gaining opacity and tinting with color. He’d remembered something, Ghostbur realized as he quietly backed away, giving the two friends (?) a bit of privacy but remaining close enough to monitor the conversation. 

“I--” Sapnap choked, lowering his hands and digging his nails into his arms. “We’ve been friends for years. I should’ve noticed that something was off. I should have known--”

Dream suddenly jerked forward, throwing his arms around Sapnap. Ghostly tears dripped down his cheeks. “Stop,” he said fiercely. Sapnap flinched. “It wasn’t your fault. Stop blaming yourself.”

The man stared blankly ahead, his eyes swollen. The tears drifting down his face left reddened skin in their wake. Dream pulled back enough to look Sapnap in the face. “It wasn’t your fault, Sapnap,” he said firmly. “The dreamon killed me. Please don’t let it kill you too.”

There was a moment of silence. 

And then Sapnap shattered, pitching forward into the ghost of his once-best friend and breaking out into ugly sobs. He clung to Dream, who hugged him just as fiercely, rocking back and forth in the snow, holding him together even as he fell apart.

Ghostbur turned away and rubbed a hand over his chest, confused by the deep, aching emotion welling behind his sternum. It hurt like sadness, but glowed like joy. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and he pressed his wrist to his mouth. 

Something soft brushed against his hand. He looked down to see Friend, who promptly butted Ghostbur’s leg with his head. Silently, Ghostbur lowered himself to his knees and hugged the sheep. The ache in his chest throbbed before draining away, leaving a pleasant emptiness.

Kneeling there in the snow, his face pressed into Friend’s wool and Sapnap’s sobbing echoing in his ears, Ghostbur thought that maybe they’d be okay.

They’re coming! they’re coming. OPEN THE DOORRRRR! don’t be technolate

“The ghosts never use the door,” Technoblade grumbled, glancing out the window to check. Sure enough, he could see two faintly-glowing humanoid figures and a sheep moving towards the house. Technoblade did a double take when he realized that one of the ghosts was carrying something. “Oh wait, is that a person? Chat, where did they get a whole person from?”

Chat, predictably, didn’t answer his question and proceeded to call him ‘Technolate’ again. Technoblade sighed and turned back to his book. “I’ll open the door when they get here,” he drawled over Chat’s increasing protests. “Doin’ that now would only let in the cold.”

He got through another three pages before Ghostbur poked his head through the wall, a sheepish expression on his face. Technoblade rolled his eyes and slid a bookmark into the book (“No, Chat, I’m not dog-earing it-- what do you think I am, a heathen?”) before standing and opening the door.

The two ghosts entered, Dream carrying a person that Technoblade recognized as Sapnap. The man was passed out, dried tear tracks adorning his face. He looked, quite simply, like shit, and Technoblade internally winced in sympathy. Dream himself was leaning heavily on Wilbur, tear tracks of his own painted under his eyes. He appeared to be less. . . monochrome, or was that just a trick of the light? Wilbur himself looked more cheerful than usual, his smile bright with something Technoblade couldn’t quite place. 

“So,” Technoblade drawled. “Had a nice talk?”

Dream’s smile was tired but content. “Yes,” he hummed. “I remembered something.”

“Oh?” Technoblade shut the door, narrowly missing Sapnap’s foot. “Anythin’ trigger it?”

“Talking with Sapnap.” Dream shifted his grip on his friend. He seemed to realize who he was talking to and visibly faltered before rallying himself. “I. . . I remembered some of our childhood.”

“Here, let me take him,” Ghostbur offered. “You go upstairs, grab a pen and write it down in your journal.”

Dream hesitated, his eyes darting down to Sapnap. 

“He’ll be safe with me,” Ghostbur promised. Dream gave in and attempted to pass Sapnap to Ghostbur, only for the two of them to tumble sideways when Ghostbur stopped supporting Dream so he could grab Sapnap. Technoblade smoothly swept the living human up, sighing as the ghosts fell into an ungraceful heap. 

“Sorry,” Ghostbur and Dream apologized at the same time, hurriedly untangling themselves. Technoblade raised an eyebrow at the two of them, forcing his expression to remain neutral when Dream realized where Sapnap had gone and instantly tensed, staring warily at Technoblade.

“I’m not gonna hurt him,” Technoblade assured him blandly. 

Ghostbur nodded cheerily, drifting closer to him. “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything,” he added. A statement made more to reassure Dream than anything-- they both knew that if Techno really wanted to hurt Sapnap, Ghostbur probably couldn't do a thing to stop him. 

Dream reluctantly turned away, glancing back at Sapnap before disappearing through the wall. Because, of course, ladders were overrated to ghosts.

“So,” Technoblade deadpanned, turning to the ghost of his dead brother. Chat chattered in the back of his head. “Wasn’t this guy the pet killer?”

pet killer? YEE. if he touches our pets he dies. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! didn’t he only kill l’manberg pets? kill him for the principle of it. we do not stan pet killing in this house. what no don’t hurt snapchat!

Ghostbur paled. “Uh. Maybe. I think he’s better now, though?”

Technoblade blinked slowly.

kill him while he’s vulnerable! DO NOT. E! e? E! E! oh god not again. E!

“He’s definitely in no shape to hurt anyone right now!” Ghostbur added hastily, an edge of panic to his voice. “Techno, he’s a guest! You can’t hurt a guest!”

“He’s technically an intruder, since I didn’t invite him.”

“At least wait until he recovers,” Ghostbur begged.

Technoblade shrugged. “Okay. But if he touches my pets, he’s dead . ”

aww. E! E! technolame. E! I demand blood. DON’T TRUST THE SAPPYNAPPY

Ghostbur smiled nervously. “Th-that’s reasonable. Why don’t we lay him down?”

“Yeah, sure, he can have Tommy’s old room.” Technoblade eyed the ladder contemplatively. “Though I’m not sure how I’ll get him down there. . .” 

He considered just dropping Sapnap down the ladder, then took a second look at the guy’s state and decided that it was too risky. He turned to Ghostbur. “Uh. . . could you do your. . . intangibility thing while carrying him at the same time?”

Ghostbur shook his head. “The intangibility happens with our whole body.”

“Huh,” Technoblade grunted. “If I dropped him down the ladder, could you catch him?”

Ghostbur’s eyes widened. “Uh-- I don’t think that’s a good idea!” 

“Well I don’t think the hole’s big enough to carry him through,” Technoblade retorted. “I guess I can try anyways. He’s wearin’ netherite, he can take a few hits.”

He unceremoniously slung Sapnap over his shoulder and descended the ladder. Ghostbur made an alarmed noise as Sapnap’s helmet whacked against the edge of the hole. The man thankfully remained unconscious, because this would be a hell of a lot more awkward if he woke up mid-descent.

Technoblade made it down to Tommy’s hideaway with no further incidents (unless Sapnap’s freshly bruised wrist counted as an ‘incident’), and dumped him on the bed. Sapnap’s head lolled to the side, his lips pressed together. Technoblade studied him more closely. If it wasn’t for the flickering of his eyelids and the very obvious fact that he was shivering, he’d have thought he was dead. 

“What happened to him?” He asked, turning to Ghostbur. Ghostbur shrugged.

“He was running on potions,” he offered. “Probably strength? It was difficult to tell with the lighting, but he passed out pretty quickly after they wore off.”

Hm. Technoblade knew a thing or two about potion abuse. Mainly, that you would feel horrible afterwards, probably the reason why Sapnap was passed out. “Great,” he deadpanned. “Ghostbur, could you get some water?” 

Ghostbur glanced uncertainly between Technoblade and Sapnap. 

Technoblade sighed. “Seriously, I’m not gonna hurt him.” He made a vague shooing motion towards the ladder. “He needs to hydrate. If we don’t dilute the potions in his system, he’s gonna feel pretty terrible.”

Ghostbur reluctantly disappeared into the wall. Technoblade set about removing Sapnap’s armor and dumping it into one of Tommy’s old chests, checking the man for any injuries as he did so. Ghostbur returned just as he finished with the boots. 

Together, they removed the rest of Sapnap’s armor and got him under the covers. 

Technosupport! EEEE. why are you like this? how are you gonna hydrate him he’s unconscious?

That last voice had a point. Technoblade studied the man, then glanced back at Ghostbur.

“Don’t suppose you know how to make an IV?”

“A what?”

Technoblade sighed. He really hadn’t thought this through, had he? “Nevermind. We’ll just wait for him to wake up.”

Ghostbur twisted his fingers together. “But didn’t you say--”

“He can’t drink if he’s unconscious, Ghostbur,” Technoblade deadpanned. “He’ll choke.”

Dream suddenly plummeted through the ceiling, a look of alarm on his face. Technoblade managed to stop himself from reaching for his sword. How the hell did this guy keep sneaking up on him?

The ghost swooped over to Sapnap, his panic melting into relief at the sight of him. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I came back downstairs and couldn’t find you, so. . .”

“Nah, this one’s on us,” Technoblade grumbled. “Should’ve told you we’d be goin’ down.” He gestured to Sapnap. “He’s gonna sleep for the next twelve hours at least. Doesn’t seem to have any serious injuries, just minor cuts and scrapes. Prob’ly just exhausted. Ghostbur said he was on potions too, so he might start runnin’ a fever soon.”

Dream’s grey-green eyes darted to him. “Is. . . is he going to be okay?”

“Eventually. Not gonna lie though, he’s gonna feel pretty terrible while he recovers.”

The world was burning down around him. 

“SHUT UP!” he howled. The flames licked his skin, leaving streaks of black and red behind. The dreamon’s wheezing laugh echoed in his ears and he spun, hurling his torch into the swath of trees. 

“--e’s burning up--”

The branches went up in flames, yet the dreamon continued to cackle. Sapnap screamed in wordless rage as the flames closed in, setting him ablaze.

“--keep h-- down--”

Suddenly he was falling, falling into the ground. The flames trailed after him, streaks of malicious red and orange, snapping at the darkness now surrounding him.

“--ath--”

His back hit water and his breath was knocked out of him in a swarm of bubbles. The flames were gone now and the water was here, icy cold and stinging his burns. He kicked out blindly as the dreamon’s voice filled his ears, somehow clear despite the water surrounding him.

“I forced him to jump into a lake,” it mused. “Do you know what drowning is like, Sapnap?”

“Sapna--”

He could see light now-- the moon, shining above him, watery beams wavering before his eyes. He clawed in its vague direction, his lungs shriveling in his chest. 

“--t’s going to be oka--”

His chest spasmed and he inhaled on instinct, water flooding his mouth. Choking and spluttering, he thrashed, filling the lake around him with bubbles. The light was so close now. Blindly, he flung a hand out, hoping to break the surface of the water. 

His fingers cracked against solid ice. He tried to cry out in pain, only for his throat to explode in agony. 

“--’s delirious! Gh--”

His vision began to darken around the edges. His flailing grew steadily weaker, and he stared in horror as a pale hand reached from the murky depths of the lake and wrapped itself around his ankle.

No! He tried to scream, but there was no air. No, no, no--

He could see the faint outline of a white mask, far below him. Its porcelain smile mocked him.

His vision was fading. The last of the energy drained from his limbs and his eyelids grew heavy. He let himself go, sinking into nothingness.

When he opened his eyes again, Dream was leaning over him. Sapnap watched him through blurred lenses, wondering where the moon had gone. He could feel water lapping at his body, soaking into his clothes. He shivered absently. Dream was talking, or at least he seemed to be. His mouth was moving, but Sapnap couldn’t hear anything.

“‘M sorry,” he said. Or tried to say. His tongue felt thick and stuck to the top of his mouth. “‘M sorry.”

Dream’s expression grew more panicked, but Sapnap was already drifting away. The darkness welcomed him with open arms.

Sapnap’s first thought when he woke was, I feel like shit.

This was verbalized in a weak groan that set his larynx on fire. He choked as the taste of copper filled the back of his throat, his eyes flying open, tears of pain obscuring his vision. Something moved at the edge of his perception and he flinched, letting out a rasping wheeze as the movement agitated the rest of his aching body. Sound gradually filtered in. 

“--noblade! Technoblade, he’s awake, what do I do--”

Then there was a hand pushing him down. “Relax,” someone ordered. “Don’t move. I’m gonna prop you up, and then I’m gonna give you some water. Drink slowly, you hear me?”

Water sounded wonderful. Sapnap hissed as hands slid under his back and pressed upwards, pushing him into a reclined sitting position. A straw was pressed to his lips.

“Woah there,” the voice said, and the hand on his back twitched. “I said ‘drink slowly’, you’re gonna choke--”

Sapnap’s abused throat spiked with pain at that exact moment, and he accidentally inhaled the water. He doubled over, coughing, tears streaming down his cheeks as the movements sent agony spiking through his entire body. “Bruh,” the voice deadpanned, even as the water disappeared and another hand settled across his shoulders to steady him. Someone appeared at the edge of his vision and pressed something soft to his face, wiping away the tears. 

When his coughing had subsided, he was once more laid back against the pillows. His vision cleared a little more as he blinked, bringing a familiar face into focus.

Dream, he mouthed. 

“Hey, Sapnap.” Dream smiled, small and watery. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

If Sapnap had the energy to, he would have laughed. As it was, he only closed his eyes and leaned a little further back into the pillows. Never in a hundred years would he have thought that Dream would one day be the one telling him to take care of himself. His friend was-- had been notoriously terrible at self-care, and had often gone days without eating when he’d been particularly wrapped up in projects. Sapnap had usually been the one to drag him and George out of whatever coding mania they’d managed to work themselves into and force them to hydrate. 

Now, their roles were reversed. Sapnap’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. Sorry, he mouthed.

“Just don’t do it again, please.” A cold hand settled over his. “You were in really bad shape. Started running a high fever. We had to put you in a lukewarm bath to cool you down.”

“I used up like ten healing pots fixin’ you,” the voice from before deadpanned. Sapnap’s eyes snapped open. “Please don’t ever get sick again, tryin’ to keep you from dyin' is hard.”

“It’s just Techno,” Dream said. He offered Sapnap a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, he’s a friend.”

Since when were Technoblade and Dream-- right. That had been the Dreamon. Not Dream. 

Sapnap exhaled, gritting his teeth. His hands clenched, bunching the fabric of the blanket between his fingers. I’m sorry, he mouthed again, blinking against the burning in his eyes. 

Somehow, Dream understood. “No more apologizing,” the ghost told him sternly. “There’s nothing to forgive. You weren’t the one who killed me, and you aren’t at fault for what followed. The dreamon spent a long time analyzing me, Sapnap. It’s a creature built for deception. You can’t blame yourself-- it fooled everyone.” 

Sapnap looked away. Logically, he understood what Dream was saying. Emotionally. . . it would take a while for the guilt to fade.

Dream sighed. Another hand settled over the first, clasping his palm. “Sapnap. . .”

“As touching as this is,” Technoblade drawled from where he had been forgotten once again, “the patient needs to eat.”

Both Dream and Sapnap jumped, Sapnap grimacing as the movement sent another jolt of agony through his body. “Right,” Dream muttered, hurriedly releasing Sapnap’s hand and taking the bowl Technoblade offered. “What. . . what is this?”

“Gapplesauce,” Technoblade grunted. “Made by the other friendly neighborhood ghost.”

Thanks, Sapnap mouthed. Technoblade nodded once, turned on his heel and left the room.

Dream gingerly held up the bowl. “Uhm. . . can you eat this by yourself or. . .?”

Sapnap raised his arms in a ‘gimme’ gesture, ignoring how his muscles screamed in protest. Dream obligingly handed the bowl to him, and after a bit of fumbling, Sapnap managed to lift the spoon to his mouth.

The taste of something other than dried bread flooded his mouth for the first time in at least a week. Sapnap was suddenly ravenous, and considered foregoing the spoon altogether to just eat straight from the bowl. A warning glance from Dream stopped him.

“You need to eat slowly,” the ghost admonished. “Technoblade said that you’d have to start small when you woke up.”

Sapnap scowled but complied, taking measured bites of his gapplesauce. He was rewarded with a smile, which soon turned into a frown.

“Your fingers are trembling.”

Sapnap rolled his eyes and made a dismissive shooing gesture, accidentally flicking gapplesauce into Dream’s hair. The ghost yelped and sprung to his feet, scrubbing frantically at his grey-brown locks, and Sapnap couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his chest. It came out more as a wheeze, yet even as he hunched in pain the grin on his face remained steady and bright. Dream hastily grabbed his bowl and set it to the side, grabbing Sapnap so he wouldn’t fall over from the force of his trembling. “S-stop laughing!” he giggled. “Stop, ihih-it’s not that funny, why are you laughing-- stoho-hop, you’re making me laugh too!”

Ghostbur paused halfway down the ladder, listening to the laughter coming from below. Silently, he began climbing back up, balancing the bowl of undelivered mushroom stew he had made for Sapnap. It could wait until later.

As the laughter quieted into Dream’s cheerful chatter, Ghostbur allowed himself a small smile. True, things weren’t perfect, and they never would be; Sapnap would continue to struggle with his guilt. Dream needed closure with his murderer. The rest of the server was still recovering from the wars and the damage wrought by the dreamon. Nothing would ever be the same as it was before.

So yes, it wasn’t perfect. 

But they were healing, and that was enough.