Chapter Text
Dream came awake with a gasp, rolling onto his hands and knees as his stomach twisted. He scrambled to pull his mask away from his face, gasping for air. He gagged, once, twice, but there was nothing left to throw up. Dream had gotten sick of potatoes a week in, and the heat made him nauseous.
But that didn’t mean the pain of his stomach twisting in on itself didn’t hurt any less. He’d have to eat soon. But it seemed to take forever for his stomach to settle and Dream nearly sobbed as he could finally relax. He hated that feeling.
Slowly, Dream sat back, taking a deep breath as he glanced around. It looked like he was dreaming again. He hadn’t seen these stone walls since he had been thrown into his own prison. His lips twisted in a wry smile as he pulled his mask back down.
And didn’t that bring up a spike of hatred, as tired and useless as it was.
It wasn’t really his room, just a rarely used storage room within one of the DreamSMP buildings. He’d moved out here when staying in the Community House made working on his plans more difficult than it was worth (when George and Sapnap started to avoid him and he started avoiding them as well).
(When did his friends become an inconvenience that needed to be avoided?)
All it had was a lonely bed, rarely used, by the window with a chest beside it. Old papers were still scattered over his crafting table and there was even a precarious stack on the furnace next to that. Dream didn’t bother looking at any of them, instead standing and stretching.
It was rare that he dreamed in Pandora’s Box, let alone a lucid dream like this. The heat from the lava and stomach cramps made his sleep fitful and light. When he dreamed, it was usually scattered fragments he didn’t remember when he woke up. But it was a welcome change all the same.
He placed a hand down, pushing himself to his feet. The stone beneath his hand was cold and Dream paused, his hand drifting over the wall. He savored the feeling of it. Nothing was cold inside his cell.
Cold.
Why did that feel important?
A starburst of pain in his hand and Dream jerked back with a muttered curse. Blood trickled from a scrape, a drop still left on a snag in the wall.
Dream went to wipe the blood away and froze. It hurt. Not the worst pain he’d ever felt, but it hurt. He stared at it in mute confusion.
Either he had smacked his hand against the wall while sleeping, or this wasn’t a dream.
“Open up the command screen.” Dream said, his voice hoarse. It felt like he had been swallowing rocks. He coughed, trying to clear it. “Show me my life count.”
He had lost two lives to Tommy, a number that had taunted him every time he had checked the counter. He had been too complacent when it came to that boy. Even as the admin of this server world, he had no ability to return what he had lost.
But now, there were three crimson hearts hovering in front of him, rising and falling with his breath. Dream let out a raspy laugh, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as he slid back down the wall.
There was no way to fake that, for them to torment him like that. The others had always been too kind and not kind enough. Oh, we can’t torture the big bad Dream! That would make us bad guys! Let’s just toss him in an obsidian box and leave him to rot in almost complete solitude!
Dream ignored the niggling thought that reminded him he would have done the same, had he kept hold of his power. Instead, he pressed his palms against the cool surface of his mask, trying to piece his thoughts back together.
Had Pandora’s Vault just been a horrifying dream?
...it didn’t feel like one. It was too vivid. Too real. Dream curled farther into himself, twisting the thought over and over in his head. Because if that was real and this was real, then what was going on? He had heard about time travel glitches, had even noted a possible time traveler in his server (had threatened them into silence).
But he had to think logically here. He couldn’t let himself be consumed by panic, no matter how tight his chest felt or the way it felt like the translucency enchantment on his mask was flickering out, turning his vision dark.
Calm. Think. Focus on anything else, anything other than the guilt and fear and hatred that dragged him down like a stone.
Time travel, like most ‘useful’ glitches, were a lot harder for admins to trigger than it was for non admin players. And definitely impossible to trigger inside of Pandora’s Box, blocked from any of his tools. He had considered the possibilities before Pandora’s Box and ultimately dismissed them, and he wasn’t a man who gave up power like that easily.
At least then. Dream sighed, pushing himself back to his feet. He didn’t know what kind of person he was now. He just didn’t like to linger on that thought.
Right. Time travel is a likely possibility. But when was he and how did he get here? And what was he going to do?
Last he remembered, he had been sitting in his cell, trying to sleep. Dream combed a hand through his hair. “Maybe I spun the clock too much.” He said, smiling at his own joke.
At least the when part was easier. He had moved out soon after the revolution against Schlatt. Dream considered that after he pulled a water bottle from the chest, gulping it down greedily. The cool water tasted like the sweetest, most delicious thing he had ever had in his life. He let out a relieved sigh as the scratchy feeling in his throat slowly died away.
The apple he ate was even better. Dream was so tired of potatoes, he nearly cried at the sweet taste.
He was never eating potatoes again, no matter what. He had no idea how Technoblade could still eat them after nearly a year in the Potato Wars. Two months of living on potatoes, and Dream was ready to burn any he saw.
Sipping the second bottle more slowly, he walked towards the open window. He leaned out, allowing himself a brief moment to enjoy the chilly breeze. It was dark outside but for the lanterns and torches keeping the monsters at bay. Too early for most of the early risers and too late for most of the night owls.
He had gotten a lot of work done before at this time of night.
Dream propped his chin up with his other hand, grinning at the sight. It looked like the others had been wrong when they said he would never see the outside world again.
At that thought, his brief good mood deserted him again. Dream sighed, taking another sip. Several landmarks were missing. If this was time travel, he likely hopped back right before he had exiled Tommy.
Dream could… do a lot with that actually. Nebulous plans were already swirling in his head. He knew where he went wrong. He didn’t push hard enough sometimes, pushed too hard others. He could do it perfectly this time. Could stop Tommy’s escape, the revolt, Pandora’s Box...
The taste of salt and iron filled his mouth. He’d bit his lip so hard it bled.
“One big happy family.” Dream said. He shuddered a bit at the words and the wash of guilt that came over him.
It was all for his friends. At least, that had been his justification for it. And they hated him for it. They had all been miserable in their own ways, even when his plans went well. When he had been free, he could outrun his guilt. It was harder when he was trapped with nothing to do but think about how miserable everyone had been because of him.
Maybe Pandora’s Box would have restored his rage after enough time. He had vague plans then but now, Dream had no idea what he was supposed to do.
Dream had been a monster. Was still a monster. He tilted up his mask so he could wipe the blood off his lip.
He could… do it better this time? Be better. He considered the thought, tracing along the edges of his mask. Apologize to everyone, use words instead of threats, dismantle any of the plans he had running right now. Maybe even spend time with George and Sapnap.
Be the Dream from the beginning of the server, when they really were happy. All of them.
And he wanted that. He wanted it so bad. He wanted Bad to hug him, not out of manipulated pity, but because the demon cared. He wanted to curl up on the couch with George and Sapnap and sleep knowing they would be there for him. Dueling Techno, snowball fights with Tubbo and Tommy, baking with Puffy and Niki, even arguing with Wilbur. He wanted it all.
But he would have to lie and pretend he hadn’t manipulated each and every one of them. Pretend he couldn’t remember Sapnap swearing to kill him, George leaving, the fear on Tommy and Tubbo’s faces. That Wibur’s insanity and death was partially due to him. Everyone’s misery. All because of him.
Dream lowered the mask to cover his face, adjusting it so it was secure again.
Wasn’t this a joke? He made a soft wheezing sound, pressing a hand over where his mouth would be. Wasn’t this just a fantastic joke? He was brought back to when he finally had power, had plans, and he didn’t want anything to do with it.
He had failed. He had been the villain in their story. Dream couldn’t lie and pretend that away. What was the choice he gave Tubbo? Death or exile. Dream pushed off the window, leaving the half-full bottle of water, heading back to the chest.
It wouldn’t be hard to exile himself. He doubted anyone would really come look for him. He’d burned all his bridges. But he had to be sure about this. It was easy to just walk into the uncharted wilderness and not stop until he was so far, it would be nearly impossible to find his way back. But he couldn’t spend the rest of his life worrying they might come after him or that he would change his mind and go after them.
If he left, it would have to be a total exile. Leaving the server. His fingers caught on a small catch at the bottom and Dream smiled bitterly, pulling it open.
It had been a pain to adjust the chest’s coding but it was worth it for a secure hiding space. In the very beginning of this server world, Dream had written keys into enchanted books for certain server functions that were locked. Just in case he or one of the others on the Dream Team needed to quickly unlock them in an emergency. But the books were pretty dangerous if they got out so the Dream Team had elected to hide them away.
After the first war of L’Manburg, Dream had taken them and hidden them in the chest, entertaining thoughts of using them in his plans. He never got the chance.
Did they find them after he was locked up? Grow angry at him for yet another betrayal of their trust? Dream squashed that thought, taking a deep breath and rifling through the neat stack of books. The tightness in his chest wasn’t going away.
Leaving servers was an easy task for most players, but it was a lot harder for an admin. Servers could and would restabilize without their admins, but the process was made as difficult as possible to prevent that from constantly occurring. The only way an admin could leave was through completing the last achievement, defeating the Ender Dragon.
Dream grinned. Something he had made a game out of.
Dream pulled out a black book, brushing his hand over the cover. The End’s key. With this, he could open the End Portal. He let the secret compartment’s door fall shut, standing again. The book disappeared into his inventory. His otherwise empty inventory.
Should he take his tools? Dream looked over the mess on the floor, finger tapping against his thigh. He’d miss his axe, but he had lived without it. And nothing could come with him when he left this server, unless he planned to sit down and plot the coding of the glitches that allowed inventory transfer. Still, he lingered over the rest of the chest for an embarrassing amount of time. Dream shut the chest, firmly telling himself it would be fine.
The others would get more use out of his supplies than he could. Maybe it would count as repayment for the pain he had caused them.
He’d make a new axe in his next world. Maybe he could try out playing a solo Hardcore world. Philza had certainly enjoyed playing on those, so it may have some merit.
But he hesitated before standing. It didn’t feel like enough of an apology. Slowly, he opened the chest again, taking a quill and a book out.
There was so much he could write. So much to apologize for. But as he stared at the page, Dream couldn’t find the words.
Did he apologize for each and every action, a long itemized list? Did he tell them how much he loved them, how some days it took all he had to stay sane? Did he try to justify himself? Did he say what he was doing so they wouldn’t have to worry about him coming back? His head was spinning.
Right. Short and simple then.
I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. Don’t worry about me anymore.
A moment.
:)
He could feel his eyes burning. It was a pathetic apology. He could almost hear Tommy screaming now. But if he tried to write anymore, he’d be here for another week trying to pour his heart onto the pages, and he didn’t have that time.
This would have to be enough. His exile could make up for the rest, hopefully. He left the journal and quill on top of the chest.
Dream stretched, walking towards the window. It was time to stop stalling. If he was going to go, it would have to be now. He wasn’t sure he would be able to get up the resolve again if he had to see everyone.
Dream hopped up on the windowsill, sitting for a moment. He took in the buildings for the last time, a heavy weight settling into his chest as he committed it to memory. This plan would go fine. He’d done this before, with hunters after him to boot.
And who would be hunting for him this time?
He closed his eyes and let himself fall, feeling the air rush by him. Hitting the ground lightly, he made a beeline straight to the woods. Better to avoid them all still. What he was about to do was technically against the laws of this server and Dream didn’t want to go back to prison. He smiled, a small, pained smile.
The others would probably leap to put him back if they knew he was about to break the law again. But this plan was going to work.
It had to work.
Dream didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t.