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“Can I visit Dream tomorrow?”
Sam froze at the question. Tommy watched his face shift into an expression of concern.
“Can I ask why?”
Tommy avoided his gaze. He wasn’t sure if Sam would get him. If anything, that would only make him worried, and then he might deny Tommy’s request completely.
“Look. As a Warden, I have nothing against you visiting Dream. But as your friend, I am worried about you, and I genuinely think that would do more harm than good, Tommy.”
“I care you, Tommy,” Dream said, gripping his shoulder, “Nobody cares about you, except me.”
Tommy blinked away the delusion and shook his head.
“I want to visit him one last time and then I can never - “Tommy took a pause “I would want to never see him again. I just need closure. You know, like with Wilbur.”
Sam understood, but he didn’t comment, so Tommy took the short pause as an invitation to continue.
“Tubbo is building his Snowchester, Ranboo apparently lives with Techno and Phil now, Quackity and Fundy do… whatever they usually do, I don’t really know. The point is - everybody had moved on. Everybody except me,” there was a tone of jealousy in Tommy’s words, “I just want to be like them. To be normal, I guess. You get it, right?”
Sam nodded, “Of course I do.”
Tommy was relieved. Maybe ‘talking about your feelings’ thing that Puffy suggested him during her last visit wasn’t that bad. It certainly felt weird, but like nice shade of weird? Tommy couldn’t really put that into thoughts; everything started to become even more confusing so he just stopped thinking about it altogether.
“But every time I try and do something I kept being reminded of Dream and the exile and it just throws me off. I mean, I can’t even go into any plains without my hands getting all shaky,” Tommy frowned, clenching his fists so hard the nails painfully dig into his palms. “I want to get rid of that weight for once and all.”
He needed to cut off Dream from his life completely. He needed to stare dead straight into those green eyes and tell him how much he hated and despised him. Tommy had already been in the Vault one time, but it was less than a day after the prisoner got put in there, so it hadn't affected him yet. At this point, however, Dream spent more than a month in a lonely cell. Tommy wasn’t completely honest about his reasons for a visit; closure was there, undoubtedly, but more than that he wanted Dream to feel the way he had felt in exile. Lonely, helpless, abandoned. Tommy wanted to see Dream suffer.
Maybe then he’ll stop waking up from nightmares every single night.
Maybe then he’ll stop flinching from any sudden movement and sound.
Maybe then his wings will stop feeling like a dead weight.
Maybe Tommy would be able to return to his former self.
“I need this,” Tommy concluded, determined. He didn’t back away when Sam took and squeezed his hand nor when the older man gave him a sad yet understanding look.
“If you’re sure about this, Tommy,” he said.
***
One moment, Sam had been quietly listening to the muffled voices on the other side of the lava barrier, and then the explosions shuddered the walls, obsidian dust slowly floating down from the ceiling. He got to the prison top, went through the higher layers and corridors of the prison, but seemingly no damage had been done to any of the mechanisms. Obsidian and blackstone protection remained whole, too. The breaking in attempt had failed, and that should have relieved Sam, but he was getting cautious and confused instead. Who it was, why they would be trying to get Dream out, and, most importantly, where were the traces of TNT? Where was the heavy smell of gunpowder, where was the ash? Why had obsidian remained so cold while he was supposed to feel the radiating heat from standing a few feet away? Something weird was going on, and it was Sam’s responsibility as the Warden to find out what exactly.
But then, Sam’s communicator had ringed, someone calling. He sheathed his sword from where it was clenched in his hand and pulled out the device. As soon as he saw the person calling, Sam felt his heart sink. He didn’t hesitate a single second to pick it up.
“Tommy? Tommy, are you okay?” Sam had said, his voice dropping hoarse.
“SAM!” Tommy’s relieved, shaking tone had made Sam’s entire chest ache, stronger and stronger as the boy continued to chant his name on the other end of the call, either unable to say anything else or too afraid stopping would make him halt the call, “Sam, Sam, Sam- “
“I hear you, Tommy, it’s me,” he responded, clenching the communicator, “Talk to me, Tommy.”
“Sam, I’m done here, LET ME OUT!” Tommy’s voice shifted from a scream to a barely audible muttering, all in span of half a second: “I want to go, please.”
And then, immediately, a second voice followed, one that made Sam’s guts twist, “You can’t go, Tommy. Don’t you remember the book you had signed? If there is a security issue, the visitor could be kept in the prison until it is resolved, for a span of up to a week. Which means you’re stuck here with me for a while.”
“No, no, no,” Tommy screamed with desperate panic, “Sam, please, I can’t be trapped here. Not with him, not for so long.”
Sam was the one who wrote the protocols, the conditions and agreements he and Dream had come up with during the planning of the prison, their words carved in stone in his head from the continuous times he had to make copies for each visitor that came in. The protocols were made for a reason and they were important for the security of the Vault. Straining from them would mean that Sam is neglecting the safety measures and potentially risking letting Dream out. Dream, who was a constant danger to the safety of everyone on the server. Dream, who had obliterated an entire nation and turned people’s homes into piles of burning memories. Dream, who had threatened people’s lives on multiple occasions. The server can’t afford him escaping, and it was entirely Sam’s responsibility of preventing that.
But…
A broken, shivering figure, Tommy looked younger than he ever had. There wasn’t a single trace of the bold triumphant hero he seemed to be just a few days ago.
“Sam,” Tommy coughed, clearing his throat, “Can I stay at your place for the night?”
He had a much greater responsibility now. He had vailed it since the very day the boy had decided to seek refuge at his base. Sam had promised Tommy to protect him, and he wasn’t backing off that promise now.
If the cost would be the safety of the server, would Sam leave a visitor trapped inside the prison with Dream?
With no hesitation.
Would Sam do that to Tommy?
Absolutely not.
He went into the guard entrance, almost sprinting. “Tommy, hold on a little bit longer. I am coming.”
“Really?” Tommy’s voice shook. There was a long, shuddering breath as the boy was struggling to calm himself down. The breath was interrupted by a half-hysterical, half-relieved chuckle, “Hurry up then, big man.”
“I am on my way now.”
Tommy hanged up the call on, which only made Sam more anxious. Even though talking on run was wildly uncomfortable, and the boy’s voice has shuddering to the extent it was hard to make out every other word, at least he’d be able to hear what was happening in the cell. Right now, Sam felt like he was completely cut off from Tommy. He was proud of the Vault’s security system, but right now, the complicated doors and long narrow corridors were significantly slowing him down. Sam had accidentally cut his hand on one of the sharp blackstone corners and only noticed it in the last room, when his bloody fingertips stained the button red, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing separating him from Tommy now were the layers and layers of boiling lava. It started to drain, painfully slow. He couldn’t hear a single sound from the cell the whole time; and if there was any, Sam wouldn’t be able to catch it through the mad pumping of his own heart.
He was standing there, stiffly, hand gripping a bow. When the lava finally drained, the tip of his arrow fell for a moment just to snap back high. Two pairs of eyes met him on the other side of the lava lake: one dark green and narrowed with a snake-like attentiveness, and the other stormy blue, thunders sparkling with a mix of anger and poorly hidden fear. The thick metal chain, previously attached to the far wall of the cell, had been hanging between the prisoner’s wrists; any other time, Sam would be both terrified and curious about how Dream had managed to break it; right now, though, his whole attention was on the boy who’s throat the chain had been digging in. He noticed the reddish color of his cheek, a sign of a future bruise, and the frantic speed his chest had been heaving with, but other than that, Tommy seemed fine. As much as one could be fine while being held a hostage; it didn’t take a guess to understand what was about to happen.
Still, it was worth a try, “Let him go, Dream,” Sam’s voice was steady and confident as ever, “You’re doing this hard on yourself.”
“So, you actually came,” The prisoner said, staring him dead into the eyes. The day he entered the prison, he was stripped of his mask, the wicked thing both Tommy and Tubbo had aggressively refused to take as a trophy even after defeating him. Sam’s own mind stubbornly refused to imagine Dream without it; the non-existent smiling face felt like it was imprinted on the man’s entire existence.
“Tommy is not supposed to be here.” Sam grimly answered.
He saw how the boy had opened his mouth, a sarcastic answer already forming on his lips, but Dream had pulled on the chain, almost fully cutting off Tommy ‘s throat from air. Sam could hear him breathing in an unnatural, whistling way, and found himself stepping forward, hand half-raised towards the boy.
“Had the security issue been resolved already?” Dream asked.
“Let Tommy go, Dream. Right now.”
“I guess I can take this as a no, “he tilted his head to the side, the chain slightly lessening around Tommy’s neck, “So you are breaking your own protocols now? I am surprised, really. I thought you put much more value in this prison’s safety.”
Sam knew Dream long enough to understand all the small, barely noticeable changes in man’s tone that indicated his mood and intentions. It was like he was carefully knocking on a wall to see which part of it was hollow. Sam kept silent. Dream raised an eyebrow, clinking his tongue in disappointment.
"Well, I guess it doesn't make any difference either way," he said. "You can activate the lava now. Tommy stays here with me."
Tommy’s eyes widened with horror, "Let me go, you psycho!" he screamed. "I AM DONE WITH YOU!"
He struggled and fought, cursing in a half-choked voice, but stiffened once he was pushed to the edge of the cell. He was forced to half-hang above the lava lake, hot air drying his lips, and had no other choice but to cling to the man holding him. Tommy’s breath came out short and sharp. His eyes snapped at Sam. Dim shadow of fear had overtaken the dark pupils, red and orange pattern swirling around.
Sam’s whole vision had narrowed down to the expression of absolute terror on the boy’s face and the muffled screams kept echoing in his ears even when Tommy’s voice died out, choked by the chain. Air, already overwhelmingly hot from the lava, was filled up with smell of gunpowder.
Tommy’s life was in danger. Dream had dared to threaten him.
Any remains of self-control Sam had got overridden with a wave of fury. A hissing sound raised from his throat. Both Dream and Tommy instinctively turned their heads, tensing. Dark scales scattered around Sam’s body heated up in a split of a second, glowing hot-white. It painted human skin red with burns, but he couldn’t feel the pain through the voice of his instincts that screamed him to stop holding down. To explode.
“SAM!” Tommy’s voice sounded distinct, like through a thick layer of wool, but it broke through nevertheless.
Sam blinked. He looked around and found himself breathing rapidly, the light of his scales dulling. On the other side of the lava lake, Tommy stared at him with a fair amount of surprise and relief. It occurred to Sam that the boy, most certainly, prevented Sam from slipping. Submitting to the primal instincts running in his blood. Sam rarely allowed them to go this far into controlling himself, but he absolutely needed to see the flash of panic on Dream’s face, even if it was quickly replaced with its usual calculating look.
He hummed, head tilted to the side, “That’s interesting. I didn’t think you care about Tommy that much.”
After Tommy had barely stopped Sam from exploding right here and know, the truth was obvious for all three of them.
The tone Dream had spoken with, however, with didn’t promise any good. Sam understood, with late bitterness, that he had just handed the prisoner the highest advantage over himself and, consequentially, the whole situation.
Another hiss raised in Sam’s throat. He had to swallow it down.
***
Tommy was the one to break the silence that followed Dream’s words.
"It's fine, Sam," he said. His voice was shaking. Tommy’s words had to calm Sam down, not worry him even more, so he tried to make up for it with a smile. His lips curled too high, threatening to turn into a hysterical laugh. He would hide his eyes now, if he could, to hide the embarrassment from the fact how bad he was at reassurance. A voice in his head, sounding suspiciously similar to Sam himself, had suggested him to take a breath, so he did, as deep as the chain around his neck had allowed him to, closing his eyes shut.
Strangely, it helped to ease his fear almost completely; Tommy distinctly wondered if he was getting too tired to feel any emotions at all. First went the explosions. He panicked there, screaming each time a blast had shuddered the walls. Then came a long silence with nothing but Dream’s voice to fill it. And Dream kept talking, and talking, and talking... He said, Sam wouldn’t come. Nobody cares, a voice ringed in Tommy’s head.
Sam’s current expression painfully resembled the one Wilbur wore during Tommy’s duel with Dream.
Collected. Calculated. And yet filled with heavy fear; for the boy’s life of all things.
Sam came to the rescue and even if that was useless with Dream holding Tommy a hostage, and then he almost went feral (Not an overstatement when used for hybrids; he knew it better than most) when his life was threatened. Tommy never had seen Sam slip so badly. He had never asked if creeper hybrids actually exploded if pushed too much but the thought of that possibility made him terrified. That was why he tried so hard to calm Sam down.
“You know... “Tommy paused. “You understand what will happen if Dream escapes the prison. Whatever is the price, we need to keep him in here. I am fine staying as long as he doesn't get out."
Was Tommy petrified of the thought of being trapped in a small cell, obsidian walls pressuring him from all sides with no-one but his past (present?) abuser to keep him company?
Yes, he was.
Did he just submit himself for a torture far, far worse than the exile?
He probably did.
If Tommy would be given a chance to take his words back, however, he wouldn’t. Because Dream sought revenge.
Tommy winced as he remembered the scary determined light in man’s eyes as he promised to take his revenge on everyone who had played a role in taking him down.
Dream wouldn’t hesitate a single moment to get rid of both Tubbo and Quackity. After he had sided with Tommy twice, shutting him in the Vault in the second time, the boy doubted Dream would have mercy on Sapnap either. He might spare the lives of the others, but there were thousands of ways to get a revenge on someone without killing them.
His first and primary target, however, would be Sam. Betraying Dream was one thing. But betraying Dream and locking him up in the prison he himself had commissioned to build and keeping him in there for several weeks? That was a new level of personal vendetta.
Tommy couldn’t let any more of his closest ones to be threatened or killed. Not until he was alive and breathing.
“At the end of the day, you still are trying to be the hero,” Dream chuckled. Tommy tried to ignore the ringing in his ears from how close man’s voice was, “Come on, Sam. Make a choice. Either you leave both of us in here, or you allow us to leave the Vault and maybe get a chance to save Tommy later.”
Tommy was known for doing impulsive things and paying for the consequences of it. Now, however, Sam looked like the one who was about to make a wrong decision.
“Tommy,” his voice shook, “that... You don’t have to... I can’t -”
He stopped talking abruptly, instead glancing at the button that activates the redstone bridge.
The fact that Sam cared about him was one of the reasons Tommy was accepting this fate so easily right now; if he was to be trapped in this cell, at least he wouldn’t be here because of some stupid protocols, like Dream insisted, but on his own will. He only wished it wouldn’t push Sam towards a wrong choice.
“It’s fine, “Tommy repeated, shaking his head, “Dream won’t kill me anyway. He said that himself.”
“I did. I don’t think I will, not just yet, “Dream mused, “Besides, there are far worse things than death, aren’t there, Tommy?”
Tommy stiffened even before he could comprehend the meaning of this words. Any coherent thoughts were forgotten the moment he felt a touch on his wing.
Gentle fingers are ruffling the bright soft of his feathers, wings melting into the warmth of the person’s hands. Cooing and purring slip from Tommy’s throat periodically. Hands are promising safety and comfort and his head feels too pleasantly heavy to even care about how weird it is for this sounds to come from human lips.
“Am I doing this right?” Dream asked, amused at Tommy’s sleepy state.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “you have no idea how good that feels.”
Even after he had escaped the exile island, Tommy didn’t let anybody touch his wings. Not Techno, not Ranboo, and especially not Phil; the latter didn’t even know he had grown them in the first place. Bird instincts carved for comfort and contact. Human fear pushed everybody away. The last time he had trusted a person to preen his wings and let his bird part get attached to, it ended poorly. Tommy learnt, once and for all, that his hybrid traits were a weakness. A weakness Dream actively abused.
His wings leaned into the touch against his will and it made him sick. Tommy wanted to curl them around himself, or squeeze under his skin or cut them off completely but all they did was press further into the contact. Dream had triggered his bird brain, his stupid instincts. All it took was one touch and he was melting into it and he lost control not only over his wings but his whole body; it refused to even let him whine from frustration. All he could do was helplessly stare at Sam as Dream continued to ruffle through his feathers with confident, practiced movements: fixing the bent parts, pulling out loose ones, easing the painful itching in his wings.
This was wrong. But his head filled with cotton and he couldn’t remember why, and he started to think that maybe it wasn’t, since it felt so nice and safe and familiar and friendly. Some tiny part of Tommy still screamed at him, like he had forgotten something important. He brushed it off.
“Tommy?”
Tommy raised his eyes.
Funny, he thought, Sam somehow got even higher than he already was.
But then Tommy realized he was partially hanging down from Dream’s arms, and Sam was staring at him confused and tensely.
That particular mix echoed in his own head, that small part not overridden by the instincts, and it was enough to cause a resonance that cleared up the fog in his mind a bit. He needed to remember something, something critical but hidden. Something Tommy had pushed into furthest corners of his mind.
“Don’t,” He weakly muttered, “whatever you’re doing, don’t.”
“Why, Tommy?”
His left wing erupts with pain. A fountain of blood drops explodes in the corner of his vision. Tommy lets out a cry, head snapping to his side only to see a long arrow sticking out of the back of his wing, the tip peaking on the other side. Feathers around the hole quickly cover in red. Strength fades away from the wing. His mind screams for him to land. The shore, submerged in pink and orange in the sunset light, seems to be endlessly far away. Despite a black veil filling his vision, Tommy manages to discern a silhouette of a person in a green hoodie and a white mask.
Dream harmed you. Don’t you remember what he did to your wings?
His brain went full hundred eighty, all it took was some fear from the memory and then survival instincts kicked in. Tommy’s wings broke free and were madly beating and slapping Dream across his face and chest and a high-pitched inhuman screech escaped his throat. The prisoner backed off, closing his ears shut. Wings spread to their full length; from their base in his back, covered in ugly scars, all the way to the abrupt tips, they were trembling and rising threateningly. Tommy stood on the very edge of the cell and Dream shifted into a battle stance.
“Don’t try to mess with my head, “Tommy snarled. “It won’t work anymore. You have absolutely no control over me.”
Dream narrowed his eyes.
“Oh? So, you don’t think of me as your friend anymore?”
No words could describe how disgusted Tommy was of the fact that he couldn’t push a no out of his lips. He wanted and he wanted it badly but he just couldn’t. He growled instead, feathers puffing up. His wings casted a long dim shadow on the entire cell.
If Dream didn’t want to shut up, Tommy would make him to.
Tommy screeched again, a wild battle cry, as his fists aimed for Dream’s face. The prisoner dodged the first blow. Tommy’s ribs exploded with pain just as Dream bent in half when boy’s foot met his stomach. Both of them breathed heavily. In the corner of his eyes, Tommy noticed Sam, a bow and arrow raised. He shifted to the side to open him space for a shot but Dream jumped him at that exact moment. Tommy was still powered by his instincts. His movements were frantic and uncollected and feathers went flying in chaotic clouds. At some point, he was slammed into a wall and his shoulder knocked off the item frame from the wall and he hit his head on the metal think. His vision flashed white. Dream tried to grab him again. Tommy’s hand found the frame and slammed it on his opponent’s head. Wood cracked. Dream backed off and it gave him time to spring to his feet and retreat all the way to the edge of the cell.
Tommy didn’t really stand a chance against him. He thought weeks of imprisonment would weaken Dream at least a bit, but pain that pounded from the punches had stripped him of that hope. Tommy was terribly out of practice as of lately and he couldn’t even remember the last time he had fought a mob, let alone a skilled warrior. Fury dried out from his hands, replaced with exhaustion.
“Tommy!” Sam shouted.
Tommy turned around just in time to see him pressing a button.
“No!”
Nothing happened. Piston didn’t rattle and the bridge stayed in place. Sam paled and slammed the button again, with no luck.
Tommy was as confused as Sam was, and then realization hit him, “The explosions.”
Looks like TNT did some damage after all. Tommy didn’t believe for it to a convenience. He knew how Dream operated; there was no way it wasn’t somehow planned by him. He did everything to trap Tommy here.
“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, “Dream’s voice sent shivers down his spine. He took a step back and almost fell over the edge. Small pieces of obsidian scattered from under his heel into the lava.
“You can’t escape me.”
Tommy sent a helpless look over his shoulder. He watched Sam dash from a button to button. They both understood that the redstone system was broken so at this point it was just out of despair. Sam finally stopped, hand on a bow again. Tommy had never seen him so scared and devastated and it made his own chest ache. And yet… Sam wasn’t looking him in the face but instead at this back. At his wings. And there was a silent hopeful plead to his eyes.
Useless, his mind hissed. Pathetic, useless things.
Realistically, that could apply to Tommy as a whole. Broken, deformed, wrong. He might as well be completely wingless; he couldn’t fly either way.
But he’d be lying if he said Sam’s hope wasn’t contagious.
“If this fails,” he turned around and looked Dream dead in the eyes, “This will be the most stupid death ever.”
Tommy allowed himself to have the pleasure of catching a glimpse of Dream’s confused face before leaping off the edge.
“TOMMY!”
The moment ground under him was gone, and he was surrounded with nothing but air, his body shifted. Like a gear he didn’t know was there turned around, going in place with a loud thud. Long gone was the barrier that pushed his wings down; they spread wide and free. The aching Tommy suppressed for so long arose with a crushing, desperate force, then faded away, pouring like golden dust from his feathers as he glided above the lava.
A blast of hot air from the lake threw him up in the air. He lost the balance and the amazing feeling was gone, replaced by freezing horror when he started falling for real. There was a scream and pain as he slammed into obsidian on the other side of the lava. Something grabbed him by his wing. His back writhed with agony, the weight of his entire body pulling on the limb. He snapped his head up and met Sam’s wide eyes just mere feet above him. He was half-hanging down from the edge, one hand holding Tommy’s wing and the other reaching forward. The boy hurried to grab it. Sam immediately let go of his wing and pulled him up in a swift motion.
Once on floor, Tommy fell on his knees. Belated fear made his entire body shake. Tommy let out a hysterical chuckle that turned into a full-on wheezing laughter. Tears poured from his eyes and yet he kept laughing like a maniac. Sam sat on the floor beside him and pulled him into a hug. Warmth and relief washed over both of them.
“Are you alright?” Sam muttered.
“You almost dislocated my wing,” Tommy’s voice came out muffled as he buried his face in Sam’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Tommy.”
Dream’s voice made both of them snap their heads up.
The prisoner was stiffly standing in the cell. The illusion of calmness was completely destroyed, however, when Tommy caught his furious and disappointed eyes. He stood up and forced himself not to look away.
“I told you wouldn’t leave this cell. Have fun rotting away in here, alone. I am not coming to visit you ever again.”
“In fact, I don’t think I will let any visitors to him at least for a few months, if ever,” Sam coldly added.
The only thing betraying Dream’s emotions were the slight clinch of his fists.
“Alright,” he said, quietly. “It doesn’t matter either way.”
“What doesn’t matter?” Tommy stepped forward.
Dream tilted his head to the side, smiling, “The damage is already done. I don’t need to do anything beyond what I already did.”
And he wasn’t looking at Tommy but at his half-spread wings. The boy tucked them in on instinct and stepped back, like Dream’s words physically pushed him away.
“What?” his voice dropped. “What do you mean?”
Dream didn’t answer. He went to the corner of his cell, kicking the remains of the item frame on his way to the bed. Disturbance wrenched Tommy’s chest. Sam put a hand on his shoulder. Tommy flinched and turned his head.
“Let’s get you away out of here, now,” Sam said softly.
When he gave the cell a last glance, slowly closing off by the lava, something dark flashed in the corner of his vision and he felt coldness on his cheek. When he turned around, however, Tommy didn’t find anything but the obsidian walls, no matter how hard he squinted and listened for any sounds, so he had just decided to blame it on his imagination.
After everything that happened, the walls of the prison started to pressure on Tommy even more. He wanted nothing but to get home, take a cold shower and sleep for a week until this whole day turned into nothing but a dim memory.
(He would never get to know how close the death had hanged above him that day.)