Archive of Our Own

He’s been unconscious for a while when he receives the summons. No, unconscious is the wrong word. Nonexistent, perhaps, or simply dormant. 

Whichever the word, DreamXD has no way of telling how long ago the summons was sent, nor its purpose in retrieving him. It is a vague signal, closer to a short greeting than anything else, which doesn’t offer many clues as to its origin. Simply based on probability, though, he can be pretty certain of who is summoning him.

He isn’t sure when George figured out how to summon him, exactly, but his friend is persistent and more cunning than people give him credit for, so he’s not necessarily surprised. Yet it doesn’t seem like the sort of thing George would do for fun—to other members of the server, yes, but DreamXD gets the impression that no matter how close they’ve become in recent months, and despite his own reassurances, George is still on some level afraid of him. 

He doesn’t mind that. He’s a scary being, and he knows it. Likes it even. But it means that George is unlikely to summon him like this unless he truly needs him. 

So. DreamXD is summoned. 

He reforms into solid matter on the server to the sudden feel of sunshine heating the folds of his rich green robes rather pleasantly. A lazy breeze ruffles the myriad of wings spread out around him, hidden but still very much present. He never tires of the sensation of simply being; existing as matter rather than thoughtform can be overwhelming, but more often than not he finds it satisfying instead. 

He expects the summons to take him to one of two places: either Kinoko Kingdom or the entrance to Pandora’s Vault. They’re the places George frequents the most, apart from the Holy Lands—but that last one is mostly out of a desperation not to be killed than anything else, and DreamXD figures in that situation he would turn to Church Prime or to DreamXD, and not both. 

He likes Kinoko Kingdom. He likes the similarities the architecture bears to George’s old mushroom cottage, and the flower forest that surrounds it. He likes letting Karl practise nail art on his many hands, and he would probably like Sapnap if George and Karl hadn’t agreed that it would be best to keep him a secret from the man for the time being. He doesn’t like the wistful look George gets on his face sometimes, though, when DreamXD is watching him but hasn’t revealed his presence. The way he stares off, distant, and Sapnap and Karl both go quiet and share a glance as if they know exactly what George is thinking about and they disapprove. 

On another hand, while George is mostly cheerful in Kinoko Kingdom, he is seldom so outside Pandora’s Vault. George has never brought him there, but DreamXD has seen him standing vigil by the entrance. If staring off into space is an occasional hobby in Kinoko Kingdom, outside Pandora’s Vault it is all he does, regardless of whether he is dreaming or awake. 

The summons, however, takes DreamXD to what he’s heard referred to as the Prime Path, between a tall red building and a smaller yellow one. George is waiting for him there clad in his usual blue shirt and jeans, but with a large mushroom cap hat and matching cloak to protect against either the sun’s glare or the bite of the wind. DreamXD is affected by neither, so he cannot accurately judge.

George pushes away from the wooden fence he’d been leaning on when DreamXD enters his line of sight. “DreamXD! I was worried it didn’t work,” he says in greeting. 

DreamXD descends until he is nearly touching the ground, but doesn’t land. He gets the feeling this isn’t their final destination. “George.” 

“Thanks for coming,” George says, his expression half hidden behind his clout goggles. To most that might make George appear apathetic or unconcerned, which might actually have been George’s intentions wearing them in the first place. He’s found that George is remarkably expressive especially when he doesn’t mean to be. He certainly doesn’t mean to be now; George’s tone is carefully neutral, almost guarded. 

There’s no need for it. DreamXD isn’t like the other denizens of the server. George is his only friend and he can’t imagine a single thing he could do that DreamXD might judge him harshly for—except mistake him for Dream, perhaps, but George learned that lesson rather quickly and hasn’t yet forgotten it. 

George stares at him, and DreamXD surmises the time that has elapsed without him responding to George’s greeting has far surpassed the socially acceptable amount. Time, he thinks, is such a strange thing to quantify in such small increments for beings that cannot stretch their own perception of such things into infinities like he can. But he does owe a response. 

“That’s what friends are for,” DreamXD says, because he’s pretty sure that’s an acceptable reply. At least, he’s heard someone on the server say that before, and it sounds like the sort of thing George has been trying to teach him about since their friendship began. “This is the first time I’ve been correctly summoned,” he tells him. 

George ducks his head, and DreamXD attempts to categorise the movement as displaying a particular emotion. He’s unsuccessful. He’s come to learn that George is pretty blunt, though. Whatever he wants will become apparent soon enough. 

“Follow me,” George says, in lieu of an explanation. He leads him along the path and down the hill, turning right past the white mansion and walking (or floating, in DreamXD’s case) through the grass when the path cuts off. 

His instincts had been right. Pandora’s Vault towers above, though they stop outside with plenty of distance between them and the actual entrance, which surprises DreamXD, because George has never seemed to shy away from going up to the portal before.  

“DreamXD,” George begins, taking two of his hands in both of George’s own. He’s never done this before; another detail that sets this meeting apart from the others. “I need to ask you a favour.” 

Ah. He understands. George dies frequently, though usually painlessly, during his travels on the server. DreamXD attributes it to George assuming he’s asleep rather than awake and therefore not taking the appropriate precautions for situations that require it, such as large jumps or confrontations with mobs (or other people). He allows, though, that he doesn’t know everything about George, much as he’s tried to gather that information, so his assessment may well be flawed. 

“What is it you need?” he asks, splaying his free hand and preparing to summon up whatever George is in need of, within reason. “Netherite ingots? A trident?” 

George is shaking his head. “What? No. No, none of that. Look, I’ve been trying to visit Dream in the prison for months now and Sam hasn’t let me in once. But he let other people in—Tommy died in there, and Sapnap and Bad have both visited him, and…” George’s brow furrows. “Quackity has been visiting him daily for ages and he won’t tell anyone why. I’m… I’m worried. And I really don’t like being worried about Dream. It’s embarrassing.” 

DreamXD sighs, a human mannerism he’s managed to pick up over the years. “I’m not going to break him out, George,” he says, though his tone is sharper than he intends, and he softens it as he continues. “I mean, technically I can, but it’s not something I should do. It could mess with the fabric of time or causality or something, since I’m not technically a player on the server.”

George’s grip on his hands tightens. “No, it’s okay, that’s not it. I can’t get inside, and I can’t get him out, so I was wondering if… if you could go inside—secretly!—and see how he is. And why Quackity keeps visiting him.” 

That’s a lot less difficult than what DreamXD had assumed George wanted. Comically easy, even. 

He raises one of the hands not in George’s grip to rest on his cheek in what DreamXD hopes is a gesture of comfort. “Of course, George. I’ll have a look around, check in with my counterpart—I can even bring him a message if you want.” 

George’s breathing stutters, as if actually speaking to Dream is something he hadn’t seriously considered before now. His lip twists into a frown. “Tell him… just tell him I miss him.” 

“I will.” 

“And by the way, when I say secret, I mean secret,” George impresses upon him, somehow managing to be earnest and wary at the same time. “I want to trust Big Q and Awesamdude, but I can’t. Not until I know what’s going on.” 

“Of course,” DreamXD accepts.  

He picks up on a presence nearing them, but it’s a few hundred blocks away, so he doesn’t feel the need to alert George to it yet. 

George steadies himself. “Okay. Can you do it, uh now? Only we arrived just in time for Quackity’s daily visit, and I don’t want him to catch us.” 

DreamXD grins under the mask, pleased and a little proud that George had planned that far ahead, and that the imminent interruption is purposeful. “You should go home,” he suggests, not unkindly. “I’ll probably stay for the day. I like to be thorough, and I intend to take your request seriously.” 

Some tension leaves George’s shoulders, though the determined set of them remains. He nods and steps away, delicately retrieving his hands, though not before squeezing DreamXD’s as if in a final blessing. 

“Find me at the library when you’re done,” George instructs, and then leaves him there, being careful not to take any route visible from the Prime Path, where Quackity is most likely entering from. His cloak billows in the wind behind him. 

DreamXD extends his perception until he can sense two more beings around him: the Warden and the prisoner. Both are stagnant, unmoving. One is nearer to the outer edge of the looming obsidian cage, while one is far closer to its exact centre. The latter is a better bet for his target. Making sure first that Quackity has not yet seen him, DreamXD stretches and then shifts himself out of phase with the physical realm, becoming invisible and intangible at once. He unfurls all his wings, letting them flare out to their full length, and then launches himself with one swift heave towards the bulk of Pandora’s Vault. 

There is light, and then there is not. 

The warmth of the sun is replaced by clinically cool obsidian corridors, which in turn are replaced by a small, humid obsidian box heated beyond temperatures pleasant for humans by the lava chamber that encases it. DreamXD’s wings bristle as he folds them into himself and then out of this plane entirely, so that when he materialises he will be able to fit inside the box without breaking anything or drawing undue attention.

He’s forced to blink a few times to adjust to the comparative darkness despite the lava gushing just feet from him. 

The prisoner, Dream himself, is someone DreamXD’s never properly interacted with before. They’ve been aware of each other, of course—he is in some ways a part of Dream after all—but there hadn’t been any need for face-to-face discussions. As the owner of the server, Dream was the first living being DreamXD ever knew, and is the reason he ever gained shape and sentience in the first place. All of his experience and knowledge and power are roots that grew from the seed Dream planted, and though DreamXD is objectively superior to Dream in every way as he is to all humans, he can’t help but regard Dream with a healthy respect. 

Which is why it’s so incredibly jarring to see him as he is now. 

He’s sitting in a small pool of water in the corner of the prison cell, jumpsuit half unbuttoned and bunched at the waist (he assumes because of the heat; DreamXD isn’t bothered by it but he’s acutely aware of how much Dream must be), revealing a damp white vest beneath stained faintly brown with blood. He has a book in his hands, empty at first glance, and is systematically ripping each page into the smallest shreds before moving onto the next page, and then the next. The pages are bloody red at first touch, and so are parts of the water; some of his fingers have had their nails removed, and are still bleeding albeit sluggishly from the wounds left behind. 

His eyes are glossy—and when DreamXD notices this, he gives a jolt of surprise, because he hadn’t expected to see Dream without the mask that matches his own. He recognises the bags under the man’s eyes from George, when his friend had gone days without managing a good night’s sleep, and he understands this to be a bad thing. Dream’s gaze is faraway, almost unseeing, and he thinks that even if he hadn’t kept himself invisible upon entering, Dream would not have seen him anyway. His dry, cracked lips are moving as if in prayer, and when DreamXD is close enough he can just about make out the whispered words: 

“Today is going to be better. I am stronger than this. I won’t give in. Today is going to be better. I am stronger than this. I won’t give in. Today is going to be better…” 

DreamXD contemplates this, interested. It seems George was right to be worried. Dream looks like he’s the victim of the type of prank DreamXD would have considered hilarious before George corrected him and taught him better. The repeated sound grates on him after a while of observing without change, and DreamXD takes initiative and phases back into the world again, if only to spark a reaction. 

To his credit, Dream notices he has a visitor rather quickly, though his response is less promising. He drops what he’s doing completely and throws himself backwards into the corner of the pool, holding his arms up in a defensive posture. Water sloshes wastefully onto the prison floor from the sudden movement. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to clear, and when they do, they fill with recognition. 

Dream’s entire demeanor shifts. His shoulders forcibly relax, his posture becomes casual, and his expression shifts muscle by muscle until DreamXD could almost believe the man is at ease. 

“Oh, it’s you!” says Dream, voice approximating pleased surprise despite its hoarseness. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a friendly face!” 

An image comes to DreamXD then of an animatronic at a bustling festival, receiving a coin in its slot and then jerking to a falsified approximation of life. The resemblance is uncanny. 

“I come with a message from George,” he answers. Dream swallows, looking as though torn between desperately hopeful and dreading a blow. “He says he misses you.” 

Dream sags then, coming once again to sit limp on the lowered floor of the pool. “The feeling’s mutual,” he murmurs. 

A series of clicking sounds comes from behind, and DreamXD realises he’s failed to notice the proximity of two beings on the other side of the lava. 

“You should go,” Dream tells him, his wide eyes betraying his fear. “I don’t know what they’d do to you if they saw you with me.” 

DreamXD doesn’t know either, and that intrigues him. He considers Dream, who looks more terrified by the second, and considers his task for George. He could observe while invisible all day, watching whatever is about to happen to Dream, but that’s… kind of boring, and he does feel a twinge of sympathy for his counterpart’s plight. 

He had said he intended to be thorough. He came here for information, and what better way...? 

He grins beneath the mask. No being besides himself could possibly see it, but he and Dream are intrinsically linked, so though the man can’t see it, he certainly senses it. His eyes narrow. 

With a sharp hand gesture, DreamXD takes hold of Dream from across the cell and pushes him out of phase with this reality, visible only to him. The man is alarmed at first, flailing and yelling silently, but he gathers his bearings remarkably quickly and his expression turns calculating in an instant. 

DreamXD is well versed on Dream’s ability to acclimate to new circumstances. He freezes him in stasis before he can become a problem. Though, he considers the bags beneath his eyes and sends the man to sleep instead seconds later, blissfully unaware of the world around him. 

Movement from the front of the cell distracts him, and DreamXD turns to see a gap form at the top of the cell entrance. Netherite blocks have risen from the floor while he wasn’t paying attention. Hastily DreamXD studies Dream’s appearance and replicates it on himself, containing his aura and the echo of his voice until he is a perfect copy of the man whose place he has taken. At the last second before he is seen, he remembers the mask, and hesitates nigh imperceptibly before unclasping it and pushing it out of phase too, close enough to grab again at less than a moment’s notice. 

He realises he’s already failed on one level to imitate Dream correctly. It’s too late to sit down and assume Dream’s former position. What exactly is one supposed to do with oneself while stuck in an obsidian box? This isn’t something he has learned since befriending George, nor had Dream given him any clues, so he just stands there and observes the two on the other side of the gap now that the lava has fallen away. 

Sam and Quackity. He recognises both. 

Sam’s helmed face may as well be stone for all its forced neutrality. The way he’s gritting his teeth. If he tries, DreamXD can hear the slow grating of the bones. Quackity on the other hand regards him with a grin as he approaches on a moving stone brick platform, a sword gripped in one hand and a large pair of pliers in the other.

From what George had gathered from Sapnap and Bad’s visits, Sam doesn’t allow items to be brought inside the prison at any cost. It appears Quackity is above this rule. Quackity himself is different, too, to the last time he’d seen the man-duck-shapeshifter. His clothes are more business formal, his trademark beanie nowhere to be seen, as if he’s taking himself more seriously (or wants other people to). There’s now a scar running from his lip through his right eye.

Quackity leans on the netherite blocks fencing him off once he reaches the cell. Far behind, Sam flicks a lever and waits for the lava to fall back down again. 

“Hey Dream,” Quackity says the name with a sneer. DreamXD tries not to be annoyed at being addressed as such, considering he’s actually trying to impersonate him this time. “Guess what day it is?” 

DreamXD hesitates. It’s Monday, but the way Quackity asked makes him think he wouldn’t be able to tell him that, were he really Dream. “Uh…” 

Quackity doesn’t wait for a legitimate answer. “It’s our sixty-ninth anniversary!” he exclaims, cheering and brandishing the items in his hands. “Sixty-nine days, and you still haven’t given up the revive book. Starting to get a little repetitive, huh?” 

So he knows the exact number of days Quackity has visited Dream. That and his assessment of Dream’s condition is more than enough information that George will be happy with him once the day is over, and though he doesn’t show it outwardly, DreamXD is quietly pleased. He wonders if he should have reacted, though, when Quackity’s grin drops. 

“Fucking answer me, dumbass. We’re not doing this mute strike thing again.” 

He does his best to approximate Dream’s strained vocals. “Happy anniversary.” 

The grin returns right as the netherite blocks drop back into the floor, allowing Quackity to stride inside. “Wonderful. So, what have you been up to since yesterday? The clock again?” He lands on the shredded paper at the back of the cell and tuts. “I can’t believe you’re wasting precious resources that Sam has very generously given you. You could be using them to write down the location of the revive book, or recreating it from memory. Or you could just tell me.” 

“There’s nothing to tell,” DreamXD says, completely truthfully. 

“Bullshit,” Quackity answers, and thwacks him with the blunt side of the sword. He gets the impression it was meant to be a light reprimand, not causing him much actual pain, but still Quackity cocks his head to the side, contemplating. He returns both items to his inventory and rests his empty hands on his hips. “You’re different today, aren’t you? Usually you’re begging me not to hurt you before I’m halfway across the lava, but today you just watched. And now, you barely reacted to me hitting you. You’re not… getting desensitised to my work, are you? ‘Cause that would suck for both of us. I would have to get more creative at the very least, and I can imagine how you might feel about that.” 

DreamXD takes a staggered step backwards at that, aiming for ‘startled’ and hoping he’s convincing. The flash of vindictive pleasure in Quackity’s eyes tells him he was. “I’m not desensitised,” he says quickly. “I thought… I thought maybe you would go easier on me if I wasn’t as annoying.” 

He has to hide his satisfaction at his own quick thinking. It would be too easy to forget he’s not masked and ruin the whole charade. 

Quackity, meanwhile, pouts with false sympathy. He clasps his hands together below his chin in an exaggerated motion. “Aww Dweam, you wanted me to go easier on you? Well, that’s too bad!” Sword back in hand, he strikes out with it again, and this time the act is intended to hurt; would have hurt very deeply, if DreamXD had not turned off his pain receptors in anticipation. He makes an effort to wince and hiss at the damage to his bare shoulder, and belatedly remembers to let the wound bleed. “Look Dream, you know what you have to do to make me stop. Seriously, it’s been over two months. Let’s just end this. Whatever point you’re trying to prove, you’re still stuck in here. You’re nothing.” 

“I’m not going to tell you anything about the revive book.” In all honesty DreamXD hadn’t even known it was in Dream’s possession, or that it even existed in the first place. He doesn’t actually know how to revive people, though if he puts his mind to it it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out. He doesn’t have a good reason to do so, though, so he leaves it alone. (The prank on Niki hadn’t been a killing and revival, after all, merely a teleportation.) In fact, he can’t bring to mind a good reason Quackity would have either. “Why do you even want it?” he can’t help but ask. 

The only people still dead now are Ghostbur, Mexican Dream, and Schlatt—and Ghostbur is dead too recently to be the reason behind Quackity’s machinations. He hadn’t thought Quackity was close to the other two, based on what George had told him, but he could be entirely wrong. George’s knowledge isn’t infallible, as DreamXD can personally attest to, and DreamXD certainly hasn’t learned enough about human social rules to understand even if he had all the correct information. 

While he’s been thinking this through, Quackity has put a sword through Dream’s chest, and is laughing about it. 

“Oh shit, oh shit,” he giggles, fumbling around for something in his inventory with the hand not still holding the sword. “Don’t want you to die on me just yet, hang on.” He brings out a splash potion of healing, and wrenches the sword out of his body. DreamXD considers his pained cry appropriate for the situation, and isn’t called out on it. Quackity lets the injury sit for a second, so DreamXD adds a whimper for good measure, and then he splashes the potion and the wound knits itself closed. 

Quackity collects himself, breathes out to stop his own laughter, and then refocuses his attention. 

“Whoops. Where was I again? Oh yeah. You don’t get to ask me shit, you’re nothing,” Quackity spits out. “Although, while we’re on the subject of information exchange, there are some things you can tell me, and this time they’re not about the revive book. But feel free to give me that information too if you want.” 

DreamXD schools his expression into something apprehensive. There’s no telling what he’ll be able to answer, given that he’s not Dream, but he’ll probably be forced to shroud whatever truth he does know too, if it’s information Dream wouldn’t want shared. He has half a mind to wake Dream up to get his input, but figures he needs the sleep more than DreamXD needs answers. At least for now. 

Quackity takes his silence for a negative. 

“You never told me why you killed Ghostbur,” Quackity tells him, suspicious. “And nothing bad’s happened since, and Wilbur’s always hated you, so… why did you do it?” 

DreamXD knows very little about the resurrection beyond the players involved. He makes his best educated guess. “Because it would hurt Tommy,” he answers simply. 

It’s the wrong answer; either that or it’s the right answer but Quackity doesn’t like hearing it, because he bares his teeth in a snarl and attacks him. 

While he’s busy pretending to be hurt and desperate for it to stop, DreamXD privately wonders why Quackity has a sword with him in the first place. It’s not a weapon best suited for torturing intelligence out of someone. It hasn’t even been blunted, so if Quackity’s really worried about him dying before he learns about the revive book, he hasn’t taken that precaution first, and Sam hasn’t thought to correct him. 

He concludes that Quackity probably hasn’t had to torture someone before. He can’t imagine many of the people on the server right now have, though he could name a few from the server’s past and future that have done so—not its objective past and present, but the ‘history’ that had grown backwards and forwards from the origin point of Dream’s first act of creation, and continues to grow still. Regardless, if the ‘skill’ had in fact been possessed by an ancestor of the Quackity in front of him, it hasn’t passed down. 

Not that there really is anything skillful about torture. Anyone educated on the topic would understand that it’s one of the worst methods of gathering information there is, and often has ramifications for the torturer as much as the tortured. So in fact, that Quackity is torturing him at all betrays his lack of proficiency in torture and indeed information gathering, and Sam’s for letting him. 

“Have you considered a library?” he blurts out, and fails to hide his very real wince. 

Right. He’s in the middle of being attacked by an angry Quackity and feigning distress. He’d forgotten.

Quackity blinks, his eyes clearing of rage for a moment. He retrieves his sword. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“For information about the revival process. Have you tried finding an old library, or some of the ancient texts in the newer ones? Karl has a library in Kinoko Kingdom—” he doesn’t miss Quackity flinching at the mention, “and I’m pretty sure Tubbo built a historical archive a while back. You could find the answers there.” 

Quackity looks at him like he’s stupid. “Why would I? You’re right here.” 

“But I’m not telling you the answers you want.” 

“I’m more persistent than you are,” Quackity promises. “You’re fucking nothing. You’ll break and tell me eventually. So why would I try to find some old library that probably doesn’t even exist?” 

“And what about asking around for it? There are members of the server who are quite old, and might have come across them. Philza and Foolish come to mind.” 

Quackity sneers, but there’s something different about it this time, something put-on. “Can’t fucking rely on other people,” he mumbles. 

DreamXD doesn’t even blink. “You’re relying on me.” 

“That’s—that’s different,” Quackity stutters, pacing agitatedly before pausing and noticing what he’s doing. He tears back into DreamXD with a frantic energy. “Oh God, don’t—you’re manipulating me, you’re gaslighting me! Stop fucking talking, unless you wanna tell me where your book is!” 

“I don’t.” 

Quackity hefts the pliers, previously abandoned in his pack. “Then I guess we’re using these again.” 

DreamXD watches, bemused, as Quackity pushes him back against the wall and puts his sword away. He grabs his hand roughly, and instructs him to hold it in place in the air while Quackity takes hold of the pliers with both hands. 

Quackity pauses, though, upon closer inspection of DreamXD’s hand. He frowns. 

“I could have sworn that I… didn’t I already do that nail?” 

DreamXD struggles to keep a straight face as he realises he hadn’t paid close enough attention to Dream’s hands when making himself a copy. Indeed, when he tilts his head slightly, even with Dream out of phase he can see that he removed the wrong fingernails from his hands, and can only hope that Quackity chalks it up to poor memory. 

“It was just yesterday…” Quackity continues, but then shakes his head. “Well, whatever, I guess I’ve done it to you so many times I’m mixing up my memories.” He laughs, but it’s off, slightly shaken. He doesn’t entirely believe it, but there’s no other explanation forthcoming, so he shrugs it off. 

He positions the pliers appropriately, but when he pulls, DreamXD allows his hand and arm to follow the movement, so nothing actually happens to him. It’s Quackity’s fault for not having strapped him down. For someone so reluctant to rely on people, he sure is relying on Dream’s willingness to cooperate in his own torture. 

Quackity stops, exasperated. “Dream, we already went through this on your first day. Keep your hand still, or instead of ripping your nails out, I’ll break every bone in your hands and then make you fill up one of your stupid books with lines.” 

He considers calling Quackity’s bluff, going along with it just to see what happens, but there isn’t a good way to explain the sudden unbreaking of bones that will occur when he returns Dream to his rightful place without exposing himself, which George had told him not to do. So instead he approximates fearful acquiescence and buckles in for what will ultimately be a tedious experience. 

It’ll be good to flex his acting muscles on some proper screaming, he supposes. 

After this it gets a little annoying. He can’t exactly zone out, because he needs to keep up appearances, but Quackity gets boring and predictable and doesn’t give him anything else interesting to focus on apart from his own acting. Quackity’s questioning ends up sounding like a broken disc. DreamXD prides himself on at least giving a varied performance to the accompaniment.

Quackity tires after he’s finished with both the fingernails and toenails and still hasn’t gotten the answers he wants. He seems drained, perhaps put off by the sight of what he’s done. He runs a white cloth over the pliers, his movements sluggish, his attention not really on his task. 

“One of these fucking days,” Quackity says, less energetic than he had been before. He sighs. “You’re gonna have to give up that information some time.” 

“You’re going to give up first,” DreamXD replies, confident that if Dream has lasted sixty-eight days of this already, he’s unlikely to let it all be for nothing. 

When Quackity plunges the sword into his stomach, it’s clear that he’s reacting for the sake of reacting. Quackity isn’t looking to get a response from the action; he’s so uninvested that he drops the hand from his sword and looks away, messing with his hair. And then he freezes stock still and turns right back, his face slack and his eyes wide. 

His gaze is on the sword, lodged into DreamXD’s stomach, untouched. 

If he were Dream, he undoubtedly would have taken the sword and killed him by now. 

But he is DreamXD. The action hadn’t occurred to him until he’d seen it written all over Quackity’s face. Not because he isn’t capable of such violence. He could have done it without a second thought and probably found it funny. He simply hadn’t been looking for a way out of his situation, like Dream would be. He wonders what would be worse: Quackity and Sam realising he’s not Dream because of his inaction, or Quackity’s murder if he had truly acted the way Dream would have. 

George might have accidentally saved Quackity’s life by sending DreamXD in here. How interesting. 

In the meantime, Quackity has taken the sword out and is now on the other side of the cell, calling for Sam with no small amount of panic in his voice. The gravity of the situation definitely isn’t lost on him. His breaths are coming much faster than they had been at any point before, even from his previous exertion, and instead of stashing the sword straight away like DreamXD expects, he holds it in front of him with both hands in a defensive position. 

“Sam, hurry up!” he yells, not taking his eyes off of DreamXD even when the netherite blocks rise and divide them. 

He’s scared of Dream.

Even locked up, no armour, no weapons—not even fingernails. Quackity’s afraid of Dream still. A smile creeps onto DreamXD’s face, and he can’t even bring himself to wipe it off for the sake of playing pretend. 

Quackity keeps his eyes locked on him all the way across the gap and beyond, only broken by the lava falling between them and leaving DreamXD once more alone in the cell. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Dream. Seventieth time’s the charm,” he calls, voice muffled by the lava separating them. His voice is full of false bravado, and it cracks on more than one of the words, so DreamXD still feels like he got the final word in their altercation. 

It’s boring again after that. 

He checks on Dream, still asleep. Alters the man’s nails to match what’s been done to him without pain. 

It’s loud in the cell. He hadn’t really noticed during Quackity’s visit, but with the lack of sound inside, it’s difficult to ignore the lava outside. It bubbles with impossible heat, hissing and crackling incessantly, exactly like the sound of the popping candy George had introduced him to when he’d put it in his mouth. It’s not surprising that Dream can’t sleep. 

That, and he doesn’t have a bed. 

He wonders if Sam considered that at all. Or if he considered how Dream would fare without shoes; from what he gathers, Sam always wears armour inside the prison, so he wouldn’t have to feel the heat from the floor of the cell. But it’s obsidian, constantly heated by the lava encasing it, not quite but nearly blistering the skin from just standing on it. No wonder Dream had been in the pool when DreamXD first appeared—in order to keep bacteria from compromising the cell, Sam would have no choice but to constantly refill the cell with new, clean, cooler water. 

There’s also the purple liquid dripping from about half the obsidian in the cell. That liquid’s lukewarm, and annoyingly persistent in its dripping. DreamXD wonders if it was meant to be a form of water torture for Dream, but it doesn’t much matter. The man’s getting tortured daily anyway. 

As far as the rest of the cell goes, there’s a podium, a chest, a cauldron with more water in it, a glowstone light, and a clock. He knows Dream likes the clock. And he knows there are books in the chest. He takes a look through them all, but nothing’s written in them. Actually, when he searches the cell again, he can’t find a writing utensil. He supposes Dream could write in his own blood, but he figures that might be a little too morbid for the man, even far gone as he is. 

There’s no more useful information to be gathered, except perhaps the lack of food. He might be taken to a prison cafeteria for that—he’s pretty sure those exist. Or the meal will be delivered to his cell. He decides the best thing to do would be to wait. For that, or for anything else interesting to happen. 

It takes too long. So he shortens his perception of time, lets the hours fly past while he barely notices. He’s quickly soaked by the obsidian tears, but he’s more focused on catching a change, any change, to do anything about it. 

A few hours in, movement in the corner has him returning his time perception to a human’s. Something has dropped into his cell from above. A few raw potatoes. 

DreamXD frowns. Is this more human knowledge that he’s misinterpreted? He’d thought that raw potatoes were poisonous to humans in high quantities. That’s why they cook them, isn’t it? Or perhaps he misunderstood the Warden’s intentions. Perhaps Dream is meant to cook the potatoes himself. With… with the lava? 

Awkwardly, DreamXD picks one of the potatoes from the pool and brings it over to the lava wall. He debates how exactly to put it in, but ends up putting in his whole hand. 

The potato disappears instantly, burned away by the heat of the lava. DreamXD pulls back, annoyed, and extinguishes himself. 

So that wasn’t it. Hmm… maybe he does have to cook the potatoes, but the lava isn’t how. The obsidian stone is pretty hot. DreamXD takes the rest of the potatoes and props them up by the wall, one by one, at the entrance to the cell. Near enough to the lava that hopefully they cook, but not so close that they’ll burn away. It’s not like he intends to eat, but at least Dream will have food when he wakes up. 

Other than that, there’s little else to do apart from wait for another meal (George has told him that humans eat three meals a day where he comes from, though that’s not true for all cultures). Dream could use more time asleep, so instead of waking him for a conversational partner, he manipulates his perception of time again and lets the hours tick by. 

Only two more pass before the lava’s falling again, and DreamXD jumps, surprised. He’d almost given up on believing something interesting was going to happen. 

It is Sam, the Warden, on the other side of the gap. Alone. This, DreamXD isn’t surprised by. Quackity didn’t sound like he intended to come back today, and George is pretty confident that Quackity’s the only person admitted inside. Sam’s green face is twisted into a deep frown. He pulls a lever. DreamXD makes an abortive movement towards the front of the cell, but the damage is already done: netherite blocks have risen from the floor again, disrupting the potatoes lined up and sending more than one falling into the lava. He grimaces at the waste. Sam doesn’t seem to notice. 

The Warden uses a handheld device to send himself across the gap, but he doesn’t let the lava fall, nor does he retract the netherite blocks. He just stares. 

And then, “What have you been doing all day.” 

DreamXD squints. “Being tortured.” Is this a trick question? 

“No, after that,” Sam waves a dismissive hand. 

“I’ve been… standing in this cell.” He points to the potatoes. “Cooking.” 

Sam’s frown deepens. “That’s it? Standing?” 

“What… do you expect me to be doing?” he asks. 

Sam hesitates, shifting in place. “I can’t exactly see inside, but usually, I dunno. I have pretty good hearing, so even with the lava in the way, I can usually hear you from the other side. Splashing in the water, playing with the clock… moving around. Particularly when you start shouting at me. But I haven’t heard much of anything today.” 

DreamXD offers him a shrug. Holds out his hands. “I was tearing up paper earlier, but Quackity kind of ruined any desire I had to do that again.”

Sam refuses to look at his hands. “He wouldn’t have to do that if you just gave him what he wants from you.” 

“He doesn’t have to do it as it is. He just chooses to. And you choose to let him.” 

Sam shakes his head, in denial or something else DreamXD can’t tell. “Don’t take the high road with me. What you did… even since being in prison, you killed Tommy, killed Ghostbur! You deserve to be locked up here.” 

“Sure,” DreamXD says, dispassionate. “But you’re the one who runs a torture dungeon. Maybe you should be on the other side of those blocks too.” 

Sam throws his arms up in the air. “Never mind. I was concerned about you for a minute, but this is pointless.” 

“Why? Because I’m telling you something you don’t want to hear?” 

“Because all you do is lie and hurt people.” 

DreamXD nods, condescending. “So Quackity isn’t in the prison because though he may lie and hurt people, he has a day job outside of that. I see.” 

Sam scoffs. “No, Quackity’s not in the prison because he’s a good person.” 

“A good person who tortures people?” 

“Who tortures you. It’s not the same.” 

“If you say so,” DreamXD intones. This isn’t interesting to him anymore. He’s not exactly desperate to change Sam’s mind, since it doesn’t really benefit him, but he finds the creeper-hybrid’s hypocrisy irritating and cyclical. Quackity, at least, forced him to stretch his acting muscles. 

Sam appears to be done with the conversation too, as he’s sending himself back across the gap. “You deserve this,” he reiterates, for whose benefit DreamXD can’t say. 

More meals do not come. The crying obsidian drips, relentless. The clock ticks. The water from the pool drains, then immediately refills. The lava pops and hisses and crackles without pause. DreamXD is still, waiting. 

It is nearing dawn the next day when he decides he’s gathered all useful information possible, and allows Dream himself to wake, once again rooted firmly in this reality. He can’t say the experience has been a truly pleasant one, but it will satisfy George’s curiosity more than enough, and that’s all he came for. 

Dream comes to wakefulness slowly at first. He looks better now, for the lessening of bags under his eyes, but still not great. Nowhere near healthy. “... George?” he murmurs, then winces at the strain in his voice. It’s then that he remembers where he is. 

He flails in the air for a second; DreamXD had kept him floating while he woke, but now he lowers the man to the ground. All at once Dream looks both regretful and grateful to be touching solid ground. DreamXD is reminded that even though he turned his own pain receptors off, Dream’s are very much still functioning. Dream checks the clock. Then, instead of the pool, he retreats to the cauldron.

“Did you refill the water?” he asks, then at DreamXD’s silence, “No. Of course not, I don’t know why I…” he gives up on words, hefting the cauldron up in his arms and heaving it over to the entrance. His entire body trembles with the strain. 

It looks painful. “Do you want me to—” 

“No,” Dream cuts him off. Huffs a bad impression of a laugh. “I barely get enough ‘exercise’ as it is.” 

He stops when he reaches the lava, setting the cauldron down to catch his breath. Water sloshes over the lip when it drops. 

“Course, I wouldn’t have to do this if…” Dream sets his jaw, catches DreamXD’s eye. “If you broke me out.” 

DreamXD grimaces. “No.” 

Anger flashes across Dream’s features, and he straightens, strain forgotten. For a second DreamXD thinks Dream’s about to shout at him, maybe hurt him. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s tempered by understanding and resignation. Dream returns to his task.

With a single, pathetic movement, Dream flings the water into the lava. He stumbles backwards at the resulting explosive reaction, but he doesn’t seem surprised by it. For a moment, there’s stone floating in the lava wall, but it’s soon washed away. Dream takes the cauldron back to the pool and fills it up to the same height as before, and returns it to its spot. 

DreamXD doesn’t understand the point of the ritual, but he imagines any form of control over his environment is one that Dream will grasp at. “What’s it for?” he asks anyway, because he came here for information, and he may as well gather any detail he can. 

Dream doesn’t answer immediately, first bracing himself against the cauldron and recovering from the exertion. “Failing to brush my teeth,” he answers without looking. “Drinking. Washing my face, sometimes. I use the pool for washing everything else. It’s nice to have two, though.” 

DreamXD offers a noncommittal hum in response. It’s not as if he can relate. It’s more information he can take to George, though, if he wants it. 

When his breathing has returned to normal, Dream stands and stretches. Finally, he turns to face him, looking him up and down and no doubt analysing every detail. His wandering eyes stop at DreamXD’s hands, but after a moment continue until making eye contact. DreamXD is surprised that Dream bothers, considering how used to the mask Dream must be. It must be something learned or relearned in prison. 

“So,” Dream says. “You were me for a day.” 

“I was. It was… enlightening?” 

“Why?” 

“George wanted to know what was happening to you here. Becoming you was more interesting than merely watching.” 

Dream nods. His brow furrows. He looks conflicted. “George won’t like hearing what you have to say,” he says. “Unless I’ve seriously misjudged his opinion of me since I’ve been locked up.” 

DreamXD can say, confidently, “You haven’t.” 

Dream’s next breath is shuddered out. “When you tell him, don’t… don’t let him do anything stupid. Get himself hurt.” 

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he swears, a bit of his true voice bleeding through as he does. Dream studies him for a moment, and whatever he sees on his face makes him relax. 

On that note, DreamXD summons his mask again, and undoes his imitation of Dream. His wings can’t stretch properly here, but even unfolding them feels better than before. The feeling of the cloak over him, of the hood over his head and the mask in front of his face, is comforting. 

Dream stares longingly at the mask, then retreats to his pool. 

The pool which the potatoes had dropped into, the potatoes which… “Oh,” DreamXD says, drawing a raised eyebrow. “There was food. I tried to cook it, but Sam...” he gestures to where two raw potatoes remain, on the floor by the lava. 

Dream’s face shutters. His responding, “That’s okay, don’t worry about it,” is mechanical. 

But DreamXD reconsiders. He can’t break Dream out of prison, nor can he justify arming him with weapons and armour. But he can fix a problem that he himself caused. 

“Here,” he says, and retrieves a stack of steak and cooked salmon from his inventory, tossing them over to the side of Dream’s pool. 

He’s never actually seen a person’s jaw drop before. He’d thought that was reserved for funny cartoons. But it’s what Dream’s does. The man reaches out tentatively, as if afraid his hand will go right through the food like an illusion. But then the spell is broken and Dream is ripping into the meat with manic desperation, and no regard to his audience. 

Strange how one moment Dream can be having a noble conversation about protecting a friend, and the next he’s reduced to a ravenous animal. Fascinating in a perverse sort of way. 

Just when DreamXD is convinced Dream’s forgotten he’s there, the man sets aside his food. “Thank you,” he rasps, then clears his throat. “For the food, and also… I get that it wasn’t your intention, but thanks for giving me a break from the torture for a day. And for the sleep.”

DreamXD smiles. “You’re welcome,” he says, and is surprised to find he means it. He casts around for something else productive to say. On an average day, he and Dream might have a lot to talk about, but Dream-in-prison is both tired and traumatised, and used to being alone. He settles on something Dream might find useful. “Quackity’s still scared of you. By the way.” 

A grin creeps onto Dream’s face, in what he’s sure is a perfect echo of DreamXD’s earlier smile. “I know,” he answers, and for a moment looks much more alive. 

There’s not much else to say, which means it’s time to leave. 

“Do you have a message? To reply to George?” 

Dream blinks. Understanding dawns the moment he remembers their interaction before he had gone to sleep. Either he’s extremely poor at hiding his facial expressions, having been so used to the mask, or he’s so relaxed around DreamXD that he isn’t bothering. He can’t say he has any desire to know Dream well enough to tell the difference, but if Dream ever gets out of prison, he’ll inevitably spend enough time with George that DreamXD will learn the answer then. He watches Dream think, and is gratified to see that though his movements may be slow and painful, his mind still appears to be in working order, if his thoughtful contemplation is anything to go by. 

Finally, Dream decides. “Tell him I miss him too, and that… one day, we’ll be a family again. No matter what it takes. I haven’t given up.” 

DreamXD nods confirmation, then readies his wings. There’s no way to say goodbye in a manner that doesn’t sound dismissive or condescending, so he elects to forgo it altogether. Before he can leave, however, Dream speaks again. 

“One more thing,” he says. “If you happen to talk to Ranboo, give him a smile, will you?” 

DreamXD highly doubts that he will speak to the half-enderman anytime soon, since he’s not particularly close with George nor a resident of Kinoko Kingdom, but he doesn’t feel the need to say so. Instead he gives a final nod, shifts out of phase, and launches himself back out of the prison. 

The cold is so, so welcome. 

It’s a huge relief to be out. It’s much more noticeable now he’s up in the vast, endless sky, but being in that tiny prison cell… it was oppressive at best. Here he can finally stretch and flex his wings properly. He does a few laps above the prison just to celebrate it. 

There’s a pleasant smell to the air, a freshness. It’s rained since he’s been inside, and everything feels so much more clean for it. The coolness of the water particles in the air, in particular, is a blessing DreamXD enjoys. He relishes the sensation of wind whipping at his cloak, and through the fingers of his many hidden hands. 

He chirps hello to a passing crow, then sets off towards Kinoko Kingdom. 

For the most part, the journey is a pleasant one. He savours the rapid movement after a day spent still, and it’s always fun to observe the differences in the landscape below him wrought by human hands. A few tendrils of red have grown back since the Red Banquet, an event George had told him about in detail and that had left him hungry for vengeance. DreamXD feels little remorse in stopping to burn a few of them back with soul fire, blemishes upon the land that they are. He doesn’t stop for long, though. He has a friend to meet. 

The sun is just rising above the horizon as he reaches Kinoko Kingdom, and he watches it as he lands on the red mushroom roof of Karl’s library. It paints the world in yellows, oranges, pinks… he’d had light in the cell from lava and glowstone, but it’s not half as pleasant as this. 

It’s not even that he struggled in the cell, or that he was particularly uncomfortable. He wasn’t. It’s that he’s about to face George, knowing how much his friend misses Dream, and knowing how much Dream must miss absolutely everything about the rest of the server. Even just existing in the cold, bright, wet morning. He doesn’t have a lot of empathy for people—might not have any empathy at all, actually. But realising all this… it makes him feel for Dream, on George’s behalf if not his own. 

Dream doesn’t get to see the sun rise. Hasn’t for over three months. Might not get to see it ever again. The finality of it makes him sad. He’s always been free to do whatever he likes as long as it doesn’t significantly alter the life choices of everyone around him. Usually it means keeping to himself, but always it means he has never been confined nor barred from any sense or person. He thinks if he was in Dream’s place for real, he might go mad. He’s a little bit surprised that Dream hasn’t. 

But he’s not here to pass judgement, he’s here to report. He watches the sun crest the skyline before allowing himself to drop through the solid library roof, landing on the polished wood slats of the top floor. George is waiting for him as promised, sitting in an armchair at a table with a book in hand, though it’s discarded immediately when he’s observed. 

“DreamXD, oh my God!” George moves to sit up, halting to rub his eyes. His usual glasses have long since been abandoned on the table. DreamXD flaps his wings once and lands to perch on the back of a vacant armchair at the same table. Up close, he can see bags under George’s eyes that are too deep to have been from just the one night. His glasses must have hidden them when they spoke last, and DreamXD notes with dismay that he should have told George to go home and sleep. 

“Have you really stayed up all night?” 

“I tried to go to bed,” George defends himself. “But I just kept thinking what if you got back while I was sleeping, and then I didn’t see you for— you know how you get with time.” 

DreamXD allows that. “I’m back now, and you’re awake,” he says. 

“You are. How’s Dream?” 

How to answer that in a way that won’t upset him? “Be more specific,” he suggests. 

George picks up the book again, fanning the pages between his fingers. “Well, how did he react when you gave him my message?” 

“He was… happy. Relieved, I think, to hear you still care.” 

“Of course I… oh. I guess I can see why he might be worried, with Sapnap and Punz turning against him in the end. Still.” The paper crackles in George’s hands. 

DreamXD’s voice is soft. “I think maybe he knew you still cared about him, but appreciated the reminder nonetheless. He told me to say he misses you too.” 

A small, private smile. Tinged with sadness. And then it’s gone. “Okay. Did you find out what Quackity’s visits are for?” 

“At first I thought it was a prank, like the ones I used to play. But it’s not. Quackity just wants information about the revive book.” 

“A prank,” George says slowly. He sets the book back down. “What exactly is Quackity doing to him.” It’s not phrased as a question. 

“He stabbed me a few times. Removed most of my fingernails.” 

“Wait— he stabbed you?” George’s hands flutter in front of him, as if trying to assess any damage but not wanting to touch. 

“Oh, yeah.” He shrugs off the concern. “I took Dream’s place for the day, just to see. They didn’t notice anything was wrong, don’t worry.” 

“Quackity… Big Q… he stabbed you. Thinking you were Dream.” 

“He kept asking me about the revive book, but obviously I didn’t tell him anything. I turned my pain receptors off so I didn’t feel anything. Not that it would have worked if I had, nor is it working on Dream; did you know that most torture is completely ineffective for learning true—” 

“He tortured you,” George says in the same tone as before, horrified and surprised and not a little bit angry. His eyes glisten, and DreamXD swallows. 

“Yes but it’s not working. Even after seventy days, so they’re probably going to give up—” 

“Seventy days!” George exclaims, bursting from his seat to pace furiously around the library. “God, I was — yes, I was worried, but I didn’t actually think — ” he cuts himself off, groans, and flings himself back down into the armchair, which squeaks loudly in protest. 

DreamXD stays silent. The things he means to sound comforting often end up threatening, or at least making George uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want to risk that further right now. 

“What do I do?” George continues, voice quiet. The book has found its way back into his hands. “Maybe if I tell Sam…” 

“Sam knows. Says it has to happen. Says Dream deserves it.” He almost feels guilty putting that lost expression on George’s features, but he would be doing his friend no favours by hiding things from him. 

“I can’t just let him be tortured. But if that’s true then Sam’s not just gonna let him out. And Sapnap said that if Dream ever got out, he’d kill him…” George groans again, frustrated. “I hate being worried about Dream. It’s not how things are supposed to be. I’m the one who doesn’t care, you know, the one who just barely tolerates him.” The book’s spine creaks as George contorts it in his hands, staring at it yet not seeing it. “But… but I’m not, not really. I can’t… I say I hate Dream, but I’ve always followed him to the end of the world and back. We’ve had our arguments, yeah, but he’s always been… I didn’t have to worry. Because he was always there. And now he isn’t, and he’s hurting, and if our positions were reversed he definitely would have found a way to break me out by now!” 

George curls into himself after his outburst, perhaps feeling too keenly everything he’s just let himself say. He’s not usually one to talk about this sort of thing. His eyes flicker to meet DreamXD’s and then back down again. 

In a much quieter voice, he says, “We started this server together. Both of us.” 

DreamXD realises he’s right. From the very beginning it was Dream and George. If Dream was the first, then George must be the second being DreamXD ever saw. He wonders if that’s partly why he’s so enamoured with him now. But it’s a question for when George isn’t in such a state. 

“What do you want to do? If anything?” He promised Dream that he wouldn’t let George hurt himself. So either he stops George from doing anything at all, or he remains with him every step of the way to prevent it in person. He knows which one’s more likely. As long as the decision isn’t DreamXD’s, his intervention shouldn’t affect anything catastrophically. 

“I need to talk to Sapnap. But… without giving too much away,” George says. He’s good at compartmentalising. Now he’s let the emotions out a little, it’s easy for him to be cold and calculating about his next steps. He can see why someone like Dream would appreciate having him at his side. Why someone like himself would. 

“And if Sapnap agrees with you? Or if he doesn’t?” 

George breathes out, tiredness gone from him altogether. He swipes up the book, pushing it back on the shelf with such disinterest that DreamXD is sure it’s nowhere near its proper place. He takes a stack of paper and a couple of pencils from a nearby chest and brings them back, offering a pencil to him and piling the paper neatly in the centre of the table apart from one, which he drags forward and begins to scribble on.

The Prison Problem, he writes. 

“If Sapnap agrees with us… or if he doesn’t…” George glances up at him, a fierceness he deeply admires written all over his friend’s visage. “Whatever the case, we’ve got a lot of planning ahead of us.” 

DreamXD takes a piece of paper too, though he doesn’t yet know what to write. What he does know is, the server hasn’t yet seen the extent of what George is capable of when truly pressed. He knows it’s almost certainly about to.

And he knows that whatever happens, DreamXD will be there to protect him. Because he promised. And because that’s what friends are for.