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Chapter Text

Tommy couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let Dream raise an axe to his best friend. Tommy doesn’t even have the Axe of Peace as he charges him, unrelenting. Dream doesn’t flinch. He backhands Tommy hard enough to send him tumbling to the floor with a bloody lip. Tommy gets back up.

It was like Dream could see him iron out his conviction.

Dream’s tone is so cold, so level and unfeeling, without compassion of course, but there’s no malice either. Somehow that hurts worse. “Do I need to knock you out so I can get this done? You really want Tubbo to die alone because you wanted to pretend you even have a chance? If you take another step Tubbo is going to die alone and I will make it hurt.”

Tubbo is shaking, but he fights for calm. He doesn’t want to die afraid. He looks as if he wants to say something, but Tommy doesn’t give him the chance.

Maybe, if Tommy had had the time to regret that, he would have. It would have occurred to him to give Tubbo a choice in his death, to hear what Tubbo had to say, if Tubbo maybe wanted his last words to be telling Tommy that he loved him. Tommy would never know.

Tommy did not pause or hesitate, because if Tubbo was dying, he was going to die with him.

“You don’t have the fucking right, Dream. You don’t get to kill him, okay? Not without going through me,” Tommy lunges forward, trying to put himself between Tubbo and Dream, shoving the cruel god away, trying to bash against him with weak, unarmed fists like he has any chance of making a difference. Dream shoves him back to the ground once more easily, he doesn’t flinch, instead he sighs, a hand sliding against the flat of the blade of the axe. He seems unbothered that Tubbo is no longer in his hold.

Tommy is back on his feet, trying to get Tubbo to back away towards the portal, facing Dream the whole time. Dream, expression unreadable behind that cold mask, seems unswayed. If he weren’t wearing his mask, Tommy would be all the more horrified to find their captor looked amused. It was eerie enough that Dream was so slow to stop him.

“You know what, Tommy, fine,” Dream laughs, shaking his head as if scolding them. “I’m sorry, Tubbo. But because of your dear friend’s decision, this won’t be easy for you,” Dream takes one step forward towards the two boys, still backing towards the portal.

“Tubbo, run– Tubbo, just run, I’ll hold him off!” Tommy shoves him away, panic only rising. He has no idea what chance he has to stop a man like this. Dream is in no rush, switching his axe to his offhand and getting out a loaded crossbow with a cruel sort of ease.

“Tubbo, I’d stop right there. Now, as I said, I can’t promise this won’t hurt anymore, but you decide how much,” Dream tilts his head, crossbow raised.

“Tubbo, please, man, I am not letting you die, just fucking run– okay? I’ll be right there–” Tommy leaves Tubbo, standing frozen in the empty hall, and throws himself against Dream, again attempting to grapple the crossbow from Dream’s grip, arms weak, bloody, and trembling. He still refuses to quit, holding on for dear life, thinking if he can keep the crossbow off Tubbo for just a minute longer, he can die happy. Dream takes the blunt of his axe, irritation finally showing through that brutal exterior, he snaps, hitting Tommy over the head.

Tommy crumples to the ground like a ragdoll.

Tubbo’s heart is beating in his throat as he stares, maybe halfway to the portal, but no longer moving. Dream just looks at him, in no rush to pursue him, like he knows as Tubbo knows, there’s no way to run from this. Tubbo isn’t leaving without Tommy. Why hadn’t Tommy just stopped fighting? Why hadn’t he given him a chance at peace? Tubbo is too tired to waste his anger on his only friend in this waiting grave. Before Tubbo can even consider at least fighting, Dream raises his crossbow.

Tubbo cries out, his left leg collapsing under him with a bolt sticking through his knee.

“P-Please, I w-wasn’t– I wasn’t running, Dream, please–” Tubbo curls in on himself, hands shaking as he clutches the bleeding wound, pain so blinding he can feel nothing else in his leg. Tubbo had had a chance to run. Not anymore.

“Oh, I know, Tubbo. You’re not going anywhere,” Dream drags his unconscious friend by the hair, blood staining blond locks, and chains his right hand to the bars of an empty cage labelled and waiting for Enderchest.

“Don’t hurt him!” Tubbo shouts after him. He makes an attempt to stand, desperation his only strength left, but his leg gives out beneath him with another haggard scream, he bites down on his knuckles to stifle rising sobs. He just wanted to be brave.

“Haven’t you been paying attention? You should be more worried about yourself,” Dream turns away from Tommy and makes his way back to Tubbo’s collapsed form, axe swinging lazily at his side.

Only now, utterly alone, is Tubbo truly afraid.

Tommy’s mouth tastes of iron and his head is pounding. He struggles to focus on the dim glow of redstone lamps lining the floor. For a moment he’s overtaken by bleary confusion. He’s forgotten where he is upon waking before, but that normally had to do with these long stretches of sleeping in different patches of wilderness, in hiding, exiled, roughing it in a country barely formed. Now reality sinks back in. Oh yeah. You’re still in hell. He sits up before immediately collapsing back against the wall. Initially thinking it was just his head spinning, he tries again. Everything feels blurry and his right ear is muffled and ringing, it stings and he raises a hand to touch the blood there, only to be stopped by a chain around his wrist. Ah. That’s why he can’t stand up.

What shocks him into clarity is a scream, hoarse and haggard, echoing around him. Tommy feels a rush of cold terror, like he’d fallen off some cliffside unknown. Tommy struggles to stand, half hunched over from his bonds, he looks around desperately, but that only makes the pounding in his head worse, fuck, he’s going to be sick. He knows he’s swaying unsteadily, he tries to focus on Dream across the room, standing over someone.

Even in the dark, Tommy can see the blood from here.

“No! Tubbo!” Tommy pulls against the chain on his wrist, ignoring the pain it causes him, it’s nothing next to the tightness in his chest because Tubbo isn’t moving. “Dream, you bastard– I’ll kill you! Get away from him! Get the fuck away from him!”

Dream pauses only for a moment, turning back to see Tommy conscious and desperate. There’s blood on his mask, not much, but it stands out starkly against the white and chills Tommy to his core. Dream doesn’t bother with words, his reply is a sharp kick against the figure at his feet, mocking his terror. Tubbo barely whimpers, too weak to try and curl into a ball or protect his head or do anything to save himself.

“Please! Fuck– Please, Dream, you can’t do this! Hurt me! Just hurt me instead!” Tommy’s anger deteriorates into sobs, desperate gasps for air as he pleads for mercy for his best friend. Dream swings the axe at his side, it no longer shines as brightly, blade marred by blood. Tommy lets out a choked cry as Dream drags it across Tubbo’s arm and Tubbo finally screams. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead but he’s hurt and it’s your fault your fault your fault your fault–

Tommy just needs to fucking think, he needs to do something. He yanks against the chain on his wrist, not caring as it digs in and pinches more than enough to bruise. His head still pounds as he stares down at the chain, too thick to break. It’s not the only thing he could break. “Oh, fuck this is gonna hurt,” he whines more to himself than anything as he turns around, firmly plants his feet against the wall, and kicks off. Dream doesn’t hear Tommy’s scream mixing with Tubbo’s.

Tommy is trembling, his vision spotted with white before clearing. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stand anymore, the pain so sharp and piercing not only in his arm but his head throbs alongside it. He needs to get up. He makes the mistake of looking down at his mangled wrist, his thumb not where it’s supposed to be.

You’ve just got to get up, Tommy. Just fucking get up, come on, your legs aren’t broken, just fucking move–

Another scream across the room gets him moving, stumbling to his feet on unsteady legs, his broken wrist cradled to his chest. The vault seems to extend, already he felt dwarfed by the blackstone reaching up into the dark, but the distance between him and Tubbo feels impossible to cross. Dream hasn’t stopped, and Tommy won’t stop either.

Tommy doesn’t quite black out, all he knows is he blinks and suddenly he’s colliding with Dream, his head throbbing, the wind knocked out of him, but Dream stumbles, the axe dragging against stone instead of Tubbo’s already bloodied skin.

“Tommy?!” Dream whirls around, startled to find a bloody teenager no longer chained up and instead attempting to bodycheck him. “You never know when to quit, do you?!” Dream swings the blunt of the axe in his direction, Tommy takes the hit even as it sends him reeling to the floor, the impact sending waves of pain through his already battered body, he cries out as it jostled his broken wrist.

Tommy gets back up.

“Fine– Fine, I’m gonna finish this–” Dream turns away from him, axe raised over his head, intent to come down on Tubbo in a fatal blow. It would be easy. The axe did enough damage when used lightly, and Tubbo was oh so breakable. He swings.

“W-What?” Dream is momentarily stunned, the axe falls from his hands, but it doesn’t hit the ground, it stays there, sticking out from an unintended target. “No– No, this wasn’t– This wasn’t–” Dream takes a step back. “Damnit, Tommy! Why do you always have to ruin everything?!” He gives his old enemy a sharp kick, but he doesn’t respond.

“Toms…” Tubbo can see his best friend beside him, crushing his already bloodied and broken arm beneath his weight. Tubbo isn’t quite conscious yet, but he knows that weight, that blond hair as well as he knows himself. “You gotta get up, you’ve got to run…”

Tubbo is in so much pain, but what fills him with dread is none of it is new. Dream has stopped. Tubbo sees where his axe has landed instead. He doesn’t move, he can only stare.

“I’m sorry, Dream–” A vaguely familiar voice comes from behind him, from the portal. “W-What? What the fuck–” Punz stammers, cut off by someone screaming.

Tubbo cannot see the row of people emerging from the portal, he doesn’t see the horror in their eyes as they see the blood, as they see what looks like two dead boys on the ground. He hears the chaos of their shouting, but he doesn’t move. He can only stare at the axe sticking out of his best friend.

Tubbo chokes on a scream as Dream rips the axe out. Tubbo can taste blood and now he can’t know for sure if it’s all his.

“You ruined it!” Dream ignores their new company and instead swings the axe back down towards Tubbo, his rage is going to kill him. Tubbo should’ve known it would only end this way, but staring at Tommy directly beside him, he doesn’t try to get away.

The axe never lands, not on him anyway, the whistle of an arrow moving through the air and Dream staggers back, a crossbow bolt through his arm, the axe tumbling uselessly to the floor.

“Dream– Get away from them!” Sapnap’s voice joins the fray, just as horrified and unsteady as Punz.

Tubbo doesn’t care about the buzzing of voices around him. Tubbo can hear the blood pounding in his ears and everything just hurts. His throat feels raw, but he’s not crying anymore. His left arm, the one Tommy is laying on top of, that’s the only part of him that doesn’t hurt anymore, but he can’t feel it at all. There’s shouting just past him, Dream cornered, and a wall of figures between them.

Tubbo flinches more on instinct than anything when someone kneels behind him.

“Oh my god– He’s still alive!” Eret’s shouting only makes Tubbo want to curl in on himself, to hold onto Tommy and shut his eyes until the world stops spinning. “Someone get me a health pot, quickly!” Eret is so gentle when they try and roll him onto his back, pulling him away from Tommy.

Tubbo is barely cognizant. Another familiar face, Quackity, is at his side in an instant with a health potion in hand, he blearily shoves him away, his words almost slurring “no… gotta… help Tommy… I’m okay, but you gotta help Tommy. He’s bleeding… why aren’t you goin’ to help him..?” Quackity looks so tired. He doesn’t go to help Tommy. Tubbo grows only more distraught, a dawning realization smothered in denial, “let go of me! Help Tommy! You gotta save him! Tommy! Tommy, look at me! Help him! We have to fucking save him! Please!” He won’t stop screaming, Eret has to hold him down in order to heal him, even as he fights tooth and nail to get out of their gentle hold on his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Eret murmurs so soothingly, almost hugging him even as he claws at them, kicking Quackity away. “It’ll only hurt for a moment, okay? I’m so sorry, I’m here, just hold on, it’ll only hurt for a moment-“

Tubbo will never know the full, brutal extent of his wounds, he was in and out of consciousness for some of them, but Eret and Quackity saw, stomachs turned at the sight of so many open wounds on a kid’s body. Tubbo doesn’t know if that desperate, keening noise that escapes is a scream as his skin burns and the health potion does its work or if it’s a sob because no one is helping Tommy.

“I’m so sorry, Tubbo, please–” Eret staggers back when Tubbo punches them in the jaw, finally free, his leg still unhealed with a bolt sticking through it, but he’s dragging himself back towards Tommy. Puffy and Ponk are standing over him. Neither of them are trying to heal him.

“Big Q, you’ve got to get him away from here,” Ponk steps between Tubbo and Tommy.

“Don’t– Don’t fucking touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!” Tubbo screams like Quackity hurts him when he tries to help him to his feet. “Tommy! Tommy, please!”

“Tubbo, he’s– He’s not–” Quackity is struggling to hold him back, bloody and broken and Tubbo is fighting to get to Tommy like a wild animal. Quackity can’t get the words out.

“Let him go,” Niki is the one who speaks up, so calm in her horror, so much steadier than those around her. She knows this part too well. “He needs to do this.”

“He– He can’t walk, Niki, he needs–” Quackity struggles to speak while holding him back. “He needs help.” He spoke like Tubbo wasn’t even there, even as he fought to get Quackity off of him. “Ow! Fuck– Goddamnit–” Tubbo elbowed him in the face, hard enough that Quackity can’t hold him anymore.

“Please, Tubbo, let us help you, you’re still hurt– oh my god, you’re still really hurt,” Puffy offers him a hand which he ignores.

“G-Gotta get a health pot, someone, please,” Tubbo grabs onto Tommy’s shirt, the fabric more red than white now. “H-He needs– He needs help– Why won’t you help him?! Just fucking help him! Somebody!” Tubbo is still screaming, but this miserable company can only stare at him, pity so brutally apparent. They stay with him. They act as a shield between him and the events behind them, even as they don’t know how to console him. How to tell him a health potion won’t work.

Dream isn’t dead yet.

The others, they do their best to ignore Tubbo, his distraught cries echoing and tearing into them, they try and redirect the nausea and horror it causes into the man cornered before them.

“Step away from the axe, Dream,” Punz has lost some of his certainty. The boy who had hired him to save him was dead on the ground with a hole in his chest behind him.

“Punz, whatever you think you’re doing, know that–” Dream began, voice slow and level. Punz knew his former employer well enough to know there was rage behind those eyes.

“Know what, Dream?” Jack Manifold snaps. The same man who had meticulously planned Tommy’s death is furious. “That you’re a pathetic coward who tortures kids for kicks? You’re dead.” He looks for someone to take the lead. He realizes with an eerie confusion that he’s looking for Tommy.

Dream takes a step forward, hands raised in a mockery of passivity. HBomb, the once truly passive, the man who had rejected civilization in exchange for peace, he’s here and not to be merciful. He’s the first to act, shoving Dream back against the wall hard enough that the bloodied god hits the ground. “Don’t move,” he snarls, a hand going to the sword at his side.

“Hang on, HBomb. I won’t stop you, but not yet. We need to…” Sam trails off, glancing over his shoulder, weighted with dread.

“Someone needs to get Tubbo out of here,” Bad winces as the hysterics continue behind them. Puffy is trying, gently, carefully, to get him to let go of Tommy’s shirt.

Tubbo can only focus on his friend in front of him, holding onto him, ignoring the pain it causes. The shock must have worn off, because his arm is in agony. It must be broken, just as the crossbow bolt shattered bone when it pierced his knee. His whole body is a wreck of pain, but he could bear it far better if Tommy would just say something.

His eyes are open.

Tubbo finally sees his face and Tommy’s eyes are so blue. Tubbo had seen him after exile, back from the dead and standing beside an old enemy, and even then he had been washed out and grey and cold. Now Tubbo can see his eyes and they shine. Blue like the sky, blue like the ocean on a good day, so blue and so awfully empty.

He had just gotten him back.

He had just gotten him back.

“You’re not gonna kill me,” Dream sounds so sure. He talks over Tubbo’s sobs like it’s nothing more than irritating background noise. “Come on,” Dream looks to all of them with such malevolent arrogance. They’re all nothing but chess pieces to him. “As if any of you even could.”

“Get up,” Sapnap speaks up, his voice so cold, eerily so. They’ve never seen the man so full of fire turn to ice. “Get up, Dream. Pick up your axe. Think we won’t– So why don’t you prove it?”

Dream actually laughs, a dry wheeze that is cruelly familiar to Sapnap. “Oh, like you’re gonna kill me, Sap. You’re one of my best friends. You’d never hurt me.” His tone turns gentle, almost loving.

Sapnap’s hands are shaking, but he doesn’t hesitate as he steps forward.

“Sap,” Dream finally hesitates, there’s finally an ounce of fear in that snide voice. “You wouldn’t hurt me. You’re my best friend, you wouldn’t–” Dream starts to stagger to his feet because Sapnap isn’t stopping, sword raised. “Please–”

A moment of bloodshed, and Dream vanishes. Two lives remaining and no corpse left behind. There’s an eerie silence.

“You… You shouldn’t have done that, Sapnap,” Sam sighs, staring at the scattered belongings, the only sign that their adversary had been within reach.

Sapnap is still trembling, but it’s less rage now, the blood on his sword the only sign of what he had just done to someone he’s so afraid he still loves. “I know.”. He turns to look at Bad and Ant. “He’s not gone, not if we go after him right now. He’s not getting away from this,” Sapnap stares over Ant’s shoulder to where Tubbo still clings to Tommy’s body, fighting to breathe, now staring at the spot where Dream had been before. “We’re gonna get him back. Alive.”

Tubbo manages a nod, he’s no longer in hysterics, sobs still remained just as he clung to Tommy’s shirt, even as he’s covered in blood. He’s still in agony. Alive.

“Come on, man. You don’t need to stay here,” Quackity hesitates, wanting to help Tubbo to his feet, to get him away from the corpse at his feet, but he doesn’t know how. “Fuck, Tubbo. You… I don’t think you’re gonna be able to walk.”

“C-Can’t leave him,” Tubbo stammers out hoarsely. “Can’t leave him down here, I-I said I–” His voice breaks, his throat already raw and rendered worse, he thought he would’ve run out of tears by now. “I said I w-wouldn’t leave him…” Tubbo is well versed in hiding his emotions, in secrecy and caution, but nothing can stop him from tearing himself apart, wailing all of his grief into his best friend’s bloody chest.

“Tubbo, he’s not gonna stay here, we’ll get him home, but please, doesn’t that shit hurt?” Quackity has a hand on the shoulder of his good arm, it’s gentle and grounding.

“I can’t leave him. Never again– Fuck, I wasn’t supposed let him g-go, never again, never, oh god–” Tubbo finally unclenches his fists from the white cloth stained red, he stares at his bloody and trembling hands. It’s like the horror dawns on him in waves, just when he thinks it can’t get worse, it does. There’s so much blood on his hands and he yearns for when it was only his. The last thing he had heard from his best friend…

He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember the last thing Tommy said to him. That terrible, whimpering wail feels so distant, not of himself and merely some other dying animal crying out to the unforgiving blackstone. He can’t remember. He can’t think of the last thing he does remember.

Tubbo is spiraling, hard and fast, Tommy’s eyes are not staring at him, they don’t stare at anything, and Tubbo wishes instead there was an accusation. Anything. Tubbo is pulled from the brink by a towering figure gently lifting Tommy from the ground. Ranboo seems taller today, he doesn’t say a word, but he cradles Tommy close to his chest like he’s something precious.

Tubbo doesn’t fight him. He doesn’t fight Quackity pulling his good arm around him, trying to help him to his feet, he cries out as his wounded leg throbs and his broken arm is jostled.

“Tubbo?” Sam approaches like he’s a frightened rabbit who could bolt any moment. “Can I… Will you let me help you?” Tubbo glances from Ranboo to Sam. He’s shaking. “I’ll stay close to him, okay? I promise.”

Tubbo bites back a whimper as Sam picks him up, his chestplate digs into his good arm, but Tubbo can only sink into the easy warmth of Sam taking on every burden he can. He knows Ranboo is there. He knows… He knows Tommy is there. All this grief and pain and terror finally settles in his bones, broken and unbroken, and his eyes close. Tubbo doesn’t want to sleep, but it’s so much easier than the world he knows he’ll wake to, a world that leaves him breathing and Tommy still. A world with no right to continue on.

Chapter Text

Tubbo barely comes to as Sam gently lays him down somewhere hard and rickety. His arm and his leg are so damaged, even the slightest of movements sends rivulets of pain through him.

“We should try and set the arm before he wakes up,” Sam whispers.

“His arm, Sam? What about his leg? We haven’t even taken the bolt out,” Quackity hisses a reply. “Fuck, maybe we should give him something. To keep him under. Health pots don’t do anything for pain until the thing is actually healed.”

Tubbo flinches when a gentle hand brushes through his hair, they pull back immediately.

“Don’t go,” Tubbo is so hoarse, he didn’t mean to whisper but that was all he could manage. The hand returned, Tubbo finally opens his eyes, Ranboo’s own red and green ones stare back, he quickly looks away from Tubbo’s gaze, but he stays. Tubbo recognizes the walls. He’s in Snowchester, lying on his own dining table.

And the grief hits him again.

He’d take a dozen bolts in his knee, he’d take every bone in his body broken over the pain of knowing Tommy is never coming home.

He’s never coming home.

Ranboo doesn’t comment on the tears falling down Tubbo’s cheeks, he just keeps brushing through his hair, watching on silently as Sam and Quackity discuss Tubbo’s injuries.

“Shit, well, he’s awake now anyway. So, let’s just get this done,” Quackity sighs.

“Hurts,” Tubbo mumbles.

“Yeah, I know man, it’s okay. We’re gonna take care of it,” Quackity is antsy, bouncing back on his heels and unsure of where to start.

“I sent a message to Ponk. He was just behind us, he should be here soon, needed to get supplies,” Sam nods.

Well timed, as there was a knock at the door. “Shit, Sam. You didn’t tell me I’d be trekking through the snow.”

“Yeah, yeah, right– Can you just– It’s bad,” Sam ushers Ponk inside.

“Oh, yeah, bad is an understatement,” Ponk winces at the sight of his patient. “Ranboo, can you sit him up? He needs to drink this.”

“What’s that?” Quackity frowns.

“Turtle master. It’ll make the pain easier and make him drowsy if he’s already hurt this bad,” Ponk passes the bottle to Ranboo.

Tubbo cries out as Ranboo helps him sit up. He doesn’t think his ribs are broken, but they’re definitely bruised. He drinks the potion without complaint even as it tastes like he’s drinking fish and chalk.

Immediately he feels weaker, his limbs moving sluggishly and his skin felt oddly numb. It did help with the pain.

Tubbo was already struggling to stay conscious, this just made him feel hollow. He didn’t want to talk or move or think anymore, but there was so much noise around him, and Ranboo was still holding his hand.

“I’m gonna take care of the crossbow bolt first so it doesn’t start bleeding again,” Ponk came up beside him, mask still there, but his voice was so friendly and his eyes warm. Tubbo tried to focus on that instead of what was to come. “Right, then. Tubbo this is gonna bloody hurt, so. Take a deep breath, one two–” Tubbo screamed, voice already so hoarse, crushing Ranboo’s hand in his. “See, that part is all done now. You’re doing good. Sam, can you give me a hand setting his arm? Big Q– Can you wrap his leg? I don’t think any bones are broken down there, just tissue damage.”

Sam came up beside Tubbo, Ranboo keeping him steady on his other side.

“Again, this’ll be quick, Tubbo, so just hang in there. Maybe look at Ranboo or something!” Ponk did his best to keep Tubbo focused on something other than this. Tubbo couldn’t be bothered, he just buried his head in Ranboo’s shoulder, whimpering when Sam held onto his broken arm. There was no countdown this time. Tubbo clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt, squeezing Ranboo’s hand, but the pain dulled substantially, the potion and the now set arm helped.

“You’re gonna be in a sling for a while, Tubbo. And you’ll need a crutch for a bit too. So, you won’t have much mobility for a bit. Ranboo, do you think you could help him out?” Ponk asked as he wrapped the arm. Tubbo felt Ranboo nod.

“Great. Hey, you’re all done, mate. Are you hurt anywhere else? Did you hit your head maybe?” Ponk asked, trying to garner his attention again.

“No…” Tubbo glanced around the room, reminded of Tommy getting hit over the head by the blunt of Dream’s axe, how he fell to the ground so limply Tubbo feared he might be dead– “Where’s Tommy?”

Quackity and Sam exchanged glances, Ponk remained resolutely focused on Tubbo’s arm.

“Ranboo, where is he?” Tubbo struggles to turn around to the person he had last seen with him. “Where did you put Tommy?!” Tubbo moved like he was going to stand up.

“Whoa, whoa, come on, Tubbo. You know that’s not a good idea,” Ponk tried to stop him.

“T-Then where is he?!” Tubbo wouldn’t stop fighting, even as it hurt.

“He’s…” Sam trailed off, looking to Quackity.

“Ranboo put him in his house, Tubbo. He’s not in that place anymore,” Quackity tried to calm him. There was this awful weight hanging in the air. “He’s… You know he’s dead, right Tubbo? He…” It felt redundant, to remind Tubbo that someone with a hole in his chest was dead, but the way Tubbo kept pushing to see him, searching, begging them to help him. “He’s gone.”

Tubbo’s vision blurred as he kept his hold on Ranboo’s hand tight. He managed a curt nod. He needed something, anything to salvage from this.

“Where are the discs?” He asks hoarsely.

“What?” Quackity frowned.

“T-The discs, where are the discs? They were– They were there, on the walls…” Tubbo trails off, eyes closed for a moment as he tries to ground himself despite the ache in his chest. He wishes it were only the bruises on his ribs. He wishes that potion could numb him from the inside out.

If Tubbo had died in his place, Tommy wouldn’t have even thought on the discs, too lost in his grief, and when presented with them, he could only feel disgust that those pieces of vinyl made it out and his best friend didn’t.

Tubbo needed them. They were what Tommy had died for.

“I don’t know, Tubbo. But… But I’m sure we can have someone get them,” Sam went to his communicator. “I’ll ask Puffy.”

“I need them,” Tubbo stares at the floor, his leg still aching, his arm now in a sling. He didn’t really need them. He needed the one thing he couldn’t have. I need Tommy.

Ranboo squeezes his hand gently, like somehow he knows. He hasn’t said a word through all of this, but he’s stayed, that matters more.

“Right, then, Tubbo. I think you’re gonna be okay, alright, mate?” Ponk puts a hand on his good shoulder, checking that Tubbo heard him. “I’ll come back to check on you, how about that, hm?”

Tubbo just nods.

“I… I really should go. I need to help Sapnap and them, they’ll need me when… when they get him,” Sam turns to the door, hesitating only for another moment. “I am… so sorry, Tubbo.” He leaves with Ponk, the two of them exchanging weighted glances.

Tubbo doesn’t say anything, still staring at the floor.

“You, uh, do you want me to stay?” Quackity asks. His nature is not to comfort, but there was a time where he had protected Tubbo and failed to protect him in turn. He owed him this much. Tubbo just shrugged. “Ranboo, you got him?” Quackity turns to someone who may offer a response. Ranboo nods. “Okay. Okay, that’s good, man. Tubbo, you gotta get some of the blood off. Ranboo will help you, right?” Another nod. “Right… Take… take care of yourself, Tubbo. You’ve gotta… You’ve gotta take care of yourself.”

The last of the guilty party fled his grief.

Ranboo stayed.

He still didn’t say a word, he let go of Tubbo’s hand, crossing the room to the basin of water before returning, kneeling down in front of him, wiping the blood from his cheeks. Tubbo stops him for a moment.

“Are you in there, minutes man?” Tubbo asks hoarsely, a hand mirroring Ranboo’s and resting on his shoulder. There’s something different about Ranboo, but all that should matter is he stayed. Tubbo has to ask, to know not everyone had left him.

“I’m here,” Ranboo’s voice is so soft, his hand covering Tubbo’s. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you.”

Tubbo crumbles.

He falls forward, ignoring the many pangs and aches from these past wounds, focused on the only wound that mattered, the gnawing void inside of him where Tommy had once resided. He clings to Ranboo as that void threatens to drown him. Ranboo can only hug him, even as tears cover his jacket, no sting could be worse than seeing his friend so hurt, knowing the reason why was someone he owed a debt to instead left to rot.

Tubbo finds sleep easily, a cocktail of adrenaline and grief draining him. And Ranboo stays, watching over him. He’s not losing anyone else.

~

Dream had always been good at running. There was a time where that had been a gift, one Sapnap admired. Dream was always good at running and fighting and playing games. It wasn’t a game anymore. He’s not losing anyone else.

Sapnap crested the hill with Bad and Ant hot on his heels, just in time to see a distant figure disappear into the trees. “Come on, go, go– Ant– Shoot him!” They were sprinting downhill, feet pounding the dirt and Sapnap was struggling to speak, his throat raw as he breathed heavily. Ant’s arrow missed. Where was George when they needed him?

“We got our sights on him, just keep moving! We can’t lose him in the trees,” Bad moved ahead, his height giving him the advantage.

Sapnap didn’t know how long they had been running. They had hesitated too long, Dream could have had a five minute headstart. They had no idea where his spawn was set, but the little island with towering cliffs gave them a chance. Ant had scaled to the top and spotted a boat making a quick, desperate getaway to the east. They had a direction then. They’d been fighting to keep him in their sights ever since.

Someone was going to break first. This was not a game, they did not pause to gather supplies, so Dream didn’t have the chance to set a trap waiting for them. They were only running, no pausing to recover, no planning ahead, they could only make chase before he got away forever.

Part of Sapnap didn’t even know why he was giving chase. He’s your best friend. Let him get away. Let go of him forever. That thought was buried under the sight of Beckerson tacked to the wall, the cage waiting for Skeppy, the corpse of Tommy and Tubbo’s grief piercing all of them.

He’s your best friend. You cannot let him go.

“I see him! I see him!” Bad takes off through the trees, Ant and Sapnap not far behind. Dream doesn’t even have his gear. It almost feels cruel. Previous hunts were mere games, each of them on even ground, even if Dream was outnumbered, now Dream was running with nothing, swords and old friends at his back.

“Dream! Stop running!” Bad shouts helplessly after him. Sapnap doesn’t know what Bad sees, he’s so fucking tired, all he can do is try and keep up with his friend and hope Dream stumbles.

He never stumbles.

Sapnap finally sees him, scaling a cliffside ahead of them. He looks bloody and Sapnap can see him struggling to get a grip on the rocks from here. He’s been running nonstop through the night with no armor or food, it’s a miracle he can climb at all.

“Bad, boost me up,” Sapnap hops past his friend and gets his sword out.

“Got it– Ant, see if you can shoot him down without killing him,” Bad offered him a hand, giving Sapnap a nine foot headstart on Dream, who was struggling as is.

“Leave me alone!” Dream finally speaks, what must’ve been fourteen hours of nonstop chase, and they had yet to hear a word from him. His voice is hoarse and broken and if Sapnap didn’t know any better, he’d think Dream was scared.

“Give it up, Dream!” Ant shouts up to him, landing an arrow just above Dream’s head.

“I said try not to kill him!” Bad shouts in a panic.

“I was aiming for the rocks!” Ant bites back.

Sapnap, well armored and well supplied, can’t pretend the exhaustion isn’t getting to him. He can only keep climbing. He can see Dream’s filthy sneakers only a few feet above him. Sapnap feels no pull to shout banter after Dream, telling him he would soon catch him, telling him to stop running, this is not even a hollow echo of the games they once played, it’s a cruel bastardization of it.

Sapnap’s hand is trembling as he reaches up and makes to grab onto Dream’s ankle.

“Fuck!” He reels back, barely keeping his hold on the rocks as his nose gushes blood, Dream scrambling away after landing a good kick on Sapnap’s face. It feels so desperate, almost petty. Dream should be well prepared, sending TNT and clean shots from a bow to slow them down. Dream had panicked before, but not like this. Not with such bloody retribution as consequence. He keeps climbing.

“I’m following, Sap! Ant– Keep trying!” Bad made the climb a few metres below him. Dream staggered as an arrow met rock right where he was about to put his hand, but he kept his hold.

If he gets over the edge before you, you could lose him.

Sapnap’s arms were screaming at him for rest, his legs ached and breathing grew harder as he fought to beat Dream to the top.

“Dream!” Sapnap screamed after him as Dream scrambled back onto even ground, racing to meet him. Dream was getting to his feet, about to take off running again, Sapnap lunged forward, grabbing onto Dream’s legs and sending them both tumbling into the rocks. Sapnap was protected from scrapes and bruises by his armor, Dream had no such luxury, already scraped and bruised from so painfully long running through the wilderness, blood dripping through the dust on his arm and his pants torn at the knees.

“Let go of me, Sapnap!” Dream was screaming at him, fighting to get free.

“Not happening, Dream! You’re not getting away from me again!” Sapnap huffed, holding on tighter even as Dream wriggled like a snake to try and get away.

Dream screamed his frustration, kicking out against Sapnap’s chestplate, bruising at the worst.

“No! This isn’t fair!” Dream clawed at him as Sapnap fought to pin him down. Dream bit his hand, Sapnap screamed and yanked his hand free, the wound deep enough to bleed.

Sapnap gritted his teeth as he tackled Dream once more, on top of him and keeping him pressed to the dirt. “You wanna talk about fair?! None of this is fucking fair, Dream!” He snarled.

Dream fought back viciously against his hold and before Sapnap can stop him, he’s knocked back, his vision flashing white as a rock crashes into his helmet. Sapnap blinks back into focus, Dream standing over him. There’s blood on his forehead and dripping into his eyes. Brother turned on brother, and both of them unmoving, waiting for this injustice to have consequence. There is no authority or judgement or mercy, there is only Sapnap on the ground and Dream still has the rock, raised and prepared to bash him over the head, ending the fight permanently, and Sapnap hates that he can still recognize an old friend in those cold eyes.

“Dream…” For a moment Sapnap thinks he’s going to finish it, he thinks this is it, and he doesn’t fight back. He merely stares at a face he cannot read anymore.

Finally, Dream drops the rock, stepping back, but before he can take off running for the treeline, an arrow pierces his shoulder and he falls forward. Right towards the edge.

“No!” Sapnap lunges after him, barely managing to get a grip on his arm. Dream screams as he hits the rocks, his arm bleeding, but Sapnap doesn’t let go, so much loyalty and animosity in their gaze, staring at one another like there’s a question unanswered between them.

Not another word exchanged. Bad soon joins them on the cliffside, helping him pull Dream off the edge, holding him there, but he stops fighting. Sapnap finally lets go.

~

Ponk is the first to return the following morning with crutches.

“Hey, Ranboo! I got something for Tubbo,” Ponk steps inside, shaking the snow off.

Tubbo had not been asleep, but he hadn’t been moving. He struggles to sit up. “Did you get the discs? Did you find them?”

“...No, sorry,” Ponk at least seems apologetic. “Got you a crutch, though! I’m not much taller than you, so I made it for me and took a little off the bottom, so it should work.”

“Thank you, Ponk,” Ranboo took the crutch from him.

“Can I check on my favorite patient?” Ponk wrung his hands behind his back, shifting from foot to foot. “How’s that arm, Tubbo?”

“Doesn’t hurt so much anymore,” Tubbo’s momentary– enthusiasm was perhaps too strong, his momentary clarity faded once more. Somehow Tubbo had got it fixated in his mind that if he got the discs back, if he fulfilled his and Tommy’s mission, everything would be alright again. Like those two objects could give him his best friend back.

“Good, that’s good!” Ponk took this as invitation to come up beside him. “Can I look at your leg, real quick, man?”

Tubbo nods, wincing as Ponk unwraps the wound.

“Potions worked quick on the outside, should hurry things along, but you should use crutches for at least a week. You’re really lucky it didn’t get your bones,” Ponk assessed him.

Lucky. Tubbo wished denial were more effective. It’s harder to pretend when he’d seen Tommy’s corpse. When he still sees it every time he closes his eyes. Haunted feels like an understatement.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna poke the arm too. It’s set and all, so, you’ve just got to be careful. It wasn’t too bad a fracture, I’ve seen worse. It’ll be maybe two months max I think before you’re good as new.” Ponk’s warmth would normally be a comfort. Tubbo was tired of people offering their kindness. It felt too much like pity, even if it wasn’t. “If you need anything, mate, you know where to find me, okay?”

Tubbo again managed a nod.

“Right, then,” Ponk hesitated. He wanted to say I am so sorry about Tommy. He was a good kid and I wish none of this had happened. Bringing up Tommy felt too cruel, even in kindness. Instead, he said “take care of yourself, okay? I’ll see you around.”

It was the strangest thing. The server all cared deeply for Tubbo, he had friends all over, in this time one would think they would linger, but there was something about him, like a curtain had been pulled back, and the bubbly, passionate young man they’d all grown to love was instead something cold, something dangerous. Tubbo had cogs turning behind grief stricken eyes and no one wanted to know what would happen to his target. The only mission he could pursue without horror was dead, but the drive remained. All that was left was the potential for bloody retribution, and perhaps the fact that they all knew Tubbo would follow through without mercy or weakness or a shadow of doubt scared them away. Grief makes monsters of good people, but what’s worse than a monster is genius and rage tied to a target. Tubbo isn’t just angry. He’s damned to follow that anger. Right to Pandora’s Vault.

“You should eat something,” Ranboo put a bowl of soup on the table. “Do you want to walk over yourself?” He offered him the crutch Ponk had made.

Tubbo was halfway to the table, accepting Ranboo’s hovering even as he used the crutch himself, when his communicator went off.

Awesamdude whispers to you: We’ve got him. Still need to process him, but after that we’ll have someone come and get you. Wanted to tell you first thing.

You whisper to Awesamdude: I could head over now.

Awesamdude whispers to you: no point. Sorry Tubbo you can’t come in for a bit. He needs to set his spawn. Not cooperating. I’ll find a way though. You can count on it.

You whispers to Awesamdude: ok fine

“You’re… You’re going over there soon, are you?” Ranboo asked. Tubbo nods. “Can you… well, you can’t go over immediately. Could you eat something? For me? Please, Tubbo.”

Tubbo caved. It felt like he was just going through the motions, waiting for something to happen. To have the discs, to have Dream, to have Tommy back. He needed to focus on the first two so he doesn't have to confront the impossibility of the latter. Tommy was not a dead thing, he’s his best friend. He’s always running ahead with his heart on his sleeve and Tubbo will always, always follow, because he goes where Tommy goes. That is how it’s supposed to be. That is the nature of things, for him to see Tommy set the world on fire to save it and to throw himself ahead of everyone he loves, without fear or care for danger, because Tommy is a shield, a protector, and he would always be around to keep saving people–

He definitely did that, didn’t he?

He saw the body. He saw Tommy on the ground, felt him collapse on top of him unmoving. He knows Tommy’s eyes grew glassy as he stared into nothing, he knows Dream was furious because the game ended in a way he had not planned. He knows Dream had intended to kill him and he knows Tommy got in the way. He knows his own survival was shock enough, he knows there’s a reason no one tried to save Tommy. He knows all of this and he knows Tommy cannot be dead, Tommy cannot be dead, he cannot be dead he cannot be dead he cannot be dead–

“Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?” Ranboo asks so softly. He isn’t demanding anything of him, merely asking, pleading for Tubbo to give him some way to help.

“I’m thinking of how I’m gonna kill Dream,” Tubbo said dully, still not looking his friend in the eye.

“You’re gonna fixate on him, Tubbo. And you won’t grieve. That’s gonna hurt you,” Ranboo tries to take his hand, Tubbo pulls away. It’s not grief. It cannot be grief. Ranboo sighs. “I know I can’t stop you, but are you sure it’s a good idea for you to go right to him?”

Tubbo stares at the rough grain of the table, not answering at first. “Thank you for staying, Ranboo.”

Ranboo didn’t seem to know what to do with that. “Tubbo, please. After everything that happened today, you’re running towards something that could really hurt you–”

“I can’t be hurt anymore, bossman,” Tubbo sounded so cold, an echo of his normal self, the words were there, the terms of endearment, but it felt like something hollow mimicking Ranboo’s friend. “Don’t worry about it.” Tubbo stood, not sure of where he was planning on limping to, but better than sitting around while Ranboo fussed over him.

“What about Tommy?”

Tubbo tensed, not turning around, not facing him, but he stopped. “What about him?”

“Well, don’t you want to see him, too?” Ranboo asked. He expected Tubbo’s anger and made his peace with it. The fact that Tubbo doesn’t yell at him immediately makes Ranboo feel worse.

“I don’t need to see– to see that,” Tubbo sounds like he’s holding back. Holding back his grief, his anger, his fear, holding back from the fact that he didn’t want to see Tommy’s corpse with a hole in his chest.

“Maybe not right now. But… he’s at home. We’ll have a wake or something, won’t we?”

Tubbo wants to remain harsh and unforgiving. It’s harder when he knows Ranboo cared about Tommy too. “We’ll… we’ll have something. Not now. I’ve got to take care of this first.”

“What’s this going to take care of?”

Tubbo didn’t have an answer for him.

Awesamdude whispers to you: he’s not going anywhere now. I can send Ant to get you.

You whisper to Awesamdude: no need. I’m already on my way.

“You don’t need to follow me, Ranboo,” Tubbo said as he struggled through the snow. Snow and crutches did not mix.

“Of course I do,” Ranboo had to move slowly to keep pace.

Tubbo sighs, a distant figure bounding towards them, his fur puffed up against the cold and eyes perhaps less red than they were before.

“Hey!” Antfrost caught his breath. “Sam sent me to get you.”

“He didn’t have to fucking do that, I do not need a bloody chaperone,” Tubbo muttered, struggling onwards now with two people slowing down to hover around him.

Ranboo ignored Tubbo’s brooding. “That was quick. I thought Sam needed to get him to set his spawn?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah he did,” Antfrost said it with some trepidation.

“O-kay, what happened?” Ranboo asked. Tubbo was doing his best to ignore them, eyes set on the towering blackstone structure across the ice.

“Well, Sam had to threaten him to get him to do it,” Antfrost still seemed hesitant to share this with them.

“Spit it out, Ant,” Tubbo says dully, still staring at the prison like it will answer instead.

“Well, Dream refused, said we should just kill him, obviously so he could run again, and Sam… well, Sam threatened to… cut his legs off?” Antfrost said it like a question looking to them for a response. Neither of them had flinched thus far, Ranboo with mild surprise, Tubbo perhaps too much satisfaction. “That way, if he did respawn somewhere else, he wouldn’t be able to run away, right? Dream didn’t believe him until… well, until he started doing it.”

“Sam did this?” Ranboo was baffled. The Sam he knew was smart, sharp witted, generous, and not so easily drawn to violence.

“He didn’t actually do it all the way!” Antfrost said quickly like this was any form of reassurance. “Dream caved, set his spawn pretty quick after that.”

“Good,” was Tubbo’s only contribution.

“Wait, Tubbo, are you planning on like, visiting him? Going in the cell?” Antfrost’s eyes widened as they approached the entrance.

“What else is there?” Tubbo presses the button.

“Hey, Tubbo. You can come through. I’m sorry, Ranboo. You’ll have to wait out here. Ant, thank you for your help. I can take it from here.”

Ranboo understood why he couldn’t follow. That didn’t make him hate it any less as Tubbo struggled to make his way through the portal.

“He’ll be fine. Sam will keep him safe,” Antfrost tried to offer him some comfort before leaving him to wait outside for Tubbo’s return.

Sam guided Tubbo through the portal, waiting for him behind his desk with tired eyes. There wasn’t any blood on his hands, his axe was unclean. Tubbo would like to think he’s numb to blood by now.

“Hey, Tubbo,” Sam manages a smile for a moment. “How’re you holding up?”

“Like shit, Sam,” Tubbo says dryly, staring around at the towering room with dull eyes.

“Naturally…” Sam sighs. “You’re the first visitor to enter the prison, at least in its finished form. There’s paperwork we need to go over.”

“Paperwork?” Tubbo scoffs. “Wait, you’re serious.”

“Yes, Tubbo. I am. This is important to making sure Dream stays in here and rots forever,” Sam offered him a book. “Read it aloud, please.”

Tubbo stares at the document for far too long. This surely must be intended to torture him specifically. He struggles with it for several minutes, thinking if he reads it ahead he might read it aloud more easily.

Finally Sam reaches out and gently takes the book from his hands.

“I’ll read it to you,” he offers. Tubbo manages a nod, his hand returning to his crutch and holding it tightly, trying to ground himself even as all this rage and bitter resentment threatens to swallow him whole.

Maybe the paperwork would be the hardest part. Tubbo would’ve once been fascinated by the redstone mechanisms and the complexities of such a massive project. Now his eyes remained resolutely ahead as he fought to keep up with Sam’s pace.

The rest he fared fairly well on, that is, until they came to a narrow passage of water, extending into the dark.

“Um, Sam, did you fucking think this through? I can’t walk, my arm is busted, do you expect me to swim?”

Sam sighed. “No, of course not. This is… I shouldn’t. I mean, arguably I shouldn’t be doing any of this, but considering the circumstances–“

“The circumstances? Tommy being– Tommy–“ Tubbo couldn’t manage it. “Those circumstances?”

“I’m making it up as I go, Tubbo,” Sam looks all the more exhausted. “Okay, screw it. Can you– Can you close your eyes for me? And then I’ll guide you, okay?”

“What do you think I’m gonna do, Sam? Let him out?”

“If I break the rules for everyone who doesn’t like Dream I might as well not have them.”

“Yeah, might as well…” Tubbo grew sardonic.

Tubbo shut his eyes and heard redstone mechanisms whirring. He flinched when Sam lightly placed a hand on his good arm, guiding him forward into the void. Tubbo had yet to shut his eyes while conscious since and he was not particularly fond of it, it was like that terrible place was pressed onto the inside of his eyelids, blackstone and dim redstone lamps and waiting plaques and Tubbo could only fixate on the portal he knows he can’t reach as Dream kills him slowly but stopping is worse because Tommy is on the ground and so much blood and he’s not moving and it’s over but it can’t be it can’t be it can’t be–

“Okay, you’re good to open your eyes,” Sam lets go, heading further into the long corridor, stopping as he sees Tubbo’s face. “You don’t have to do this, Tubbo,” he says it softly.

Tubbo doesn’t look at him, he doesn’t acknowledge his words at all, merely holds onto his crutch a little tighter. “Right. What’s next, Sam?”

Sam hesitated more reading aloud the following contracts, stumbling over and kill me until I am completely dead, but Tubbo didn’t flinch.

“You’ll need fire res, and then I’ll see you on the other side, okay?” Sam still pauses, like he’s waiting for Tubbo to turn back.

“The crutch is gonna burn,” Tubbo hands it to him silently, trying to hide how unsteady it makes him.

“You think you can make it?”

“I am fine, Sam,” Tubbo is curt.

Sam caves, leaving to his own side passage and Tubbo hears him even though he doesn’t think he’s supposed to, “no you’re not…”

Tubbo stumbles through once the platform stops, putting out the flames and quickly taking back his crutch before he hits the ground and Sam deems him not well enough to proceed.

“Tubbo, you can go talk to him, but I think I should keep the barrier up until you need to leave,” Sam says as he lowers the wall of lava.

“Why’s that, Sam?” Tubbo remains malicious, staring at the lava so the light is pressed into his eyes.

“Tubbo…”

“What’s he gonna do to me that he hasn’t done already?”

“Take your last life,” Sam, his calm certainty he had been fighting to hold onto, dies as his voice breaks and his own grief spills over. “He’s already tried once, Tubbo. Why would he stop now when he’s got nothing left to lose?”

Tubbo nods, not like he’s agreeing with Sam’s concern, nor that he thinks he’s mistaken, simply bitter acceptance.

Tubbo finally speaks after a cruel, yawning silence between them. “I heard you almost cut his legs off.”

Another moment of quiet, Sam taking in Tubbo’s cool disposition with muted horror, but no blame. He cannot blame Tubbo for burying pain, not after what he had done to swallow his own sorrow. “Yes. I did.”

“Can he walk?”

“Maybe. Barely.”

Tubbo nods, still watching the lava slowly lower, finally darkness peaks through over the hot, painful light. “I’ll be fine, Sam.” Maybe the truth of it is Tubbo doesn’t care if this kills him.

Sam sighs. “He’s here so you can decide what to do with him. This is your call. I’ll be in touch whenever you need to leave.”

Tubbo manages to keep up with the moving platform, but only just, each step sends pain shooting through his knee, but he bears it easily. Every wound he bears is so much kinder than his reason for being here.

Tubbo as he approaches the cell, is consumed by the thought that this was Tommy’s destined fate, just as he was supposed to be dead on the ground if Dream had his way. The cell is too small, that’s Tubbo’s first thought. Tommy would’ve hated it, claustrophobic and angry at being trapped.

And scared too. You know he would’ve been so fucking scared.

There’s no blood on the floor of the cell, but Dream remains slumped against the back wall, his clothes tattered and his legs bandaged, blood already soaking through. He looks like he’d just lost a fight, bruised and bitter, but cornered there’s nothing more dangerous. Dream, even without a mask, seems hidden, calculated, shielded. Tubbo wants to break him open and see the rot inside of him.

And this monster has the audacity to laugh, to laugh at the sight of him, not a laugh that rings of madness, but surely there’s something wrong with him if he can bring himself to laugh in his fate. Dream puts a hand against the back wall and forces himself to stand, to give some feeble illusion of strength even as his legs threaten to give out beneath him, and yet he speaks first with the confidence of a man who is never out of control.

“My best friend kills me, he and two of our most powerful old buddies hunt me down like an animal, dragging me back to lock me up in my own prison, my own employee locking the cell just as my favorite mercenary betrayed me, and they send in you. A pathetic, grieving pawn. What do you think you’re gonna do to me?”

Tubbo stares, assessing him. Maybe it doesn’t need to be said, but Tubbo says it anyway. Saying it rather than not, that’s what Tommy would’ve done.

“You have no idea what I could do to you, Dream.”

Dream pauses, only for a moment, but a pause still. “Hm,” is his only reply, seemingly assessing Tubbo right back. Dream always thought he had the power, even here, but that hesitation said something. Tubbo was not all talk. He would prove what he said if need be.

“I’m going to kill you, Dream,” Tubbo doesn’t move, even as Dream leans against the back wall, still staring at him. “I just haven’t decided how yet.”

Dream laughs, sharp and wheezing. “No. No, you won’t, Tubbo.”

Tubbo has buried his grief and his fear and his weakness. He lets some other part of himself speak now. “You sound pretty sure, Dream. Maybe just as sure as you were that Sapnap wouldn’t hurt you, that Sam wouldn’t go that far, that everything would work out for you, that this cage was waiting for Tommy, and not you, surely?”

Dream’s easy smirk wavers for just a moment. He sighs, drumming his fingers against the obsidian. He walks forward and Tubbo can only imagine it hurts him, the way he staggers and the blood only blossoming further on bandages Tubbo didn’t think he deserved, but Dream doesn’t stop. Tubbo refuses to flinch.

“I know a secret, Tubbo. I know why you won’t kill me,” Dream leans in closer, causing hairs to stand up on the back of Tubbo’s neck. Dream’s whisper chills him to his core, “I’m the only one that can bring him back.”

Tubbo doesn’t speak, he only stares as Dream steps back with a satisfied grin, like even here, beaten down, trapped, at Tubbo’s mercy, he’s still won.

Worse, maybe he has.

“You’re lying,” Tubbo is so hoarse.

“I would’ve thought you’d be happy, Tubbo,” Dream is mocking him. “Isn’t this what you want? Your best friend back?”

“You’re full of shit, Dream,” Tubbo spat. “You don’t want me to kill you, you’re a coward.”

“Oh? Are you really willing to risk that? It’s too boring without Tommy,” Dream stumbles, leaning against the chest in the corner of the room. Dream’s physical weaknesses might have been a comfort once, but Tubbo can only look him in the eyes, waiting for some sign of untruths to slip past his mask.

Tubbo’s thoughts are racing, as he tries to piece together something salvageable from this further cruelty Dream offers to him. He settles on a question, “why?”

“Why? Why what?” Dream laughs again and even that seems to hurt him, like he now has his own bruised ribs to mirror Tubbo’s. He likely won’t be standing up again. If not, Tubbo will do his best to ensure it.

“Why haven’t you brought him back already, if it’s boring?” Tubbo tried to read him. There is nothing there. “Or… why bring him back at all?”

“Tubbo, I thought you were smarter than this,” Dream still has the audacity to patronize him. “The answer has always been the same. Leverage.”

“I don’t believe you,” Tubbo says and in the same breath, “what do you want?”

“We share similar goals, Tubbo. No need to resent me for it,” Dream scoffed. “I want out, obviously. I want all of you people to leave me alone. And once that’s done, I’ll be glad to bring back Tommy.”

“We cannot trust you enough to let you out and assume you’ll bring back Tommy– If– if you even can.” Tubbo doesn’t know what to think, but he knows that Dream won’t want to let Tommy go.

Tommy is the only bargaining chip on the table and that’s a problem. They both want him back, but Tubbo is the one who cannot risk Tommy again, even with him gone. He’s never sending him back to Dream. He’d rather they all stay dead. Even locked in a cell, this gives Dream some twisted advantage.

“I’m not letting you near him again,” Tubbo’s voice shakes, not that it matters. Dream already thinks he’s weak and malleable and maybe he is when this monster is holding his best friend over him like some prize.

“Then we’re at a stalemate. I can’t resurrect him in theory, he has to be here, Tubbo, with me. I have to have him,” Dream sighs, leaning back against the wall like he has all the time in the world.

Tubbo feels white hot rage overshadow his fear, burning him up from the inside, he doesn’t care what damage it does, to him or anyone else, he refuses to let Dream keep playing with them like this. “You don’t get to have him, no one gets to have him, he’s not yours, Dream. He never was and he never fucking will be,” Tubbo wishes he could watch this man die, painful and slow, and he knows Dream could easily be playing him for a fool, but how can he take that chance? Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it would be better if he made his peace with this and left Dream to rot, but it’s the curse of having a chance. Once hope sinks its teeth in, it doesn’t let go.

“I want him back as much as you do!” Dream says it bitterly, like Tommy’s death weighed on Tubbo’s shoulders more than his. “But I can’t have him trapped in here, so I’m not bringing him back until I’m free. I’m not lying to you, Tubbo. I need him.”

Tubbo feels further disgust and horror curdle in his stomach and how he wishes he could tear Dream limb from limb, but he can’t, not here and now. So instead he can only shout his grief like it makes any difference. “You’re the one that killed him! You don’t get to fucking say that like you care about him! Like you want him as a person and not your fucking hero!”

“My hero?” Dream leans forward, wincing. He speaks softly, certainly, as always he knows better. “My hero? Like you didn’t make him your hero first.”

Tubbo fought to not let it show that that one sentence knocked the air from his lungs. He thinks Dream knows anyway, that’s why he said it. Tubbo fights for calm, looks for angry words or authority or threats to offer and he’s unsurprised by how easy it is to find that rage. “You don’t know anything about him,” Tubbo snarls, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Oh? You know what I do know?” Dream tries to stand before thinking better of it, tilting his head mockingly. Tubbo wishes that weakness could be some relief. His next words, hissed and biting and painfully sincere, “It should’ve been you.”

Tubbo doesn’t have a retort. They both know it’s because he would agree.

“I know plenty about Tommy,” Dream says, teasing and lilted, leaning back against the wall. “I made him that way, you know. The way he was when he died? Scared and desperate to get under my axe. Nothing new there. Not to me, anyway. But I got to really know him, thank you for that, by the way. I owe you that much at least. I would’ve found another way to get him, sure, but you, you Tubbo, you sent him to me on a silver platter!” He laughs sharply. Tubbo steps forward, unsure of his plan, but there either way. “What’re you gonna do, beat me to death with your crutch? Hit me with your good arm? We’re both broken down, Tubbo. So how about we chat like civilized people for a change–” Before Dream can finish, Tubbo hits him across the head with his crutch, sending him to the floor unceremoniously, even as Tubbo himself staggers, his leg protesting violently from the sudden movement.

Dream struggles to sit up, dabbing away blood from his forehead with muted surprise. “Huh.”

“You don’t fucking talk about him like that, better yet– you don’t fucking talk about him at all.”

“Well, I’ll have to talk about him if you want to bargain with me over bringing him back,” Dream pointed out. “So, why don’t we chat. I killed Tommy, you want me to undo that, yes? And I want out of here.”

And you want Tommy.

“And surely you know if you have any chance to run off with Tommy, this cannot happen.”

“Why all the rush?“ Dream is so mocking. “You missed out on a lot, huh? I’m sure he hasn’t told you about exile, not really. He’s too scared to. He knows better than to complain by now. Sorry– He knew better. He doesn’t know much of anything anymore, does he?”

“And who’s fucking fault is that? You tried to kill him long before all this. You know what you’ve done, don’t act like you haven’t been breaking him,” Tubbo doesn’t know why he’s still here, Dream has no intention of being productive, but Tubbo doesn’t know what else to do. His initial plans to kill Dream were set back by the cruel possibility of getting him back.

“I wanted to break him, sure, but I didn’t want him dead. Dead things can’t beg for mercy or try and fight back or play along because that’s easier than the alternative, now, can they?”

“You’re sick, you’re so fucking sick–”

“Am I? I didn’t betray my best friend and send him to his death. You must’ve known I wasn’t going to be merciful,” Dream eyes him so carefully, looking for a wound to dig into. Tubbo says nothing, so Dream proceeds. “I told him, Tubbo. I told him, I’m the only one who gets to kill him. Every time he thought of ending it, of taking a swan dive,” Dream is so mocking, belittling every piece of Tommy in patronizing tones, “because his Tubbo didn’t love him anymore.” Dream laughs as Tubbo tries to bury his horror. “I’m the only one who gets to kill Tommy, but you, you came pretty close to killing him instead.”

Tubbo is almost unfazed. Dream cannot try and impart more self loathing on him because Tubbo is already too far gone. He knows Tommy’s blood is on his hands as much as Dream’s. Maybe they all should have died together, defending New L’Manberg within those evil walls, at least knowing they went down fighting. Instead L’Manberg slowly choked to death on its own citizens and Tommy didn’t even get to watch it die.

Tubbo sighs, adjusting his crutch. You need to try and get him back. You need a plan. This is the only path forward now.

“You know what, Dream. I am not letting you out of here. I am not letting you near Tommy’s body. In fact, I am going to leave you in here to rot until hurting you takes my fancy, you got that? Yeah, I know you’ve never been merciful, but surely you know I don’t have much mercy left myself, don’t you?” Tubbo stares at Dream, cold and unwavering, waiting for a response. None is given. “Especially not for you.”

Tubbo turns back to the wall of lava at his back. “Sam! How do I get out of here?”

“Stand in the back corner–”

“Wait, you’re leaving?–”

“A potion will fall on you and you’ll be–”

“You won’t find Tommy out there!”

“sent back to me.”

Tubbo resolutely ignored Dream, different cogs turning behind his eyes.

“Fine! Fine, he can stay dead! And it’s your fault!”

Tubbo heard the sound of shattering glass and he stumbled, suddenly on even ground again and it is like waking from a dream. He’s away from that cell meant to torture Tommy with the very man intending to inflict it and it hits him all at once.

“Sam, Sam– I can get him back– I can get him back,” Tubbo staggers on his wounded leg, clinging to Sam for support. “He– He says he can bring him back.”

“Tubbo– What do you mean?! What’re you talking about?” Sam tries to ground him, keep him standing upright.

“Dream says– He says he’s got a way to bring back the dead, Sam. And I dunno if it’s all bullshit or what– But if I can–”

“Tubbo, I don’t know, he wants out and he wants to hurt you, of course he’d say that–”

“Okay, okay, then we’ll figure out if he’s telling the truth, I’ll– I’ll find some way to get him to do it, because he’s not fucking getting out of here, Sam. Not where he can hurt Tommy again.”

“You can’t know if he’s telling the truth.”

Tubbo takes a deep breath, steadying himself, or rather, burying himself. “Yes, but I can’t not try. Will you allow me this, Sam? I will make him pay and I’ll get Tommy back. No one else has to get hurt, no one but him.”

“You’re not fit to keep coming back here, not until your leg is healed at least,” Sam is firm on this and Tubbo has to grudgingly agree. What he intends to do will require more strength.

“Can you do me a favor, Sam?”

“Certainly.”

“Don’t feed him until I come back.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably, his hold on his trident tightens, he cannot pretend this is something beyond his capabilities, even if he wishes it wasn’t, but Tubbo suggesting it felt like disorder. “Tubbo, my duty as a warden is to take care of the prisoners I’m responsible for–”

“No, your job is to keep him in here. And my job in all this is to get Tommy back,” Tubbo is so cold, something brutally unforgiving in him, something Sam didn’t recognize any more than he understood himself bringing down the axe on Dream so easily. “Can you do this for me, Sam?”

“I… I should keep him alive.”

“Of course. But only just,” Tubbo nods curtly, like this settles the matter.

“We… we said you’d decide his fate. If this is you doing that… okay. Okay, Tubbo.”

Ranboo is still waiting outside when he returns to the daylight. He quickly stands when Tubbo limps back outside.

“You’re out. Are you okay? You were in there for a while,” Ranboo easily keeps pace with his injured friend. Tubbo doesn’t even know where he’s going now.

“I am fine, Ranboo. Thanks for waiting up,” Tubbo says shortly. He stops, staring ahead at the prime path, knowing what waits for him so close. “Dream says he can bring Tommy back.”

“What?”

“I know, I know I shouldn’t believe him but…” Tubbo’s jaw is tense and he can only stare ahead, knowing just out of sight is a bench and a jukebox and a little house built into a hill and a dead body waiting inside–

“But how can you not?” Ranboo answers for him. “I get it, Tubbo. I do. I’m assuming… he’s holding him over you. He won’t bring him back until he’s free.” Tubbo offers a sharp nod. “And that cannot happen.” Another nod. “So… what’re you gonna do?” Tubbo doesn’t answer and Ranboo follows his gaze down the prime path. “...You know, Eret cleaned him up. Eret and I think Puffy. I don’t know if he’s at Eret’s castle or in his house… But he doesn’t look like that anymore. He’s… If you want to say goodbye.”

“I’m not saying goodbye,” Tubbo said sharply.

Ranboo knows he can’t dissuade him. “You know, I want to see him.” No response. “And I don’t want to go alone.”

Tubbo sighs. “Okay. Okay, I’ll… I’ll go with you.” Tubbo hates that all he can think about is following Tommy to the ends of the earth. About following him to fight Dream and knowing they were both coming home because the alternative was nothing. Either they both made it, or nothing.

Tommy planned on not coming home.

For once, Tommy gets his way, huh? Not without fuss, but somehow Tommy still gets his way.

There are flowers outside of the house and this time Tubbo reaches out and takes Ranboo’s hand first. It’s awkward and unsure and he’ll have to let go to move forward with his crutch, but he can hold on for now. The doors are open and through it, Tommy’s bed had been dragged to the middle of the room.

It almost looks like he’s sleeping.

“I don’t think I–” His voice shakes and he takes a step back.

“Please, Tubbo,” Ranboo’s voice is so soft, gentle and pleading and it makes Tubbo’s chest ache. “Don’t wait until after we’ve buried him.”

They walk forward together. Your Tommy. There is no blood on his red and white shirt and his hair is clean and the bruises are covered and he is unbroken and safe and whole and home but his chest isn’t moving and his eyes are shut and there is nothing and there’s so much of it and it’s filling up the room of a place they had both once loved and the scent of flowers is overpowering the potential for future rot and there is nothing. There is nothing left. Tommy is not here.

“Take me home, Ranboo,” Tubbo finally speaks, hoarse and so distant from himself and he can only stare at the unmoving shell that had once burned with the life of his best friend.

Home is not home and it is not a relief either. There’s a chest waiting in the middle of the room.

Niki and I got these from that place. Thought you should have them. If you need anything I’m around. -Captain Puffy

He knows what’s waiting for him. He still feels like the air has been taken from his lungs as he sees what Tommy died for, so cruelly simple, so unassuming for a martyr’s cause. Two pieces of vinyl. Nothing special. Nothing worth dying for.

Tubbo holds them like they’re Tommy, like they’re something precious and so desperately needed, like his best friend exists in some music notes. They are everything and nothing to him all at once.

“Do you… Do you want to play them?” Ranboo asks gently.

Yes.

No.

“I’ll listen to them with Tommy.” Tubbo goes to his enderchest.

“Tubbo…”

Tubbo stares at them laid to rest among other precious things and he feels a longing so deep it hurts, so useless it feels cruel.

“I’ll listen to them with Tommy.”