Chapter Text
There was a noise echoing from somewhere deep in the prison.
It wasn't a huge surprise; the prison itself wasn't all that silent, really. Dream was used to hearing the distant cry of the elder guardian before feeling the fatigue reset into his bones, listening to the chug of the lava that composed the only entrance and exit of his cell, being startled when amethyst drops tinged against the floor from the crying obsidian.
These days, though, those noises had faded into the back of his head, undistinguishable after so much time hearing nothing but three sounds that didn’t come from his own movements.
But this one was different. It sounded like… crunching. Cracking. Slithering. And it hadn’t stopped or gotten louder. It just was there, haunting him like a phantom, persistent and unrelenting. At first, he had dared to expect some change, but to no avail. The lava steamed, the obsidian glinted, and the elder guardian whined. After a while, he began to wonder if he really was going crazy.
“You’re crazy!” screamed Sam over some hidden speaker, after stumbling upon Dream covered in Tommy’s blood, hunched over the boy’s body with a blank look on his face. Despite his best efforts, his breathing hitched into an uneven rhythm as he surveyed his work. “You’re a monster!”
“You’re crazy,” muttered George, a lifetime ago, rolling his eyes playfully as he watched Dream leap from the branches of a tall tree. He scoffed as Dream failed a mid-air flip, smashing through leaves and twigs onto the ground, and helped him stand back up. “Such an idiot.”
The sound continued to linger in the curve of his ear, and he sighed. Minutes, days, years later, the automatic dispenser dropped a raw potato into the cell. A dull ache shot through his limbs in protest as he stood to pick it up. His vision was a little bit blurry. That wasn’t good.
The dispenser had been his only companion for a while now. He couldn’t remember the last time Sam had come to deliver him food, or the last time a visitor had been permitted to see him. Not even Quackity had come recently for one of their… sessions. It was nice to be free of the pain, but life was rather stale.
Dream wouldn’t admit to missing much of anything, but he certainly missed company.
Maybe, whispered a voice in his head, no one has bothered to ask to visit. They just don’t want to see you.
Dream thought of goggles nestled into dark hair and a flame design on a white shirt and shrugged off the concern. No matter. There was no use in worrying about problems he’d be able to fix. One day, they’d all come back to him. They’d be friends again. A perfect, happy little family. Because once he got out, once the world was his, not fucking Wilbur’s, not fucking Tommy’s, he’d--
The crunching sound turned into an earth-shattering boom, and the ground beneath him trembled, sending Dream stumbling into the water pool in the corner of his cell. What?
He frantically scrambled toward the lava wall, the lukewarm water soaking his prison uniform evaporating as he neared the liquid fire, waiting for--for--
Who knew? Perhaps it would be Techno, ready to pay back his debt. Maybe it would be Sapnap, apologies tumbling off of his lips along with promises of friendship. Hell, in some universe, it could be George, a forgiving look in his brown eyes, hand extended as a peace offering and an invitation to a future together.
Another boom shook the obsidian walls, and he felt the world tip as dust sprinkled down from above.
This was it. This was it.
The lava wall sputtered and sank, returning to the hissing lake below. Hope, terrible hope swelled in his chest, pleading and desperate and pathetic. Disgusting.
And then, as the curtain of embers fell away completely, his surroundings returned in a terrible disarray. Chunks of obsidian rained down from the ceiling. Waves of lava splashed against the walls. Red vines had appeared in the cracks, sliding up the stone, seemingly impervious to the magma. The redstone bridge reached his side; he was able to climb over the netherite barrier through a split created by one of the thick vines.
The entryway across the moat was crumbling, and the figure standing on the bridge’s deck was barely managing to hang on as the building trembled. They made eye contact.
Dream’s jaw dropped in disbelief (he wished for the hundredth time that he still had his mask). The step he took forward was horribly unsure.
Because on the opposite side of the crumbling prison, face streaked with blood and clothes stuck full of red leaves and dirt stains, stood his savior: none other than TommyInnit.
“Well?” the kid shouted, a hitch in his voice and clutching a wound in his side. “The world’s fucking ending. Hop on the bridge, dickhead, and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
. . .
Dream arrived on the other side of the lava (at last, at last, at last) on shaking legs, nearly tripping over himself like a newborn colt. It was embarrassing, really, but he couldn’t care less. When the groaning redstone bridge docked, he fell onto his knees, touching his forehead to the ground. Even though the entry room was hardly different than his cell, the air felt cleaner, softer.
He didn’t bother to stop the laugh that bubbled out of a dark corner of his heart, ignoring the way Tommy gripped an iron sword strapped to his waist. I’m free.
But there was no way Dream was going to stay in this miserable place for a second longer, so he got to his feet again. After spending… a long, long time with nothing but his thoughts, he didn’t mind letting the moment slip away like water between his fingers. If he gave himself any more time to mull over it all, to stop and consider who he used to be and who he was now, well. That would be pointless.
His hand hovered across his face, and he was once more reminded of the fact that his mask was gone. Had been gone, for quite some time, but he had been able to wear it up until he was thrown into the max security cell. This world hadn’t seen an unmasked Dream since its very beginning. Perhaps he could find a new one when he got out—
Another rattle shook the room, and Tommy, who had been waiting by the door with narrowed eyes, jerked his head sharply. “We need to go,” was all he said, and began hurrying towards a hallway with cracks spiderwebbing up the walls. Dream followed, completely at his mercy. In between the crevices, more dark vines snuck out, sliding along the obsidian like little feelers.
Why the fuck Tommy, the kid who he had murdered and brought back to life and spent so much time breaking down, was the one rescuing him, Dream didn’t know. This could be some plot to kill him, but if someone wanted to do that, it would’ve been much easier to leave him in the cell to do so, maybe cut off his food supply or something. But he was out of that room, and that was all that mattered.
At the same time, this might just be a wild hallucination, but oh well. Reality and dreams were all the same to him these days.
As soon as they got out of the entry to the main cell, squeezing between tunnels half-full of rubble and passageways Dream knew hadn’t been there when he’d made the prison, Tommy slowed to let him catch up. Weeks of sitting in the same spot and surviving off of no nutrients except the meager ones from raw potatoes, his body wasn’t quite in the speedrunning, fighting shape it had been in.
“We’ve still got some ground to cover until we’re out, but once we are, we won’t have time to chat,” huffed Tommy, ducking under a sharp blackstone crag.
Shattered pieces of glowstone littered the floor, bouncing yellow light off of their surroundings. Dream just nodded. The more information he had, the faster he could find out what was going on, the faster he could find a way to regain power.
Tommy glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
“Obviously, I fucking hate you, but you were my last option. Everyone else is—” his face pinched, and he slashed his sword through a curtain of red leaves that was spilling from one of the holes in the ceiling. “—well, out of commission. I risked a lot to get you out, bitch, so you better be grateful.”
Fatigue suddenly shuddered through Dream’s limbs, and he doubled over, just for a moment. Tommy groaned and walked back to him, impatient.
“Why?” Dream managed between wheezes out of his trembling lungs.
Tommy sighed. “I dunno if you ever got the chance to hear ‘bout it, since you’ve been locked up for fuckin’ ages, but do you know anything about the Egg?”
Dream considered for a moment. Memories and bits of information floated in his mind like leaves in the wind, fluttering and hard to grasp. Damn. He was a mess. “I-I heard a little about it, I think, a-a while ago. Seemed kinda strange, but,” he shrugged, and they began moving again. “Not like I had any say about that sort of thing.”
Distantly, a crashing sound echoed through the building, likely a piece of roof that had caved in. Before Tommy could finish filling him in, he blurted, “How did you manage to break in?”
The kid shook his head with a bitter laugh. “I didn’t break in. The Egg did. And now that it knows I’m here, it’s going to tear this place down until it can send someone to catch me. Well, now us, I suppose.” He said the word like it nauseated him.
“Why?” Dream asked again, and he despised how stupid and helpless he sounded.
“Because you and me are the only ones it hasn’t captured yet. And the only reason I came to-to free you, you green bastard, was because you’re probably the only one that can help me stop it. The only left, to be precise, but all your shit talk about being a god had to have some truth in it, eh?”
They were nearing the entry hall at last. Any water tunnels seemed to have been dried up, and on multiple occasions Tommy had to swipe or prod at the red plants. They did in fact seem to be gravitating toward them, chasing them, rather than just growing. It was slightly harrowing, really; a shock after so long of nothing but the monotony of his cage.
When they reached the front desk, a pent up breath of relief left Dream’s lips. He was actually leaving this place. It wasn’t that he had assumed he’d never leave, nothing could keep him truly contained for so long, but still. Tommy launched forward, wincing as he stretched his side, and dug through a chest behind the counter.
“Come on, Sam,” he muttered. “You had to have left something for me, old pal.”
Dream awkwardly hovered nearby, plans hatching and dying in his mind, all still twined with a significant amount of confusion. When he walked toward Tommy, the teen flinched, hard, and his hand flew to the pommel of his sword.
Oh. Right. That. He forgot how flinchy Tommy got around him. That was annoying.
Ignoring the undisguised threat in the blonde’s movements, Dream frowned and looked at the crackling nether portal. “I still don’t get why you came for me, Tommy.” It just didn’t make sense. Even if the egg was actually this big of an issue, surely someone else would notice and be willing to help, no matter how they felt about Tommy. If it was strong enough to break through the defenses of the prison, it had to be rather formidable. “I could just turn around and kill you now that I’m out.”
Tommy just shook his head, a grim smile on his face. “You won’t, though.”
“How do you know?” he countered, eye catching on a vine inching its way toward them from the hallway.
“One, you’re probably weak as shit right now, and I’m the one with the weapon. I could kill you, if I wanted.”
Sure. Dream opened his mouth to deny that, already thinking of ways he could turn the situation to his advantage, then paused.
Tommy, for once, was actually right. The kid had always been smart and quite good at fighting; nowhere near Dream’s level, but still decent. And with how tired out he was feeling right now, he wouldn’t have much of a chance against his companion should things get violent.
“Okay, but still. You can’t just, like, keep me hostage.”
At that, Tommy’s expression hardened. “You aren’t the hostage either of us has to be worried about.”
“What does that mean?”
Then, faster than Dream could react, Tommy was up in his face, blue eyes blazing. He hadn’t seen the boy this furious, this angry since they had been trapped in the cell together, Tommy screaming at him and Dream throwing punches in return. Déjà vu curled under his skin, unwelcome and cold. He was quite sick of that feeling.
“Because, you stupid fuck,” Tommy snarled, “the Egg has everyone on the server fucking mind-controlled. Brainwashed. Actual, mindless-zombie type shit. Some of them can’t even recognize anyone or even themselves.
”What’s worse is that the Egg has their—has their feelings and shit, and if it works hard enough it can access their memories, and it’s pretty damn good at using them. So it's just you and me now.”
He slammed the chest he was rifling through closed, pulling out a nearly broken diamond pickaxe and some stale-looking pieces of bread. “And there’s no way I can try and save them on my own.”
An admittance, quieter than the spitfire that had hissed from his teeth a moment before. Somehow, the world had become a place where Tommy would admit that he couldn’t do something on his own, a feat Dream had failed to get the kid to do, even in exile.
A lump formed in Dream’s throat, and he barely caught the bread Tommy threw to him. “Everyone?”
“Yeah, everyone. Sapnap and George weren’t spared just because you guys used to be friends. They’re all fucked. ”
Used to be.
Perhaps, in another world, the gravity of the situation would have been what stung the most. But Dream had sat with an eternity to think about his failures and successes, his wishes and wants, and most of his victories seemed rather small in comparison to the attachments he’d severed on his way to the top. The very people he’d wanted to bring back to his side, now, had been taken from him, regardless of any scheme or battles in the past.
Well.
But Tommy didn’t leave him to dwell on it for long. “Anyway, we’ve got to get moving quick once we go outside. It knows we’re here, or at least that I am, so it could have easily sent some people after us,” he said, and looked down into the next spot behind the desk.
The next chest, unlocked by wedging the pickaxe between the seam of the lid, had a single roll of bandages and a half-full bottle of water, as though the last guard had been on shift when things had gone bad outside. Tommy gingerly unwrapped some of the bandages and tugged up the side of his torn-up shirt, revealing a nasty looking gash, covered in dried blood and some sort of crimson powder.
At Dream’s curious glance, Tommy wiped some of the red dust off his skin. “I’m immune,” he explained, taping the last edge of the linen to his side with a wince. “So these spores can’t infect me. They still sting fuckin’ a lot, I guess, but at least I’m still me. Better than what happened to the others who inhaled them.”
“But how did it hurt you? Does it use its vines as weapons? Can it shoot thorns?” Dream needed to know how much of a threat this thing would be combat-wise, its strengths, its weaknesses if he was going to free the others. He couldn’t exactly rule over a server that already had a ruler.
And perhaps, whispered a traitorous, weak part of himself, you miss your friends. You want to redeem yourself by saving them.
Man, the prison really had made him a little crazy. Either way, he’d go along with Tommy for now; as much as he loathed to admit it, the kid knew a lot more about what was going on than he did.
It took him a minute before he realized Tommy hadn’t answered his question. The teen eyed him nervously: a hesitation. Then, “It wasn’t the Egg itself. It was controlling someone.”
The piece of bread tasted of ash when he bit into it. Somehow, it was still better than another potato. Dream couldn’t help himself. “Who?”
Tommy’s eyes darkened. His hands tightened around the edges of the next chest. “Tubbo.”
In that moment, dirty, bruised, cut up, hopeless, Tommy looked just like he had in exile with Dream. The similarity disturbed him and enthralled him equally.
.
“Oh, huh.” was all Dream could say. The fact that it was Tubbo should have been ironic, maybe humorous, but he didn’t really feel like laughing.
“Yeah. So.” Pulling open the next lid, the grim expression on Tommy’s face vanished as he lifted out a gas mask. “Yes! Sam left one of his freaky creeper things in here. Thank prime.”
He hoisted himself over the desk, and handed the mask to Dream. For a second, he stared at it dumbly. His brain still felt foggy. Why on earth would Tommy go through the trouble of making sure Dream had a mask again? It wasn’t like he actually cared about his comfort—
Tommy caught his expression and rolled his eyes. “It’s not for your vanity, idiot, it’s so you don’t inhale the spores when we get outside. They don’t hurt me, but we’ve got no idea how you’ll react, so better safe than, well, dead.”
He stepped out and toward the nether portal. “Sam had all the locker key shit on him, so I can’t access the enderchests, unfortunately. We’ll just scavenge for resources until we get to my safehouse.”
From the neck of his shirt, Tommy pulled up a gaiter, securing it just over his nose. Then he turned to face Dream in full, brandishing his sword. “I still hate you and you’re still a bitch. As much as I want you to rot away and die, you’re kind of the only one left, so the least you can do is follow my lead. Unless you’d rather see the world fall into nothingness and have everyone stay possessed forever, I suggest you trust me. I’m not going to trust you, obviously, but we’ll… have to work together, I guess.”
Dream just nodded. He needed more information until he could act, anyway, and Tommy didn’t seem like he was going to spontaneously skewer him through the heart. As they approached the portal, Tommy still eying him suspiciously, Dream braced himself. The old piece of bread he had just eaten felt like a stone in his stomach. “This is gonna suck, isn’t it?”
All the kid said was, “You’ll see.”
In the portal frame, Tommy hit a switch. Purple tresses of light poured over clung to their clothes, violet particles falling off their shoulders like a curtain. They stepped into the portal, and they went through to a world of blood red.
Dream’s eyes widened, and he scrambled to tighten the straps of the gas mask on his face. Oh, fuck.