Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's amazing how one hit to the back of your skull can change your life dramatically. 

A sickening crack could ripple a timeline and everything in it, and soon enough, you aren't who you used to be. 

You've lost something. 

Something important. 

Memories and people slip away from you and suddenly-

They're gone. 

And all you can feel is loss. 

That's what Dream felt. He felt it all go away so fast. The impact made him black out slower than it took his memories. 

And the last thing he felt before he faded into the blackness, was sorrow. 

...

"Pick him up. I don't want him bleeding on my floor-" A familiar, yet unfamiliar voice echoed. 

His eyes couldn't open. There was a pounding in his soul and everything ached. 

Especially his skull. It hurt so bad he almost lost consciousness again. 

"Oh no you don't. Boss wants you awake." And with that, he was suddenly dunked into ice-cold water. 

He gasped for air and out of shock, his eyes fluttered open. As soon as he saw the agonizing light he immediately closed them again. 

It hurt. Everything hurt. 

'Where am I?? Why does it hurt so bad?' He asked the questions in his head. 

It was even painful to think about.

The throbbing of his soul in his cranium was bad enough, but everything was so loud. Even thoughts sent a jolt of pain straight down his aching spine. 

He almost keeled over from pain and dizziness, but a strong grip kept him upright. 

"Woah there. I don't think you want another ice bath?" The raspy voice holding him upright, threatened lightly, "Sorry about that, by the way. I know it's uncomfortable-" 

"Stop apologizing to him, Horror." The silky-smooth and strangely familiar voice commanded the other, "He will get over it. If a foolish head injury cannot put an end to your filthy existence, then it definitely won't end his. He'll be fine." 

He felt his hand make its way up to his skull to check the damage. It wasn't awful, from what he could feel, just by a touch, at least. Barely even cracked. It would probably heal over time. 

It was manageable, except for the pain... and the small amount of blood.

'Oh Goddess, the pain-' He mentally cursed.

Why did a small crack hurt so bad? It was as if he didn’t feel pain often, like he didn’t know how to tolerate it. 

Where was he?

He felt something slimy (other than blood) touch the hand he had on his head and wrap around it quickly and curtly. His hand was lifted and tugged forward suddenly. 

"Ow!" He yelled uncontrollably as he was forcibly dragged forward by the tentacle-feeling thing, which just by a touch brought searing pain and agony to his arm. 

"Dream," That familiar and strange silky voice said to him, "Open your eyes, you pitiful welp. It's just a crack. I know you’ve dealt with worse." It commanded him and he was obliged to follow. Some sort of mystical aura made him want to give in. He resisted. But barely. He didn’t really know how he had managed.

Dream? 

Right... that was his name. Wasn't it? 

Why couldn't he remember anything else???

Dream couldn't picture who he was with, how he got here, or even what his own body looked like.

He kind of just felt like a light, yellow, glowing ball of nothingness...

He sure wished he could dissolve into one, at the moment. 

Dream's eyes were slow and heavy, but he did crack them open. Not because he had been commanded too by that rude slime monster. But because he was curious. After the initial first few painful seconds, his eyes adjusted and he found that it wasn't bright in this room afterall.

It was quite the opposite. 

The room was dark. So very dark. 

And the light that he had thought was blinding just moments before, was only moonlight streaming through a huge stained glass window. 

What? Was he in some sort of goth castle?!?! This was ridiculous… 

His worries about the gothly aesthetic of the room he was in presently were soon thrown aside as he observed his unhostly companions. 

The one that now held his wrist in a slippery and painful grip was actually an oozing black skeleton monster with four tentacles, one wrapped around him. 

The other one, with a raspy voice that had held him earlier, was another skeleton. Apparently named Horror. Though much much bigger and not covered in strange black ooze. Noticeably, this skeleton was boxier, had sharper features, and an enormous missing chunk in his skull. Horror, seemed completely unbothered by his missing skull piece though, and was wringing out a bloody rag into the bucket of ice water that had been sitting next to him. It made Dream feel a bit silly for being so bothered by this crack in his skull.

The slimy and terrifying one grunted in malicious approval, "Good. You're awake. I can start questioning you." 

Dream's hand was thrown out of the tentacle's grip and he rubbed it with his other hand. There was a black oozing stain on his wrist and a searing pain to match.

Dream looked down at his clothes which seemed to be torn and bloody.

Definitely not a good sign.

And these people were not exactly green flags either.

They definitely did not like him. 

He tried to speak but the pounding in his head made it hard to focus on much. He was still trying to stay upright and awake. 

The octopus one seemed to notice this and he sneered, "Pitiful how far you've fallen, Dream. After millennia, you have only become more feeble and frail. You muddy the word ‘immortal’ with your inadequacies." 

Dream looked up at the strange man, hazily trying to utter any sort of word. For some reason language was hard to understand at the moment. It was as if everyone was talking wrong. He had to think more modernly. Though he didn’t know what that thought meant, he eventually figured out how to mutter something of worth: "What are you talking about?" He managed through the dizziness, finally. 

The man gained a face of sincere perplexity for a moment before he clarified, curtly, "I am insulting you, Dream.” His slimy oozing tentacles maliciously curled and flicked behind him, punctuating every word with some sort of evil and terrifying movement.

Just being there, he gave off a general feeling of awfulness that made Dream’s mind swim. He felt weaker in his presence, and therefore, genuinely scared for his life. “And if you don't give me the location of the Star's I'm going to rip that soul of yours out and end this feud once and for all.” 

He sighed and walked ever so slightly closer to Dream, Dream scooted backwards fearfully. “I’ve grown tired of waiting for you to come to your senses. Give me what I desire, and I’ll make it quick, sharp, and painless as possible." His distals snapped sharply together with each of his last words. His promise did not seem sincere to Dream in the slightest, nor desirable.

Dream squinted at him, dizzy, and frankly, tired of his crap. Clearly he was in danger here, but his skull wasn’t working quite right and he didn’t have the mental capacity to think about the smartest things to say so he simply asked, "The… what's???" 

That seemed to stump the other one yet again. He frowned for a moment and Dream’s mouth seemed to solder itself shut immediately. He had messed up somehow, and his gut knew it. He was acting foolishly, but how else was he supposed to respond? He had no idea what this man was on about.

Suddenly, the man burst out laughing, it was not a pleasant sound. Though it was laughter it brought about a feeling of glass upon Dream’s non-existent ears. It was painful and all around, not the joyful sound one would expect from a laugh.

"I didn't know you developed a sense of sarcastic and pitiful humor Dream! You never seemed one to jest." A tentacle shot at Dream and pushed him backward. He was shoved past Horror into a dark wooden table, shoulder stinging from the contact and spine connecting with the table, surely bruising it.

Dream gasped for air as his vision started to blur once more and the moonlight was starting to become incredibly hard to handle again.

He felt consciousness start to creep away from him slowly.

"Keep him awake!" The bitter voice commanded. 

The bigger one with a skull chunk missing, grabbed him again and muttered a soft, "Sorry 'bout this..." before dunking him- yet again- into the ice-cold water. 

Dream emerged, and very, very awake. He instinctually found himself pushing the one with a cracked skull away from him and he tipped the water over almost instinctively, so it wouldn’t be used on him again.

A spiteful growl came from in front of him, where the oozing one stood, "Don't play with me Dream- I let you live for information only. After you're gone, I'll have everything I ne-" 

"Who the funk are you?!" Dream found himself interrupting in a fit of anger.

This did not feel instinctual. In fact, a part of him was screaming for him to hide his anger.

Why was that?

The inky and spiteful skeleton drew back. The anger seemed to be the opposite of what this inky dark monster had expected from him.

"What did you say to me?" He spat back at him, a dangerously threatening edge to his tone.

Dream stammered a little, "I asked you who the funk you were? Where the funk am I? And what are you doing to me?" 

The goopy one looked like he was in some sort of inescapable denial. Shocked by every word Dream said, "Stop toying with me, Dream. It isn't working." 

Dream wasn't messing around. But if he was he would be proud, because this man was lying about it not working. 

"W h o    a r e    y o u?" Dream practically spat at him. He matched every once of annoyance and threatening aura that this interrogator was giving him.

It felt good to be angry.

To be aggressive. 

It was as if he hadn't done it before. Like he had never screamed, yelled, or threatened.

It felt crazy. But it felt relieving.

Who was he? 

The goopy one's glowing teal eye widened, "Nightmare..." 

The name sent a chill down Dream’s spine. 

What an oddly fitting name. Bone chilling and simple. It was off-putting and to the point. Yet it felt wrong and gross. Dream didn’t like the length of it. He felt like yelling the name would make his throat raw and ragged. It filled Dream with a sense of dread and- oddly- sadness.

The one named Horror waved his hand in front of Dream, snapping him out of his momentary spiral. Dream jumped, having not noticed him moving next to him. "Uh- Boss?” He muttered, “I don't think he's lying. He’s nervous. Actually. Nervous." 

Nightmare rolled his one visible eyelit, "Why wouldn’t he be? Terror is to be expected." 

Horror shook his head incessantly, "No, no. Dream has never been scared of me. He's only ever… felt pity fer me an’ the guys. I-" 

Nightmare's cheshire grin turned downwards in a flash, "He's toying with us. I will not be fooled so easily." 

Dream wobbled as he tried to stand up, "I told you- I have no idea who you ar-" He almost fell yet again and Horror caught him, forcing him to sit back down again. 

Nightmare seemed really pissed off now. "Liar!" He snapped, "This will not fool me. I am no halfwit imbecile! Tell me where those wretched swine are or I'll end your pitiful existence right here and now." 

A tentacle shot out and wrapped around him. Dream felt his ribs almost crack under the pressure as he was dragged forward yet again. His torso felt like it was on fire.

"Where are they? You know who I’m talking about. Those false Guardians and their Goddess forsaken spawn? That annoying blue twerp? Where is Cross???" Nightmare demanded as he squeezed the life out of him. He practically cursed the last name. It was if it was a pain to be said, the word was full of that much spite.

Now, that name garnered a different type of reaction from Dream than it did Nightmare. It was one of confusion and curiosity. His soul itself reacted to the name. Interesting. He felt his skull reaching to remember. But it was just fuzziness. He felt some emotions though. No names. No faces. But he remembered loss and the sadness. 

Was that someone he wanted to remember? 

"Who?" Dream managed to ask, although his ribs were slowly cracking under the pressure. 

He felt his body fall to the floor before he could even process that he had been let go. 

Dream fell to the black cold tiles with a sickening sizzling noise accompanying it. It was as if his bones were actually melting off from the red hot pain. He curled up in agony as his arms and ribs were now both damaged beyond what he had woken up to. 

"...forgotten. Cross?" Nightmare gave another awful-sounding laugh, "Dream, you are an awful liar. And an even worse jester." 

Dream held his sides in terrified and agonizing pain, "Please,” He began to beg, “I don't understand what's going on, you have to believe me-" He attempted desperately to reach some sort of sympathetic part of Nightmare’s skull.

"These are some elaborate and twisted tactics you have pondered up, I must say. You have gotten awfully desperate, have you not?" 

Dream flinched expectantly when he saw the tentacle move back toward him. However, this time the tentacle only grabbed his chin, causing a small tinge of pain and moved his face back and forth as if to check on something. 

Nightmare was silent and he seemed to contemplate something. Finally, he spoke, "Let's say I believe this little charade of yours. Why keep you alive if I have no use for you?" His wickedly wide grin appeared yet again and he got frighteningly close to Dream, "I could kill you right now, you know." 

Dream gulped. He had to think of something fast. 

Reasons to keep him alive?? 

Goddess. 

He didn't even have enough memories to help him come up with a lie-

What did he remember? 

He thought long and hard, reaching to the deepest recesses of his mind. 

Memories were fuzzy. But feelings were not. Dream remembered happiness. He remembered love and compassion. He loved his brother. He had a brother- And they were going to be together forever. 

Until they weren't...

Something had happened. And no matter how hard Dream tried he couldn't remember what. Dream couldn't even picture his brother's name or face, let alone the event that separated them. 

But the feelings were strongly ingrained in him. He could never forget those. The feeling of betrayal and hurt. Covered up with fake smiles and selfless services. 

But he remembered nothing more. 

That's all he had to offer. 

"My brother… please, that's all I've got. I swear, I can’t remember anything else. I need to live for my brother, that’s all I know." Dream practically begged, his vision swimming again. 

Nightmare actually cackled at that. Yet again, it was not wonderful to behold. His grin spread from one metaphorical ear to another, "You think that'll work on me? You're more foolish than I previously observed. I'm used to you begging and pleading- but not like this." The man paused. 

A silence, uncomfortably long and hollow, rang out in the dark dining hall. Not even a breath was heard. 

Dream had nothing more to offer. He felt hopeless. A darkness seemed to consume his every thought and sense. He was goig to die here and there was nothing he could say that would stop it.

The silence went on still. Nightmare was observing him stubbornly. 

Finally, he spoke. “Prove it." Nightmare commanded sternly.

Dream sat up, his gaze rising from the dark floor to meet the man's gaze, "Prove what?" 

"Prove you're not lying." Nightmare elaborated curtly. He was the type of monster to enunciate constants in a proper and sharp way. 

Dream frowned, "How the funk am I supposed to do that?" He put a hand to his mouth in curious anger, "And why do I keep saying funk instead of funk?!" His curse got censored again. 

Horror moved from his position next to Dream and walked towards his Boss and whispered something to him. Nightmare sneered as he listened to his sorry excuse for a lackey and turned to storm away, saying, "You're staying here until your memory 'returns' . If it does not come back shortly, you will not have much time left before I turn you into meaningless dust." 

With that, the strange man simply disappeared. Through a puddle of his own goop, Nightmare had seemingly teleported away, though Dream sensed he was not far.

Silence rang in the cold dark room and all that could be heard was the soft patter of his blood onto the tile and his very own torn up clothes.

"He's gone now." Said Horror to Dream. "You can go ahead and pass out, if you like. I won't dunk that water on you...not that I can anyways." Horror regarded the tipped-over ice bucket. 

Dream shook his head absently, "I don't understand. What is going on?" He should’ve cried, but he found that he couldn't let himself. Not that he was hydrated enough anyway.

Horror stared at him curiously, after a moment he advised, "Go to sleep. We'll check in with you when you wake up." He paused. "Actually... here, follow me." 

Dream was clumsily escorted to another room nearby.

He almost passed out just by standing so Horror had to awkwardly half-carry him over there. “Nightmare didn’t really say where ta put ya. So I suppose this will do.”

He was led to a small dark bedroom that made him feel claustrophobic just looking at it. The furniture was all dark wood and the only light again was a big window with black sheer curtains. 

But by the way Nightmare had treated him, he figured he should be grateful to Horror for not throwing him in some sort of underground dungeon or something. 

Horror helped him sit on the bed, "I meant it. I won't dunk any water on you. You can pass out now." 

"I don't need to pass ou-" Dream tried to say, as he passed out.

Chapter Text

Dream woke up and his skull was bandaged. He rubbed it absently, 'How did that get there?' He wondered. 

He felt much better now, although the pounding in his skull was still there and a dull ache never seemed to want to leave his sides, arms, wrists, and spine.

Dream turned his head and found that no one was there. He had half expected someone to be watching him. But there was no one. He listened and noticed that there wasn’t even someone posted outside his door to guard him. Considering his experience the last time he woke up, this was strange to him.

Dream attempted to sit up and found that he could do it with little to no effort. He sighed with relief, "Good," He said to himself out loud, "I'm doing better." He had the strange sensation that he had said that to himself many times before. But never truly meant it. 

Dream threw off the sheets and stood up.

His clothes were still on him, torn and bloody. Dream saw that a bucket and rags were next to his bed on a table. The used ones were bloody or covered in dirt.

Had someone come and cleaned his wounds? Perhaps the skeleton named Horror had done it. Though why he would bother was beyond Dream. He did seem, at least, a small bit kinder than Nightmare. He didn’t seem too keen on dunking him in ice or continuing an integration that was clearly duped by inconvenient memory loss.

'Why stick around with Nightmare then?' Dream wondered as he slowly wandered out of his room. 

He didn't exactly have a plan as to where he was going. 

A part of him knew he should try and get out of there. This was all clearly extremely dangerous and he would more than likely, be killed. 

Another part of him was eager to stay and explore. It was a naive and deathly feeling. If he listened to it, he was going to get hurt, and the logical part of him knew that to be true.

He heard the soft click of his boots against the red-carpeted moonlit hall. 

Why was it moonlit still? How long had he been out? Surely it should be daytime.

He made his way down the empty hall, observing his surroundings. Dream figured that he definitely was in a gothic castle. The dark aesthetic bothered him ever so slightly. It lacked color except for the occasional doorway accented in a sort of goldish-yellow instead of the more common silverish-purple color. The hallways had black tiles with a small strip of purple carpet down the middle. It seemed to go on forever along with endless windows that stretched up to the ceiling. It seemed like, if Dream could see the ceiling, this was the type of castle to adorn some sort of dramatic gothic chandlers. 

There seemed to be a few rooms along this stretch of hallway, marked by dark doorways.

That excluded the room he had previously woken up in with the threatening skeletons, which had no door. It was a dining room lined with many stained glass windows. Each window depicted something different and unique. Dream hadn’t noticed, because well, he was being tossed around. But each one had a skeleton. One looked like Horror, holding an axe. The other two windows had skeletons Dream didn’t recognize. Though staring at them too long hurt his head.

He decided to stop looking into that awful dining room and walk away. Eventually he reached the end of the hallway which had a big black door. 

And when I write big, I mean it. These hallways, windows, and doors were so massive they made Dream look like a spec in comparison. 

He pushed his whole body aching weight against the door and it creaked open very, very, slowly. 

Dream nervously glanced from side to side checking for Horror or someone worse like Nightmare. 

'Ok...what the funk is my plan here-' He thought nervously. He needed to escape. But he couldn’t find his way to a bathroom, let alone an exit.

Stuck in anxious thought, Dream didn't seem to notice the person who had appeared next to him, "I hope you're not thinking about running away." They said, startling him.

Dream yelped and slammed his body against the door in panicked shock. He had not felt their presence there and for some odd reason, that struck him as deeply unsettling.

The unfamiliar skeleton, who he noticed looked like one of the ones on the stained glass windows, held up their hands and backed up, "Woah there, Yellow Man! Glad you didn’t overreact!" 

Dream didn't answer to his obvious sarcasm. He tried to open the door he had come through before, so he could escape this frightening interaction, but his hand fumbled around the door loudly, as he too-late remembered, it had no door handle and he simply should’ve pushed.

He sweat awkwardly when he realized how obviously he was trying to escape and the skeleton in front of him was simply smiling at him as if enjoying his struggle.

"...suppose you don’t have your powers under wraps anymore? I mean, I know I’m hard to read but, usually, you woulda known I was there." The new skeleton observed.

He had an accent, but Dream couldn’t place it with no memories to judge it off of. Dream had no idea what he was on about but he wasn’t really listening, to be fair. Dream was focused on the skeleton's wide grin and terrifying dark liquid dripping from his sockets. But most of all, the large knife the skeleton was twirling in his skeletal fingers. "Horror said something was up with you… did you actually lose your memory?" 

Dream gulped as the other person twirled the knife between one hand and the other, "Name's Killer, just in case." He seemed to examine Dream. “Don’t worry though. I won’t be killin’ you.” He laughed sharply as if he heard some inside joke that was hilarious, but Dream did not think it was funny, especially since he wasn’t in on the quip.

After a moment he turned around, he was spinning the knife carelessly in his right hand now, "Come on and follow me! I think I believe you." 

Dream hesitantly stepped after him after a moment of waiting. He dragged his feet and carefully examined Killer from behind, while also trying to strategically hide that he was looking for an exit now, very frantically.

Killer turned around and raised a metaphorical eyebrow, the knife stopped spinning in his hand, "Come on. I don't bite." He smiled again, "I think Horror is more likely to do that. That's a joke by the way.” He laughed at Dream’s horrified expression, “Don’t tell him I told it. It’s based on a goddess-forsaken rumor." 

Killer sighed when he noticed that Dream was not lightening up and put the knife away, "There? Better?" After a moment Dream gave Killer a shaky nod. "Alright," Killer waved for him to follow again, "Now hurry up, okay?" 

Dream picked up the pace a little. He didn't want to get anyone angry, least of all the guy with a knife. Especially since their Boss was so aggressive. If he set an example, Dream needed to stay on their good sides if he wanted to make it out of this alive.

'How do I know these people??' He thought with a sweat. They clearly knew him. He just couldn’t figure out what his relationship to them was.

"You said... you believe me?" Dream asked, hesitantly. He needed a distraction, but also he wanted as many allies as he could. While this man was scary, he was easier to talk to than, say, Nightmare, by a long shot. If he played his cards correctly, Dream could maybe make allies and hopefully escape as unscathed as possible. 

It seemed if he wanted to get out of here alive he would need to at least convince Nightmare that his memory was gone and to do that he needed to convince the (slightly) nicer ones of that first. After he convinced Nightmare of that, he would have to also convince him that he was still useful alive somehow. Dream had no idea how he would manage that yet.

"I've never seen you like this before. Nightmare can grumble all he wants, but he knows some things up. You're not… the same. And he can feel that more than anyone." Killer replied, breaking Dream out of his thoughts. “He knows you don’t remember. He knows it more than we do.”

"If he knows I'm not lying, why am I here?" Dream found himself asking, "He...he said he would kill me if I was no longer useful." 

Killer shrugged, "It's anyone's best guess. He has been… strange lately. I don't know what he wants me to say, so I'll only tell you this: He hates your guts.” The phrase made Dream shiver. Nightmare was not someone he wanted a predisposed hatred from. Killer continued, “But he's smart, smarter than anyone I know. And if you manage to make one misstep, he will make you suffer." Killer turned on his heel sharply and was inches away from Dream's face. Dream yelped and scrambled backward, his soul pounding in his aching chest. 

"Didn't fight me." Killer observed quietly. He turned back around sharply and continued to walk as if nothing happened, "Yup. I believe you." 

Dream tried to catch his breath as he scrambled after him to catch up, "W-wait! I don't want to stay here. I'm kidnapped or something, aren't I? This is some sort of hostage situation where I'm going to end up dead, isn't it?! You're all numbskulls if you think I'm going to let it happen-" 

"You've still got some fight in you, I see," Killer said, observantly. He was unphased by any comment Dream made, it seemed. He turned and met Dream's terrified gaze. Dream tried to look brave. "You don't remember this, and I’m sure you’re already starting to figure it out again, but Nightmare isn't someone you should mess with Dream. Especially since you don't seem to have your tingly-feeling thingy under control yet. I'd hate to find out what could happen if you try to start something right now." 

Dream shrunk back a little, "Tingle-feely thingy...?" 

Killer gave a lighthearted chuckle, "Oh, you really are screwed! If you had your memories you would be freaking! Good ol’ uptight and righteous Dream is certainly screaming somewhere deep down inside you." 

Dream couldn't find it in him to laugh at that. This didn't seem funny to him at all. He just felt scared and confused and for some reason, those feelings made him so uncomfortable that if he had skin, he would want to rip it off. It was a worse feeling than anything else at the moment.

Killer stopped suddenly and Dream almost ran into him, "I don't think you've 'met' Dust yet. He's in this room with Horror. You can go ahead and head in. We’ll be keepin’ a socket on you till the big Boss tells us what the plan is." 

He pushed the door open without waiting for Dream to respond (or mentally prepare himself). 

Horror and (someone Dream could only assume was Dust) were busy arm wrestling on the table. 

This seemed to be another dining room. Although, it was much better lit than the other one. In fact, it was almost as if this one had sunlight? That was strange. Just a few paces away the hallway was moonlit. Dream hadn’t seen sunlight the entire time he had been here.

The two skeletons stopped (Dust slammed Horror's hand to the table while he was distracted) and looked at Dream and Killer. 

"You were right, he was wandering around," Killer reported to them with a disappointed head shake. "I figured I'd just bring him in here till Boss stops pouting up in his gloomy azz tower." 

"...I wouldn't talk bad about him so casually, in front of our…company..." Dust commented coldly. He had a quiet and analytical voice. Dust had a hooded face, but Dream knew he was being watched and analyzed.

He wanted to shrink and disappear, but Killer didn't seem to want to let that happen. He pushed Dream farther into the room, a yelp from Dream ensued.

Dust sat up a little and you could see his head tilt in confusion, "You… scared him?" A tiny inflection on his last word, made it a question rather than a statement. Dust didn’t often change his tone, so the way he said it, made his shock noticeable. 

Killer shrugged, "I think he really messed up that skull of his." He pulled out a chair at the end of the table and shoved Dream down in an unneeded and aggressive fashion. Dream tried to hold in his surprised yelp this time, but it ended up coming out as an even more embarrassing 'squeak' and he felt his face flush. 

The other skeletons seemed unbothered and they sat close together and started to speak in hushed whispers. This was going to be awful, wasn't it? Dream didn't know what exactly it was, but everything around him felt...wrong. He had felt uneasy the whole time for reasons beyond his situation. It was as if the people around him all felt angry or bitter and it rubbed off on him. 

Right now though, with the three of them together talking. They seemed...lighter. Happier. It was a weird thing for Dream to feel. Weird for him to know. 

He briefly pondered, yet again, how he was going to escape this. 

Dream didn't know where he was. He didn't know who he was. He was obviously in danger and could be killed. There seemed to be no hope and he was stressing himself out just thinking about it. And for some reason being stressed out was even more stressful. 

"Well funk me..." He muttered under his breath. It was strange that he couldn't seem to curse. But even stranger that he was trying to. He knew deep down somewhere that he hadn't really been one to do that before. 

The Gang turned to him and stared. 

Dust's hooded figure seemed perplexed, "...Curious...” He remarked coldly, “...He really did hit it hard. I've never heard him try to curse…" 

"Not that it matters," Horror chuckled, "Fresh left his mark. Annoying azz parasite." 

Killer left the room, stepping into what must have been a kitchen or something, connected to the dining room they were currently in. He came back with some food in hand. He handed some to Dust and offered some to Horror. Horror took some, but noticeably did not touch a bite throughout the rest of the conversation. A normal person may not have noticed but Dream was drawn to that fact for some reason and he found himself keeping a close eye on it. 

Dream himself was offered food but he also did not touch it. He didn't find himself hungry and he definitely didn't trust what they gave him. 

"...Boss might not be out of his chambers for a while," Dust said while eating some of his breakfast. He did it with some property. "Last time he was like this was after we took the Inky brat..." 

"I guess he just tends to act goofy when he kidnaps people." Killer seemed delighted to use the butter knife as some sort of fidget toy and Dream was a little worried. 

Dream yet again eyed the contents of his plate. It seemed weird to him that he didn't feel hungry. He figured he should be. But he wasn't. He was somewhat glad that he wasn't starving though. Because he was suspicious of the contents of the food. Was it poison or something?

There was noticeably no fruit on anyone's plate. Which might not have been strange except this was usually a dish made with apples. 

Why did he know that??? 

"I think it's a weak strategy, and Nightmare is noticing it. Kidnapping is hard. You can't always get what you want out of it." Horror added, "He took his-" He looked at Dream and seemed to change his wording, "He took Dream wanting info, right? Well now he can't have it, and the only reasonable thing to do is kill him. But well..." 

The whole Gang turned and stared at Dream and he sank down in his chair, wanting to disappear into it somehow. He hated all their peering eyelits. Each one of the skeletons had some weird feature to their eyes and it gave Dream bad vibes.

"You know Boss... he's been gettin’ weird lately." Horror continued.

They all seemed to have some sort of silent agreement about something, nodding their heads.

Dream rubbed his forehead, awkwardly. His hand paused on the bandage and it seemed empty.

 His hand felt a presence missing.

 His head felt too light. 

 Something was missing.

"Where..." Dream mumbled as he rubbed his forehead. 

Horror blinked and the three of them shared a glance, "You missing somethin'?" Horror asked. He seemed like he was trying to be careful about something. 

Dream thought for a moment, "Am I?" He looked up at them suspiciously, "It sure felt like it before, but judging by how you're acting... I am, aren't I? Your faces are really easy to read. Except for you…" He glanced at Dust, slightly weirded out.

Dust huffed a darkish laugh, "...smart, as usual, but more to the point. I like the new Dream better…"

Horror seemed glad for an excuse to leave the table, he pushed out of his seat and gestured for Dream to follow, "Your circlet is back in your…er…prison. But I suppose you can call it your room, for now. Follow me, I've got nothing better to do till the Boss comes down." 

Chapter Text

Horror held in his hand a gold circlet with two golden swirls on the front of the loop, right where his forehead would be. 

Dream took it from him and it just… felt right, resting in the palms of his bony hands. Suddenly he was reunited with a piece of him he knew deep down that he had been missing. The cold golden metal was perfectly smooth and glossy. It was neatly taken care of and whatever battles it may have seen, it didn't show it. He clearly had adored this crown.

It was comforting to put it on. Even if it hurt a little, physically. He was glad to have it back.

"I knew you would probably be worried if you lost that. So I kept it here. I thought you would’ve seen it when you woke up, I was kinda surprised when you came in earlier and weren’t wearin’ it. Though, I suppose it doesn’t feel great with all that pain in your head.”

Dream simply gave a shrug, “It’s healing quickly.”

Horror nodded as if he should’ve expected as much. He sighed, rubbing the back of his own injured skull, “I've never really seen you without it.” He continued, obviously not knowing what to say really. “Of course, don't get too comfortable wearing it. I'm not sure what Nightmare is going to want to do with you. He seems conflicted. ‘M not sure if I should be treatin’ you like a prisoner er…what…" 

Horror seemed uncomfortable. Dream could feel that in his bones, and it made him uneasy. 

"Do you like your… Boss?" Dream asked, hesitantly. After a moment he realized he hadn’t phrased his question perfectly and asked instead, “I mean, why do you work for…him? He is not… someone I would want to work for.” 

Horror huffed a sort of half laugh, half scoff. “No, he definitely wouldn’t be. Not many people choose to work for him. It just sorta…happens.” He sighed, boxy shoulders relaxing a little as he thought about his answer. “I…can’t say I enjoy everythin’ we do ‘round these parts. But, I will say that Nightmare is mostly all bark. And he only bites if he feels threatened. So don’t cross him, that’s all. If you stay on his good side, Nightmare will often pay you handsomely. What we do is necessary, even if you don’t understand it.”

Dream swallowed that thought, as if he had to mechanically digest it, rather than cognitively. After a moment he found himself asking, “Well… are you… happy here? With… all of them?”

Horror looked at Dream with a softer expression than anyone had given him thus far. It made Dream feel instantly safer. Perhaps not everyone here was completely bad. Horror did seem the most lenient and reasonable. He would be the easiest to befriend of the bunch, Dream concluded.

"Yeah, bro. It’s ‘ight.” He shrugged, “The trouble in it all, is that we're all… hurt. You knew that before all this, and you tried to help." He didn't meet Dream's eyes, "But not in a way that Nightmare liked. Or any of us, frankly. See, we don’t need saving from here. This Gang, is all any of us have left. What we need is beyond helping, I fear." 

"Nightmare doesn't look like he would accept any form of help." Dream said, matter of factly. “I doubt he would take it, even if it was the supposed ‘right way’.”

Horror chuckled, "You're right about that one! But ‘course you are. You would know that more than anyone-" 

Dream tilted his head, "Huh?" 

Horror's eye sockets widened and his smile dropped, "Sorry. I talks too much sometimes. Yer kinda are like my bro,  Pap. I mean, ya remind me of ‘im a lot. Always wantin’ ta help people, even when they're bad." Horror leaned down and lowered his voice, "I'll give you one piece of advice, dreamer boy. Even if ya don't follow it, don't try ta help us. ‘k? You'll only make things worse for yourself and fer us. Nightmare won't allow change ‘less it’s in the way he wants, and he doesn’t want whatever you’re doin’. You didn’t know how to help before, an’ you definitely don’t know now. I’m tellin’ ya ‘cause I know it’s in yer nature. But good people like you…like my bro… sometimes are better off not even tryin’." 

That "piece of advice" must have been reverse psychology, because now Dream was becoming acutely aware of how troubled these skeletons must be. Especially to be working for someone like Nightmare. They didn’t seem all that unhappy with him either. Which was even more worrying.

Dream’s sockets narrowed, "I'm not very good at following advice." He said quietly. 

The bigger skeleton frowned but he let out a half-hearted chuckle along with a shrug, "You and Papyrus both... You really ‘re just alike." He sighed, "It's a good and a bad thing. Too selfless for yer own goods. You’re gonna end up hurt, kid." Horror’s one red eyelit glew brightly in the dimly lit room, adding to the daunting effect of that statement. 

Papyrus was a familiar name. Dream didn't feel like he knew it well even before all of this. He tried to rack his brain as to why he knew that. But only fuzziness came through. 

'Too selfless for my own good...' The thought rang in his head. 

He mulled over it. 

Either he was getting out of here by running. Or he was going to make allies and have them let him go. And to do that, he would have to get to know them better. Maybe fixing their problems would do Dream and them some good.

Allies seemed more plausible, he was realizing as he happened to notice that all of the windows were not only bolted shut, but Dream had not found a single exit.

...

Cross practically broke down Error and Ink's old wooden door. "Holy zip!!!" He shouted.

Ink was holding a little toddler Gradient and Error practically fell out of his large green bean-bag chair. Their firstborn, Pj, was simply sipping his hot chocolate as if this sort of thing happened every day, not even looking up.

"WHaT tHe FuNk Cross?!?!" Error shouted from the floor, where he was glitching rapidly, "wHy ArE yOu BarGing InTo oUr hoUse ScreaMing?!" 

"He's an angyyyyyyy skunk!" Gradient commented, pointing at Cross from a shocked Ink's arms. 

"Dream!" Cross yelled, he ran over to Ink and put his hands on his shoulders, desperately, "Y-you???? Whe-where the funk?!" He seemed out of breath and overly manic. 

"What are you talking about???" Ink asked him, concerned. His pupils were the shape of a question and exclamation point. 

Cross took a moment to catch his breath finally, and the tension in the room was at an all-time high for the first time in a while. The house was place in an abandoned Outertale AU, things were typically quiet as a mouse and any chaos like this was usually caused by the kids, or Ink throwing a fit about art again. Cross gulped down some air before saying, "Dream is missing. I can't find him-" 

Error rose to his feet in the typical tired old man fashion, adjusting his round red-rimmed glasses that had gone askew in the chaos, "Missing? How do you know he's not just… out somewhere?" 

When Error adjusted his glasses and his eyes finally focused he noticed finally that Cross looked like he was close to tears. 

And one thing to know about Cross is that he rarely cries.

It would take a tragedy to make him do so. Not even Error could spark a droplet back in his good old Destroyer days.

The last time Cross had really, truly cried was when he murdered the entirety of his very own AU. 

So needless to say, this must be serious and bad. Very bad.

"I've looked everywhere. An-and usually he would answer his phone. Or- something!" 

Error and Ink glanced at each other. It seemed that the same thought had occurred to both of them at once. Which was not a good sign.

Cross narrowed his eyes, "You!!!!!" He pointed at them accusingly. (By “them”, mostly Error. He still had unresolved beef with him.) "You know something, don't you? Where is he?!" 

Ink put down Gradient slowly and the kid waddled over to see what Pj was doing. Pj let Gradient sit next to him, but his eyes never left the adults. He was watching everything play out from over his mug. He was a very attentive kid. 

Ink crossed the room carefully and put a hand on Cross's shoulder, "Okay, don't freak out-" He started, slowly.

"I won't freak out!!" Cross exclaimed, totally freaking out. 

"You're freaking out." Error pointed out with a glitchy grimace.

"You're still on very thin ice with me, Error-" Cross spat at him. “I don’t trust you. And I never will. I bet you did something to him yourself!” Cross began to accuse Error in a moment of anger, he wanted so badly for an answer, or at least, someone to blame. Error was a perfect scapegoat for his negative emotions.

Ink shook him, snatching his attention away from his glitchy husband, "Cross! Listen! If what we think happened... happened, then we don't have time for you to make accusations." 

Cross rubbed his frontal bone and took a long shaky breath in an attempt to calm down. Finally he spoke, "Fine. Fine. Where do you think he is?" 

There was silence. Error and Ink seemed to be at a loss for words. Cross looked back and forth between them desperately, “Well?!”

Pj didn't look up from his drink, but he spoke nonchalantly, "Dream was going to spy on Nightmare's Gang and they let him go without them ‘cause, and I quote: ‘We don’t have a babysitter’. So, he probably got caught." It was as if he was enacting revenge for the whole 'not being old enough to be left at home alone' thing.

Cross's jaw practically fell off. His head basically whipped around to continue his scalding hot glare at Error in particular.

"Pj!" Error scolded. 

"What?! You guys weren't going to tell him!" 

"You've got a lot of nerve for a six-year-old." Error replied through gritted yellow teeth. 

Pj seemed to take that as a compliment and he smiled broadly, "Rad!" 

Error frowned, "No! Not rad! Now butt out. The adults are talking." 

Pj stuck all three of his tongues out at Error, but when he got the Dad look he suddenly became very interested in his drink. What interesting colors it suddenly had!

Ink seemed more and more concerned about Cross, "It was supposed to just be an observation mission. We made sure he knew to not engage. Maybe- he's just a little late, because he found something important?" 

"Or you guys let him go alone and he got killed!” Cross practically hissed in The Guardians face. 

Ink shrunk back, a stern expression consuming him suddenly, "No. We wouldn't let that happen. I wouldn't have let him go alone if I didn't think he could handle it!" His eyelits betrayed him though; as the thought of that possibility set in, one shifted to a big red question mark and the other went to a bright blue X symbol.

"Nightmare wasn't supposed to be there, anyway. He couldn't have died." Added Error, matter of factly. He seemed more certain of Dream’s safety. Perhaps because he didn’t care as much for Dream as the others, so he saw no point in worrying.

This did not quell Cross’s anxiety and he started to pace anxiously once more, "But what if Nightmare was there for some reason?! Dream could really be hurt! Or- or-" He truly feared the worst. His pessimistic thoughts would not stop flooding in.

"Well..." Ink frowned at his own thoughts, "Nightmare wouldn't kill Dream, if anything..." 

Cross turned towards Ink sharply, "What? If anything, what?!?!" 

Ink put his hands up defensively, eyelits flashing to bright green exclamation points and he cursed under his breath in French before spouting, "Nightmare probably took Dream. O-or his Gang did. Either way, Nightmare gets more out of Dream if he kidnaps. Killing him would be pointless. Nightmare is smart, he’ll know this." 

"And it's not like he hasn't kidnapped before..." Error grumbled. Pj looked oblivious to the implications, plus the kid was busy pretending he wasn’t listening anymore anyway. “He’d do it, even if it meant just causing a bit more negativity.”

Cross mulled over this thought. He wanted so badly to think that Dream was okay. But he wasn't known for optimism. He was actually known for the opposite really. 

Which is what made his and Dream's friendship so strange. He felt warm and fuzzy around Dream. Like he was safe and could finally relax. Which in turn, made him anxious because, that was not a feeling he was used to by any means. It was not something that was safe to do, often. Or at least, that’s what he had been taught.

Cross knew that if Dream were here, he would tell him he was overreacting about all of this and that all they could do was hope for the best. Which was advice only Dream could give when someone had been quite literally kidnapped. 

He was a “Professional Optimist”, as Cross called him. 

The white and black skeleton was not so easily convinced that “hoping for the best” would get him far. Because history had told him that people, among other things, were not so easily trusted. When you let your guard down, it strikes. When you're happiest, that's how it gets you. And when things could go wrong, they always do. 

Dream told Cross that these types of thoughts were wild overgeneralizations and they leaned a little too heavily on the negative side. Cross supposed that was why Dream's twin brother, The King and Guardian of Negativity himself, had been so eager to have Cross work for him...

He took a deep breath. He had to hope that Dream was still alive. Ink was right, Nightmare was smart and he would definitely get more out of a kidnapping or interrogating or holding for ransom than ending him.

 With the thought of Dream’s death being replaced with the thought of a less stressful situation known as kidnapping, now he had to worry about a kidnapped Dream. Because, even when Cross worked for Nightmare he never saw his hideout. The fabled gothic castle that Killer had once spoken about, Cross had never seen. (That guys big mouth never stopped.) Cross hadn't even worked for Nightmare long enough to meet all the other Gang members, like Horror and Dust. 

His career as a Bad Sans was short-lived, Cross supposed. Probably because he, “...wasn't actually a bad person blah blah-”, which was paraphrasing of course, but that's what Dream would always say, anyway. 

"If he is kidnapped, we need to rescue him." Cross declared sternly after a few moments of careful and quiet pondering.

"No, shiz Sherlock." Error glared at him, rolling his mismatched and glitchy eyelits, "But we'll need to be careful and we don't have any information on where the Gang will be next." 

Cross shifted his weight uncomfortably, "We'll have to go somewhere they're more likely to be. And a place they’ll be talking, at that. That way we get some info out of them." 

"And where exactly would that be?" Ink asked. It was the question everyone was thinking.

All of them thought for maybe a second before they all looked up at the same time, the same place in their minds.

“Horror!” Ink voiced.

That's it! They knew where to look.

 ...

Nightmare paced in his cold, dark room. 

He felt empty.

That wasn't a good thing to feel. 

He needed anger or sadness. He wanted jealousy or pain. 

But nothing came to him. 

Did Dream really forget? 

He liked to pretend that the reason that idea bothered him was because he needed the information he had initially been seeking. But really, deep down, it confused him on a fundamental level. 

Dream couldn't forget. If he did, then Nightmare was all alone with the memories. 

Nightmare didn't want to think about what it would be like to live with that terrible agonizing burden all on his lonesome. Even on opposite sides of the battlefield, the twins shared the same burden of horrific memories surrounding their childhood and it’s what tied them so closely together. Fate had woven their stories towards one another. They were bound by their pasts to either be the best of friends or worst of enemies. Nightmare didn’t want that string of fate to be cut by their past being forgotten. He didn’t want it to change. But he surely wasn't going to tell anyone that was how he felt about it.

He was in a strange state of denial. Deep down, Nightmare knew it was true. The emotional aura radiating off of Dream was different. He could sense very easily that Dream was upset. 

When his brother had woken up after that awful head-splitting injury, Nightmare felt the confusion, the exhaustion, and- most worryingly- the genuine fear he had for Nightmare. 

It was… not the usual. Nor expected reaction.

He needed Dream back to how he used to be. Nightmare couldn't get revenge this way, he was coming to realize. It was a matter of principle, if nothing else. If he was going to win, Nightmare wanted to do it right. He was The Gaurdian of Negativity, Prince of Evil, The Silver Child, so on and so forth, but he had principles and some basic knowledge of honor and pride!

But how could he fix this? What was Nightmare supposed to do? Everything was so complicated now. 

He sat down under the stained glass window in his room, at a small dark wooden desk he owned. This desk was probably as old as Nightmare was and yet, it was still standing. It was remarkably well made and polished. Nightmare shuffled through the fancy drawers, looking for paper and quill. His tentacles searched as well. When he retrieved it he started to scribble down ideas as they came to mind, brainstorming on paper made planning easier sometimes.

It didn't make him feel less numb to try and plan, but it did give him back some feeling of control over his situation to take down notes. Taking notes symbolized progress, in Nightmares mind. And therefore, he was getting somewhere. He could do something with this.

Dream was going to have to stay put until he remembered something and when he did, Nightmare was going to use it for… something. 

He did still need that information. Wherever those false guardians lived was hidden from him somehow. He couldn’t sense their emotions wherever they were now. Often he would sense them in the Antivoid or The Omega Timeline or The DoodleSphere and then just as soon, lose sight of them somehow. They must have some sort of barrier that blocked out his powers. Nightmare wanted to know how. And also, how to destroy it. So he could destroy them efficiently and quietly. 

The brooding skeleton sighed, throwing that paper of notes to the side of his room in a crumpled ball. He shouldn’t be dwelling on his initial plan to get information from Dream. While he had thought he had struck gold when he captured his Brother, the whole game had changed now. He couldn’t be distracted by what could’ve been. 

He took out a new paper and started to brainstorm on the topic. Nightmare couldn't just have Dream wandering around his castle all willy nilly. He needed to get something out of him while he was here. He needed to establish a hierarchy so that Dream would leave him alone and do what he asked (whatever that was going to be, Nightmare didn’t know yet).

Something that didn't involve killing him. After a moment of staring at his notes, it all snapped into place like a neat stained glass window being soldered together. It was so perfect and simple, Nightmare didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before! 

Dream didn't need to remember. Not everything, at least. It would be much more helpful if he didn't, in fact. 

Dream could be used as a pawn of sorts. Nightmare saw much potential for more Negativity, which there had been a severe lack of since his attempt to rekindle the fight between Ink and Error.

He didn't need to know where the Star Sanses were hiding, because they would figure it out soon enough that Dream was with Nightmare. And maybe he wanted that. Maybe Nightmare could use that. There were multiple layers of this that Nightmare could play off of. They would hate that he kidnapped him and they would hate it even more if Nightmare could somehow convince Dream to joing his team. If he could somehow get Dream to join him by spinning what few memories he had into a valid reason, he could create some real chaos. 

Maybe then he would stop feeling so empty and the feelings of Cross and the others would produce would feed his corruption nicely. It would be so delicious he could practically taste it now. 

He hummed in delight, "You have played right into my hands, haven't you, Brother?" He chuckled coldy as stepped on the colorful glass picture that was cast onto his dark floor, tracing his fingers along a glass case in the middle of his room with something precious inside.

"Who would conceive that you would become such a simple pawn to toy with?" 

Chapter Text

For some context, I believe we should backtrack. You may know the fabled "Fresh Party" that was thrown? It's where Error got too drunk for his own good and had some strange epiphanies about his love for Ink?

Yeah. That one. 

Well, that party was not just the birthplace of that relationship, but also another. (And probably a slew of others but today we're focusing on this one.) 

Cross and Dream. 

Now, one thing to know about Cross is he's a hardcore pessimist. 

And one thing to know about Dream is he values other people's happiness over his own. 

But you already knew that at this point… probably.

However, they are both complete idiots and completely in denial about their problems. Which makes any type of relationship very hard. Even a friendship.The two liked each other very much. But neither could bring themselves to act on it. 

Cross was too worried that Dream would be ripped from him just like everyone else he loved. He felt like he had a curse and he didn't want to rub it off on Dream. 

Dream noticed that Cross was uncomfortable. He felt his caution and anxiety and so he never acted on it. He wanted Cross to be happy even if it wasn't with him. He was too busy to focus on his own happiness anyway. His mission would only be stalled if he did.

They were idiots, your honor. 

And the two idiots happened to be at a party right now.

A glitching and terrified-looking Error ran out onto the porch and was quickly followed by a frantic FreshInk who split into Ink and Fresh right in front of Dream. 

"Woah der Broski?! What's da big idea?" Fresh asked, rubbing his skull. He was not used to his hosts being able to take any form of control. Dream felt genuine confusion off of Fresh and sensing any type of emotional aura from that creature was rare.

"Sorry, Fresh-" Ink said huffing, he downed a couple of vials. "I need to go check up on him- see ya!" The Creator took off running after Error, leaving a very confused crowd of people. 

Dream found himself laughing a bit. It was an uneasy sight on an uneasy night.

"They have been acting so weird lately." Spoke Cross. He had suddenly appeared beside Dream. 

Dream wasn't that surprised. He had felt the aura of familiar annoyance, anxiety, and withdrawn feelings that he usually felt radiating off of Cross. Although, right now they were a little diluted.

That was probably because of two things.One: Parties were overwhelming because they were always concentrated with extreme versions of feelings. And Two: Drunk people were sometimes very very happy, when they might usually be sad. And vise-versa. It made predictable people unpredictable.

Dream turned to his friend shrugging, "I noticed, but I know that they're wayyyy happier right now than either of them have been in years, and that's what matters to me." 

The party was finally starting to go back to normal. The crowd went back to their conversations and Fresh kind of gave up and went back downstairs to DJ, though he seemed a bit disappointed, and a slight bit rattled.

"So..." Cross started awkwardly. He was holding a red solo cup, like you see in dumb teenage drama movies. Y’know? The ones where the lead protagonist finally gets cool and talks to her crush who is way out of her league, gets drunk, does some stupid crap, and then realizes she was being dumb? Yeah, those types of movies, and that type of red solo cup, "...how are you doing?" 

Dream giggled a bit. Even when Cross was drunk and had loosened up a bit, he was still the same old anxious Cross, "I'm doing quite dandy. How about you? Are you enjoying the gathering?" 

Cross shrugged, "I'm not really a fan of parties. You know me..." He made a strange expression, "I'm all weird and stuff..." He seemed to forget the word he was looking for, his mind was clearly muddied with alcohol. But Dream knew he was referring to his very prominent lack of optimism.

The Guardian of Positivity looked at Cross, concerned, "You're not particularly strange just because you're a tad bit more introverted." He tried to make Cross feel better by gesturing to where Error and Ink had run off to, "I mean there are plenty of people who don't enjoy the rumbling loud nature of parties." 

Cross huffed, "Comparing me to Error doesn't really help… most of the Multiverse thinks he's crazy." 

"Ink doesn't think he's crazy." Dream defended, "All you need is one person to believe in you." Dream hoped that would imply to Cross that he believed in him. 

But not everyone is as adept to feelings as he was. Cross rolled his eyelits, "I bet he forgot all that stuff Error did. To me, to him, to the whole darn Multiverse! Ink can't hold a memory for the life of him!" He snapped with his phalanges sharply, “One moment and boom! It’s gone.”

Dream frowned, "Come on, Cross. Be fair. People don't forget important things. He just learned forgiveness and they're both trying to be better." 

"People forget important things all the time," Cross spat bitterly, he wobbled a little and swished his drink. Anger was a common emotion from Cross, but usually he didn't openly talk about it, unless in a fight. Dream winced. "My friends and family forgot what X Gaster did because he kept overwriting us. I forgot. I swear, Ink forgets his own name sometimes. I bet he doesn’t even know where he was born. " 

Dream looked at him sadly. He couldn't think of what else to do so he grabbed his open hand as a form of comfort. Cross' face turned a little purple and he looked away.

Dream held his hand tightly, "Cross, I promise you that not everything is like that. I'm sorry it happened to you back in X-tale, but I promise, no one will forget you or something like that ever again. Okay?" 

The black and white dressed skeleton looked up at him. He was solemnly silent.The alcohol seemed to be taking a toll on him. He was dissociating more than usual. Dream gave him a (hopefully) comforting pat on the hand, "Cross?"

After a moment of silence Cross asked, "You promise?" It was like a frightened child asking. The loudness of the party made him seem so small in comparison. 

Dream beamed at him, trying to give him as much positivity as he could muster with all the noise. "I promise you!" 

Cross took a moment and finally, his shoulders relaxed as he heaved out a deep breath, "Sorry, I think this drink is makin’ my paranoia go brrrr-” He gave a half-hearted laugh, doing something silly with his hands to show how his head was swimming. He let go of Dream’s hands to do so. Dream sighed a little, internally. "I really shouldn't drink, it makes me judge people… more than usual." 

"Like Error and Ink?" Dream teased him a bit. 

Cross groaned, "Yeessss. I'm sorry. I'm happy they're happy now blah blah-" He sighed. 

The Guardian of Positivity looked at him with all the love in the world. Probably in the Universe. Cross deserved it all...

"Do you want to leave?" Dream suggested, "You might feel better if you get away from here. It's quite noisy.” 

Cross took a moment and gave a little nod, "Yeah. You're probably right. I bet all these people are getting to you too, huh?" 

The Guardian froze. Suddenly, many negative emotions crunched in on him as he let his guard down. He felt sick. He swallowed and let the moment pass. He focused hard and silently on what he could, trying to find his middle ground he had gotten so good at feeling. "Oh- oh no! I'm fine. I'm doing fine." Dream responded a little too frantic sounding for his own liking.

Cross raised a non-existent eyebrow. It was a little too frantic sounding for his liking too, "It's okay to be overwhelmed, Dream. Let's just go." 

"I'm not overwhelmed, I'm just worried about you!" Dream dismissively waved his hands. This conversation was making him uncomfortable and sweaty, which he didn't like at all. He gave a fake smile, "Anyway, let's get out of this place!" He deflected awkwardly, turning from Cross to go downstairs before he could see that disproving reaction. He felt it without looking. He didn’t need to see his face. "I've got a film we can watch, if you want?" 

Cross gave yet another wave of concern and Dream felt it stronger this time. Dream felt his own pang of guilt. He didn't want Cross to be worried about him. He wanted to help Cross with his problems. This wasn't supposed to be about his inability to filter out all the feelings...and there were so many feelings here... He could feel them all crushing down on his soul and the energy wanted to burst out of his ribcage...

But he was fine.

He could manage. 

"Sure." Cross finally said. He was going to try and give Dream space. Cross knew that Dream was hurting.

This was just a small thing Dream was lying about, but Cross knew he lied about bigger things. Dream never talked about his problems. He never spoke about his brother to anyone. (Outside of fighting him, of course.)

Which was not healthy.

Because he had to have been traumatized by what happened in his past right? Not that he ever talked about it to Cross. Not in detail, at least.

“Yeah, and then I was frozen in stone for about five hundred years. But, it’s not so bad. I met you because of it!” Dream had said, brushing the conversation off before.

It had made Cross a bit angry. It was just, Dream was so focused on other people, that Cross worried that Dream was trying to act strong for them. He wanted to reach out and tell Dream it was okay to hurt and need help.That he wasn't weak for feeling sad. Or hurting. Or wanting to be happy himself.

But he also wanted Dream to be comfortable sharing. He wasn't going to push it because Cross was so emotionally immature he didn’t even know how to approach the subject.

Dream and Cross said their goodbyes to Fresh and his friend Greaser and all their other friends as they made their way outside. 

There they saw the absolutely atrocious sight of a blackout-drunk Error puking all over the front lawn. 

Ink was right next to him and trying not to look, "Gross!! I thought you were done with that!?!" 

Error heaved again and clumsily got up with a glitchy laugh, "I gueSs nOt-" He keeled over again and Ink covered his mouth in disgust. He shook with disgust and anxiety.

Dream walked up to Ink, "You need any help with that?" He half laughed, half winced, as Error just seemed to k e e p  g o i n g.  

Ink sighed dramatically, "No, I can handle it." He glanced between Cross and Dream and then smirked, "You two should get going anyway. You goin’ on a after-party date? Finally! I have been waiting for you two to finally start talking." 

Dream flushed about thirteen yellow shades darker. He could feel the embarrassment without even so much as glancing at Cross too. They were at a strange stalemate with one another, where they had fully recognized their own feelings but were in complete denial about the other one reciprocating even though it was just downright obvious.

"Well, uh- we're going to go see a movie, actually." He didn’t want to full on deny, but he also didn’t want to agree and make it awkward if Cross didn’t want that. He stayed on the side of comfort, as per usual. Or, more so, the side of comfort for anyone but himself as top priority.

Ink smiled at him, and with a knowing wink said, "Okay then. Have fun you two." He waved them goodbye with a smirk. With that, Ink pointed at Cross and mouthed the words, "Hurt him and I'll kill you." 

Dream simply found it easier to not argue and to wav goodbye and walk away, although he was rather flushed. Cross was too, Dream sensed. But neither spoke about it.

They talked for a bit, trying to ignore their feelings on that particular subject. Admittedly, this was harder said than done. They talked about the movie they were going to watch. They discussed other guests and even briefly discussed the drunken Error. They did so, laughing. They did anything they could to keep the other one happy as can be, all while preventing themselves the same honor.

They made each other happier though, as those thoughts finally slipped away and it was just them. The memories and feelings from the party fell away and suddenly they had forgotten those comments from Ink that had them spiraling. They both felt more comfortable with each other than anyone else on the whole Multiverse. It was a nice night to walk with one another.

Dream felt warm and fuzzy, even though it was a cold night out in this AU. Feeling this way was a feeling he knew from other people, second hand. But deep in his soul, he felt it all on his own.

Dream almost found himself holding Cross's hand. But their fingers never met. His pinky brushed off Cross's. Dream hoped he didn't notice. Because he couldn't do it. He was too scared of Cross being somehow upset by it. He couldn’t let himself be happy if it meant risking his dearest friends' happiness.

They continued walking and the tension returned.

Chapter Text

Dream grimaced as he sat across from the intimidating man known as ‘Nightmare’ in the long dimly lit dining room. 

'How many dining rooms does he have??? Four people live here!' Dream thought to himself, a bit. He was nervous, noticeably so. But he couldn’t help but be a bit petty too. He was going to judge this man about everything if given the chance. It was the least that Nightmare owed him.

Nightmare felt the fear radiating off of Dream. It was so strange. How could this have happened? A part of him knew it was his chance. He could win for good. Right now. All it took was one flick of a tendril. He could practically feel the weakened aura of positivity in Dream’s chest right now. It would be so easy. But…

It meant killing Dream. 

And ever since that first kidnapping attempt of his… Nightmare hadn't been the same. He felt part of himself fighting against his every malicious urge and thought. Nightmare’s mind was at a constant war on what decision to make now. Nightmare tried to justify these feelings to himself often. Or he would simply handle it by pushing them off. As he did now. He didn’t want to think about his lessening desire to commit murder or whatever. He will do that later. Right now he needed as much negativity he could squeeze out of what little resources he had available as possible. Without… killing. Afterall, that would just cut his supply short.

Then he would do it, surely. After he… figured this all out. 

"You don't recall anything?" Nightmare asked smoothly, as usual.

 He felt like a terrifying mafia interrogator. Well, that's the vibe Dream was getting, at least. And Nightmare felt it radiate off of him strongly. The skeleton in question shook his head. He didn't respond out loud. Nightmare could feel his golden soul beating too fast. It made him grin a little. Usually to get Dream this nervous, Nightmare would have to be putting up a real fight in battle.

 "You said you remembered someone... a brother, was it?" Nightmare prodded carefully. He teleported next to Dream which made him tense up immediately, he leaned down to his ear canal for the dramatic effect, "Tell me about him. Indulge me." 

Nightmare circled around Dream and the golden skeleton gulped. This was very out of character for Dream. Nightmare wondered why he hadn't used his powers. Perhaps he had forgotten?

Nightmare also considered the possibility of the Castle's overall negative aura canceling out his powers a bit. Dream was not only not in control of his powers anymore, but it would take a very urgent surge of emotions to allow him to use them properly. And by properly, Nightmare meant, teleporting out of the castle and into some AU. He was hopeful that he was correct about the Castle’s aura and that no such strong emotions or knowledgeable magic wealiding would take place.

"I don't know much..." Dream answered honestly. He had hardly had time to think on the subject, really. He felt his brain aching to remember his brother. He knew he was important to him. 

He felt dumb for not knowing. Like the old Dream was screaming at him, ‘It’s right there! You know who he is! It’s so obvious!’ But, new Dream, simply couldn’t remember. Dream reached into the back of his mind, ‘Brother...Brother...' He thought long and hard. Dream didn't really get images back, even when he tried really hard to remember. He mostly got flashes of feelings. He felt sad and angry, and uncomfortable with his sadness and anger. But he also felt love and the love was so overpowering it almost made him cry. He didn't, but he felt tears creeping up his sockets, ready to spill. A part of him remembered, deep down, that something bad had happened. Something really bad and the only goal he had then and now was to bring his brother back. To rescue him. To save him.

That was everything he had to offer Nightmare. He remembered nothing more. 

"I remember I have to find him." Dream answered, anxiously, "I've got to bring him back." 

"You don't remember what he looks like? What his name is?" Nightmare pressed further. 

Dream shook his head. These were such strange questions. He felt inclined to ask, "Why are you so fixated on my brother? Is he important to you? Is that why I've been kidnapped?" 

Nightmare's grin did that creepy thing, where it spread as wide as possible. "I'm just intrigued that you don't remember anything at all. Not even, say... Cross?" 

"Who?" Dream asked. He felt like he recognized the name and he felt guilty when he didn't remember. That guilt consumed him a lot more than he wished it to. He shuddered at the unwelcomed feeling.

Nightmare made his way back to his seat, "He's an enemy of yours." He explained, hands stretching outwards, legs crossed. He was far too overconfident for Dream’s taste. For a strange looking octopus skeleton he acted like a powerful mob boss. To Dream, Nightmare’s strange appearance and overconfidence clashed a little.

"An… enemy?" Dream was astounded. He took a moment to think and then looked at Nightmare suspiciously, "How do I know you're telling me the truth? All you've done is beat, interrogate, and kidnap me." He listed on his dirty and scraped-up fingers.

Nightmare sat down with a hum, "Yes, about that. Necessary precaution and honestly, a normal reaction if you knew the context. You see, you're not exactly known for liking us. Or even tolerating us. Getting necessary information from you would have been near impossible without some minor prodding. " 

"You choked me and threw me across a room after ordering Horror to dunk me in ice-cold water because I was passing out. That’s not what I would call ‘prodding’. And all because you wanted some information that I can't remember, mind you. Something about stars?" Dream huffed sarcastically, "Yeah, I wonder why I didn't like you." 

Nightmare rested his chin on his hands, "I do indeed need that information. The Stars are dangerous, and you know... Well, I suppose, you knew, all their bases. It is integral to my mission that I find them and take them out." 

"And what's that mission?" Dream asked. He was becoming more annoyed with Nightmare than scared. Not to mention, suspicious of him. "And why would I know all that? Who were they to me?" 

"They were your enemies as much as they were mine." Nightmare lied through his teeth. And he did it well, "My mission is simply this: Bring back an old employee of mine. They've stolen Cross from my ranks. I intend to bring him back. From there, I either integrate him into my team of servants once more or punish him for his treachery. Not that it should matter to you either way now." 

Enemies? Dream had enemies? It rubbed him the wrong way. He supposed that Nightmare wanting to “rescue” a former member of his team, or more likely, get revenge on him, might be believable. Dream may recognize his name because of that as well, especially if Dream hated Nightmare’s team and Cross had been a part of it. And if Cross was stolen by the Stars, that Dream also supposedly disliked, that would make him a prominent and interesting enemy. Perhaps Dream had some sort of personal grudge against him, or a rivalry of sorts. It didn’t explain why he felt guilty when he heard his name uttered though.

"What did I have against these… Stars?" Dream asked intentionally, “I can see why I disliked your group. But are they similar?” 

Nightmare waved his hand dismissively, not seeming to mind his passive aggressive comment about disliking his Gang, "Your mission to get your brother back. It conflicted with their own mission. Killing your brother was part of their scheme, you did not like that, I suppose." 

Dream actually perked up, "Wait, do you know who he is? My brother?" 

His mind was racing. Was his brother in trouble now that Dream wasn't fighting the Stars? Could he find him? Or hopefully remember something? 

Maybe that was where all the feelings came from. The sadness and anger. The need to rescue his brother. 

They were after him. The Stars.

His brother was the only connection he had to his memories and they were trying to kill him? That wasn't going to go over well if Dream had any say in it. 

Nightmare shook his head, unfortunately, "You're personal goals and vendettas are an enigma to me. You loathe me and kept your mission details strictly confidential. You even discovered their protected headquarters, shielded from my magic. I captured you, to steal your data on the Stars and use it to find Cross for my own mission, rather than whatever yours may have been." He rolled his glowing cyan eye, "Of course, you had to batter that skull of yours and forget all about it." 

Dream contemplated for an instant, staring at his lap. If this was a lie, it was well thought out. 

Dream understood all too well how vulnerable and naive he must appear. And he was, especially with no memories. He knew he could be easily fooled and manipulated. Yet, a part of him couldn’t help but believe Nightmare. It nearly felt right. At the very least, Dream felt it was partially true. It was worth sticking around and finding out. 

Nightmare continued speaking while Dream thought, "I was disappointed to discern for a fact that you were not bluffing about your memory loss. However, now I have realized the true potential of this situation, and come to a conclusion." 

"...potential?" Dream asked cautiously. 

"Perhaps it is a positive thing to have a renewed start between us. Your skills in battle are commendable and would make an excellent addition to the team. With your past foolishness and arrogance pushed aside, we can work together and finally take the Stars down." Nightmare stated fiercely.

And he could maybe get more clues to help find his brother. "And I can hopefully start remembering things. Like my brother?" Dream asked out loud. Although, it wasn't really a question, so much as, he was simply hoping it was possible. As if, if he questioned the sky, the sky would make it possible. 

Nightmare frowned, "Perhaps. Your memory may return in due time..." He was not pleased by the sudden flaw in his plan.Dream would not be so easily manipulated if he gained more than these few bits of memories. "So. Do we have a deal?" Nightmare inquired, glazing over that feeling of terror at failing to trick him, "Our past differences aside, we can work together to take a common foe down." 

Dream gripped his torn and dirty trousers. Was this the right thing to do? It could be a lie. A very elaborate lie that played on his lack of memories or control over the situation. 

He thought of his brother. The feelings he felt about getting back to him. He had to do it. Hopefully, he could recover along the way...

"Fine." Dream agreed, "But if you're lying to me... I’m going to knock that stupid goo right off your skeletal body." 

Nightmare half snorted, half sneered, "You're so confident despite your gruesome circumstances." 

"Funny. I was just thinking you were too confident. Piece of advice, don't threaten the people you work with." Dream snarkily replied. "Plus, you said I was skilled in battle. If that’s true, you don’t want to mess with me." 

"You are talented at fighting, I will admit. If we can get your muscle memory- that's a figure of speech of course- to take over, I'm sure we can have you fighting again." Nightmare hummed in thought, "You possessed magic also. However, I am concerned that you are not able to use it anymore or at least, you are not aware of it." 

Dream frowned, "Wait, what gave you that impression?" If he had magic before, he certainly wanted it now. 

"Your powers usually affect how you interact with others. I've seen many signs recently that have at least indicated, you don't have any clue that you even possess magic. So I doubt you can control them." 

Dream huffed and slumped in his chair, very improper like. It was like a child throwing a tantrum, "Well that's not really my fault, is it?" 

Nightmare tilted his head, "No. I suppose not." 

He had half hoped he wouldn't actually succeed in tricking Dream. Because it officially confirmed he was not lying and all those memories were gone. 

Were they gone for good? Or was this temporary?

"We will see to it that you are trained and reminded of your skills and, hopefully, magic, before you attend any battle." Nightmare looked at him with disgust, "But first, have one of those idiots find you different clothes. You wear far too much bright yellow." He grimaced, “It disturbs me..."

Dream gripped his dirty and torn clothes. He was in need of a replacement. But he also liked yellow. 

"I am withdrawing to my chambers, for now." Nightmare turned to go. He seemed to stop, having a thought, before turning around again, sharply. He had an expression on his face that Dream had never seen before. If he didn’t know any better, he would call it an expression of fear. "And don't you dare follow me. I mean it. Never enter my chambers. That's a threat." And with that cheerful note, Nightmare teleported away into a dark inky pile of negative goop. 

Dream felt confused and scared, just as before. He hoped he hadn't made a dumb decision. 

And he hoped he could get his memories back soon because this was going to drive him insane.

Chapter Text

"I know that the Boss said no yellow-" Killer held back a laugh, "Buttttt- we couldn't really help ourselves- so we made it an accent color!" 

"...they couldn’t picture you without any yellow..." Dust added quietly with a nod.

Killer nodded at that, "It is kind of your token thing." 

Dream held out the sheer drape bit, "You don't think the sheer glitter is a little much? If Nightmare hated yellow I'd hate to see how he'll react to sparkles." 

Horror waved a hand dismissively, though he looked to be holding back a laughing fit. The whole Gang did, save for Dust. But judging by body language alone, he was also holding back a quiet chuckle of his own. It made Dream flush from embarrassment. Was he supposed to be embarrassed right now? He didn’t know how to feel, really. There were a lot of mixed signals. 

"Ah, that ol’ hag of an octopus doesn't know nothin’ ‘bout fun. Let ‘lone fashion." He smiled at Dream, hiding his giggle slightly better, “It was Killer's idea. He just wanted you ta feel like yourself again.”

"...He went a little too crazy for my taste… I definitely don't think all of this was necessary..." Dust said looking at the embroidered stars, and then to a cackling Killer.

Dream looked at his old outfit which was sitting on a bed next to him, folded neatly. His circlet rested on top of the cape. 

It felt wrong not wearing it. The cape and the circlet. 

Horror's eyes followed him, "Oh! I knew you would want those!" He turned to Dust and smirked, "Look, he totally wants those." 

Dust sighed, “...He doesn't need more…" 

Killer shrugged, stopping his cackling and said, "We've already gone this far! It couldn't hurt anything!" His words oozed or sarcasm as if he was suggesting some sort of malicious prank.

"It could make him a walking target in battle!" Dust shot back at him, for the first time his words weren’t as drawn out, quiet, and soft as he usually made them.

Killer smiled menacingly, "That's the point of the sparkles, Dust." 

Dream gulped. He really did look like a big, sparkly, bright yellow target. 

Horror grabbed his cape and ripped off the sun part which earned a horrified yelp from Dream, "Hey don't- !!!" He didn't know why he reacted like that. It was just a piece of fabric for all he knew. 

"Woah there, Kid!" Horror held up his hands, "Don't freak out on me! I'm goin’ to stitch it onto the back of this hood thing you've already got on-" 

Dream was still breathing heavily, but he forced himself to hold still and stay quiet while Horror stitched it on. He supposed that whatever got them all to stop laughing was a win for him. 

Killer was examining the crown, "This circlet never really stood out either. Not nearly flashy enough for you. Lacks flare!" He twirled it around his middle finger, carelessly, like he did with any knife he came across.

Dream grimaced, "Please be careful-" 

"Relax, Happy Man, I won't hurt it!" He stopped spinning it, "We can keep the basic idea, but how about an upgrade?" He grinned wide, tilting his head at the suggestion.

Dream blinked curiously, his soul sinking about a foot into his body, "Wait- why would we do that?" 

Killer shrugged, "Already upgraded the rest of you. Might as well make the whole thing go together, right? C’mon, it’ll look great. I just want to add some stuff. I won’t break it." 

“I don’t know-” Dream started to protest but Killer objected nearly immediately.

“Come on, Dandelion!” Dream blushed at the nickname, he felt humiliated being called something so frail and dainty like. “Don’t be a downer. It’ll look fire! You’ll LOVE it!” 

Dream mulled over it for a moment, he didn’t really want to upset them. He needed them on his side. Killer seemed insistent and while he for some reason really didn’t want to, he agreed reluctantly for his greater mission, "Alright… I guess…" 

"It's strange that we are working together now..." Dust said quietly. He was back to being calm, his voice often was little more than a whisper. Dream was glad that he wasn't too close to him at the moment, because Dust's name was rather fitting. The dust that seemingly always followed him, got in Dream's sockets. 

"It feels strange to me as well.” Dream replied, "I guess that's because of what Nightmare said though." 

The group nodded at him, though they did so somewhat hesitantly. No one dared say a word and Dream felt the tension at his comment, immediately feeling out of place. Everything he said made the other unhappy or uncomfortable. He couldn’t seem to win here.

Horror broke the awkward silence that rang out for a moment there, announcing, "And done! Now you've got your cape and soon you'll have a new circlet." 

Dream felt odd in his new clothes, but he felt grateful to the others for thinking of what would make him happy. Or, well, past him, happy. Supposedly. The outfit was, apparently, inspired by what they think he would've enjoyed in the past. So he appreciated the thought. Even if their laughter, especially Killer’s, was throwing him off. 

"Thank you." Dream said, and he gave them all a small grateful bow. It just felt like something he should do. "I really appreciate it." 

The three of them went into shocked silence, suddenly. Their moods all shifted at the same time and their feelings struck Dream square in the skull, bringing back a slight headache to his cracked skull.

Dust seemed to snuggle further into the shaded portion of his hood and dusty red scarf, “...uh… you're welcome...I suppose…" 

Dream raised a non-existent eyebrow, "Of course?" He was confused by how they were acting. 

"Sorry." Horror apologized strangely, "We just aren't used to 'thank you’s' really. And definitely now bowing." 

Killer frowned, "Boss is not exactly one to do that sort of stuff." The liquid in his eyes spilled, as they did, and hit the floor with a soft patter. Dream briefly wondered how often they had to clean up those goopy test-stained floors. Or if Killer had to wash his clothes more often than others. 

"That's… sad." Dream said. He felt consumed by sadness suddenly. Surely they deserved gratitude. They probably worked very hard for Nightmare, they seemed to respect him well enough. And working for a terrible pain like that deserved at the very least, some gratitude. 

"It's fine." Horror brushed it off, "We get paid with a place ta stay." 

"...and a makeshift sort of family..." Dust added under his breath. The other two glanced at him briefly.

Dream looked at him. He still hadn't seen Dust's face, it seemed to always be in the shadows of his hood. But he knew that Dust was making a sorrowful expression of sorts. A part of him was inclined to believe that the three of them...only had each other. That friends and family were hard to find with backgrounds like theirs. No. He knew that. That wasn’t an inclination. Any old sod would be able to figure that out. He could see it in everything they did.

"We're rewarded ple’ty for our work, Kid." Horror added. “There are just some things that are hard ta come by back home. Nightmare helps with that.”

"I get stability," Killer said. “I only feel in control when I’m here.” Dream had never seen him so serious. The Gang glanced at each other and then back at Killer. Killer deflected, "What? That’s good.” 

Horror sighed and said, “What we’re tryin’ ta say is that, you don’t have ta worry. There are plenty of ways we get thanked. We’re…content here." 

"You've had hard lives, haven't you?" Dream asked quietly. It wasn't really a question, more an observation.

He could sense their sadness, loneliness, and anger. It made him feel weak and helpless, but it only served to make Dream more determined to help them. He could get his memory back, save his brother by stopping the Stars, and help these guys out. How hard could it be?

The trio stood there, taken a bit a back by his- apperantly- newfound bluntness. Horror seemed to be the only one who could get out words. All Killer did was stare, his weird target soul-thing shifted wildly. Dust didn't dare speak a word.

"I'd be lying if I said my life has been all roses, kid." Horror sighed, "An’ it would be a pretty bad lie. There's only one way you end up workin’ fer Nightmare, and it isn't pretty. But that’s just how things work sometimes." He shrugged and put a hand on Dream's shoulder, "We've all been through some...tough things. But we're alive, that’s all that matters in this type of place. Remember what I talked to you about, though... you don't have to help everyone, kid. I know you feel like ya do. That's what you've always tried ta do. But now's your shot to start over."

It was so strange. Horror seemed to read Dream like a book. It made him uncomfortable because being read so openly like that felt completely new. 

Dream thought about his advice. Horror was right, of course, it wasn't really his duty to help these people, he knew that. But they were teammates now and they were clearly hurting. Sure, they were rude, brash, and their moods fluctuated wildly, but Dream couldn't just stand by and let it happen. Dream considered his and Horror's previous conversation. Horror had mentioned his own brother and how Dream was so similar to him. Dream wondered where that brother was now. 

Dream leaned forward and enveloped Horror in a hug. 

Horror stammered, "Wha-" He tensed up like a shocked child. Dream did not let go and no one knew how to react, so no one pushed him away or tugged him off. Dream wouldn’t let go unless he was told to, so he just sat there. Dream wasn’t sure what he expected but it wasn’t that the big skeleton oaf would sigh in defeat and melt into the embrace a little, like some big teddy bear child. 

Empathy swarmed out of Dream. These guys were just sad and lonely. It was as if he had suddenly forgotten why he had ever feared any of them at all. 

At that moment, Dream was unexpectedly filled with the warmest energy he had felt since he had woken up. It made him feel strong and powerful. The warmth crept into his bones and his very soul. It was so overstimulating that he felt the need to spill the energy out somehow. But he couldn't find an exit, the energy just kept growing and growing. Until, finally, he couldn't stand it any longer and the energy did the only thing it could.

"Woah." Horror let go, "Yer glowin’. I didn’t know you could do that-" 

Dream pulled away too and he felt Horror's feelings of embarrassment, comfort, and warmth from the hug continue to feed him. 

He looked down at his own skeletal hands. He was definitely glowing. "Uh- me neither?" Dream tried to shake his hands, but the glow didn't go away. 

Killer had at one point during this whole interaction, stopped staring, and now he was back to his goofy over-the-top ways. He pointed at the glowing skeleton, "I knew it!"

Horror turned around, raising a metaphorical eyebrow, "What do ya mean ya knew it???" 

"I just had this weird feeling he could glow." Killer shrugged and gestured to Dream, "He looks like someone who would glow!" Killer made his way over to Dream and proceded to poke him, "You're like a wittle glow stick-" He commented, and Dream flushed, embarrassed. That did nothing but change the color of his glowing to slightly redder shade.

Dust approached his coworkers, "...this means he does indeed still possess his abilities..." He pointed out, "...he just can’t control them…we should tell the Boss..." 

Dream looked up excitedly, "My magic? But- I didn’t do anything-" 

Horror looked heatedly embarrassed, "Well, this is awkward, but yer magic is known ta run on feelings. We- er- noticed that if the emotions are positive that they feed yer magic, make you powerful." 

The glowing skeleton beamed, "So the warm fuzzy thing can make me do cool stuff?!" 

Killer nodded excitedly, acting out his next few sentences, "Usually you make cool glowing arrows, that hurt real bad to be shot with, or you teleport ‘round. Sometimes I’ve seen you do telepathy! But… we've never seen you glow." 

"...I don’t think he can do any of that right now… He doesn't seem to have the same control he used to…” Dust stated to his teammates, matter of factly. He explained, “...The old Dream knew how to channel his magic better than this by a lot… It took a long time, I’m sure… And with his newfound inexperience, just the smallest amount of positivity probably seems to feel very overwhelming to him…he can’t even control that anymore…" 

Dream rubbed his arm awkwardly, "It did kind of just… happen. I didn't know what else to do with it. I didn’t know what it was." 

Killer poked him yet again, this time with a frown, "Well, can you turn it off now? My eyes are starting to not like it." 

Dream didn't know what to do about that. He tried to turn it off by waving his hands up and down, but that did nothing. "Uh… I don't know how." 

"It can easily be arranged." Nightmare's voice came from beside Dream. 

Negative feelings filled Dream to the brim suddenly. He was suffocated with feelings of fear, annoyance, and agony. It made him stumble and the room got noticeably darker as his glowing instantly ceased. 

"Hey, Boss Man." Killer greeted with a menacing grin. 

Nightmare glanced at him, he didn’t respond. Killer didn’t really seem to be looking for one anyway. "I said get rid of the yellow, not keep it and add sparkles." Nightmare scowled at his crew. 

"I'd argue it's more gold than yellow." Horror pipped up, earning a glare from Nightmare. 

“I think it’s rather fitting. Old Dream would have loved it.” Killer grinned at his boss. Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow, as if that didn’t make sense and shook his head, rolling his one visible eye when he seemed to understand something that Dream did not.

The dripping black skeleton turned his attention to Dream, "I see your magic still works." He remarked. Nightmare seemed a bit displeased by this confirmation, yet intrigued at the same time. "Although, it doesn't work too well with me around, does it?" 

Dream stumbled to his feet and shook his head, embarrassed. He tried to make himself look presentable. Yet the longer he was in this flashy outfit the more he became aware of how unreasonably flamboyant he looked. It made him visibly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Nightmare, however, grinned at the sorry sight of him. It was as if he had finally found some joy in the color yellow, though Dream suspected it was not because the color itself was pretty, but because Dream was suddenly embarrassed about the amount of it he was wearing. 

"Tomorrow, you will be reminded on how to shoot a bow." Nightmare said, cooly. A tentacle shot out and the whole Gang flinched instinctively, including Dream. He remembered that burning sensation from every time he touched them. 

The tendril stopped inches away from Dream's face. Dream opened an eye, wearily and he watched as a unique-looking weapon hit the floor. "That detaches into two daggers. It is much like one I have seen you wield before. Take care of it, Dream." 

Dream observed it and carefully picked it up, watching Nightmare closely as if to make sure it was actually okay for him to do so. The shape felt familiar in his hands and he brushed the blades where a normal bow would have fine carved wood. This was not a conventional weapon by any means. It was fantastical and unrealistic. Even a skilled archer would cut themselves if they held it slightly wrong. 

Nightmare must have not just confidence in Dream’s supposed archery talent, but a LOT of confidence. "Thanks." Dream said, still looking at it in awe. It was as if it had been made especially for him. He liked the wood, it smelled like apples.

Nightmare's eye widened and he backed away from Dream. He gave nothing more than a grunt in response to the gratitude and disappeared into an inky puddle. In an instant, Nightmare teleported out of the room. Dream stared at the spot where he had been, bow in his unsteady glow-stick hands.

Chapter Text

On Dream's head, sat his newly decorated circlet. It felt deeply unsettling for it to be so heavy. 

New weight had been added to it, with the extra wing bits at the sides. Killer wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to go all out. 

But it wasn't just the new weight that bothered him. He didn't know what bothered him. 

It felt right to be wearing a circlet. But the crown didn't feel the same. It didn't have the same weight… it was heavier physically, but also lighter emotionally. Which made him feel heavier for feeling lighter.  

Do you understand? 

He didn't.

"I'm not exactly an expert at shooting arrows," Killer said, handing Dream a quiver full of regular wooden arrows. The feathers were pitch black. Dream wondered if that was natural and if so, what bird it came from. A raven perhaps? Or a crow? What is the difference, he wondered.

"Knives and daggers are more my thing. So when you get to that part, let me know." Killer continued with a wink, twirling his knife in his fingers. 

Dream detached his bow from the spot on his back and drew back the drawstring without nocking an arrow. 

He did it a few times, realizing that he automatically understood how to brace the bow. 

'Muscle memory...' He remembered Nightmare saying. It felt like terribly convenient plot armor to Dream, but he was happy to have it. He didn’t want to be learning from complete scratch.

"We've got dummies around this courtyard." Killer continued, "And they're not possessed by ghosts, don't worry." Killer rolled his eyes, “Dust couldn’t find any…” He mumbled under his breath.

How did Killer know Dream was worrying about that??? Why was he worrying about that???

"We painted targets on them for you. Usually, they're used for magic or melee practice. This will be the first time we've had a long-ranged weapon on the team, though. So you’re the first to use them for shooting practice." 

The pair stood outside of the castle. 

From the outside Dream could observe how absolutely gigantic the castle really was. He had probably only seen one percent of the whole thing, having been kept to the same room, hallway, and three dining rooms he had seen previously. 

It was enormous, pointy, and black. Very fittingly dramatic for a team like Nightmare’s. Even outside, the sky was shrouded in gray storm clouds (although there was no storm) and the trees were dark. There was no sign of life, no birds chirped. It was silent save for the soft breeze. Dream wondered what was beyond this courtyard. Was this whole world dark and silent?

He notched an arrow and wobbled a bit as his shaft wiggled away from the bow’s shelf.

"Uhhh- don't shoot until you know how to cant it right-" Killer warned from behind him. 

"Learn to what???" Dream turned to him, confused. 

Killer raised a metaphorical eyebrow, "You know, that tilt thing you do to keep the arrow on the shelf? It helps you aim and keep the arrow on… I think." 

Dream turned back to his bow and drew it back again, this time tilting it to the left a little. The arrow's shaft didn't wobble this time and he was filled immediately with a light sort of giddy feeling. 

Dream pointed his first shot toward one of the dummies across the courtyard. He aimed the tip of the arrow at the red dot right in the middle of it’s stuffed non-ghost-ridden chest. He tried to judge the cast. 

He knew he could make it. 

This was child's play. 

He released and felt the somewhat familiar feeling of hand shock. 

It conveniently reminded him that there was a reason he wore arm guards and gloves on their shooting fingers. For the first time, he was truly okay with some of the accessories the Gang had given him.

With a loud 'thwap' sound Dream hit the bull's eye first try. 

"Holy Lord, Nightmare King of Negativity!!!" Killer cursed from behind him in astonishment. 

The skeleton had witnessed Dream shooting many times before. But in battle, the goal is to distract, deflect, and avoid as much as possible. 

Dream's skill was much more prominent when the target was still. His aim was almost perfect and he couldn't even remember how to hold a bow. These were also normal arrows, not magic happy ones. It made a shiver run down Killer’s spine.

Dream let out the breath he was holding.

He did it!

It was cool, number one. But most importantly, it felt as if Dream had recovered a part of himself that he had lost. It gave him hope that he could continue doing so.

Dream notched another arrow

...

Ink grabbed Error's scarf and dragged him forward, "Don't you funking dare jump him! We need a plan." 

"I CaN bEat it out of him! I hate your interrOgation stYle!" Error complained, but he let Ink lead him away from the tree line and back to the top of the hill where Swap and Cross waited. 

"Stop complaining or we won't get Dream back. Your way gets no actual answers." Ink snapped back at him.

Error groaned and sat down with a huff as the other members of his team discussed the plan. 

"We shouldn't engage at all," Swap was saying to Cross, "There is no need to expose that we know about his disappearance. If we do, then we could ruin our surprise factor." 

"Why do we need a surprise factor?" Cross argued, "Nightmare isn't stupid, he can probably guess that we've figured it out by now. I bet he feels all this from eleven AU's away!" 

Swap rested his blue gloved hand on Cross', "Hey, I know he means a lot to you. Don't worry. We'll get him back." 

Cross didn't meet Swap's eyes, but he held his tongue and didn't argue any further. He understood he was being a little irrational and frantic. But he just didn't understand how anyone could be calm in this situation. 

Error seemed to read his thoughts, “Cross, I get it. When Pj was taken I felt helpless too, I wanted to jump in and just- just get him back...but it won't help." He side-eye’d Ink, “At least, according to the others. If I had a say in it, I’d say, second time’s a char-”

Ink elbowed him, “Alright that’s enough out of you.”

Cross sighed, "...fine...what is the plan then?" 

Ink pipped up, "Horror visits his brother about every week on..." He seemed to forget. 

"Thursday." Error finished, head between his knees, as if he had had this conversation a million times over. 

"Right! Thursday!" Ink laughed awkwardly, "Today is the day we can get some information out of him. Horror Sans isn't one to keep secrets from Papyrus. They like to catch up on..." 

"Thursdays." Error repeated, rolling his eyelits. 

"Right- yah- Thursday! Anyway, we've only used this method once before because it's extremely dangerous." 

Swap nodded, "If we get caught, there's no telling what will happen. Nightmare could show up at worst-" 

"And at best, the monsters here will consider cannibalism." Error said cringing. 

"I thought that was just a rumor." Cross blinked in horrified surprise. 

"Overall, they don't. But some monsters get desperate. Do you want to take that chance?" 

Cross shook his head, suddenly anxious for different reasons than before. 

"Good. 'Cause me neither." Swap agreed with a sweat, "Alright. Horror lives in that house, look’s just like mine but more beat up." He pointed down the hill at a little house in the snow, "If we want to spy we're going to have to be as stealthy as possible. Reminder that we're not attacking." He eyed Cross and Error who groaned in unison.

"Where are we going to hide?" Ink asked, “Last time we were almost caught on the roof and we had to leave early-”

"And there are traps all over this Snowdin. They'll literally snap us in half and make us into dog treats-" Error added. 

Swap thought a little, "We can always teleport into the inside." 

"NO!?!" Error and Ink yelled at the same time. 

"ARe yoU crAzy SWaP?! hORrOr WOUld sEe us in hALf a GlitchY SouL bEat!" 

Swap frowned, "It's just as dangerous as everywhere else," He smiled and pointed upwards like many overconfident Papyrus or Swap’s did, "Anyway, this plan is made by the one and only, Great Swap and it's completely foolproof!" 

"How so?" Cross asked curiously, while Error panic-glitched in the corner. 

"We use your good hearing and sit in that weird lab area that most other Sans' have!" 

"ThAt's NoT fOolProoF aT alL!" Error practically fell over. 

Swap crossed his arms with a huff, "I really don't see any better ideas. Plus, I really thought my best friend would trust me." 

Error shot up, "Don't pull the best friend card on me." 

Swap looked away, stubbornly, "If only I had a supportive best friend!" 

The glare that followed was painful but eventually, Error groaned in defeat.

...

Horror had arrived and was finally speaking to Papyrus. 

They talked about mundane things at first. They talked about friends and jobs and music. Horror spoke in hushed tones about the villagers of Snowdin. He asked Papyrus how they were doing. How food rations were. 

Papyrus was as cheerful as any other (excluding the ones that were not cheerful, I suppose) and he only had good things to say to his brother. Although, things hardly looked good in their town. 

"How are things with your special new job Sans?" Papyrus asked, it sounded like he was cooking something. 

Cross heard Horror slump down on something, probably a couch. "Oh, goddess!” He exclaimed. A curse that he likely picked up from Nightmare himself. “It's been crazy lately, Paps." 

"How so, brother?" Papyrus asked.

"Well, we got someone- a new teammate." 

Cross hissed, "Funking lying to his brother through his teeth." The rest of the group put fingers to their lips and Cross shut up instantly. 

"It's complicated though. He was originally supposed to be a prisoner of sorts, fer information. But turns out, he hit his head real hard. The Boss wants ta... use that, I guess." 

The group fell silent. 

What? What did that mean? 

"The thing is, I kind of feel bad lyin’ ta him and all. He's a nice guy. Wants ta help us, even though we're not... worth it, I guess." 

That definitely sounded like Dream. 

"Don't say that Sans. You're worth everything in the whole messed-up Underground!" Papyrus chipped in, cheerfully. 

Horror chuckled at his blind optimism, "You an’ him are a lot alike in the ways you think." 

Papyrus seemed to approach Horror and Horror declined something, "Oh- no. No thanks...I had plenty at the Boss' place." 

"You sure? We've got more rations than usual thanks to your new job." 

"Yeh. I'm sure Paps." 

There was an awkward silence. 

"So, what's the next mission looking like for you?" Papyrus tried starting.

Horror probably shrugged, "I don't know, I think we're goin’ ta try and hit UnderSwap next." 

Swap covered his mouth next to Cross and the group looked at him with concern. 

"The new guy is a powerful tool against the… others. We usually wouldn't go after one that big 'cause it's home ta one of the other guys an’ it would ‘cause us a lot of trouble. But, Boss thinks that we could do it now." 

Papyrus laughed, "Nyehehehe!!! I have no idea what you're talking about! But I'm sure that's all great news brother! Puts food on our plate, at least." 

"Sure does." Horror replied, solemn sounding.

The team had heard enough, Swap tried to shift and move out of the room, he was fuming and needed to remove himself before he did something stupid. Cross tried to grab his arm and keep him a moment longer, he wanted to make sure they were discussing Dream, unfortunately that jerked Swap and the blue skeleton knocked over a paint can that had been sitting on the counter. It hit the floor with a loud thud. 

"What was that?" Papyrus asked, loudly. "A human?! Aliza!?" He sounded excited and a sudden tone of hunger and maliciousness creeped into his voice.

The Star’s could hear Horror shoot up out of his chair, "It’s probably just a froggit.” He muttered, through gritted teeth. But as he approached they heard him pick something up. Probably his chosen weapon, an axe. “There better not be anyone in there or I'll make sure yer death is as painful as possible." He threatened through his teeth, quietly.

Ink hurriedly made an ink portal, "We need to leave, NOW!" 

They left. But not without leaving a puddle of ink. 

Horror knew they were there and that they had heard every word. 

Chapter Text

Ever since that one stupid catalysis kidnapping, Nightmare hadn't been the same. He felt different.

"No… I just want my Nightmare back." He remembered Dream pleading.

"I'll kill you all." Nightmare had threatened back at him.

"You can't do that Nightmare," Dream informed him with a solem sort of look. "I'll have to kill you-" 

Nightmare's eye widened. He had never felt like Dream was so serious about killing him before.

"You can't do that either." Nightmare spat. "You don't have it in you, Dream. Because I'm your brother." 

Dream shook his head and he pulled out his bow, aiming it at Nightmare. And he was crying. The negativity Nightmare felt at that moment was quite unlike any he had ever felt before. Delicious guilt and remorse. He could taste every ounce of despair and every droplet of loss. 

Nightmare had lost. But so had Dream. 

When he had escaped with Killer's help, Dream had spun around and was looking at Nightmare, with tears in his eyes.

And Nightmare felt that strange memory surface. 

One of them together. The brothers...

Before the apples and before all the jealousy and hate. 

They were happy then. 

Nightmare might not have been strong. But he was happy. 

Dream had been all he needed. 

He had grown arrogant and blind to Dream's struggles. 

Nightmare didn't realize it back then, but Dream was being taken advantage of just as much as he was. 

He was also six when the villagers ruined their lives. And Nightmare had abandoned him. Yet through all of it, Dream kept trying to bring his brother back. 

A brother who was almost completely gone, shrouded in the soul of a broken human long gone, and literally oozing negativity.

Dream had never given up on him. 

A part of Nightmare fought with itself. 

And Dream noticed. 

"I'm not going after that kid ever again." Nightmare spat and he left before he could change his mind. 

...

Why had he done that? He gave up Pj without hardly any fight. 

But he had seen Dream's eyelits. He had been so serious. Dream was going to kill him because he really thought he had to. Had he really lost all hope of Nightmare changing??

It hurt.

But why did it hurt?

He wanted nothing more than for Dream to lose his pitiful hope in his dead brother. Nightmare wanted nothing more than for Dream to lose period. 

Right?

Those thoughts- those questions must have triggered something in him because Nightmare had been plagued with night terrors since then. 

Tonight was worse than others. Because it was personal. It was more a memory than a dream and that was the problem. 

It started all fuzzy and grey. He almost immediately knew it was a dream. But he had no control over it, he just felt himself moving. 

People were coming for him. 

The panic and terror consumed him. They wanted to kill him, rip him to shreds. 

Dream wouldn't be able to stop this many villagers. Dream couldn't help him. 

Only one thing would help him now. He had to listen to that feeling.

He had to eat. 

Nightmare had grown used to a lack of control in his life. Every day was the same pattern and he couldn't change anything. The villagers took his brother and used him. Then, in turn, they hurt Nightmare. 

And he let them. 

Nightmare couldn't stop them, so he just let them. He let the pain come and begged them to stop. 

But he had no control. 

He had no power. 

In desperation, he could only see one way out of this cycle of powerlessness. 

He could end it now. 

By eating. 

He could stop the pain himself. That would release him. But it wouldn’t let them have the gratisfaction of doing it themselves.

Nightmare felt the negative feelings begin to consume him, he kept going. This was all he had now. He could get control back. He could become powerful. It would all go away if he just kept eating. 

When the last apple was gone he only felt pain. The tentacles ripped out of his spine and ribcage. Agony consumed him beyond what is even imaginable. The sort of pain that is indescribable.  

There were voices. He could feel every one of them around him. He hated the voices. He felt their hatred, their fear, their pain, and their will to kill. 

To kill him.

As he screamed and ripped out the grass helplessly, he was overwhelmed with the most awful feelings imaginable. Many villagers stepped back, suddenly terrified by the thing happening in front of them. He couldn't even think through the tears and blurry pain and soon he wasn't even able to see. He was coughing up the overwhelming amount awful feelings. It was spilling and oozing out of him. Black goop started to pour out of his every gland. 

He glanced up wearily through his one still-clear socket. His brother was staring at him. But instead of the happy, wonderful brother, he was used to. Nightmare was met with a horrified expression. 

Dream looked so terrified and helpless that Nightmare didn't know what to do with it.

He lurched over and screamed, more tears pouring out of his eyes. Now they were mixing with some sort of apple-scented, horrifying goop. 

"Please… don't forget who I used to be." Nightmare begged his brother. Dream stepped back in terror. 

But that's when he gave up. That’s when Night died and Nightmare took over. It’s when the old weak-link and pathetic wimp of a child finally died and did something with himself.

Nightmare felt it now. 

He had control. 

He had power. 

And he could get more. 

'I hate you all.' Was all he could think, 'Die. Die. You're awful. Die. I need more. Control. Power. I need more. I'll kill you myself to get it.' 

Nightmare wasn't the same and he knew it. The overwhelming amount of negative feelings that consumed him, made it impossible for him to think about anything other than power and control. 

And it was because he felt an unexplainable amount of pain now. The anguish had fully consumed him, he wanted it to go away. 

This hadn't helped him at all. He still was hurting. 

In fact, It hurt worse. 

And now Dream was scared of him. 

Why did he not just die? 

Could she not just have let him die? 

'Let me pass, Mother.' The tiny conscious part of him begged, 'Why won't you let me stop the pain? It hurts so much more now. Nim? Please…' 

Of course, she never answered and if he had it his way, she never would answer anyone ever. 

Pain was his new life. Endless hopelessness and endless sorrow. Pain was all he knew.

...

Nightmare woke up in a panic. 

His rotting apple of a soul was racing and he felt his oozing body collapse and start to lose its solid form. 

His breathing was rapid and he gripped his silky black sheets in absolute terror. 

Nightmare suddenly felt like the helpless naive child he had been before. 

What was happening to him??? Reverting back to that weakling every night? Was this some sort of punishment? Handn’t he had enough?

"Someone help me..." He whispered through terrified sobbing, "Oh my Goddess. Someone help me-" 

But he was all alone. In an enormous lonely castle, he had made himself. No one was coming to save him because he had made sure of it. Nightmare only had himself now. It was a problem of his own creation.  

He traded kindness and love for control and power. And he couldn't go back. Nightmare had to comfort himself now and he was still getting used to it. 

Chapter Text

The group was talking to one another in hushed whispers. 

Horror seemed worried about something and the worry only spread when he talked to his team. 

Dream approached them, "Hey, what are you lovely bunch so worried about?" 

They all jumped a little, not expecting him to be there. Killer stared with his inky black eyes, "Nothin'. Don't worry about it." He lied, and his soul was doing the weird shifting thing.

Dream frowned, "Aren't you the one who told me my powers depend on feelings?" 

The trio looked at one another and Horror carefully answered, "Uh... yes?" 

"So why do you guys think you can lie to me? I literally almost see the anxiety radiating off of you." Dream snarkily pointed out with a metaphorically raised eyebrow. 

Dust huffed a laugh from within the shadow of his hood, "...I like him a lot more now..." 

Horror hit his arm. 

"...Ow...???" Dust glared (probably? Dream couldn't actually see his face) at him. 

"It's about the Star's." Killer explained, "There is a... problem going on with them." 

Dream's eyes widened, "Well that means you definitely have to tell me! They're the reason I joined you! We're fighting them together remember?" 

Killer tilted his head. "Yeah... I guess we are fighting them together now..." 

"You guys can't keep things from me. We're a team. Nightmare said I would be a good asse-" 

"And you are not joining them on this mission." Nightmare stopped him.

Once again, Dream suddenly was hit with a wave of awful feelings and he felt powerless in the presence of the goopy skeleton. 

Dream gaped, trying to hide his stunned expression. "I'm not?!?" 

"He's not?!?" The trio asked at the same time.

Nightmare looked particularly disheveled this morning(?) and he rubbed his browbone in frustration, "Dream is not ready to face the Stars. He has hardly any training. One lesson is not enough." 

Killer frowned, "But he's got all the skills. Just touching a bow was enough to get him to shoot bull's eyes again." 

"That is not enough. He has not even touched magic or melee weapons. The previous plan needs to be discarded." He glared at Horror, "It sounds like it was ruined anyway-" 

Dream sulked. 

He wasn't weak. But Nightmare was right. He wasn't dependable in battle, especially without having at least practiced once with magic or daggers. 

He still wanted to be useful though. 

And he wanted to help his brother. 

His brother was the only thing he remembered, although very vaguely and mostly through feelings, it still must have meant something. He has to get that. He had to save him from the Stars.

Dream hated feeling useless. That was something he had come to learn about himself. A matter of his very being. His nature.

"What do I do then?" Dream asked bitterly. 

Nightmare looked down at him. He seemed more observant than usual, and almost scared of Dream. Which was strange. What did Nightmare have to fear about Dream? 

"We all are staying at the base until I can figure this out." He turned to the other three, "And I mean all of us. If you leave there will be consequences." 

Horror seemed particularly upset but the other two looked unbothered. Where else would they go, Dream wondered. He had no idea what even went on beyond the castle grounds. All that surrounded them was dark gloomy forest.

"Ugh!" Horror grunted, for once he seemed seriously angry at something. His one red eye shown clearly and for once Dream was a little intimidated by him. Before Dream had been able to look past his appearance and scavenge that softness in him but now his scary exterior was apparent, "Look it wasn't my fault!" 

"I'm still confused as to what happened. " Dream glared at them from the corner of their little circle, which he had so obviously been excluded from.

He felt very... out of place. The others did not find it natural to talk with him, and he didn't blame them. He felt particularly uncomfortable in this situation as well, but he had little more to do. He needed their help, Dream had no one else to trust. No one to depend on. They were his last and only hope.

"Horror discussed plans and got spied on, clearly." Nightmare sneered, shooting a threatening look at the skeleton with a cracked skull. 

Horror avoided eye contact, mumbling something under his breath. He wasn't one for talking back, even Dream knew that. But Dream also knew Horror was open about disagreeing with some of Nightmare's methods. He was just being louder now.

Nightmare hovered over him, "What was that?" 

Horror seemed to change whatever he had said and spoke up louder with a lot of false unpracticed confidence, "They'll regret it." He enunciated more clearly.

"No." One of Nightmare's terrifying tentacles touched his cheek, and Dream cringed, "You will regret it. Because there is no question that they will attack us at full force as soon as we leave this hiding spot." 

"I- I'm sorry-" Horror muttered through trembles. That false confidence was dropped so fast Dream forgot he had even tried. The tentacle was too close to his throat to not shake. Nightmare's intense staring bore down on Horror in the most intimidating way possible.

"I don't need apologies Horror. I need servants. Not pitiful wretches." He grinned, "I feed them, you feed me. Remember?" 

Horror was breathing heavily and Dream was being strangled by the heavy awful emotions in the room. His own hands drifted to his neck absently. Dream felt like he was the one in danger. He almost felt that tentacle on his own cheek and he felt Nightmare's eye on him even though it was fixed on Horror.

"Don't you dare leave this castle." Nightmare repeated and he released Horror.  "I will come up with a new plan. Until then, focus on training." With that, he teleported away in a puddle of goop.

It was silent for a minute. 

Nobody had the guts to talk. 

Horror was staring angrily at the ground and Dust was unreadable outside of his just generally upset aura. Killer sighed after a minute, "There's no way I'm training all day."

Dream looked at him concerned. He didn't want to disobey Nightmare, especially after such a choking, terrifying display. Plus, he needed the training so he could be used in the next mission. He couldn't do it without Killer. 

"Relax you stressy dandelion," Killer said with a grin. He smiled as if nothing that had just happened bothered him but Dream felt something was off with him, "Ya just got here. You don't need to rush anything." 

Dream frowned. Even if he didn't want to rush it he worried about the freaky octopus that angrily sat somewhere in this massive castle. 

But before he could voice this he felt something brush against his leg. 

Dream felt a little bit of negativity leave the room as he looked down and saw the cat at his feet. 

He beamed, "A cat?!" 

Dream squatted down and let the cat sniff him before rubbing it behind its ears. The cat seemed nervous about him touching it at first. But it also seemed desperate for attention at the same time. 

"Hush!" Killer suddenly seemed very nervous, his smile faded and he let the negativity seep through the cracks of that mask of his. He picked up the cat and cradled it like a baby, "You can't be so loud about it-" He seemed genuinely concerned, looking around the room frantically.

The cat was purring from within his arms and Killer turned to it putting on his 'scolding the cat' voice, "What are you doing down here?" 

The cat simply meowed and rubbed against his hand. 

Dream felt the air around Killer soften almost instantly but he still felt the anxiety radiating off of him. "Is it your cat?" Dream found himself asking. 

Killer looked up at him, "Yes- and I'd like it to stay my cat. So please, be quiet." 

"Why do I have to be quiet???" Dream asked, very confused. He felt bad for asking, he knew from context clues and general vibes that this may be a touchy subject. But he couldn't help his curiosity. Especially since he sensed the doom gloom monster upstairs had to do with it. 

Dust put a finger up to his unseeable face, "Nightmare." He said simply, confirming his suspicions.

When it clicked for sure, Dream felt the dread set inside of him. Something had happened between Nightmare and a cat before. He didn't know how he knew. But he felt it so strongly that he couldn't ignore it. He was going to ask about it but Dust shook his head from behind Killer. That wasn't a question you asked, no matter how curious.

After a moment Dream finally got the courage to ask, "Can I hold it?" 

Killer looked hesitant, "He is usually very shy," He looked thoughtful, and finally shrugged, "But I suppose he approached you and let you pet him..." 

He hesitantly handed over the cat and when the cat didn't stop purring he seemed to relax... a little. 

Dream, however, was beaming. It was so soft and the purring sent positive vibrations straight to his soul.The cat filled him with so much happiness he started to glow again. 

"He's glowing again." Dust complained. 

But nobody took the cat away from Dream and he happily cuddled with the cat. 

"So," Horror changed the subject, "If we can't leave and we're not going to do what Nightmare asked- then what are we going to do?" 

Dust suddenly shushed a person next to him- who wasn't there??? He gripped the top of his hood and pulled it down more, seemingly embarrassed when he noticed Dream looking at him. 

"...we could...laze around? Do normal things like watching movies or board games?" He sunk deeper into the safety of his hood and his voice got even quieter, "...it's just a thought though...not my idea..." Dust added hurriedly.

Dream was confused. Dust was the one who suggested it. How could it not have been his idea? Horror and Killer exchanged a knowing look, however.

Horror put on a smile and seemed to ignore how strange Dust was acting "I never thought you would suggest that." He exclaimed, "But that would be so fun!" 

He grabbed Dust's hand and started to lead everyone down a dark hall. Dust complied but he still held onto the red dusty scarf around his neck, head down. 

"We could watch a funny movie? I don't really enjoy war movies or horror-" Horror rambled, Dream was left behind confused so he hurriedly caught up with them as the group started down a hall he had never been down, still holding the cat and glowing like a flashlight or something. "I guess I've just got too much of that in real life. It's much easier to enjoy the funny stuff." 

"I haven't watched a movie in a long time." Killer chipped in, "I don't know what I like. What about you Dust?" 

Horror nodded in anticipation. 

Dust was quiet. He let Horror lead him but he turned to the other side and, yet again, looked at someone who wasn't there. 

He seemed conflicted about talking to Horror but he eventually did respond, very quietly, "...I don't think I've watched one either..."

Horror nodded and squeezed his hand, "That's okay." He said, "You're doing great, Dust. Just keep talking to me, okay?" 

It hit Dream suddenly that Horror and Killer were engaging in some sort of grounding method with Dust. 

Horror was rambling about movies and they were both trying to keep Dust involved in the conversation. This was something they had done many times before. It was practiced.

That made Dream both happy and sad. Because Horror and Killer knew what to do for their friend. They knew how to help him to the best of their abilities. 

But it was also sad because whatever was going on with Dust was serious and had happened consistently. At least, consistently enough to have a method in place. 

Dream concluded that Dust must be having some sort of hallucination. His feelings told him as much. Dust was seeing someone who wasn't there. For some saddening reason, Dream wasn't that surprised. All three of these skeletons must have had awful lives. Like Horror said, they wouldn't be working for Nightmare if they hadn't. You don't come out of those backgrounds unscarred. 

Dust kept looking at things that weren't there and even sometimes engaged in conversation and made movements trying to get away. 

It bothered him. 

Dust seemed to have some level of knowledge that they weren't real (whatever or whoever he was seeing), but it didn't make him less uncomfortable and Horror and Killer were doing their best to help him. 

It was sad. 

That they were there for each other. 

But also that they were all they had. There were no other options. They only had other hurt people to comfort them. Because who else would understand that kind of pain? 

It was like a small dysfunctional family. 

Dream's glowing had grown dull, but the little bit of comfort the two were offering Dust kept him going a little. 

They had arrived at a big room and Horror led everyone inside. 

There he turned on a comedy movie and everyone got situated. Dream just observed- although awkwardly- and he felt out of place in their family dynamic, yet again. He was new and foreign. He didn't belong.

He wanted to be helpful to Dust, and although he had hardly talked to the guy, he still wanted to be there for him. 

Throughout the first half of the movie, he sat by himself across the room with Killer's cat peacefully sleeping on his lap now. Dream did this because he felt out of place but also because he was still glowing and he didn't want to be distracting from the movie. He could hide his own wants for the sake of others, it felt natural. 

Horror was laughing at the movie while the other two were talking. He caught Dream looking at them. Dream flushed in embarrassment. He really shouldn't have been looking. Dream didn't want to seem jealous of anything or seem as if he was intruding on their close bond. He understood his place as a newcomer and a former enemy of sorts.

But Horror smiled at him and waved him over silently. Dream looked behind him, checking to see if Horror was talking to someone else. When he saw no one (obviously) he awkwardly pointed to himself and Horror rolled his red eyelit and mouthed "Yes you". 

Dream's soul started to pound a little faster as he picked Killer's cat off his lap and made his way over to the group. 

He sat about two feet away from Horror and sat there, avoiding eye contact. Horror stared at him with a look that seemed to ask "What are you doing???" and he grabbed Dream's shoulder (causing a soft surprised yelp) and pulled Dream right next to him. 

Dream was tense for a couple of seconds, but no one else seemed to be bothered that he was there now. 

He relaxed a little and took a deep breath. 

This was fine. He was fine. He was allowed to relax and be happy like this. 

Why was the thought of that so stressful? 

He glanced over at Dust, who seemed to be doing much better and was watching the movie a little. Killer's cat brushed against his hand again and Dream got an idea to help.

He picked up the cat and put it on Dust's lap. Dust seemed surprised but when the cat settled down and started to purr and sleep on him, he almost seemed to melt into it. Dream felt the tension in the air relax and he let himself relax in turn. 

Horror met Dream's eyes again and he mouthed the words, "Thank you". 

Dream smiled at him. He was glad to have helped, even a little bit and he was glad he wasn't a bother. He had been disappointed that he couldn't go on that mission because he didn't remember anything. But, that night, Dream actually did remember something.

He remembered he liked hanging out with people and watching funny movies.

Chapter Text

The Gang and Dream were stuck in the castle for weeks. Nightmare was terrifyingly adamant about them not stepping a single foot outside.

Over this time Dream trained and got to know the team more. 

Killer set up targets inside long hallways and let Dream shoot down them. This pissed Nightmare off, but he let it happen, reluctantly, because he had set the limitations.

Dream also started to learn how to use the daggers.This didn't come back to Dream as easily as archery had. But Killer was ecstatic about using them. Dream had to admit that detaching the bow into daggers was very fun. Getting beaten up by Killer in training was less fun. 

Magic was the last thing they tried to touch. Nightmare seemed hesitant to let Dream learn how to use it again at all, though he never elaborated on why. He made plenty of excuses but in the end, Dust was teaching Dream how to use it. 

That is, he was teaching him the bare minimum. Nightmare said that not much else could be done, considering they had never seen Dream's full power. Dream wasn't sure if he was lying.

As these couple weeks passed, Dream fell more and more into the web of lies that Nightmare had spun.

He began to really believe it. It was all he had to hold onto, after all. 

His hatred for the Stars only grew after he heard the stories of them hurting his friends. 

And yeah, they were his friends now. 

Dust was distant and thoughtful, but he occasionally made very funny remarks. Dream would sometimes find him staring out the window, thinking. He had often wondered what he was thinking about. 

He had yet to ask.

Killer tried to be intimidating, and often it seemed to Dream that he didn't understand emotions very well. But that was okay because Dream had fun with him regardless. He could tell Killer was a real softy deep down, especially with how he treated his cat.

Killer often came back to his room late at night. 

Horror was the most openly friendly of them all. He liked to talk and talk to Dream and he really made him feel included. Dream appreciated that a lot. Without his help, Dream couldn't imagine what sort of place he would be in right now. Especially since he had made no important memory recoveries. He had in fact learned some things. But they didn't seem really important. 

Some nights Dream would see people in his sleep. They were fuzzy and distant, and he could never see their faces. 

Distant memories of places, like him sitting under some tree somewhere or a white void with blue strings. He also remembered a dozen or so floating papers in another void. Too many voids and not enough faces. It was confusing, to say the least. They were so sporadic and disconnected, Dream didn't really know what to do with them and he almost felt hopeless. 

Some nights Dream couldn't sleep the whole night. He would wake up in a cold sweat, suddenly filled with overwhelming guilt and shame. Something inside of him was terrified of losing everyone, or maybe, just one someone. 

On those nights he felt another presence somewhere in the house filling up with equally awful feelings. 

It was like the walls of the castle were feeding everyone night terrors until they couldn't sleep any longer and then eating that negativity up for breakfast. 

He never mentioned these nights to anyone though. 

They were all inconsequential because he was never able to remember what he had been dreaming about. Ironic and painfully frustrating.

The only important dream he could remember was one where he remembered words that had been uttered to him once, 

"Please...don't forget who I used to be." Those words followed him like a ghost. 

He had forgotten. He didn't even remember who this person was let alone who they used to be. He felt horrible. 

What was worse, was a part of him knew he had made other promises to never forget. But he had. It was all gone. 

"What's for breakfast?" Dream asked, yawning. He didn't know why he bothered to yawn. He wasn't that sleepy even though he hadn't slept nicely for about a week now 

It was "morning", although Dream had learned that time wasn't really based on the sun here, considering, there wasn't really a sun. It was just based on when people decided to be awake. 

Killer was still half asleep and his head was down on the table. Dream had learned that he really wasn't a morning guy, " 'dunno...ask Dust." 

Dream turned to Dust. Dust shrugged and said, "I thought you said you don't get hungry." 

"I don't-" Dream frowned, "But everyone has to eat." 

Dust shrugged, "Not everyone." 

"Everyone I know." 

"You know Nightmare. He doesn't need it." Dust looked around. Horror was not currently in the room, "Horror doesn't usually eat either." 

Dream withered a little. He had of course noticed all the little details about Horror and eating. Dream noticed a lot of things. It was hard not to when feelings rushed at him and hit him in the skull like a frying pan. 

The phrase that Nightmare had uttered to Horror, 'I feed them, you feed me.' still rang in his skull. 

Dream had noticed the way that Horror acted around food. He hoarded it yet seemed disgusted by the sight and Dream had never seen him eat a single bite of it.  

When he had last brought it up Horror left the room without a word. Dream had never seen him so upset. Not even when Horror was being threatened a couple of weeks ago.

It worried Dream, of course. Horror needed to eat, and surely this behavior wasn't normal or healthy. 

"I'm not sure about Nightmare because he's all goopy and weird-" Dream said, looking around, "But Horror definitely should be eating." 

Killer raised a finger, still not lifting his face off the table, "Wouldn't bring that up to him if I were you." 

Dust nodded, "Horror comes from an AU that struggled specifically with food and starvation. That famine changed his lifestyle for years. It's a touchy subject." 

Dream put a hand on his chest. His soul tightened with sympathy, "That's awful..." 

The room was intensely silent. 

"...if he knows what it's like to struggle with food," Dream found himself asking, although a bit shamefully, he wished he wasn't so dense sounding. He wished he was smarter instead of so emotionally inclined, "then why would he not be jumping up and down at the opportunity of food?" 

Killer rolled upwards and rested his skull on his hands, sleepily, "It's not that simple. Horror is used to starving himself to conserve food. He did it for a long long time. Habits like that aren't easy to change. I know for a fact that it started to change his body image and just his perception of food overall." 

"He always waits for us to eat first and when he does eat, it's never in front of us." Dust added softly from inside the protection of his dark hood and dusty red scarf. 

Dream sighed in relief a bit, "So he does eat right?" 

"He does. But we're never really sure how regularly he's doing it." Killer mumbled, "If you try and force him, he won't do it and if you catch him he'll stop eating it. There's no helping it." 

"Strange." Dream said with a frown, "Why would he do that?" 

Dust shrugged, "We don't know anything for sure, Horror isn't one for talking about his problems. He likes to act tough. I think it's because he still has an actual home to fight for." 

There was an uncomfortable implication in that last sentence that implied that no one but Horror had a home to fight for. 

Dream had learned about the AU's in-depth. He knew for sure now that 'the outside world' didn't actually mean one. It was infinite and ever-expanding. Yet, everyone only ever truly belonged to one. If it was gone...

"He thinks he's got to act strong for us, not bother us with his problems," Dust shook his head, "But we're all messed up. He takes care of us so often we ought to help him out too-" Dust stopped. "...sorry...he just makes me mad sometimes. I wish he would talk to us." 

Dream thought for a moment. He couldn't remember ever having to help someone with this type of problem before. Then again, he didn't remember anything so that wasn't new memories or relearned concepts. 

"Forcing him to talk to us probably won't do anything," Dream started carefully, he was thinking of the best way to help Horror, "but there are ways we could try and help." 

Killer looked at him with his inky black eyes, "And what's ways at that, Dandelion? If you couldn't tell, we've worked with Horror for a while and haven't found a single way to help without Horror lashing out." 

Dust nodded in agreement, "He doesn't respond well to the problem being acknowledged." 

"And he wouldn't," Dream replied, "It's extremely personal to him like you said. Not eating probably makes him feel like he's got some sorta- um... control? Over his situation? Because in the past that's all he had to control his situation. You tell him that's a problem and he won't like it." 

Dream adjusted his circlet. He had grown used to the new clothes and crown and with every day they seemed to fit him more and more. He just couldn't shake off the feeling that it wasn't the same. It wasn't nostalgic feeling at all.

"If we want to help Horror we shouldn't be intrusive about it. We're going to have to be careful." 

The other two seemed hesitant but Dust folded, "Okay, what do you think we should do?" 

Dream smiled. He was happy to be trusted enough to try and help, "This isn't a one-and-done type thing. It's going to take a while. But basically, we try and encourage and build a positive image of food for him. Maybe, leave food at his door so he doesn't have to eat in front of us but is reminded to do it. Then when he gets comfortable we start to invite him to dinners or something." 

Dream leaned back in his chair, "But we've got to make meals seem like they're safe and that he still has some control over it. So we can make them fun. Maybe watch that comedy movie he loves while we eat? You know stuff like that." 

"Okay..." Killer said, "But what if he says no to all that stuff?" 

Dream shrugged, "It's going to take a while. We can't force him to do anything, he's not a child. We have to let him want to change. That's why it'll take a while." 

There was a contemplative silence. Dust finally sighed, "There's not really a better plan right now. So we should try it." 

"Nightmare should really invest in a house therapist." Killer joked, "We could really use one." 

Dream happened to agree, but he didn't say anything.

"I thought that's what Dream was." Dust said with a snarky laugh. "He's the glowy happy guy. He knows all about emotions."

Dream flushed. He wasn't a therapist. He just wanted to be there for his friends. 

"Aw don't be shy, Dandelion," Killer said to him as Dream shrank into his chair. "We like having you around."

Dream had learned that Killer was a huge flirt with everyone. The flirtatious skeleton had dubbed Dream as Dandelion because he found out it made him flustered...also he was yellow. It pissed Dream off. 

"Whatever..." Dream mumbled from down in his chair, "Let's just go make a meal for Horror." 

...

Horror felt exhausted. These last couple weeks and been hard. 

Really hard. 

He hated being away from his brother and he hated being stuck here. He hated having to lie to a kind soul and with every day that passed by, the weight caved in on him when he saw Dream become more and more comfortable surrounded by a horrible person like him. That outfit, which was originally a joke- an insult- Dream was wearing it with pride. He didn't look at it with complete disgust anymore. He didn't look at Horror in fear. Dream thought they were all friends with him. Horror was awful for letting him think it.

He felt like an infection who took good people and turned their souls dark. Papyrus was so much like Dream it almost hurt physically to think about. 

You would've thought he had learned his lesson after he turned Papyrus sadistic, to stay away from the happy pacifist skeletons of the world. But he couldn't seem to help himself. He was just so selfish. 

Horror felt a part of him latching onto every kind person, begging for help and he tried to squish it down, he has even warned Dream. But of course, he knew he wouldn't listen. A part of him hoped he wouldn't listen. 

He felt numb and weak. 

Horror knew he should eat. That the others worried about him. He didn't want to be worried about it. They had their own problems, everything he went through was insignificant in comparison. 

Plus, he couldn't bring himself to do it. 

When he was having his best days, he still couldn't eat around his friends. It felt shameful to do so. 

How could he give in to hunger like that? Some people had been through much worse than him and he was eating still. He had seen people die of starvation and he was eating? 

It made him feel sick. 

His body felt warped and disgusting. He didn't look like the skeleton he used to be in the slightest. 

The mirror in his room had long been covered up, he was tired of staring at his destroyed skull and red eye. His ripped clothes, tall broad, and yet sharp, angular build. 

Where was the funny warm skeleton he used to be? He felt sharp instead of round, rigid and dark instead of soft and light. Who was he now? 

He wanted to see Papyrus. He felt lonely and awful. Guilty, that he would even consider bringing all these problems to his beloved brother. The only person he had left. 

There was a knock on his door. 

'Crap.' Horror thought, 'Don't ask me to come down and eat. Don't ask me. Don't ask me. I won't do it. I can't do it. I'm not hungry.' 

These types of thoughts ran through his mind like a strange prayer as he creaked open the door.

Killer's cat greeted him with a meow and invited himself in, rubbing against Horror's leg. 

"Oh? What are you doing out here?" He was surprised. He looked around, hoping for Killer's sake that Nightmare wasn't around.

Wait a minute.

Since when did cats knock? 

Horror looked outside again. There was no one. Was Killer pulling some sort of sorry prank? But when Horror looked down at his feet he saw a box. 

Confused, he picked it up and walked over to his bed, sitting down. Killer's cat curled up next to him, purring. He opened the box, suspiciously and looked at the contents inside. 

First, he found a note. The handwriting was hard to read because it was written in the fanciest cursive Horror had ever seen in his life. 

Well, other than Nightmare's. 

This must have been Dream. It was almost identical looking. But different enough you could tell they were taught by different teachers. Dream having woken up hundreds of years later than Nightmare that made sense. Still, they were strangely similar. 

'Right...twins and all.' 

He read the note, 

Good morning Horror,

Thinking about you! Take care of yourself, alright? We love you so here's a cool snack that Nightmare doesn't allow. Dust snuck this stash out just for you. (By my suggestion, of course, I won't let him take credit for that. I'm the one who likes this stuff) 

With love, Dream, Dust, and Killer!

Horror put down the note and looked in the box. Applesauce? 

"How the hell-" He picked it up. 

Nightmare was very strict about having apples in the house. The fact that Dust was willing to sneak some in was saying a lot. 

He snorted a little. Of course, this stuff was Dream's favorite. He set the applesauce down on his lap. 

It would be fun to spite Nightmare by eating some. He had been very pissed at his Boss recently. And applesauce was small and light. He wouldn't be eating that much. 

But it still irked him. He knew what the guys were trying to do. He had accidentally worried them again. Horror felt guilty as he hungrily stared at the box in front of him. 

They wanted what was best for him and he was not giving them that. He sighed, "I can try a little." Horror said out loud to the cat. 

The cat simply rolled over for a belly scratch. He gave a small laugh and rubbed it. If only to make his friends feel better, he would try and eat this. Maybe try a little harder to take care of himself.

He knew that he wasn't being healthy. And he wanted to be better. It just almost felt hopeless to him that he could be better. 

'One small step though right?' He thought, looking at the small applesauce. 

This was an incredibly daunting feat for him. To acknowledge that he wasn't doing good and to eat food as a step toward becoming better. 

But he did it. 

And Dream felt it from another room of the castle. Pride swelled inside of him. 

They could make progress. Horror could be better. Dust could be better. Killer could be better. 

Dream... he could get better.

Chapter Text

Dream liked to stroll the hallways on days he had night terrors. 

He would run his bony fingers along the dusty window sills and stairway rails. Maybe lie down on the carpet and stare into the endless dark ceiling, blankly.

It didn't help him shake the feelings of guilt and helplessness. But it did feel better just to get out of bed and move. 

He had to keep moving. If he didn't he wouldn't help anyone and that was becoming vital to him. 

Every day that went by there was a certain amount of anxiety he remembered about his need to help people. 

He had to help more people. What use was he if he didn't? 

This would make him ponder. He had often wondered who this old Dream was. The others told him very little and shut their mouths tight when he asked too much. He noticed but didn't comment. 

Dream felt the remnants of things that were probably not good. He had definitely been a people pleaser by the looks of it and he was determined to find and save his brother, who he had lost somehow. Other than that, Dream didn't remember much. 

It was infuriating how little he had remembered after so much time. 

Was no one even looking for him? He wondered. Did he have no one who was worried? And would come for him if he went missing?

That was a foolish and selfish thought. He didn't need to be saved from his current situation, he didn't feel like he was in any sort of danger with them anymore. 

A part of him just felt like it was missing. A big part of him. 

The old Dream felt foreign and finding out who he was now was even harder. Was he still Dream from before, just without his memories? Or was he new? Completely different? Would he ever go back to normal? Or was the damage done? 

The others were often surprised by how snarky he was now. How openly he would get angry and how willing he was to fight them (even in training). 

The old Dream must have hurt. He figured that old Dream hid a lot from people. Perhaps now, those mental restrictions he had set up were gone and he was finally free.  

Or the old Dream was gone forever. Maybe he would've been mad about this newfound freedom. Maybe he wouldn't like it.

He felt bad. 

Like he was guilty of killing off someone who needed help and then replacing them without even knowing them. 

Tonight, Dream had another nightmare. He was tracing his fingers along the hallways when he reached a particularly dark one he had never seen before. 

Dream had wandered a little farther than usual this night. He peered down the hallway curiously. He couldn't see a single thing. He smirked and channeled his magic again, letting himself glow on purpose this time. Dust's training was starting to be of some use, he thought. 

The soft click of his feet echoed softly in this hallway. When he glanced to his right and left he saw massive portraits and his glowing made them cast enormous and daunting shadows. Portraits of many things. There was one of a village. It seemed rather plain.

There was another one of the trio and Nightmare. There was an empty spot on that canvas that had not been filled, Dream found it awkwardly placed and intriguing as to why Nightmare had still thing it up, unfinished. 

He also wondered who the space was for. Surely not him? He had joined only a couple of weeks ago, and Nightmare hadn't really 'accepted' him as one of their own even if the other three had started to.

Was it Cross? Nightmares old teammate he was looking for? Now his enemy? Or was it...Dream's enemy? Dream realize that story confused him a little. It didn't feel right. He must have misheard or misremembered the details. Maybe he should ask again soon. Cross sounded like an important name.

There was another portrait of only Nightmare. He wore different clothes, which made Dream pause and look. While the clothes were covered in Nightmare's signature goop, it looked...familiar.

The outfit he wore was a similar style to Dream's old one. Tunic and all. Except it had moon imagery instead of sun. They were complete opposites, Dream supposed. He knew that much just by how uncomfortable he made him.

Another painting across from it was also half-started. Nightmare on one side but a blank space on the other. What did Nightmare have with half-finished paintings?

There were individual portraits of each of the trio. Horror's was fairly normal. He held an axe to his side. 

Dust's face didn't even show in the portrait, unfortunately. Dream had begun to be suspicious of what Dust hid under there. 

Killer's was fairly disturbing to Dream. There was nothing ornately wrong with it but it just irked him as wrong. 

Killer had a painting like the rest but for some reason, Nightmare was also present. Hovering in the background with a tentacle wrapped around Killer's red target-shaped soul. 

It was the dustiest of the paintings, it had been there the longest probably. 

Dream shuddered and turned away to continue forward but was met face-to-face with Killer.

"Scary isn't it?" He said softly. 

Dream jumped back. He hadn't sensed Killer at all. No feelings radiated off of him, not even the light one's Dream expected from him

"Killer?!" Dream huffed, scared half out of his wits, "What are you doing here?" 

"I had a meeting with Boss." He responded, his face blank, not even a grin.

The stream of his black tears was steady and his soul was in a strange deformed target shape. Tap, tap, tap. It pattered to the ground in a steady drip.

Dream glanced around. He should've guessed this would lead to Nightmare's room. 

"You had a meeting at this time of night?" Dream asked. There was a strange lump in his throat. This felt terrifyingly wrong. 

Killer shrugged half-heartedly, "It depends on when it happens." 

Dream stepped back, "When what happens?" 

"I'm... not supposed to talk about it..." Killer's soul did a weird wobble before settling back into the strange deformed target. 

Dream frowned, "Killer..." This was wrong, something was very very wrong, "...what did... he do to you?" 

Killer's put a hand to his soul but said nothing. He continued to stare blankly. Then he lied through his teeth and Dream knew he lied.

"Nothing. We were... making a plan."

Dream trapped his friend's wrist, "Killer, I know you're lying. He hurt me when I first got here, I would believe you I promise!" 

Killer didn't react to being grabbed, "Boss does what is necessary for the mission." He said plainly, "He only hurt you... for information." 

"He shouldn't hurt anyone for anything! Least of all people he works with and 'cares' for!" Dream was very angry now. He yelled and it felt good to do so. His anger at Nightmare in particular felt strong and deserved, "H-he's manipulated you into thinking this is okay-" 

Killer suddenly grabbed the arm that Dream had on him and threw it off, liquid was pouring out of his eyes much faster now, Dream stepped back, terrified. "Go away- now." 

"N-no. I can't leave yo-" Dream was stunned, he was terrified out of his skull. 

"I'll kill you!" Killer gritted his teeth and put his hands up to his eyes were spouting black furious tears. He fell to his knees, his soul was changing shape aggressively. It looked painful. 

Dream hesitated he wanted to help, he tried to rest his hand on Killer's back but Killer summoned a knife and slashed it at Dream. Dream was in so much shock he didn't even have time to think. 

He teleported to his room without thinking about it. 

He had never teleported before. 

 ...

Nightmare found him."Tonight is really not your night is it, Killer?"  He stretched a tentacle out and wrapped it around Killer and pulled him towards him.

Killer, of course, in stage four, was trying to fight him. 

Nightmare simply took the hits, they didn't do anything to him. He was invincible unless it was his brother fighting him and that was off the table now. 

Another tentacle reached out and crushed Killer's soul back into the shape of stage two. Killer stifled a pained yelp and fell to the floor as Nightmare released him.

Nightmare had done this thousands of times before. Though, it wasn't so common that he had to change Killer's soul back from stage four. 

Killer was usually not pushed that far. What had happened? Killer wobbled to his knees, groaning in pain. 

"You didn't even make it down the hallway before your soul changed. Perhaps I should be keeping a better eye on you..." 

Killer looked up at him holding his warped soul, "Dream..." He managed to choke out, "He was walking down here-" He said to him in broken speech. 

Nightmare's eyes widened. What was Dream doing up in the tower? Hadn't he said to keep out of his room??? He had been very clear.

Worse than that, Dream had seen Killer coming out of one of their 'meetings'. He had probably seen Killer and thought Nightmare was manipulating his soul and with that stupid helpful nature of his, he was going to try to tell Killer to leave him. 

Pest.

Nightmare couldn't win even when Dream had no memories or control over his powers. His team was going to fall apart from the inside out if this continued. 

As useful as Dream could have been before, he was simply becoming a hindrance the longer he stayed here. Especially because of Horror's big mouth, Dream couldn't even be of use until Nightmare figured out what the Stars were up to.

He had tried to watch and gain information from the Stars for weeks but they were becoming harder and harder to track. 

Swap was often in his AU on guard, as he would naturally be considering how Horror blabbed. But Ink was harder to find. He and the other fake Guardian usually lived with their awful children in an abandoned AU. 

But since the information was leaked they must have been hopping from the AntiVoid to the DoodleSphere, which made it impossible to find them. 

Cross was the easiest target for Nightmare. His emotions were easily the most negative. He could feel them from several AU's away. But Cross was not talkative. He wandered through AU's not speaking. He was probably looking for Dream. 

Nightmare could taste the vengeance in the air when he was around Cross. But he had no information on where they would group up next. There could be no surprise attack anymore, and he was sure they would find his tram and follow them to their base. And what if they captured Dream and reminded him of who he was before Nightmare could get any use out of him? It was incredibly complicated and it pissed Nightmare off. 

"Nevermind Dream." Nightmare spat, "Go to your chambers." 

Killer wobbled to his feet, still clutching his soul. 

Nightmare eyed him, "You will be fine. If it changes again... I will feel it. Go." 

Killer hesitated but he eventually gave a swift bow and left Nightmare alone. 

The worst thing about all of this was Nightmare wasn't sure he was that upset about losing control of his team. 

He was starting to realize how awful he was and that small part of him who cared was growing stronger. If he let it keep growing he would lose everything he had built over all these years. He couldn't keep going down this road, he had to continue to be ruthless. 

Whatever empathy that was growing inside of him needed to be crushed as soon as possible. 

He shouldn't care if he is to forcibly change a soul to get more power, (even if Killer asked for it), or take advantage of a starving skeleton, or a frightened victim of hallucinations. 

Or his brother. 

It should be meaningless to him

Deep down he knew it wasn't. Nightmare was growing more and more aware of what he was doing and it hurt. It always had.

But he wasn't going to admit it. 

Not yet.

Chapter Text

They had made a plan, but not really a plan.

The likelihood of Horror realizing they were listening was very high. So the chances that the Bad Sanses were dumb enough to attack UnderSwap now were very low. 

They had Swap and his friends and family standing guard just in case, of course. 

Error and Ink had decided to hop around with their family in the DoodleSphere and the Antivoid, rather than staying put at home. They weren't taking chances, especially with the history of kidnapping Nightmare had with their family. There were also two kids now. They also didn't want to be spied on back, which was reasonable.

That left Cross alone though.

Usually, he would go to the Omega Timeline. But Dream wasn't there. Error had offered to talk to Fresh about Cross staying at his house. But Cross didn't vibe too well with him and his buddy Greaser. So he opted to just keep watch on the ground. 

For now, he was chilling in UnderFell. But soon Error would open him a portal to somewhere else. By hopping from AU to AU he could hopefully catch more signs of the Bad Sanses and find out what the funk they did with Dream. 

"But turns out, he hit his head real hard. The Boss wants to...use that I guess." Horror had said. 

Cross had mulled over it in the last couple of weeks and every time he did he felt his soul shatter a little bit more. He knew what Horror meant. Everything pointed to it. 

Still, Cross tried to convince himself that Horror was lying. But deep down he knew that the whole reason they had spied on him was because he didn't lie to his brother. 

Dream had gotten hurt. Bad. And with a little inferring, one could assume...he didn't remember much. And this, Nightmare had his slimy tentacles wrapped around his twin brother's skull. 

That manipulative prick had absolutely no decency and Cross knew that firsthand, having worked with him just briefly. This knowledge terrified Cross. Dream could handle himself just fine in a fight, he was strong and capable. 

But emotionally, he was a huge pushover. Dream had absolutely no self-preservation or respect. He only ever thought about others and with his memories gone... he would have no form of protection against the manipulative tactics of Nightmare.

The Gang didn't seem much better either. They were all a few screws loose, Dream was in the most dangerous place in all the AU's and he didn't even know it. 

Out of all the dangers though, Cross was also scared for a very selfish reason. He tried to push it down and put it away. Because that's what he did. He liked to bottle up his bad emotions until they spilled out... and he hurt people he loved...

But the pressure broke him. Like it always did. 

He didn't understand how Dream did it without breaking. Sometimes he wished that Dream would just break. Maybe cry in front of him? Talk about his problems instead of someone else's? 

Maybe he just wished that because he wanted to take all the attention away from his own brokenness. 

Dream was in so much danger right now. He could be abused, tortured, or even killed. Especially, since Nightmare was there and that's what he wanted. He wanted Dream's golden apple his soul. 

But Cross was scared, selfishly, that Dream had forgotten him. That he had lost Dream in...that way. That the Dream he knew...that he loved? He was never coming back. And Cross had never even told him. Not really.

It was awful. Hadn't he promised? He promised no one would forget. But Dream forgot. The most important person to Cross forgot about him. And he might never remember.

He could be his enemy now, being used as a puppet by Nightmare, or he could be dead. Not a single option was appealing. 

He wanted to tell Dream how he felt. He wanted to hold his hand or even take that chance and kiss him. Protect him like he should've. He should've been there. 

Why was he never there in time? Why did he always fail to protect everyone he loved? And why did they always forget him? 

Everywhere Cross went he felt the hateful thoughts follow. Sometimes he would turn around or wake up at night and expect Nightmare to be standing there, ready to take him back too. 

To take everything else he could from Cross. It was never enough control for that guy. He wouldn't stop until he got full revenge on everyone who had opposed him. Till he had more power, more control. 

When did it stop? Would it ever? Why did Nightmare have to hurt everyone? 

Cross would often hug his knees close to his chest at night, staring at the moon, wondering if Dream had once asked himself these things. 

He probably had. Cross wished he had talked about it with him. But now he never would. 

It was right for the Bad Sanses to hide from him. Because if Cross found them, they were dead on the spot. He was going to do whatever it took to get Dream back. 

He would rip apart the multiverse, reanimate Nim herself- anything- to get him back. 

Nim?

Wait. 

Cross got an idea.

He sat up so fast that his legs buckled underneath him and he fell over with a thump. He was quickly up and back on his feet though. 

He had to find Error and Ink. Cross had an idea and he sincerely hoped it was possible. And no, it wasn't reanimating Nim. From what Cross had gathered...that wasn't possible.

And not that Dream ever talked to him about these things but he had heard a few pieces of information in passing and put the pieces together into a jumbled puzzle with many missing pieces- but a framework at least. 

DreamTale was the AU that Dream and Nightmare had lived. Not even in a million years would Nightmare or Dream go back there, so Cross had no idea where it was. 

'But Error or Ink might know.' He thought triumphantly. 

Now, if he could find a way to get there on the right day, and somehow catch Nightmare's attention... 

That's how they would win. Thank Nim for those small tidbits of information Cross had. Or else he would have never known about the Solstice.

Chapter Text

Killer was distant all day. He was avoiding the subject with Dream.

Even when they were doing their (now) morning routine of cooking something up for Horror, Killer was silent. He didn't mention what had happened the night before and he didn't seem phased by anything. 

Dream considered bringing it up to Dust. 

Especially since that was the first time Dream had teleported. Granted, he didn't do it on purpose, but it was still an important feat magic-wise for him. But he feared that Dust knew what Nightmare was doing too and wasn't going to do anything about it.

In fact, Dream was starting to become paranoid that this manipulation ran deeper than he thought. Nightmare was a nightmare to live with and working with him was worse. 

His power and control over the Gang was not built completely out of respect. Partially, Dream knew, that the Gang liked Nightmare. They treated him as if he was a father figure or should be praised for taking them in. But his leadership was partially built on fear instead of love. 

That bugged Dream. Whatever Nightmare had done to Killer was clearly not okay. 

And if Nightmare was willing to manipulate his oldest member who says he wasn't willing to manipulate his newest one? 

Dream was on edge because of this. The team wasn't exactly helping. He must have been acting pretty obvious about how he was feeling too, because the Gang had hardly said anything to him. 

The tension was just too much for Dream. These people just sat around and did nothing all day. Unless they were fighting, they hardly had any purpose. Did they not realize that? Did they not care? 

They ignored their problems all the time, never talked about them, and never addressed them. But Dream couldn't do that. What he saw with Killer... he had to do... something. Literally anything but just staying quiet. 

The team was sitting at the table in silence. Not eating, not talking. As much as the Gang must have cared about each other they didn't really do normal, hanging out things. Except for the one time they watched that movie.

They trained, they ate (some of them), and they slept(some of them). 

It was so dysfunctional that Dream stood up and slammed his hands on the table, "Okay this is absolute funking zipp!!" He snapped, The whole group turned to him in shock.

Dream pointed at Killer, "I am not going to pretend that you weren't acting weird last night." He pointed to Dust and Horror, "And I'm not going to pretend I don't notice what's up with you guys either." 

"Nothing's up with us Dream, we're fine-" Horror tried, but he stammered. It was a practiced response. It meant nothing to Dream.

But Dream grabbed his head and shook it in distrust, "No, no, no! Don't try that with me, Horror. Killer came out of Nightmare's room at like three in the morning an-and his soul was- was-" 

"Stop." Dust said calmly from his right, "We know. It isn't right. But we trust Boss to take care of us. He's... he's hurting too you know. He doesn't always mean to be the way he is." 

Killer's soul looked more natural today, he spoke, "He has to change my soul, I'll have you know. I'm not exactly useful in any other stage." 

"S-stage?" Dream asked nervously. His feelings were out of whack. They were confusing him. Their emotions mixed with his and he was overwhelmed.

"It's hard to explain," Killer said and he didn't elaborate. He only looked away. 

The tension was back but it felt different this time and Dream felt guilty about causing it. 

"I can tell you're worrying about us, Dream. I told ya. You shouldn't do that." Horror tried to comfort. "Nightmare works us to da bone sure. But we're all here by choice." He tried to slip in a joke but Dream didn't laugh.

"We're fine. You don't have to worry."  Dust said nodding.

Dream turned to Dust, "But you've got so many... the things that have clearly happened to you," He looked at Horror and Killer, "You guys like to pretend. You like to be strong... but I feel the hurt. Your Boss feeds on it. It hurts to me and I'm not even the one feeling it." 

Dream couldn't take the overwhelming flow of emotions through his chest any longer and he practically collapsed in a sobbing puddle on his seat, "I just want you to talk about it. I want to help so you can feel better. So I can feel better. Everyone just needs to get better and I can't do anything to help." 

Horror stood up, worried, "H-hey don't cry! It's no big deal, honest." 

Wait. What? 

Dream wiped the tears from his cheek and he looked up at Horror in shock, "W-what did you say?" 

"Please, don't worry about us. You don't have to cry. We can try and be more open, you don't have to be so upset!" 

No. No. No. 

"No- what you said before- someone..." Dream scooted back in his chair, "I've been in a situation like this before-" 

That's when he got his first real memory back and it went a little something like this:

...

"***** you're all scraped up again." Dream frowned, looking at his brother. "What happened?" 

They were outside, underneath a tree. But Dream still couldn't remember his brother's face or his name. 

Just this conversation, and the tree. 

"I fell." His brother whispered plainly. 

Dream tilted his head, curiously, "You have been 'tripping' a lot recently..." He tried to make a joke to lighten the mood, "Should I take you to the doctor or something to check out your coordination?" 

"No!" His brother cried desperately, grabbing his sleeve with his scrapped hand, "I don't want to go into the village! Please! .I'm fine!" 

That reaction was not what he had expected. He had been joking. But ***** was seriously concerned about...going into town? 

"O-okay? I won't take you. It was a joke *****." 

He saw his brother's shoulders relax and he wrapped his arms around his knees like he had been doing before. 

The birds were whistling from above and the wind blew through the leaves of their tree place.

Dream was observing his brother in silence. He felt the negativity radiating off of him. It had been getting worse recently. Dream wasn't dumb, he knew something was going on. He just couldn't figure out what. And ***** wouldn't talk to him. 

He wanted to give him space and let him tell Dream on his own time. But it had been a long time and Dream knew that something really bad was happening and that ***** wasn't tripping. 

Someone had to be hurting him. But who? And why wouldn't he tell Dream? Wasn't he a good brother? He should be trustworthy. He should be helpful. 

Was he not helpful enough? 

He didn't know how to deal with these thoughts so he started to cry. 

Dream was young. He didn't have much experience with life. Perhaps that was why he was not enough for his brother. Six years had simply not been enough time to grow up. He wasn't good enough for the village or for *****. He cried, unable to stop himself.

"W-woah! Dream are you okay?" ***** ran over to him and Dream felt a bony hand on his shoulder, trying helplessly to comfort him.

Great now Dream was the one being comforted. He didn't want that. He wanted to comfort *****. 

Being as young as he was, he couldn't really talk well through his tears but he managed to choke out, "W-whats going on, *****? Y-you're not okay. You keep saying you are- but you're not!" He rubbed his eyes, "I want to help yo-you! Am I not trustworthy?" 

He genuinely asked that question. If he wasn't trustworthy he wanted to fix that. Dream needed to do his job as best he could. The village depended on him, the tree depended on him and his brother depended on him too.

His brother was quick to ramble over him with excuses, "N-no! Dream you are trustworthy! I- I'm fine don't worry about me." 

"But you never talk about what's wrong!" Dream turned to him, "***** I know something is wrong! I feel it!" 

His brother backed up and stammered, "Y-you don't know something i-is wrong 'cause nothing's wrong!" 

"Stop that!" Dream sobbed, "You're lying! We both know you're lying!" He laid his head into his hands, "But you can't tell me- I must be doing something wrong. Why can't I help you?" 

His twin was silent for a moment and the only sounds were Dream's sobs. "Okay- okay if I tell you what's wrong will you stop saying those awful things about yourself?" 

Dream sniffled and looked up at him, not promising anything. 

All he saw was his brother rubbing his torn-up and dirty purple sleeve, "There are just some... bullies... from the village. They say mean things..."

Dream tried to be happy that ***** had opened up to him, even just a little, but the confirmation of the harassment he had been expecting was awful. He broke down into sobs again.

"H-hey don't cry! It's no big deal, honest." ***** leaned down to comfort him again. "I shouldn't let what they say get to my head. I'm just being a big crybaby." 

But all Dream felt was disappointment. Not in *****, but in himself. How could he have let this happen?

"Dream!" ***** called to him. He looked up with teary eyes. "I'm okay. I promise. Please don't cry. They're just some mean kids. They don't bother me that much. They'll leave soon." 

"Y-you promise you're okay?" Dream sniffled. 

"Promise." ***** said with a fake smile, "I would never lie to you." 

...

Dream was silent, tears falling down his face. Dust waved a hand in front of him, "Dream? Are you alright?" 

Dream's hand made its way up to his face and he silently wiped away his tears and tried to gather himself. "I..." He thought about telling them about his memory. But he decided not to. 

He had to use that memory to his advantage, to keep him moving forward and to better help the people here and now. 

And he was going to help his friends. He wouldn't let them lie to him. He wouldn't let them push him away, he would keep going. 

"You guys are going to learn piano!" Dream declared suddenly and stood up. 

The Gang looked, rightfully, confused. Killer blinked, "Ermmmm- what?" 

"I'm done with you guys avoiding your feelings, but if you won't talk about it, I've got other ways." 

Their eyes followed him as he walked to the door that led to the hallway, "Besides, you have nothing else to do, and I'm tired of sitting in boring silence. Y'all need a hobby outside of mercilessly fighting and working for the stupid octopus." 

Horror snorted, "Stupid octopus?" 

The trio at the table all looked at each other as if there was some unspoken joke. 

"Yah, he got eight limbs, don't he?" He rolled his eyelits, "It seems really dramatic and inconvenient. But whatever." Horror snorted again. Dream just continued, "Come on let's go find that piano." 

"How do you know there's a piano?" Killer said with a snarky smile. 

"Because you have like three of everything imaginable in this castle. You for sure have a piano." Dream looked at Killer somewhat concerned now. He was only a little doubtful, "Am I wrong?" 

Killer gave a joking shrug, "Nah you're right." He got up to lead the way for Dream and the Gang. Horror and Dust followed suit. 

Dust groaned he didn't seem excited by this, but it looked like Horror was dragging him along, "I should tell you, I think I'm tone deaf." 

"Nice try, Dust." Dream said, trying to act confident in his plan for 'musical therapy', "But Sans plays the trombone. You're not tone deaf." 

Horror gasped, "H-how did you..." 

Dream stopped, "Huh. I guess I remember another thing too." He beamed, "Sans! That's the main universe's name for that short skeleton huh? I just remembered that!" 

He looked around at them, "You all look like him, but due to your circumstances and differences in AU's you're not really anything like the original guy. So you're all different people now. Like almost completely." 

Horror seemed uncomfortable, "Yes, well...erm...I suppose... congrats on remembering that?" 

Dream felt his soul fluttering. That was two things in one day. Maybe this was the start of all of his memory coming back? His mind wandered to everything he had learned from his memories and knowledge so far. Nothing really made sense still. 

He sighed and took it with a smile though. Because on the bright side, at least he had made some progress. Dream had been starting to lose hope. 

Chapter Text

Dream was indeed, still surprised by how enormous the castle was. 

The piano had its own room with a gigantic ceiling and one large window. Eerily, the light spilled onto the piano. Two roses sat in a vase on top of the piano. One was yellow and the other was purple. 

Strange how Dream had been noticing those colors everywhere recently. They stood out because of how dark everything else was, but the accents to every room, they were always yellow and purple. Nightmare must have fancied those colors. 

"Okay, do any of you not know the piano?" Dream asked the team. 

Dust opened his mouth to lie but Dream raised a non-existent brow and he closed it. "Okay good. That means this might be productive." He gestured Killer over to sit down, "Can you play me a song Killer?" 

Killer sat awkwardly, and thought, "Ermmm... I'm not as good as I used to be. I don't think I've played since..." He didn't finish the sentence. His teardrops hit the piano keys with a soft clink.

"Okay..." Dream started softly, he quietly sat down next to Killer, "You just remembered something that hurt right?" 

Killer looked at him with a little bit of surprise. "Don't try to hide it from me. I can feel it, remember?" He continued, "If you can't remember a song come up with one. I don't care how good it is. It will be helpful." 

"Helpful how?" Dust asked from the sidelines. Horror nodded in agreement to the question. 

Dream sighed, "Music is very strange, but it had healing powers kind of. It won't fix everything, but it's a great tool to release inner turmoil and tension. It brings people together in a strange way. I seem to remember that much. It may seem dumb but it's fun if nothing else." 

Killer placed his hands on the keys, fumbling a bit about where to place them. Dream watched him and waited for his first move. 

"I...I don't know where to start..." Killer said quietly, "There's...a lot of things going on..." One hand reached for his soul and it squirmed uncomfortably in his hand. 

Dream smiled at him softly and knowingly. He was happy that at least Killer understood the task at hand and was willing to try it.

"Here," Dream said, he put his own hands on the higher playing side of the piano and played a cord, "Play with me for a little while." 

Dream didn't really know where he was going but he played for the sake of Killer. They were kind of on the same boat because Dream was just guessing that he even knew how to play the piano, he had actually no idea until his fingers played for him. 

Dream definitely wasn't a music composer so he couldn't make up a song and he didn't remember any either. But his fingers glided as if he had done it a thousand times before. Again he wondered what he used to be like. Who was this old Dream? 

Killer joined in at one point, at first he didn't seem to know what he was doing, but it was okay because the two of them were crappy at it together. It was broken and clumsy playing but it was fun. 

At some point during their... interesting song Killer took over and Dream let him take the whole thing to himself. It started to get dramatically better, Dream wondered if Killer had remembered a song. 

But he realized somehow at one point, that it was being made up on the spot like he had suggested, although Killer was doing it much better and it almost felt like the song poured out of his very soul. 

It was sad. 

Very sad. 

A song of betrayal and guilty pleasure. There was a tightness in the notes, almost as if they were holding back in fear. A certain amount of control was put into the placement of cords, it almost made the song feel restricted and manipulated. 

In a soft change of tone, there was a lighter tone added in. It implied someone coming into Killer's life. 

Maybe it was the Gang, maybe it was his cat, maybe it was someone else. If Dream could see sound he would say these notes were colorful and flaming. Like a rainbow flame of some sort. 

But it made Killer's soul shift and Dream watched in awe as it formed into a shape he had never seen before. 

A small upside-down heart. 

Throughout the whole short little melody, the dark notes were still played, but the light ones added in gave Dream some hope for Killer and he felt a little closer to him now having heard the song, although it was short. 

Killer slowly lifted his hands off the keys. He looked at his friends... his family, almost for approval. Maybe he was scared he had shown too much? That he was too vulnerable? His soul wavered. 

"That was perfect, Killer." Dream cheered him on softly. "See? Don't you feel a little bit better? Isn't it fun?" 

Killer shrugged, and his soul went back to the normal target shape, "It was... okay." 

Dream faltered a bit, he was hoping it would do a little more for them. He must have been obvious because Killer got up and....hugged him. "I remembered that I liked the music though," Killer said, "Thank you, Dandelion."

Dream found himself smiling, he was glad he had helped, even just a little. Killer broke off the hug and joined Dust and Horror, he didn't seem embarrassed for having done it even though the other two looked shocked. 

"Who's next?" Dream beamed like the sun. 

Horror shuffled, "How about... you go first?" 

Dream blinked, "Me?" 

The skeleton with the cracked skull nodded incessantly, "Yeah. You're always helping other people Dream. What about you?" He squirmed, "Plus, I would feel better going later..." 

Dream sighed as he looked between Horror and Dust. Neither of them looked like they wanted to try it. 

"Fine. But after that, you guys are going." He said looking at them, seriously. They shrunk under his parental stare as he settled down on the piano. 

He froze. Okay... now he was in the same position he had tried to put them all in. He had no idea what to play and he didn't want to make an embarrassment of himself. 

In his defense, he didn't know he could play the piano till about three minutes ago. But one thing Dream would always remember about himself was that he was stubborn. 

That boy was going to prove that music was good for them and hopefully help them develop a hobby outside of knives or something...

He didn't know what he was doing, but he pretended he did, and with false confidence, he started to play something. 

At first, it did indeed sound very wonky and he flushed with embarrassment. But Dream continued regardless. After a little while, it progressed into a listenable song. 

Actually, he must have been doing okay because the others looked at him in awe. The longer he played, the more Dream fell into the music. 

Maybe this is why he felt so strongly about music. Had he previously had some sort of connection to it? It certainly was healing to him. 

He remembered that memory he had earlier. Of his brother. And he held on tight to that, letting the music speak for itself. Was this a song he was remembering?

"What are you doing?" Nightmare's voice echoed in the chamber and Dream accidently slammed his fingers on the keys. 

He hadn't felt Nightmare's presence. 

He always felt Nightmare's presence. 

What just happened? 

"I-uh I'm playing the piano?" He stammered. 

The group across from him was staring at him in shock and he was a little taken aback. 

"What?" He asked, seriously concerned, "I didn't do anything wrong. What? Are we seriously not allowed to play the piano? Why even have a piano if you're not going to use it?" Dream was quick to defend and snap at Nightmare. He didn't like that stare. He was angry at him for Killer. For all of them. And a little for himself.

Nightmare looked surprised. Not angry. Which make Dream blink. He just looked surprised. "Do you know what you just played?" 

Dream made a face, "A song???" He frowned, "Why are you all looking at me like that?" 

Nightmare seemed to ponder, "Here," He moved to sit down and Dream didn't move. He wouldn't so easily bend over to this guy's every whim. He was making it clear he didn't control him. "Move over." His commanding nature came back for a few seconds and Dream felt so much negative pressure his body moved without him telling it to.

Immediately after though, Nightmare's new and strange softness was back. He looked a little sorry for being so commanding, it was almost unnatural, "Play it again? Can you... please?" 

Dream was so shocked it took him a moment. He just asked him nicely? "I uh- I think so?" 

He started to play again, watching Nightmare carefully out of the corner of his eye. 

To Dream's surprise, Nightmare started to play with him. His cords were much darker, he sat on the lower playing side of the piano, but they somehow melted into Dream's. 

Dream was stunned. How was Nightmare coming up with such a good harmony on the spot? It was like he had heard this song a million times... but that couldn't be true. 

As the two of them played, light and dark seemed to mesh together into a wonderful melody about death, life, happiness, and sorrow. It was a perfect description of a living creature's experience. 

Dream stopped the song on a light note and it rang out into the chamber. Nightmare sat still beside him. 

Dream hesitated but spoke, "You're really good at coming up with harmonies. He tried to compliment, though Dream didn't know why he bothered. 

"Do you remember that song at all? Do you know what that is?" Nightmare asked him, expression almost unreadable. But Dream felt the sorrow oozing out of Nightmare. 

Dream thought about it. It did feel and sound familiar. Very familiar. But he couldn't say he knew it. To him, it almost felt like...it was missing something? Lyrics, perhaps? He didn't know. 

Dream shook his head, "It sounds familiar and feels familiar to play. Can't say I know it though. Why?" 

Nightmare's familiar frown came back to his face and he stood up shaking his skull, "It doesn't matter. I'm leaving." 

Nightmare made the move to teleport yet again but was stopped by a sharp pain to his arm. 

Dream had tried to grab him, but with the shocking sharp pain, he had let go, "Ow! What the funk-" 

Nightmare spun around, "What are you doing?! Don't touch me, you idiot! You'll get hurt!" He snapped. 

Dream's eyes widened and he scooted back. But something inside of him willed him to keep pressing Nightmare (as it always had), "I- was just trying to" He took a deep breath and tried to shake off the pain in his hand that shot up his arm. "You can't keep brooding up in that room of yours. You should come and spend time with us." 

Nightmare gave Dream a look that said, "Are you serious?" 

Dream deadpanned, "What? You're too angsty to spend time with your team. It's like you feed off of awfulness! I've seen you a good total of like three times and you do nothing but hurt and then run away from the consequences. You show me a bit of kindness and you run away still??? What is up with you?" 

"I've got important work to do." Nightmare sneered at him.

Dream rolled his eyes, "No you don't! You haven't come up with a plan for weeks." He started him down, "You've been stalling because there's something you don't want to do." 

Nightmare stepped back, "What?! How dare you! You have no right-" 

"And you don't want to admit it but you're lonely! And scared! And hurt!" Dream shouted, he was getting unreasonably angry and upset over this. He hardly knew Nightmare. Why did he feel so strongly about this? 

"You isolate yourself and you don't ask for help. You act selfish and greedy just because you want some funking control over your own godforsaken life, and don't pretend that isn't it! It's so bad that you've infected your whole family with it!"

He motioned to them. The gang stood there stunned. "They've all got issues they refuse to address because you like to squash all emotions you have as if they aren't real! Now they think that's the right thing to do too! You're an awful role model and an awful Boss."

He hit his skull, "Well I can't stand it!" Dream yelled, "I can't funking stand it any longer! Why can't anyone trust me!?!" 

The tears started to well and he didn't know why.

Was this his new life? 

Did he just cry all the time? 

He felt miserably helpless. Like a child without their mom... or without a brother. Without any memories. Maybe kidnapped, maybe employed?? Maybe being manipulated, maybe not. Maybe with friends, maybe with enemies, or maybe just stuck with a bunch of people who refused to work out their issues, even though they had a lot of them. It was driving him crazy.

Okay... maybe he was allowed to cry. All that stuff deserved a few tears. Dream didn't feel bad about crying.

Nightmare looked around panicked, he didn't seem to know what to do. The others didn't offer him any help, they probably figured he would be the best one to do it. That or they were just as emotionally dumb as him.

"Stop crying." Nightmare tried. Obviously, that didn't work too well, but he knew nothing else but commands. "Please?" He fumbled over the right words to say, uncomfortably. He sighed, "Fine." Nightmare was basically doing anything to get him to stop the crying, "I'll... take a break- whatever. Just calm down." 

Dream was so overwhelmed, that the sobbing was almost nonstop. He just needed to cry right now. There was so much going on and he didn't know how to handle it. 

But he did perk up a little at that, "Mmmm- wh-what do you want- to do?" He tried asking through shaky sobs. 

Nightmare still looked visibly uncomfortable. He looked everywhere but at people. Dream wasn't sure if he was embarrassed about Dream's childishness or at how easily he folded. "I don't know? I don't usually... relax." 

Dust approached them, "Why don't you go... do your work for now Boss? Tonight we can just... take a rest." He looked at Dream pitifully, "We'll figure out what we want to do tomorrow, okay?" 

Nightmare didn't like being bossed around and Dream didn't want Nightmare to leave for his room again. But they were both not in the right mindset to be stubborn. 

"Fine," They said at the same time. 

Chapter Text

"A library? Why would he want to go there with me?" Nightmare asked Killer. 

They were currently in his room. Only Killer was ever allowed in here, and only because he was the most loyal (though perhaps against his will. Nightmare was getting suspicious). 

Killer had come to bring Nightmare the information that today he would be spending time with Dream in the castle library. 

The last night had been a restless one. Nightmare could feel the negative tension from the castle radiating throughout the whole night and it had not let him sleep. That had never bothered him before. But then again, a lot of things that had not bothered him previously were becoming disturbing. 

He still struggled to grasp what it meant and if he was able to stop it... should he? Did he want that? Maybe it was better if...he just let negativity seep away.

No. He couldn't and he wouldn't. Losing control over what he had spent so long gaining control over, was more terrifying than anything else to him. 

Nightmare couldn't fathom the idea of losing Killer, Horror, or Dust. Let alone Dream. He had just gotten him here. He had to hold strong to his initial values. He had to be frightening and careless, or else they might leave. 

Because no one sticks around Nightmare if given the choice. And why would they? They hadn't before the corruption and now it was even worse. He was unlovable by default and all he could do now was try and accommodate for those weaknesses. 

"He said that he likes reading, and it was the only thing he could see you enjoying either," Killer responded carefully. 

Both of them stood with their backs to the stained glass window. The picture it depicted was uncomfortable, and Nightmare had started to question why he had it installed there in the first place. He was so dramatic sometimes, even Nightmare was realizing that.

"I suppose I don't mind reading." He sighed, tracing his phalange around the glass case in the middle of his room. It held something precious. "How did he know we have a library though?" 

Killer shrugged, "He just assumed, kinda like he did with the piano room. This is a big castle." 

Nightmare frowned. He knew he was stalling for time by asking dumb questions. It was just incredibly awkward what he was about to do and everyone in the house but Dream knew it. 

Not only was he spending time with his estranged and nemesis brother, but his brother also had no idea what was actually happening. And if he did he would hate him. 

"Boss?" Killer asked him, "We should probably get going. Dream is waiting." 

Nightmare snapped out of his thoughts and sighed as he stood up to follow Killer out. His finger left the case of his circlet as he walked away. It was sad because it no longer had a matching crown. It was all alone. 

Nightmare closed the door behind him. 

...

"A library? What is this? Beauty and the Beast?" Horror said from behind them. 

"Ew..." Dream said, disgusted. "I definitely do not think of Nightmare the way Belle thinks of the Beast. Don't compare me to that, that would be weird." 

"Weirder than you can even imagine..." Dust muttered.

They arrived at a big black door (outlined with purple and yellow accents yet again). Nightmare and Killer were already waiting. 

Nightmare looked visibly uncomfortable and Dream felt it radiate and infect him too. But he wouldn't let that grumpy sludge skeleton ruin his mood today.

Dream had been a complete mess the day before. He had cried for no reason in front of everyone. Dream had cried himself into a restless, nightmare-ridden sleep only to wake up sweating and embarrassed about how he had behaved the previous day. 

But despite how embarrassed he felt for having broken down like that, he was happy about the outcome. He had finally gotten the Gang to do something productive outside of training or following Nightmare around. 

He had even coaxed Nightmare out of his hiding hole to spend time with them. Dream wasn't going to let an opportunity like this pass, this group was going to spend some quality time together whether they liked it or not. He knew it would be good for them, he could just feel it in his bones. 

Nightmare and Dream made eye contact.

Nightmare gulped, "You first?" He tried awkwardly. 

Dream tried to act confident and cool, he shrugged and pushed open the enormous door that revealed an even bigger library. 

It was the biggest library Dream had ever seen in his whole life. Well... It was the only library he remembered seeing in his whole life. But he was confident he had seen one before and they had... probably never been this big. 

"Woah-" Dream was aghast. Dream slowly entered the large library, looking around in awe at the towers of books. 

After a moment Dust shattered the amazing moment with, "I should mention that I can barely read." 

Horror looked at him with a unbelieving scowl, "Yes you can. Don't lie." 

Dust frowned, "I need reading glasses, and I am not wearing those here." 

He didn't say it but he was implying he didn't want to wear them in front of Nightmare in specific. Dream saw the way his hood tilted ever so slightly towards his boss. It was funny that he was worried at all, considering no one could even see his darned face. (Dream began to wonder if he was really a bunch of raccoons in a trenchcoat or something).

"Well if I'm stuck here, you're going to participate." Nightmare didn't seem to get the memo and he summoned a pair of reading glasses, dropping them into Dust's hand. "I don't want Dream mopping again." He mumbled out of spite. 

Dream ignored his snappy remark and approached one of the bookshelves, examining its contents. 

There were hundreds of books he didn't recognize. He wondered if maybe he had read these before and didn't remember. Wasn't that the dream every reader has? To forget their favorite book so they can enjoy it for the first time again? 

Except he didn't remember which book was his favorite before. He ran his hands along them, walking down the aisle. 

He could only reach three or four rows up, anything above that he would need the tall ladder for. And since the books went to the ceiling, he would probably be needing that. 

"What do I want to read..." He pondered out loud. He turned to the Gang, "What about you guys? What genre do you like?" 

The group gave him an assortment of excuses about how they didn't read much. 

"What?!?" Dream cried. He gestured to the millions of books, "With a library like this?! You guys don't use this castle to its full potential." He was a little offended for the castle.

There was a silence. Dream sighed. He knew it was useless to try and force them to do something they didn't want to do. Maybe Horror was right. He didn't know why he tried so hard to help people who didn't want to be helped or try to befriend people that didn't want to be friends. 

He put himself out there too much. He cared too much about what other people were feeling and not enough about himself. 

Well, he wasn't going to keep doing that.

Dream decided on the spot that for once, he was going to try and think about himself. He was going to decide what he wanted to read without worrying about the other's opinions or feelings. 

Dream spun around and searched for the section he was drawn to and when he found it he read the titles. 

He tried not to feel guilty when he judged all the books by their covers, but he tried to remind himself they were just books and he didn't have to bother himself about their feelings (He was trying not to do that darn it!), and he selected a book he thought would be nice. 

"What is that?" Killer asked curiously from behind Nightmare. 

"It's a fairytale where a prince falls in love with his bodyguard. I find it very cute!" Dream blinked. He didn't even read the back. He just knew what it was about. Maybe that's why he was drawn to it. 

The Gang stared at him. "...um interesting? I guess?" Dust said.

Horror giggled in the corner, "Wonder why that stuck around and other things didn't." Nightmare slapped him with a tentacle (not hard just a wapp) and Horror shut his mouth. 

Dream blushed, "W-well I think I'll like it 'cause I remember it?? Kinda?? And I-," He took a deep breath, "I'm going to read it and I don't care what you guys think about it! It'll make me happy and that's what matters." Dream had to rush the words out before the chickened out. He had no idea why it was so hard to say a simple thing like that. 

There was a silence that came over the group and they looked at him, astounded almost.

"Woah there Dandelion, way to stand up for what you want." Killer seemed to genuinely congratulate him. 

Dream flushed harder, "Well I um...yah! I'm... it's just a book I mean...it shouldn't be a big deal." 

Horror gave a sharp and loud clap, "Yeah! Look at that! He gets it finally! It ain't no big deal to do what you want sometimes!" 

Dust nodded, "He's made a big step for him. I am astonished. But pleased." 

Dream's brow creased, they were acting like they had been trying to help him out this whole time. Like they wanted from to feel better, the same way he wanted them to feel better. 

His eyes widened. It made people happier when he was happy. Strange. He had never even thought that that might be something that could come into play. Perhaps... his health was just as important as anyone else's? What a novel concept. Why hadn't that occurred to him? It seemed obvious. And as a social being, he could help someone else feel better by letting himself feel the way he wanted to. 

He noted that thought for later (and you should too because it's important, My Dear Universe). 

He smiled and nodded, this time he was confident, "Yes! Now everyone pick out a book, we're going to read!" 

The group looked eager now, and they shot up to explore the library the had apparently never used. 

Everyone except Nightmare, who was looking at Dream strangely. "...are you going to...get a book?" Dream asked carefully. He didn't want to push his luck with Nightmare, and he was also still a little angry at him for what he saw with Killer. (He needed to talk to him about that). 

Nightmare tilted his head to one side, "That head injury has changed you." He stated plainly. "A simple thing like that...it would've never happened before." 

Dream looked around awkwardly, "Umm...is that a good thing?" 

Nightmare wavered, "I..." He frowned, "...have not decided yet."  With that, he left to find a book.

...

It was quite fun when they actually started to read. 

The group had started to enjoy it and one by one they started to huddle up and talk about their books and share the stories. 

This all happened around Nightmare's chair and soon the whole Gang was snuggled up to each other below him. 

Killer had started a fire in the big fireplace there and Dream put down his book to watch it crackle and burn as the boys started to quiet down and fall asleep. 

Nightmare was up for a while, he did not speak to any of them. He seemed buried in his book, but he looked like he at least enjoyed the company.

Dream smirked at that.

Nightmare was just a real softy at the core. If you could get rid of all that nasty sadness and anger, he was just a normal guy looking for company. 

He reminded Dream of a distant brother. One who cared about you but you didn't really have a good connection with. A brother who cared but didn't know what to say and when he tried he messed up. That random comparison stuck a little with Dream for some reason. 

Killer and Dream were the last ones awake after Nightmare finally gave way to sleep and comfort. He looked like he needed it. Killer and Dream were both mesmerized by the fire. 

A soft creak was heard after a while of comfortable silence and warmth. Dream turned and saw Killer's cat. It ran up to him with its soft pads and curled up on his lap. 

"Aw..." Dream whispered. 

Killer looked up at Nightmare a little panicked and when he saw that he was dead out he, visibly, tried to calm himself. Dream looked at him worried, holding his cat. He looked down and back at Killer and handed the cat over. 

"What's your cat's name?" Dream asked. 

Killer seemed to calm down a little at the distraction, "Oh it's um...Soup..." He gave a quiet laugh. 

Dream giggled, "That's a silly name." He smiled, "I like it though." 

Killer smiled but after a moment he seemed to go back to worrying as he petted his cat. 

Dream decided now was his best shot. "Hey," He started, "Can I ask you what Nightmare has been doing...to your soul?" 

Killer's head snapped to look at Dream, "Well you can ask but- I-I might not answer-" He stuttered abruptly, almost too loudly. Dust stirred and he quieted down.

"Come on," Dream pleaded, "It's for your safety and mine, Killer. If...if he's doing something to you that is manipulative or harmful- which is what it looked like- I want to help you and get to safety. You deserve better." 

Killer's soul wavered for a moment and he didn't answer. 

"Please?" Dream begged him softly, his hand over Killer's free one, as his cat purred in his other arm. 

Killer was silent for a little longer before he whispered, "I'm scared though..." 

Dream's soul pounded in his ribcage, "I know Killer. But I promise I can help figure this out."

"He helps me figure it out," Killer said. He almost seemed guilty. "I'm not scared of Nightmare..." 

Dream was confused, "W-who or what are you scared of then?" 

Killer seemed like he was trying to focus on his cat so he could push himself through this conversation. He seemed desperate to tell someone but also wasn't looking forward to any big reactions. Dream was flattered to be trustworthy enough to know. "I haven't told anyone this-" He said, voice wavering. 

"It's okay Killer..." Dream tried to comfort him, "I promise I won't judge. I can help you." 

"Nightmare helps me..." He seemed to repeat. "He doesn't manipulate me. I told him that..." He took a shuddering deep breath, "I told him about my soul...it changes and I change with it...I told him how he could control the changing." 

"Why would you do that?" Dream asked, very carefully.

Killer wouldn't meet his eyes, "Because I don't like feeling... it's terrifying. It hurts so bad... I'm so scared." He finally met Dream's gaze, "I told him that changing my soul didn't hurt me. An-and I put the idea that he needed to control my soul so I was more useful into his head. Just so I don't have to feel anything! I'm manipulating him! I- I-" 

Killer's black tears stopped and normal ones replaced them, his soul was in stage one. Dream didn't know that. But to Killer it was all too real. "I'm so scared, I'm so terrified. I hate this. I hate this. I hate-" 

Dream enveloped Killer in a hug, "Hey... You aren't manipulating anyone don't say that about yourself. I know it's scary...but I'm here for you. Okay?" 

Killer sobbed into his shoulder, "Okay." He cried. 

Chapter Text

Dream had spoken to Killer a little more here and there. He now understood the situation a little clearer. 

Killer's soul went into different stages and depending on which one it was in, he could feel more or less of a certain type of emotion and Killer was terrified of all of them.

Stage two made him nearly emotionless. At the least, he was more numb to feelings than the average skeleton, which is why Dream found it hard to sense them in him normally. 

Killer had told Nightmare white lies to help himself hide from emotions. He told Nightmare it didn't hurt physically and even if he screamed it was all just him being rebellious. Killer encouraged Nightmare to change his soul on his whim because he would "be more useful" that way. 

White lies are the most dangerous lies. Killer had been in agony every time Nightmare changed his soul. He was just so desperate to not feel anything, he would go through agony to feel numb again, like some sort of addiction. It was an addiction and whether Nightmare knew it or not, he was a part of it and it needed to stop.

Dream approached the scary hallway the day after the library experience. He felt better about his situation with Nightmare now, if only a little. 

Because Nightmare was unnecessarily angry, power-hungry, and aggressive. But, he did care about his team in his own weird way.

After all, he had literally locked them up for weeks so they wouldn't get hurt (Dream wondered if that was ever going to end. He was starting to go a little crazy). 

Dream made his way down the hallway toward, what he now knew, was Nightmare's room. He needed to talk to him about it. 

Killer was unhealthily reliant on Nightmare, to corrupt his soul and rid him of all pain. It was like a numbing drug and Killer couldn't stop taking it. But Dream was going to make Nightmare aware of the white lies. 

Dream knew he cared now, he had seen the way he literally cuddled with his crew, and the way he was protecting them from the Stars was now obvious. So he would stop if Dream could just find the time to tell him. Sooner was better than later. 

He ignored the bad sensation creeping up his spine as he found his hand resting on the large dark door he hadn't reached before. 

The amnesiac's hand ran over the small accented carvings and found the purple handle. He took a deep breath and twisted it, pushing the door in. 

"Nightmare?" He called softly, "I need to talk to you... in private." He took a small step in. Not really looking up, he was expecting an invite in first. 

"I know you said not to come in here, but it's important. It's about Killer." There was no reply. Dream frowned. After a moment more of silence he pushed open the door slightly more, "Nightmare? Where are y-" As he walked into the room just a little more he saw the light streaming into the room. 

It came from a large stained glass window. The picture it depicted was...

"Oh, my Nim..." Dream cursed a name he barely understood and he stumbled backward. His foot kicked the door closed. His back met the door and he found himself sliding down it. His hand trembled as he covered his mouth. 

It was a stained glass portrait. 

It depicted Nightmare in all his horrific glory, holding an apple in the middle of his chest, right where a soul would be. 

But the apple was the darkest shade of black Dream had ever seen and it oozed awfulness on the people below. 

The people below were not alive. The monsters and humans depicted beneath Nightmare were dead or bloody. Monsters were dusting away and humans were covered by the ooze. Nightmare stood with a grin through it all though and a tree was behind him, cut down. 

For some reason, this stained glass window was the most awful thing, Dream had ever laid eyes on. He had never felt so horrified before, and he didn't even know what he was horrified about. 

Sure the scenery was graphic, but there was something beyond that that was twisting Dream from the inside out. 

His skull was pounding in his head and he felt himself reaching desperately for a memory. An important memory. So important that his legs were absolutely incapable of moving anymore because he was trying so hard to remember. 

Was he bothered to realize that Nightmare had killed people? Not only that but was he stupidly proud of it? Enough to get an enormous stained glass window made for his room?

No. Because Dream already knew that. Somewhere deep down he had known already. But how could he have possibly known that type of stuff? 

From what Nightmare had told him, Dream avoided their gang at all costs. So he couldn't ha- 

"What   are   you  doing  in   here?" The slimy voice echoed in the room. 

Dream's eyes made their way to meet Nightmare's dangerous eye he was standing there in the dark corner. He was trembling. And when Dream thought it couldn't get any worse he remembered something. 

...

"What are you doing here?" His brother asked dangerously. His head was down, it was raining, and he was covered in bruises and blood. 

"***** please..." Dream begged him. He was holding his hands close to his chest. "You have to let me help you." 

"Aren't you supposed to be helping them?" His brother spat bitterly. 

Dream shivered. Partially from the cold rain drenching his back and partially from his brother's tone.

"I can help both of you." He said. "I can help you all." 

His brother's voice was soft, "No Dream." He said, "You need to stop." 

"Stop what?" Dream asked. 

***** gritted his teeth and clawed at the mud below him, "Stop caring so much you idiot! Just go away! I don't want you here! I'm fine by myself!" 

The words stung. 

A raindrop fell down Dream's cheek. Or maybe it was his tears? He didn't know. He was just a kid... 

But he was resilient, "Y-you don't mean that *****... I'll always be here for you. We need each other." 

"No, we don't! I don't need you!" His twin screamed holding his skull, "Go worry about someone else! You're good at that!" 

"***** I won't. They're hurting you. I can't let this go. I have to help you. You just have to let me-" 

"I don't want it! I just want to..." His brother's words faded as his head slipped down to look at the mud again. "Go away, Dream."

"But-" 

"I said go away! I don't need you! You're wasting your time!" The purple-clad boy threw dirt in Dream's direction in a measly attempt to get him to leave, but he missed.

The rain was coming down harder now. 

This tree had always been the pair's only shelter. They had no home except for the safety of their mother's branches. 

Dream had nowhere to go. 

But he was being shooed away. 

"F-fine!" Dream screamed back finally, "Maybe I am wasting my time! I don't know why I even try. You don't care about anyone but yourself!" 

His brother scoffed, "You don't even know what I've risked for the sake of your happiness Dream." 

Dream stomped his little foot on the ground and a puddle was splashed into both of their faces, "Stop pretending you care only to push me away. I can't keep doing this with you!" 

"Then don't!" ***** screamed. His brother threw his circlet to the ground. It sloshed into the mud. 

He started to say something else but the memory faded there. 

...

When Dream came to his eyes were resting on a glass case in the middle of the room. In the center of this case rested a circlet. It had a moon carved into the front. 

This was the crown he had seen in his memory. His brothers. Dream's eyes widened. 

"Get out." Nightmare hissed. 

Dream had tunnel vision. All he saw was the crown and the stained glass window behind it. His memories were swimming in his head and he couldn't make sense of it all. 

"GET OUT!" A tentacle shattered the circlet case, which made it tumble and screech and clatter to a stop in front of Dream on the ground. 

Nightmare was practically melting with rage. His physical form literally oozed so much that he didn't look like a skeleton anymore. And in Dream's daze, his adrenaline took over. 

Ignoring the most threatening look he had ever gotten from Nightmare, he snatched the circlet from the shattered glass on the ground and teleported out of the castle. 

From outside in the rain, he could hear Nightmare screaming. Dream couldn't tell if he was angry or sad. He didn't care.

Chapter Text

Nightmare hadn't been following Cross for a while now. Cross could feel it. He didn't know why he had stopped. Perhaps, Dream was giving him too much to think about. 

Good. Because now Cross' plan could work.

He had told Error and Ink, in the AntiVoid, what the plan was. 

Now, all they needed was to be so over-dramatic that Nightmare would be coaxed out of whatever hole he had hidden himself and his gang in, so he could overhear their plan. 

But only the parts they wanted him to hear though of course. 

The Stars were smart with this one. They predicted exactly how Nightmare would use the information they were going to give against them. 

They just had to make sure it was tempting enough to the Lord of Negativity. 

"Je suis inquiet. Si inquiet..." Ink mumbled in the corner. Ink only talked in French when he was really stressed out. The last time he had done this was when Error and him were still enemies.

That was a weird thought. It seemed so abnormal and strange that they had once hated each other. Things like that usually didn't happen. Enemies actually working out their issues and being better for it??? Crazy.

Error was trying his best to calm Ink down as the sun began to set. Cross was nervously sweating and pacing, which was not helping with the general tension that was building. As soon as the sun was down, they would put on a show that would attract any Empathetic being within the whole MultiVerse. 

Cross just hoped it would give him the outcome he wanted. He was so hopeful to see Dream again. Cross was dying inside, hoping, praying to the creators, that it was all a lie. That he could see Dream again, and Dream would remember him. 

The thought excited him. It filled him with love and joy. He was going to tell Dream he loved him as soon as they saw each other again. He sat down, flushed. He would just have to be patient.

...

Run. 

That was all Dream could do was run. He couldn't stop his feet from beneath him. Why did he feel the innate need to run away from Nightmare right now? 

He had seen Nightmare threaten him before. But now Dream wanted to run, not because he felt threatened... he didn't know why he needed to run. 

Especially since a part of him didn't want to. His brain had started to cling to the idea of Nightmare as a sibling figure. The Gang clearly saw him as a father but that idea of a brother he had come up with in the Library...that was all Dream saw him as.

On the last day in the library, he had felt...he had started to understand why the Gang saw him the way they did. Like a protective and forlorn father. But Brother. Brother stood out to Dream.

Dream didn't understand why his soul ached and cried at the opportunity to grow close to Nightmare. The skeleton had grown close to the others, but not Nightmare, and for some reason, that hurt a whole lot. 

His feet carried him faster than he could think. Nightmare had screamed at him to get out but Dream knew this was not what he had meant. But he didn't know what else to do. What did this circlet being in Nightmares room mean? 

The glowing skeleton was definitely not glowing at the moment. He couldn't feel an ounce of positivity within himself or anyone else. 

He felt the branches and leaves cutting and tearing through his clothes. 

'Stupid. Stupid clothes.' He thought angrily. 

He ripped at them. He hated these new clothes. Why hadn't he just said no when they asked to change them? Why was it so hard for him to let himself choose what he wanted? 

His foot caught on a fallen log and he tripped face-first into the dark forest floor with a thud. 

"Funk!" He cried, mud spewing all over him. He hadn't even realized it was storming outside. Dream couldn't even curse. And he didn't remember why. 

There were so many emotions swimming through his skull that it started to hurt more than normal. 

He was angry at Nightmare but he wanted to be close to him. He wanted to help the Gang but he also was finally wanting to help himself. He was angry at himself for not remembering important things. He was confused about everything above all else. 

Dream was terrified of what was going on. 

He smeared the dirt off his face as he sat up. The huge trees hardly sheltered him from the pouring rain. Dream didn't remember ever seeing any type of weather around the castle outside of nighttime and cloudy. 

His circlet had fallen off and he kicked it away. 

It didn't look the same. He wanted the old one back. The one that matched this one. 

He admired the circlet in his hands with the moon engraved on it. 

Why did Nightmare have this? 

Dream could only think of a few reasons he might have it and he didn't like any of them. 

Every reason implied that Dream was right to be suspicious of Nightmare and he had, once again, put too much trust in him. 

Dream feared the worst. Perhaps Nightmare...Nightmare had killed his brother? 

He had lied to Dream about the Star Sanses going after his brother. No...because that felt right. Perhaps Nightmare secretly worked with the Stars. That could make more sense. Because Dream knew that the Stars were after his brother, he just didn't know how he knew that.

The Gang had been keeping Dream locked up to deal with him next. Everything was just buying time for the Stars to show up. Show up and get him too?

That would explain the delay in fighting the Stars and the coldness from Nightmare, his reluctance to go after their supposed enemies, and his reluctance to train him in magic. 

This made Dream angry. Very angry. 

And for once in his life he was going to let himself do something about how he felt. Dream would take care of the Stars and Nightmare by himself if he had to. He got up off the ground, not even bothering to brush off the mud. 

He did, however, take the time to rip off the added accessories, and he ripped off all the sparkly crap on his stupid outfit. This whole thing had been a joke, hadn't it? It was making fun of him. Overly sparkly and overly yellow and detailed. The Gang thought he was some sort of prissy prince or something. This wasn't a nicely-thought-out redesign, it was an insult.

The ripped-apart clothes weren't what he wanted but it was at least not disgustingly insulting.

He was going to try something he feared, and might not work. But he had to. Teleporting, he had learned, works for him when he's teleporting to a place that has a positive energy. 

The last two times he had teleported, he hadn't exactly gone anywhere where someone was positive but they had been... more positive than where he was. 

Right now, he just needed to find an anchor that was strong enough to bring him to a completely different AU. 

He had done this before, he felt it in the back of his mind vaguely and he was starting to learn that was all he had so he better start using his vague recollections. 

He closed his eyes and listened to the pounding rain. He felt emotions from the castle but they weren't good ones. Panic and terror. Anger and sadness. He ignored them and tried to focus beyond this world. 

Rain continued to pour and nothing happened.This was useless...Dream wasn't good enough at harnessing his power to hear anything beyond the castl-

He suddenly felt emotions from another world so strong that he could ignore them. They were positive. Dream teleported immediately. 

 ...

"INK! ERROR!" Cross should've taken drama lessons in high school instead of going to bootcamp because this was atrocious. 

The only reason that this act attracted an Empathic Being was because they were actually, so hopeful and confident it would work that Dream could feel it from 10 AU's over. 

Also, Ink was a theatre kid at heart, and Error was having flashbacks to past fights. So emotions were high, even if it wasn't the emotions they were trying to act out.

Dream had felt the love coming from Cross and the snarkiness of Error and the creativity from Ink. But that was not exactly what Cross and the Guardians had been planning...

"No! I cannot believe after all that! You two are enemies again!" Cross acted out dramatically. 

"Error! It is your fault that we lost Dream! I am so sick and tired of y-" Ink started to yell, his act was more convincing than Cross by a whole lot.

"oH okAy! BlAme Me thEn!" Error shouted back. How was he better at acting? The Multiverse may never know.

One could probably guess that the years of practice were what made their fight more believable than Cross' act. "Guys stop!" Cross shouted, he came in between them and pushed Ink away from Error (another acting flaw cause if Cross was actually desperate to separate their fight he wouldn't have minded Error's haphephobia). 

"We have to find Dream!" Cross paused as he felt the presence of an Empathic Being pop up behind him. He knew what it felt like. An aura had appeared. His soul leaped with joy, unintentionally.

It was working. 

"If Nightmare has him, we can look for him in Dreamtale. That's the AU he came from. Maybe we can find some information there..." 

Error did a very convincing frown and he folded his arms, looking away from Ink and Cross, "I doubt that will work. Dream and Nightmare haven't been seen in that AU for ages." Ink hit Error's shoulder, making the other Guardian glitch. Error threw his hands up, "What?! It's a stupid idea!" 

Cross took a deep breath in as he felt the entity (who he assumed was Nightmare) starting intensely at his back. He had grown used to the feeling. The twins had a very specific aura that they gave off. Cross had learned how to feel when they were watching. 

"Nightmare could be using this opportunity to get what he wants from Dream," Cross interrupted (per the plan to convince Nightmare that this was a reasonable conclusion they had come to), "We have no other leads. That's where we should go." 

Ink frowned, "But isn't that place abandoned now?" He was a good actor. Probably because of his love for art and creation, that skeleton was good at anything artsy. "Why would they go there?" 

"Actually," Error butted in. He was about to share information that would make Nightmare question his whole life. Frankly, Cross was stunned. Dream had never spoken of this. "The villages in the area have populated since the apple incident. There was one or two survivors. Other AU's have even come over and built towns there, with the legend of the incident passed down by the living villagers." 

"So he would bring Dream to get the apple on the solst-" Ink started but he was stopped as he caught a glimpse of the person behind Cross. 

A person who was not in fact, Nightmare. 

...

Dream could not have been more unlucky. Or lucky? He couldn't decide. (He was very confused.)

The Star Sanses...

The people he had put all of his rage towards within the last couple of months. He hated them intensely. Or... he wanted to. 

But seeing them made him pause. Especially the one in black and white. He felt guilty looking at him. But why?

Dream wanted his brother back. That was all he had left of his memories and desires. That's what he knew. 

But now he didn't even know if his brother was alive. Dreamtale? 

That's where they were going to look for him and Nightmare... Dream could confront them there...

"Dream?!" The colorful one shouted, surprised. Dream stumbled backward in panic, tripping slightly over a stump in the darkening light. 

The black and white skeleton spun around and when they met eyes Dream's froze in his place.

He suddenly felt all the love in the world. No... the universe, come crashing down on him. His soul fluttered in glee but also ached with pain.

Dream's breathing quickened and his face flushed. What was this feeling? It hit him like a bus.

"Dream!" The monochrome skeleton shouted happily, he looked close to tears. "I thought it was Nightmare!" 

He started to run over to Dream but Dream skidded away in panic. His heart was racing. He was still on the forest floor, now clutching his chest. 

The other skeleton looked at him with confusion written all over his face, "...Dream?" 

Dream looked at him, terrified. He knew this man. His soul crumbled in his presence. He wanted to melt in his arms and be held. Dream felt comfort, but also fear. His mind lingered on the fear part. Why would he know this man? 

The black and white clad skeleton looked horrified, "No don't tell me..." He choked and then laughed nervously, and started to approach Dream again, slower, "You're okay!" 

He moved carefully, getting down on his knees and reaching out his hand, "Dream-" His hand drifted forward to caress his face. 

Before Dream even knew what he was doing, one of his daggers was at Cross' throat. 

The man raised his hands in stunned fright, "D-don't touch me!" Dream shouted although he hated every word he said. 

The black and white skeleton's face dropped. "...What?..." His voice was small and vulnerable. 

Dream absorbed this and his knife began to shake. He closed his eyes in terror. He had to remind himself, that despite whatever weird thing was going on with his soul right now, it was just his weird feeling magic, and these were his enemies. 

They were after his brother and probably had some connection to Nightmare he didn't know about.

He held firm to his knife/bow, "Where is my brother?" He demanded, un-confidently. 

There were purple tears now streaming down the skeleton's face, "...don't do this to me Dream..." He begged softly. He looked like he had already lost. He wasn't going to be fighting back.

Dream's soul almost shattered at the words but he still didn't get it. He didn't get it...

This...this was some sort of manipulation tactic, wasn't it? They used to fight Dream, they knew how his empathetic powers worked, and now they were putting it to use.

Well, he wouldn't be messed with. 

"Where?" He demanded, more firmly. The knife was now still and pressed against the vertebrae of the other skeleton. He didn't have the patience for this. Dream was confused, cold, wet, and covered in dirt. He was a mess all around.

Dream didn't even spare a glance at the other two, who were watching in horror. "Dream you know where he is..." One of them cried, "Come on...please tell me you didn't...you didn't forget. Did you?" 

Dream stepped back. "I-I-" Dream stuttered. How did that skeleton know he could have amnesia? Was he really in contact with the Gang? Had he been right? His head swam. 

"I'm Cross! You know me! It's me?! Dream come on!" Cross begged through sobs. He was crumbling in on himself. He looked so alone, and Dream had shattered his whole world somehow.

Dream didn't know what to do. He was fighting between what he had been told, how he felt, and logic. 

"...you promised..." Cross cried through his hands. 

Dream remembered something once uttered to him, "Please...don't forget who I used to be." 

That was his brother who had said that... And he broke that promise, didn't he? 

"I'm sorry..." Dream said solemnly, "I've broken a lot of promises recently." 

'Dreamtale.' He thought suddenly. 

Cross had said he already knew where his brother was and earlier the Stars implied that Nightmare might bring him there. 

Which was completely false, Nightmare had shown no signs of that. Now that Dream was thinking about it, not a lot lined up with his Stars and Gang working together theory. 

So that wasn't on the table anymore. 

But it did imply, that the Stars knew that Nightmare knew where to take Dream. 

To a specific AU. Called Dreamtale? Convenient. 

Convenient that Nightmare would want something from Dream and to get it he would have to bring Dream to that AU. 

And convenient that Nightmare had his brother's circlet and convenient that it was named after Dream. He had been right to assume Nightmare would manipulate him. 

But he couldn't trust the Star's either. He knew they were after his brother. Dream supposed, it really was him against the multiverse. 

He twirled his knife, locking it back to the other creating his bow and he stepped back from Cross, "Dreamtale..." He muttered, looking back at all of them. 

With one quick movement, he took off in a run and teleported away to a place familiar to him. One that was surprisingly easy for him to anchor too, now that he was made aware of its presence. 

Home. 

This was definitely the place.

Chapter Text

Nightmare was...hyperventilating. Which he had never done so openly. Sure he had had plenty of panic attacks.

Alone.

In the dark of his room...or the shelter of his office. There were plenty of places to hide in this castle. He made it big and dark on purpose. 

But now, he didn't know how to act. He hadn't known how to act for weeks. Everything he had worked for, the persona he had built, all of it, had started to crumble over the last couple of weeks. 

Why had he spared Dream, to begin with? His ultimate goal was control, wasn't it? To get power? Since the start, the last challenge was always his brother. He had to take his brother down and get the golden apple or whatever. 

But when Dream was within arms reach, when he was vulnerable and helpless to fight back, he made up an excuse to not do it. 

Why? Why had he done that? Why had he started to yearn for compassion without fear? Nightmare wanted love without strings attached and without threatening them to love him. He began to hate the idea of going after the Stars, so he put it off. Nightmare folded quickly when Dream had cried and even spent a day with the Gang in the library.

And when he had horrible night terrors he actually considered reaching out for help. Nightmare started to desire change and to become better.

Hatred was what he knew. He hated himself and so he pushed it onto everyone else. But he was so lonely he threatened people to stay closer to him. He didn't want it anymore.

He wanted to learn to love without consuming. 

At this moment, the moment when Dream left, he knew he had messed up again. Dream must have known he lied by now and he would be more confused than ever. 

Nightmare knew his brother was no longer in the castle, he didn't want to acknowledge where he could feel his twin's presence at the moment. 

The one-chance Nightmare had to reform a relationship with his brother, slipped through his fingers in a single second. 

At first, he lied to Dream out of malice. He wanted to use him for more negativity. But a part of him, unconsciously, also couldn't do it. He couldn't take the apple. He couldn't kill him.

Slowly, over time, it hadn't even been about malice anymore. He kept up the lie to keep Dream around. Even if Nightmare wasn't talking to him. He wanted his brother there. He didn't want Dream to remember what he had done. 

Soon he started to pretend he was angry that the Stars knew their plan, but he was secretly grateful for the excuse to stay concealed for a moment more. 

In the solitude of his room, he could feel the coldness inside his own blackened core melt a little. 

Just knowing Dream was there was enough. But Dream disobeyed him. Because of course he would! It was Dream and he couldn't stop poking into people's business. 

The lie fell apart. 

Nightmare knew it wasn't abundantly clear to Dream what he had lied about. Dream may not even know he was his brother yet.

But he knew that Dream wouldn't take it lightly. The circlet obviously sparked something in him, Dream would know something was up. 

To be fair, Nightmare hadn't exactly lied about anything, but it would still give Dream the wrong idea. He wouldn't know what to believe because everything lined up, yet nothing did all at once. And he would hate Nightmare again. 

Nightmare crumbled in on himself and collapsed in a heap of sorrow. His mind reminded him that he deserved it. That this was all bound to happen, he did, after all, bring it upon himself. 

He was just a hateful being. Once hated. Always hated. So he might as well embrace it. 

If it meant the balance of the universe's feelings rested on him and only him, he would take the responsibility. 

That's what he told himself before the incident and it still held true now. Because someone had to do it. And if you're the most hated being in the multiverse it should be you. 

What an awful thing to think. 

Nightmare cried openly even when he heard the gang walk in. What had happened must've been loud. Or maybe he was just crying loud now. His sobs were half screams.

He knew they had never seen him like this. He knew that if he had been the way he used to be, he wouldn't let them see him like this because it never would've happened. 

But he wasn't that way anymore. 

He cried and cried for his loss. Because he really did feel like he had lost everything. All control he felt like he had, was gone. What was the point of his power if he didn't gain love from it? There was nothing he truly gained from being so demanding and controlling. The respect he had was all just fear in the end. It only looked like love.

He felt arms wrap around him hesitantly and instead of pushing them away he burrowed into them. 

Nightmare couldn't breathe. He hadn't had a cry like this in ages. It almost made it worse to have people there. It's easy to learn to comfort yourself. Tell yourself lies and then pretend you're fine for others.

But now he felt exposed and weak.

His soul pounded and his fingers gripped into the jacket of the person holding him. He just needed someone to hold him right now. Pride could wait.

"Shhh..." Horror's voice rang clearly. "It's alright Nightmare." 

Another person leaned down next to Nightmare but didn't touch him. Killer was letting him have some space. "This is my fault..." Killer whispered to someone else, probably Dust. 

"How?" He heard Dust ask. There was no answer. Because it wasn't his fault at all.

Nightmare was shuddering, he was trying to focus on breathing correctly. The fabric of Horror's stained and ripped jacket and the sound of voices helped ground him. He tried to focus on those.

When he had calmed down enough to breathe he realized he had a sharp pain in one of his tentacles. Nightmare opened his eyes and peered nervously at the ground where his appendage lay. 

He had glass sticking out of it. A lot of glass. 

But how? How did it hurt? Nothing hurt unless Dream did it. Perhaps it was because Dream was in the room. Even just his aura could be harmful. 

"Are you okay?" Horror asked softly.

Nightmare didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. Or if he even wanted to say anything.

He was supposed to be some sort of cold dark and mysterious mob boss or something. He wasn't supposed to be comforted.

"We're worried about you Boss."

Dust nodded curtly, "You hurt yourself. Pretty bad." He reached out to point at the tentacle and hesitantly touched it. Nightmare winced and Dust pulled back. Shakily though, he touched it again and put it on his lap, "Sorry, Boss. I just need to pull them out. Okay?" 

Nightmare didn't stop him as Dust started to carefully dig out each glass shard. 

He bit his tongue in agony. It was strange to feel pain like this. Something was definitely up. 

Nightmare winced as Dust pulled out another shard, "Ow- Dream-" He started to say, "Dream is gone." 

"We know." Horror said, sadly, "Don't worry about that right now though." 

"Don't worry about it??" Nightmare stuttered, another sting as the glass was removed, "Dream is-" 

"I know Nightmare." Horror repeated. "But we need to know how you're doing first, okay?" 

Nightmare remembered the tears running down his face, mixing with hateful goo. They hadn't stopped this whole time. 

"I-I'm fine..." He mumbled the lie. 

Horror rolled his eyelits, "Nice try Nightmare." He gestured to the broken glass and the noticeable lack of Dream's presence, "What made you do this?" 

Nightmare could tell Horror wasn't going to let this go and he was too tired to try anymore.

He wanted help for once and that was a good first step. 

"I told him not to come in here." Nightmare stated plainly as the last shard of glass was removed, his goop quickly reformed over the cuts. It still stung and burned. "B-but he did and he saw- he-" 

He couldn't even choke the words out. He had messed up so badly. 

"The window?" Dust questioned. 

"The circlet too." Killer pointed out, "It's missing."

"Why would Dream even come in here?" Horror asked with a frown. 

Killer looked away, ashamed, "Like I said... it's my fault." He fumbled with his own jacket, not knowing what to do with his hands. 

"What do you mean it's your fault?" Nightmare wanted to sound angry but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 

The skeleton with a wavering soul stayed silent for a moment before speaking, "...Dream knows about you changing the stages of my soul..." 

Nightmare's soul skipped a beat.

But he already knew Dream knew that and it didn't matter. Killer asked for it. Literally. So why did Nightmare suddenly feel awful?

It had something to do with Killers' tone of voice. There was something Nightmare didn't know. 

"He found out...that it hurts me to change the stages...and that I never told you." He gulped and his black tears streamed, "I'm sorry Nightmare. He was probably going to tell you because...he was just trying to help. He's nice..." 

Killer looked terrified that Nightmare would lash out at him. He closed his eyes, as if waiting for a shout of command. 

Nightmare blinked. "Why wouldn't you tell me?" 

Killer stammered, "What?" 

"You told me it was good for you. You never told me it hurt you to do it! I wouldn't have done it," Nightmare felt that negativity radiate out of Killer every time he changed it. He knew deep down, didn't he? He was awful? Only now had he started to car. His breath started to escape him again and his hands gripped the side of his skull, "Nim! Why do I even care?! What is happening to me?!?" 

The Gang looked at each other, concerned. 

"Nightmare..." Killer said from beside him, "You've always cared. If you didn't then I would've already told you..." 

Horror rubbed soothing circles on Nightmare's back, "Sure, you do bad things sometimes, but we know you care." 

"You took us from our bad situations..." Dust said. 

"And you gave us a home, and food..." Horror added. 

Killer nodded, "A family to care about again. It was like a second chance for a group of people who never thought they would get another chance again." 

"I only did it so I could use you." Nightmare cried, "Your loyalty comes from fear. Your respect is faulty and frail, nothing you feel for me can be positive because I haven't put any actual effort in! I didn't want it to be positive! I hide in my room 'making plans' instead of talking to you! I use you for negativity and literally feed off your trauma!" He shook his head, "Even if I didn't want to do that anymore...you can't forgive me for it. I'm awful...and I'm sorry." 

The trio was silent. They listened and acknowledged what Nightmare said. 

Horror sighed, "Look, we stuck around 'cause we needed you. But you really are awful sometimes." 

Dust smacked Horror's arm, "Hey! Shut it!" He hissed under his breath. 

"No!" Horror said, "Nightmare is right! We do deserve an apology. You were manipulative, rageful, ungrateful, and you isolated us from our families and friends." Horror listed. "You hurt us, you were aggressive, spiteful, uncaring, and rude." 

Nightmare shrunk back with each word and absorbed the emotions painfully. It was like swallowing glass, but you choose to swallow it. He had brought this upon himself. 

"But-" Horror sighed, "You said sorry. And that's a big step. Especially for you." He rubbed Nightmares back, "But for a sorry to actually mean something, you've got to actually change." 

Nightmare looked at them all. He didn't want them to fear him anymore. He didn't want to hurt. But that was all he knew anymore. How could he let go of the control he had grown used to? 

"But...how? How do I make it up to you?" He asked, a little more meekly than he would have liked. 

Horror huffed a laugh, "Well, you could start by actually hanging out with us instead of brooding in your room. Perhaps, you could think before you threaten us, maybe not control who we see and when. Just to name a few things." 

Nightmare rubbed his arm, "I'm sorry." He apologized again, "I don't understand...why are you giving me another chance?" 

"We always saw the good in you," Dust said quietly, "Sure, we couldn't leave, but we also knew that a part of you, deep down, cared. We... just want your approval, Boss. Plus, what other choices do we got?"  

"That's such a dysfunctional thing to say. Utterly hopeless" He brooded in response. Nightmare looked at them all and sighed though, "I am very lucky," He admitted aloud, "To have you as a family." 

Killer, Dust, and Horror looked at one another then back at Nightmare with a big smile, "A family?" They all said. 

Nightmare chuckled, "Yeah. A dysfunctional family...but still a family." He looked at them all, "I'll be better. I'll make it up to you." He found himself promising. 

The group stood up cheerfully and for once, they all looked happy. 

Nightmare stood up too and he paused, looking at the broken glass and missing circlet. He was trying to fix one family, he might as well try and fix another. 

Killer saw him staring, "What are we going to do about that, Nightmare?" 

Dust stood beside him, "We are ready for whatever you have planned. Just tell us what you need." 

Nightmare ran his hands along the table covered in glass, "We're going after him." 

"Could've guessed that." Horror joked sarcastically, "But...what do you want to do after we get him?" 

They were uncomfortably looking at each other. Probably, trying to figure out how Nightmare felt about Dream now. Considering the possibility, for once, that Nightmare didn't want to kill his brother.

"I...I'll figure it out later. For now, we have to focus on actually getting to him. Which is going to be...more difficult than ever." 

"Why is that?" Killer asked. 

"He's in Dreamtale." Nightmare professed, "Confused as ever and on the solstice." 

Chapter Text

Cross' initial plan had been this: Lure Nightmare to Dreamtale with Dream on the Solstice. Why on the Solstice you ask? The Solstice is something Dream had only talked about only once. 

It might've been because he had only experienced one Solstice before he left Dreamtale or it might have been because, well, Dream doesn't open up. 

Regardless, the Solstice is a day when the sun is at its highest and in turn, the golden apples are at their ripest. The day was, according to Dream, eventful and highly celebrated. 

In comparison to his brother's special day, which was an eclipse where the black apples were at their ripest, Dream's Day was more important not just for him but for the community. There was a high stress on that day to celebrate happiness and joy. 

On the day of the Eclipse, the people hardly ever celebrated like that. They usually stayed away in their houses and there were a couple of reasons for that.

One being that, as the sun and moon affected the tree of feelings, the tree of feelings affected the twin's powers. On the Solstice, Nightmare was considerably weaker, while Dream was powerful. On the Eclipse, Nightmare was more powerful, while Dream was weaker. 

Now, Cross assumed, that could be useful for them. If the plan had worked, Dream could easily be snatched back away from Nightmare because of how weak he was. 

And the plan had seemed even better when Error and Ink had informed Cross that Dreamtale had re-populated and now has festivals surrounding the respective occasions. 

This would've made it harder for Nightmare to sense anyone, with all the people, and just the general chaos of the positive world would've worked in their favor. But of course, the multiverse never worked in anyone's favor ever, and the creator of this story was some sort of sadist. Because the perfect plan was ruined. 

Dream had forgotten Cross. Not only that but he had been fed white lies that confused him. Dream had, thankfully, realized something was up with the Gang, and got out. But he still didn't know his friends. 

He seemed only interested in finding his brother. Who he didn't even seem to remember was Nightmare. How awful.

Cross couldn't bring himself to cry any longer. He had lost so much, he just felt empty. That was all he had left. A promise and now it was gone. 

"We've got to go after him." Error was saying, although Cross could hardly comprehend.

Ink was nodding, "We have to get to him before Nightmare does. Nightmare won't be pleased that Dream is running around, I'm sure." 

"Should we call Swap?" Error questioned.

"We don't have time." Ink said, pulling out Broomie and making a portal with a splash, "Cross come on." 

His mind was fuzzy and he could hardly see in front of him. His mouth felt numb and he simply wanted to fade away. 

He didn't want to go after Dream, he didn't want to fight, he didn't want to get hurt again. But Cross also didn't want to sit there and do nothing because he could lose him for good if he didn't try. 

It felt like he had to put in effort to move. His body betrayed him and he hardly heard Ink or Error when they called out his name and asked if he was fine. He hardly registered when Ink put his hand out to touch his shoulder and when he didn't respond again, wrapped him into a hug. 

He felt...tired.

...

A village was a perfect start. That is, it would be if his head didn't feel like it was going to split. 

Dream was weaker power-wise because of his amnesia and lack of control over his abilities. He had a harder time feeling the emotions of the whole multiverse than he might have if he were still with his memories. 

But, in a town like this, he could feel every single person's emotions crushing him like a million boulders. Because of his lack of a grasp on his powers, he was more bothered by the crowd. The old Dream had taught himself how to cope a little, but the new Dream had no idea what was even going on. 

Happy, sad, bashful, anxious, exhausted, sick, vengeful, excited. He felt every one of them and it made his skull spin. He tried to clear his mind, his fingers running over his brother's circlet in his hand. Along with everyone else's feelings, he was also feeling many himself and it was becoming too much to handle. 

Confusion gripped him and wouldn't let him go and he felt as if soon he would be swallowed whole by the unknown. Maybe he should just give up. 

His memory was coming back, but so slowly he could hardly call it progress. Was it useless to try and find his brother? When he didn't even know if he was alive or dead. Or if everything was all a lie. 

He stood up off the ground and peered over the hillside he was on. Dreamtale... This had to be his home before. He recognized the smell and the feeling of being here. 

The sun had barely come up and the villagers in the village below him were already up and about. It looked like a festival.

Dream gasped. 

That made a lot of sense. All the people's emotions he was feeling, all crowded up in one place. 

Today was a festival! And by the looks of it, it was important. Dream started to walk down the hill towards the village. If he could survive the millions of feelings crushing him, this could work in his favor. Out of all those people, one of them was bound to know where his brother was.

He felt the sun's rays glare into his eyes and he grumbled, pulling up his hood. He would have to ask around in the town. Dream just hoped people would calm down as the festival went on.

Of course, festivals are exciting events, and people would not be calming down anytime soon. 

In fact, things were about to get a lot more hectic. 

...

The Nightmare Gang arrived at Dreamtale, after a short debriefing from Nightmare. They were not allowed to engage in any sort of combat with Dream and they were aware that because of where they were today, Nightmare was at his weakest here.

However, no one was expecting a whole village to be there. No one was even supposed to be living there. Not only were there a whole lot of people living in Dreamtale but they were thriving. 

A Solstice Festival appeared to have been organized and Nightmare was immediately having flashbacks. He stepped backward in shock, "What is all of this?" 

"There's people here?!" Horror asked, shocked, "You didn't tell us about them at all." 

Nightmare shook his head, "I didn't know there was anyone left after I..." He didn't continue. 

Dust cocked his head curiously, "But can't you feel their emotions? You can sense everyone's, can't you?" 

Nightmare pondered. "I can feel them now that we're here. Although, it's much weaker than usual, considering my powers are...not all there right now."  He coughed and the Gang eyed him, "I suppose...I never really looked back at this place. I might have been purposefully blocking it out." 

Nightmare didn't really know the real reason as to why he was unaware that people lived here. But he knew that he made himself oblivious to things all the time for the sake of comfort. Perhaps that's what he had done now. 

"That looks like a festival to me," Killer started, "It's going to be much harder to find Dream in a crowd like that. Especially if you can't feel him." 

Nightmare nodded, "He's going to get far more powerful as this day goes on, and in turn, I am going to get much weaker. We're going to have to find him the old-fashioned way." 

Dust gave a single loud clap, "Yes! I like the old-fashioned way!" 

Nightmare held up his hand to stop them from going anywhere, "Wait. We have to do it stealthily. We don't want to freak the villagers out. It will only stall us. Dream could run away, and even the Stars could show up. We don't want that." 

Dust shrugged, "I've already got that covered." He gestured to his obscured face and scarf, "No one's gonna see any skeletons today." 

Horror and Killer frowned as they put their hoods up too, not liking it very much. 

"What about you, Boss?" Horror asked, "How at you gonna hide... that?" He gestured to Nightmare's tentacles and overall goopyness.

Usually, Nightmare would just shapeshift, but he could feel his energy seeping away already, he needed to conserve power. 

He sighed, "I will stick to the shadows. If you need me holler. Just don't get into too much trouble." 

The Gang gave him a sharp nod and Killer did a silly salute. They looked out at the festival. This was not going to be fun.

 ...

Cross had barely come back to reality when his feet hit the ground in Dreamtale. 

The Solstice festival had clearly begun and he saw no signs of Dream. Although, he could hardly think about looking for him. 

Normally, Cross would let this get to him. He would probably start to wallow in self-pity and let himself be consumed by depression or hatred. But right now, he was trying to convince himself not to. Because that's what Dream would've wanted right? 

If he still remembered him...

"Cross..." He heard Ink say to him, a hand on his shoulder, "Are you alright now? We have to get moving..." 

Cross took a moment more and then nodded confidently and stood up, "I'm fine. Let's just...find him." 

Chapter Text

Dream peered over the many heads in the crowd, trying to resist the urge to claw at his skull which was aching from overstimulation. He could barely see with his hood up but he wanted to go unnoticed. If people started to think he was approachable they would talk to him and he couldn't handle that right now. 

The huge crowd would be unmanageable if it weren't for his determined mindset. He was confused out of his mind but he was also dead set on finding anything that reminded him of his brother. 

Dream knew he was getting closer. But he also knew there were people already here, searching for him. 

He could feel their thoughts muddled with the rest and he blocked them out. He simply had to stay hidden. Dream was certain that by some magical dose of chance, he could stay away from their prying eyes. 

"Ow! Watch it, kid!" An older monster yelled at him when Dream accidentally bumped into his back. 

"S-sorry-" Dream stammered.

The old man sneered and turned away, going on with his business. Dream felt tears pricking his eyes from the emotions he had swallowed. This was just so much... He tried to shake it off by looking around him. 

The village was fairly large. This section seemed to be lined with stores and shops. On the paths, there were a multitude of stands that sold things. 

Strangely, so many of them were selling Apple-related things. He approached one of them, unknowingly drawn in by the smell of caramel apples. A little kid stood on the other end, "Howdy! Do you want one of my apples? They're super good I promise!" 

Dream shrunk back, a little shy, and partially overwhelmed by the happiness radiating off of the kid. 

"I uh... I'm sorry kid. I don't have money." Dream, absently tugged on the front of his hood, keeping it down, "I bet they're great though!" He assured. 

The kid tilted their head, resting it on their arm. Their little legs hardly hit the ground below the stand. 

"I don't recognize your outfit. It looks like you've traveled a long long way with all that dirt and torn cloth. And I can't see your face..." The kid shot up with a gasp, "Are you new here?!" 

Dream, not knowing what to say, went along with it, "Uh... yeah." 

The kid beamed, "Then take one! It's on the house!" They scooped one up and held it out for Dream to take. 

Dream didn't really have an appetite he felt like he wanted to fill at the moment. Frankly, he felt rather full. Maybe that was just because of how much was going on for him right now. 

"Oh!" Dream exclaimed in surprise, "Thanks I...thank you." 

The kid smiled, "No problem! Momma always told me to be nice to strangers. You never know what they might be going through." 

Dream felt his soul soften a little, despite the anxiety he was feeling. "Your Momma sounds very wise." He remarked softly. 

"She is!" The child exclaimed, "She said our great great great great....well- there were a lot of greats! I don't know how many- Grandma learned that from someone a long time ago!" 

Dream chuckled, "Well if it has been passed down for so long, it must have been very special." 

The kid nodded, "It was! She had been told that by the Golden Child!" 

Dream tilted his head, "The Golden Child?" 

"Yes! Yes! That's who we're throwing this festival for! We hope that one day he'll come back to us if we do!" 

Dream's soul did a little flutter randomly, "Well...why did he leave?" 

The kid suddenly got very solemn looking and they shook their head, "It's sad. Really sad..." He smiled with a look of forlornness, "But, he's a really happy guy...I think. So we try to be as happy as possible on the Golden Child's special day! So maybe, one day, he will be able to return here without being sad! We want him to feel welcomed back. We want to make this place positive again." 

Dream smiled, "That sounds very kind of you all." He tried not to think about the logistics of how a golden kid or whatever could still be alive after so long. But he didn't want to be disrespectful to traditions or beliefs. 

Dream took a bite of the caramel apple, trying to show gratitude, "So, is all the apple stuff for the Golden Child too?" He asked curiously, looking around at all the stands. 

The kid nodded, "Oh yes! Apples, apples, apples! There are so many ways you can make an apple! Momma specializes in caramel apples, so she's been teaching me!" 

They seemed to realize they had rambled off-topic, "Oh! But, we love apples in this village! They're very important to our history! The Golden Child and the Silver One, they both are connected to apples in a very special way." 

"What way is that?" Dream asked. 

"Oh well, there was a special apple tree they were supposed to guard. I don't know all the details but at some point, they became even more fused with the apples. Almost like it is part of them now!" 

Dream thought for a little bit on that. 

The child had mentioned a Silver Child, along with the Golden One. It was a curious thing. This village certainly had a strong mythology that came with it. 

He wasn't hungry, but the taste of the apple was good and sweet. Dream quite enjoyed it. It helped distract him from the surrounding noise and buzz of everyone's loud voices and emotions. 

"Thank you for the apple, again." Dream said with a little head nod, "And for the history. I have got to go now, though." 

"Alrighty!" The kid smiled, "Have fun at your first Solstice Festival!" They waved him goodbye. 

Dream munched on the apple as he made his way through the crowd, tracing his finger over the circlet in his hand. 

He stuffed it in his pocket and looked around. What was a good place to start looking for signs of his brother? Maybe if he showed off the circlet people would know who he was looking for.

Dream sighed. No. He didn't think that would work for some reason. Maybe pickpockets or greedy salesmen would want it from him. He would just have to go about as if he was a normal tourist. 

Hopefully, something would spark a memory of some sort. At least, he hoped something would. Or else he would be wandering for a while. 

...

Nightmare watched Dust from his place behind the building. His skull ached from the noise, yet he knew he was better off right now than Dream was. 

Dream didn't know how to handle his powers because of the amnesia and they were getting stronger and stronger as the sun rose. 

Even if Dream still remembered how to control his powers, the crowd would be overwhelming. Soon, this whole thing would make him burst. Nightmare had to find him before that happened. 

He was nervous though, he didn't exactly have a plan on what to do with Dream once he had him. 

Was he going to tell Dream the truth and hope he didn't run away? Dream would have every right to. 

"No. Can't say we have seen anyone wearing that, sorry." The person Dust was asking said. 

She seemed quite disturbed that a hooded figure with an intimidating stance and analyzing voice was interviewing her for the location of someone. Dust wasn't the greatest at hiding his intimidating demur. 

Nightmare cursed himself slightly for not teaching the group how to be good undercover. 

However, most of their past missions had not required them to be so withdrawn. "Thanks anyway." Dust said to her, despite her anxiousness. He turned away and walked down the path. 

Nightmare, thankfully, found he could still teleport. Although, very short distances at the moment. 

He teleported to the shade of another building stand as Dust made his way to a caramel apple stand which was run by a kid. 

"Howdy! Are you interested in one of my caramel apples?!" The kid asked excitedly. 

Dust was shook his head, "No, I am looking for someone. Have you seen a monster around here who is wearing a circlet? He's got on a black and gold tunic? He's very flashily dressed. Hard to miss." 

The kid blinked. 

Dust sighed and waved his hand and started to walk way, "It's okay. I will just keep looking." 

"Wait! No! I've seen someone like that!" The kid shouted. 

Dust spun slowly. "You have?" 

The kid nodded and Nightmares would leaped a little from anxiety. "I couldn't see their face. So I don't know about a monster or a circlet... but the colors line up even if they were covered in dirt. And I've never seen anyone who wears that before. And I know everyone here!" The kid stared at Dust, "Speaking of... you're also new, aren't you? I haven't seen you around." 

Dust was quiet, "I suppose you could say that..." 

"Then here!" The kid grabbed an apple and handed it to Dust, "Have this! Momma said to always be kind to strangers!" Nightmare mouthed the next part along with the child from his spot behind the building, "You never know what they might be going through."

Dream had said that once. It was to a little girl. 

Nightmare remembered sitting by the tree watching it go down. A little girl had yelled at an old cat man. He had apparently stepped on her new shoes by accident. 

Dream, being who he was, stepped in when the man had apologized and told her that she needed to be kinder too.  

He had explained that you never know what someone else may be going through, so you shouldn't ever be judge or be mean. 

Dream had explained that she was allowed to be angry and to want an apology, but she should never yell and scream about it. Especially, if they were sorry. 

The man had bought her new shoes and the little girl had apologized for yelling. To think, that that simple and childish lesson was passed on over a thousand years. 

That girl... survived Nightmare?

Dust didn't seem to know what to do with the apple so he held it awkwardly. "Thank you." He said bashfully, "Sorry... but could you tell me where you saw this person go?" 

"Oh right!" The kid said, "They started off towards the town square. It's real big though. It might be hard to find 'em." 

"I will try my best." Dust gave a thankful nod, "Thank you small one." 

"No problem!" The kid smiled warmly, "And hey!" Dust turned around again. 

"I hope you find them soon. They seemed super distracted by something. Anyway, happy Solstice! I pray that the Golden Child comes back to see you and all of us too!" 

Dust nodded again and started off towards the town square. Nightmare teleported after him, hoping that Killer and Horror were fine wherever they were.

...

Horror had to drag Killer around because Nightmare didn't trust Killer by himself and while that made sense, with the whole soul thing and all, it was still annoying for everyone involved. 

Because there was a reason other than the soul thing, that Killer wasn't allowed on solo missions. 

His sassy mouth and lack of a filter. It didn't keep Killer out of trouble to be watched, unfortunately. It just made two people suffer the consequences of his stupid actions. 

"What do you two think you're doing?!" An old man yelled at Killer and Horror. 

Horror laughed, "Heh- sorry about him Sir. We're just passing by. Looking for our friend. Didn't mean to bother you!" 

The old man scoffed, "You're not the first suspicious person today to bump into me. I don't know what you hooded freaks are up to. But if another one of ya bumps into me again, I'm getting The Royal Guard and telling them a gang is trying to rob me." 

Killer opened his big fat mouth, much to Horror's dismay, "Hey! No one's tryin' to rob ya, buddy. I mean, look at that tunic. Not a single gang in the world is after you!" 

Horror slapped his face and tried to shrink into a hole or something but was, as expected, grabbed by the front of his sweater and lift up along with Killer. 

"You think you real slick for that don't ya pal? Well, I'll just get The Royal Guard now and see what they think!" 

Horror waved his hands, "Wait, wait! No! Please, we mean no harm really! My friend here is just an idiot he didn't mean to offend your clothing!" 

The old man dropped Killer and Horror, "Well you better keep a better eye on your friend there. 'Cause he's going to get you into a lot of trouble soon." 

"I am not!" Killer retorted and then turned to Horror, "And I am not and idiot! I totally meant what I-" 

But Killer couldn't finish his sentence as he was dragged into the air by blue strings. 

Horror stumbled up in surprise, "Kille-" But he couldn't finish either as a giant broom hit the back of his skull.

"I knew you two would be an easy find." Error laughed glitchily. 

Ink joined him, with Horror slung over his shoulder, on the roof of one of the shops. "Two down, two more to go." Ink said, letting Error tie the knocked-out Horror up and place him next to Killer 

"Three actually." Error corrected, snarkily. "We are looking for Dream, first and foremost." 

"Right..." Ink had almost forgotten. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "Hopefully Cross has a lead on that." 

Error frowned, "I'm not sure it would be best for Cross to find him first. I'm not sure how well he would handle that right now." 

Ink sighed, "Yeah. I know what you mean..." He looked away. 

Error looked at him, a bit worried, "Hey. What about you? How are you doing right now?" 

"Huh?" Ink turned, "Why at you asking me this? Cross is the one who we should be worried about." 

The glitchy guardian shook his head, "Ink. I already know that though. I'm asking you how you're feeling right now. He's your best friend." 

Ink's worry for Cross seemed to fade into an expression of sadness and loss. His pupils were blue and red. 

"I don't know, Glitchy... I just..." Ink took a deep breath, "I hope he's okay. And...I hope it isn't permanent."

Error nodded in understanding. 

Ink threw up his hands, "It's just- ugh- Dream's not supposed to be the one who forgets things. That's my job. And if he forgets me then nothings keeping us from forgetting our friendship ever happened." 

Error hesitantly outstretched his hand and grabbed Ink's, to make sure Ink knew he really cared, "Hey. It'll be okay. I'm sure we can get him back to normal. This place is literally his home. Something is going to jog his memory." 

Ink swallowed down his blue-induced sadness and turned away, "Yeah... you're right." 

"And hey," Error tilted Ink's skull so his eyes met his own, "Your friendship won't be forgotten alright?" 

Ink glanced away and then back at Error, "Alright." 

"Good." Error nodded in approval. He let go of Ink, glitching slightly. 

Ink chuckled at him. Error sure went through a lot to make sure he was okay. Oh, how things changed. "Heh. I love you, Glitchy." 

Error blushed and turned away from him, crossing his arms, "YeAh...WElL um... We haVe a Job to Do stiLl." He tried to deflect.

"Aww, you're not going to tell me you love me first?" Ink pouted. 

Error blushed furiously, "We've got to find Dream." 

"Just say it first!" Ink batted his eyes. 

"No!" Error argued. 

"Please, Glitchy~" Ink begged. 

"No Ink! We've got a job to do!" 

"Oh my Nim!" Killer shouted from behind them. The couple turned in shock. "Just say it and get on with your life! Funk I mean, it's not that hard to just say it so you can go on with your mission. You guys are annoying as funk." 

Error blinked and then started to glitch furiously, "HOw aRe yOu AWaKe!?!" 

Killer shrugged, "You never knocked me out?? Now are you going to say it or what?" 

"sTay OuT of My BuisNess!" Error shouted and turned but Ink was inches from his face.

"Even the bad guy agrees with me Error. Come on~" 

Error was practically a blueberry (not the sans) at this point. "FinE- I love yOu! NoW let's get GoinG!" 

Ink cracked up laughing, which didn't help Error's pride, "Hehe, love you too!" He made a portal and soon disappeared back into the crowd. 

"Thank Lord Nightmare! You two are so cheesy. What is this a sequel fanfic to your guy's love story?! I can't believe you actually talk like that. Geez, don't you have more important things to be worrying about than how embarrassing it is to tell your husband you love him?" Killer remarked snarkily.

"SHuT uP, KiLlEr!!!" Error shouted before kicking him in the face and finally knocking him out. 

So, like I said, there's a reason Killer isn't allowed to do solo missions.

...

Cross saw him from across the courtyard but it felt like a universe away. Both of the skeleton's hoods were up as if they both had something to hide. Hiding from the crowd. Hiding from each other...

He watched Dream stand and look at each stall. Cross saw how he wanted to talk to people, but didn't. His body language was visibly overwhelmed and anxious. Which was new to Cross. 

Not that he didn't like it or even that he did. He had just always wanted Dream to open up and just let himself feel. He didn't like how he hid his feelings for the sake of others. 

It was just strange. 

Because Cross didn't know what made him that way. It certainly wasn't a positive event that pushed him towards opening up. 

He had hoped that maybe he and Dream could have worked through that together. Never in a million years would Cross have thought that Dream would get through it by hitting his head and forgetting everyone. 

Ink and Error weren't there with him. They were searching for Dream elsewhere. 

Error was probably on rooftops surveying the crowds so he didn't have to touch anyone, while also making sure the gang wasn't there. 

Ink would be in the crowd looking for Dream, just like Cross. But Cross knew Dream better than anyone. 

Apparently, he knew Dream, better than Dream did...at least...the old Dream.

Because of the gathered people, emotions were plentiful. Which means Dream was easily overwhelmed. He would head straight for the biggest and most open spot in a crowd. 

The center. 

With a little batch of flowers in the middle, the center of town had a brick path instead of a dirt one and banners were strung on the lamp posts. A golden apple pattern on each one and sunflowers blossoming all around the grounds.

Dream had immediately removed himself from the crowd and sat next to the patch of sunflowers. 

The row of sunflowers adorned the outside of a fountain. People looked at the fountain but not many people were sitting right now, so it was nice and empty for him. 

It was exactly what Dream would have done before. Although, he wouldn't have admitted it was because the feelings were a bit too much for him. 

Cross wanted to watch him forever. The way he played with his gloves and looked at the flowers around him, admiring each one. Dream never took anything for granted. He cherished life. Cross felt like he and a lot to learn from him. 

Yet, the longer Cross looked the more it stung. 

He had broken their promise. 

He mentally scolded himself for being angry. It wasn't like Dream had a choice.

But it felt so personal, so intimate of a promise to be broken, that Cross couldn't help but feel shattered by it. 

Dream couldn't remember a thing about him. And there was no fantastical element that was reminding him suddenly of Cross. 

This could be it forever. 

That thought hit Cross like a bus. 

It was possible that Dream would never remember him. 

Which means even if he did love Cross before. He wouldn't now. The hate could be permanent. 

And Cross would have to live with it. He would have to accept it and move on as if it didn't make him can't to rip each one of his ribs off of his spine. 

There was hope in the sense that, maybe Dream could learn to like Cross again. But Cross wondered if it would change something for him. 

Because was Dream really the same person without his memories? Could Cross fall in love with Dream if every time he looked at him he only saw someone who wasn't alive anymore? 

It was daunting. 

Dream held his hand out for a pigeon and it landed on him. A whole flock hurried around him, eating bits of a caramel apple he had broken up. 

Cross' anxiety softened a bit.

He loved Dream.

So much.

And some dumb amnesia was not going to stop him from trying to tell him that.

He started walking towards him.

Chapter Text

"The whole town is surrounded by orchards. Our village makes a living on those apples. One day you'll take over our orchard." A parent was explaining to their child nearby.

Another family nearby was discussing traditions too, "We make sure to keep watch over the trees the night before The Solstice because owls scare off the Golden Child." 

Dream shivered. He didn't blame the Golden Child. Owls were terrifying. Unfortunately, he could remember what they looked like. What, with those terrifying eyes and screechy voices? There's no way he could've forgotten that. He didn't want to be anywhere near one. 

"Momma?" Another child asked, "Do we celebrate for the Silver Child too? Doesn't he get a day?" 

The mom shook her head solemnly, "Oh no, young one. Not like this at least. What happened to him and to the villagers we lost, it was terrible... we do not celebrate it. We use The Eclipse as a day of remembrance and silence." 

Dream's soul shuttered. 

The image of Nightmare standing over a pile of dead villagers. The apples in the back... Suddenly a lot of things were connecting and theories started to build in Dream's head. 

The Stars had said this was where Nightmare was from and it was Dreams and his brother's at one point...

Perhaps that's why Dream had hated Nightmare and his gang before the whole amnesia ordeal.

Nightmare had killed the villagers and...maybe his brother? 

But then again that was so long ago. 

Dream was reminded of one of his first conversations with Nightmare where he had talked about how Dream was immortal. 

It was making his head hurt worse and worse to think about it. There was something he was missing but he just couldn't grasp it. 

He tried to focus on other things like the sunflowers or the fountain to take his mind off of it. 

His mind wandered as he fed some of the pigeons his leftover caramel apple. 'Weird. Even the birds like apples here.' 

He felt a shiver of grief ripple down his spine. The emotions he had felt earlier with the Stars...

Loss, regret, sadness, love. 

He snapped his head to see Cross standing right there, with his hood up. Dream scrambled to his feet with a stifled yelp. 

"Woah, woah!" Cross put his hands up in surrender, "I'm not your enemy. I'm not here to hurt you, Dream." 

Dream's heart was pounding and he felt eyes on his back. The crowd was watching them. Their stares of anxiety and wonder took hold of his soul and he shuttered. 

Cross moved to touch Dream's shoulder but pulled back away when Dream flinched, "S-sorry! I won't touch you!"

He backed away slowly with one hand up, almost as if he were dealing with an scared horse, "See?" Cross breathed, Dream was watching him very intensely, "I'm not here to hurt you..." 

Dream was terrified. He had been followed by who he was told was his enemy. But what was more terrifying was the overwhelming amount of guilt and love he was filled with by looking at this particular person. 

He wanted to trust him. And it was scary. 

A part of his brain whispered, 'Nightmare lied to you about other things. He could've lied about the Star's.' 

But his self-preserving side was active. Giving Cross a chance could be very dangerous if he was wrong. 

But the fluffy hood, the soft anxious voice, and the trembling hand... he wanted so badly to cuddle into the fur of the hood and not leave. Why?

Dream took an unsteady, long breath. 

Dream was learning to do what he wanted and to trust himself. This was a big leap of faith, but he was going to take the risk. Because his soul said it was the right thing to do and he was going to trust it.

He slowly nodded at Cross, "Why are you here?" 

Cross was being very careful, he held himself as if he were scared Dream would run off if he even breathed wrong, "I followed you? You said you were coming here." 

Dream watched the people start to move on with their days, he relaxed a little and he turned back to Cross, "Why?" 

Cross seemed confused, "Why what?" 

"Why would you follow me?" Dream clarified, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He had made it very clear he didn't want Cross around him. A knife to the throat should've been enough to scare Cross off. 

Cross looked awkward for a moment and he shifted his weight, "I couldn't let you go... not again. I've got too much to say to you." 

Dream wanted to ask what he had to say. But he knew by the way Cross looked at him, it probably wasn't the right moment. 

Instead, he let out a little anxious chuckle as he watched Cross shrink down into the shade of his hood even further as if he were extremely embarrassed. 

Clearly, Cross was easily embarrassed. And he was kind of...cute when he was... Now Dream was embarrassed.

He backed up and coughed, "I have to admit. You are not very intimidating. Even though, Nightmare said he was looking for you. You don't look like the rest of the Gang. You don't look like you would've worked for him." 

Cross' head snapped up, "He said that???" He seemed ready to fight someone. But there was no one there to fight really.

Dream backed up with his hands in surrender this time, "Woah! That's just what he said. I don't believe him anymore." He rubbed his arm, "I don't know what to believe. I'm confused." His hands made their way up to his skull, "This stupid amnesia is so easy to manipulate. I don't know what was a lie and what wasn't." 

Cross stood perfectly still, "Dream..."

That just upset Dream more. Because it filled him with warmth that Cross seemed to be so worried about him, even though what he had been told didn't line up with his feelings and how Cross was acting, "And I don't know what to think about you! You're supposedly a lost teammate of his! A Gang member stolen by the Stars? The one after my brother?! They're evil and you're with them so you're evil!" 

He started to pace and he felt the eyes back on him again, but their anxiety just made him pace more, "But you make me feel so warm and fuzzy! Your face is so squishy and, and when you act all nervous, I feel like I've seen it a million times before, I just can't place it! The way it looked like I shattered your heart earlier, broke mine." 

Dream had long since started to cry, "It's so confusing and I don't even know why I'm ranting to you now about it! Cause that part could've been true! You could be bad!"

Despite voicing his distrust he sat back down in crumpled defeat and panic, "I just don't know what to do! Everything is so awful right now. Earlier I saw apple sauce and thought of Horror because I still like the Gang. They're really sweet." 

"I saw a pair of headphones and thought about how they could help Dust. A-and I saw a cat and immediately I thought of Killer's." Dream kept rambling, "There was a library downtown that I could swear I'd seen before. I can almost imagine it being built... and I thought of Nightmare."

The dream was quiet for a moment. Finally, he spoke again, "Even though I know he told some lies... and the others must have been in on it too. I just can't find it in me to hate any of them." 

He stopped talking and it was silent for a couple of minutes. When Cross was sure Dream was done he spoke, "Thank you." He added, "Thanks for telling me, I mean."

Dream glanced at him and whipped the tears away, embarrassed, "Sorry, I'm a real open-book usually. I cry over dumb stuff. There's just... a lot going on." 

Cross snorted and Dream looked at him, "What?!" 

Cross started laughing even harder and Dream bumped his shoulder, confused, "What?! What is so funny?" 

Cross was wiping tears at this point, "O-oh- haha- sorry, I just can't believe it!" 

The golden-clad skeleton looked very confused, "Can't believe what?!" He could feel the happiness radiating off of Cross very strongly now. 

"It's just, that you never used to talk to anyone about how you felt. I think I've seen you cry like twice and even then you didn't talk about it. Man, you're funny." 

Dream paused. He took a seat down right next to Cross again, "Let's say... let's say I want to trust you right now and I believe that you're not my enemy and I knew you before. What do you... know about me?" 

The rays of the sun were climbing even higher now and Dream felt them hit his back as he waited for Cross to respond. The warmth radiated over his back and spread to his face as he stared at Cross' hidden one. Earlier today he had noticed Cross had a scar. Where was that from?

"I know a lot about you," Cross said, though you could barely hear him. He was whispering as if this moment was holy and sacred to him. 

"I know you don't like owls." He started to list. Dream's eyes widened as he realized he had just been thinking about that. 

"I know you like the sun, although, fall is your favorite season." Cross looked at him warmly, "You enjoy helping people, even when it isn't the best thing to do for you. You love to see people smile and have a happy family. Probably because you weren't allowed to be happy in your own family." 

Dream was stunned but Cross was still going, "You like apples, sure, but nothing compares to a good old peppermint. You hate crowds and parties because your powers get overwhelmed. And you may not say it, but you're scared of abandonment, and you can't figure out how close you can be to someone without being too close..." 

Cross met Dream's shocked eyes and he looked down, flustered by ashamed, "Sorry...I blabbed too much. That's too personal." 

Dream scanned Cross, he was searching for something. A tiny memory- anything- to back up this feeling. 

"I knew you too?" Dream stammered the question out. He needed Cross to tell him who he was to Dream before all of this. Suddenly he felt the weight of a million worlds crushing on him, telling him he was close to figuring something out. 

The feelings all lead to one thing, but he needed it confirmed, "How do I feel about you? Do you know?"

Cross met Dream's hooded gaze again. He was blushing furiously and he pulled down his hood to cover his eyes more, "Sorry...we never talked about that... I have no clue what I... what I was to you." 

Dream stammered, confused, "B-but the way you talk about me!? You know me! We are close, aren't we? Are we friends? Please, I need you to tell me you're..." 

Cross shook his head, "I don't know if I was your friend or... something else. I regret having never talked about it. But I can't tell you because I don't know." 

Dream slumped down, "There's no way..." He paused. 

All the love and warmth he felt from Cross. The stuff that intertwined with anxiety and worry for Dream's health and safety. 

It lined up with Nightmare being surprised when Dream didn't recognize his name. It lined up with how he felt when he first saw Cross and it lined up with how Cross was acting around him. 

Cross was in love with Dream. And Dream was in love with him. Deeply in love with him. 

The feelings were so strong that his newfound control over his powers finally snapped under the pressure of the crowd and the realization. 

He started to glow. Both literally and figuratively because his blush was just that intense. 

"Dream?!" Cross tensed away from him, "You're glowing?!" 

Dream pulled his hood down farther and ignored curious onlookers, by hiding in his scrunched-up hood. 

"Don't look at me." Dream mumbled as he embarrassingly tried to scoot away from Cross. 

Dream couldn't believe how he had acted earlier. Putting a knife to Cross' throat and not trusting him? His memories were missing, but the feelings were enough to make him fall over, roll down a hill, and off a cliff. (No. There is no better analogy for that. That's exactly how it felt. Shut up.)

It was undoubtedly true that he had loved Cross with every fiber of his being. 

"Are you okay??" Cross was stressing over him meanwhile, still not sure if he should touch him or not. 

Dream mumbled into his knees, "Sorry, I'm not as good at controlling my powers now." He buried his face deeper into his own legs, "Feelings..." 

Panicked feelings started to radiate even more from Cross, "Ah- oh. Okay...um we can do a breathing exercise? Calm you down?" 

Dream was filled with a giddiness that Cross cared so much and it made it worse, he was glowing like a jack-o-lantern. "Ahshbmsnn- Cross! You're making me too happy!" 

Cross pulled his hands away from Dream, "I'm making you too happy?? Do you want me to be mean?" 

Dream blushed and frantically waved his hands around as his face was still buried in his knees, "I don't know! I don't remember how I dealt with being in love with you before this!" 

"W-wait wha-" Cross started to ask before he was suddenly pulled up by a random villager and dragged into a dance circle. 

...

The music started and Error spotted Cross from above. 

Nightmares two dork gangsters hadn't woken up just yet, but they would wake up soon. Error kept an eye out for Dust and Nightmare himself.

He watched as Cross was basically dragged from place to place and frantically tried to keep up with the crowd's moves in an attempt to not be trampled on. 

Error snorted. 

Cross was definitely not born to dance. Although, who was? (Other than the people in Dancetale. Those people are weird. Like what do you mean dance is your passion? No.)

From above he didn't spot the problem until it had already happened. A lot of things happened at once actually. 

If Error had been less focused on Cross' awful dancing he would've seen some of the signs maybe. 

The way a certain hooded stranger, kind of...glowed?

The way they anxiously tried to push their way back to Cross and eventually had to join the dance too, as hands pulled them into the circle.

The way they stumbled when they were put into the center of the dance circle as people spun around them. Standing in the middle of the town square that had painted on bricks depicting a sunflower. 

Error might have noticed that in the shadows of the building below him, sat Nightmare watching as Dust made his way to the circle from a nearby tree. 

He may have noticed how Nightmare's eyes were filled with a sort of nostalgic sadness as he watched a dance that had been performed the same way for centuries in his brother's honor. 

A dance that should have another dance circle around it but no longer did because that dance represented the evil twin.

Error could've noticed in time.

But by the time that Cross and Dream had met back in the middle, Dust was already there too. And by the time every skeleton was revealed, Error was too late to stop what was going to happen.

...

He remembered.

The way they danced around him. The sunflower painted at his feet. 

The song and the feelings filled his soul as the sun reached closer and closer to its peak. 

He remembered. 

Dreamtale was his home but now he remembered it. 

He thought of the tree his brother and he used to sit under. 

The Apple tree. The one on the stained glass picture. Half golden apples, half black. 

He was the Golden Child. The missing one the villagers had been looking for. 

Their methods and celebrations in an attempt to bring him back home had worked, although not in the way they intended it to. 

This meant his brother was the Silver Child. 

Many memories started to rush back to him but not enough of them. He remembered his mother, turning into that tree. 

He remembered helping villagers to the extent that he hurt himself. At only six years old. 

He remembered being tapped in stone for five hundred years after an event he couldn't recall and waking up not knowing what to do. Only to be found by and taken from Dreamtale, never to come back and realize that some villagers survived. 

It made him feel dizzy as more and more small memories came back to him, his back met Cross' in the middle of the circle. 

"Dream! Are you okay?" Cross turned around and grabbed his shoulders. 

Both of their hoods fell off in the chaos and the crowd was immediately silent as they looked at the skeletons in the center. 

The child from the apple stand earlier stood in shock, "Skeletons!" 

The crowd murmured in curious shock, "That one is glowing! Could it be? It's him isn't it!" 

The kid dropped to their knees in awe, pointing at Dream, "Golden child..." 

They didn't have much time to gawk as Dust's bones shot up at Cross and blue strings wrapped around every villager's soul. 

Chapter Text

Luckily no villagers were harmed. Error got them out of the way with his strings just in time.

Well...

There might have been a few injuries but at least no one was dead like they would've been. Being strung up isn't comfortable but it's more comfortable than having a bone impale you. 

Cross was immediately knocked away from Dream, and both of them fell to the ground. 

Nightmares circlet tumbled out of Dream's picket and skidded away from him. 

"Dust!" He heard Nightmare shout. 

The Lord Of Negativity was out of the shadows now. He didn't stand proudly or confidently like he usually did. His eye darted to all the villagers that were strung up, and he spoke quickly and frantically, "I said get Cross away from Dream not try and kill the whole village!" 

Dust shrugged as he walked over to Cross who was still trying to get up. He pushed Cross back down on the ground. 

The negativity coming off of the villagers was enough to make Nightmare feel a little bit like his old self again. He wasn't feeling as weak as he should be feeling. The emotions were so strong they were starting to cancel out the Solstice's effects. 

Ink came running down from an alleyway (what he was doing in there, we'll never know), and he pulled out Broomie smacking Dust to the ground. 

Which, apparently, was a mistake because a golden arrow whizzed past his head as he did. 

He dodged it by half an inch, but the arrow had luckily (or unluckily) not been shot to kill but to distract. 

As Ink was trying to process what happened he felt a powerful blow strike him in the side of his ribs, sending him flying. 

"Don't touch him! Please! He- he's my friend!" Dream stammered, he looked helpless and torn. 

Cross was rubbing his skull again, "Dream, we're your friends remember?!" 

Dream was breathing heavily, "No, no," His hands gripped his skull and he shook it from side to side, "I barely remember this town. I barely remember who I am. I don't remember anything." 

Ink raised a hand from the ground where he hadn't bothered to get back up, "Wow and I thought I had a bad memory." 

Nightmare grabbed Ink with one of his tentacles and dragged him towards him, earning a gasp from all of the entire crowd and all the Sanses, excluding Dust. 

"What are you doing here, Pest?" His tentacle wrapped around Ink tighter and tighter, "Shall I remind you what being crushed feels like? Maybe last time wasn't enough to teach you to stay out of my way!" 

Ink gasped for breath and the people who were tied up turned away from the scene with screams of terror.

"I-if I remember correctly, Nightmare. We beat the funking zipp out of- of you last time. Maybe you should rethink what you're doing." Ink threatened back snarkily, through coughs. 

Nightmare was filled with rage, "What did you say to me-" He hissed.

Suddenly a red bone was shot up at Nightmare and he had to teleport five feet away to dodge, dropping Ink. 

"What the-" Nightmare looked up and saw Error holding millions of strings in one hand and wearing a murderous rageful expression.

"HelLo NiGhtMaRe." Error glitched at him. "We Haven't been ProperLy intRoduCed. I'm Error." Error grinned at him, but it was malicious, "And I'm also MightY pIsSed OfF aboUt yOu kIdNappling my Kid by the wAY. And Strangling My HusbaNd." 

The glitchy skeleton braced himself and with a flick of his wrist hundreds of red bones shot up at Nightmare. 

Nightmare teleported next to Dust, "You're a fool if you think you can hurt me, Error. No one can hurt me except for." He paused. 

Error looked between Dream and Nightmare. He let out a laugh. It was the sharp shackle of a past villain. It made Dream cringe a little. This Error guy felt just as dangerous as Nightmare. "You wOn't say it! You havEn't told hiM?!?" 

Nightmare looked at Dream with worry. He didn't know how to tell him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell him. Nightmare thought he could lose him again.

Dream was looking back at him, terrified and extremely confused. 

Cross ran over to Ink to check on his injuries while this was all occurring. Ink was helped to his feet and he chugged down a couple of vials, giving Cross a nod of confidence. 

"Dream?" Error looked down at the golden skeleton, "Oh, DrEam. Didn't NighTmaRe teLl you anything? He's a LiaR, you know." 

 "Yes, yes I-I know!" Dream cried, holding his head. Everything hurt and yet he hadn't been hit.

Nightmare sneered and shouted at Error, "I don't think you're one to talk. You pretend like you are fearless, when really you are not. You pretend that you are a Guardian of Balance or whatever. But in reality, you still destroy." 

Error lowered himself to the ground, releasing the strings he was holding, leaving the villagers tied up. 

The villagers were almost too shocked to do anything but watch in horror as this all went down. They would murmur occasionally and you could hear the words "Golden child" and "Silver child" uttered many times. 

The words were muddled and confusing in Dream's head. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want the Gang or Nightmare to be hurt but he also didn't want the Star's hurt. And the memories were still spilling back to him. Every second was a flashback. A new word or phrase sparked something new. 

But the important chunks weren't coming back like they should be yet. He couldn't remember faces or names. He was so frustrated and was filled with energy and emotions to the point he felt his ribcage might burst open. 

He was glowing despite the negativity around him now and the only time he had felt an ounce of relief was when he had shot an arrow of positivity. 

Dream didn't know how he had formed that, but now that he had, he didn't think he would ever go back to real regular arrows. 

"My ideals are to protect the grEaTer gOod of the multiverse. Not the individual AU's. Do not pretEnd to care aBout my jOb. You feast off MY negativity and My MoraL grAYness. I do not pretend to be a Guardian of Balance. That is what I am. I AM awAre of mySelf. I am NEIther eviL nor GOod. You, however, aRe." 

Nightmare sneered at Error which made Error grin in turn, assuming he had won their little insult contest or something.

But creepily, after a few seconds, a smile crept onto Nightmare's face, "But you do pretend to be fearless?" 

Error glanced at Ink and Cross who were behind him, getting into battle-ready positions, glaring at Dust who could move at any second once given an order. 

Ink made a move to come up to Error but Error shot a look that told him to wait. He wasn't ready to risk Ink yet. He could hopefully handle this on his own. Just focus on Dust.

"No." Error scoffed, looking back at Nightmare. But he instinctually tensed up at Nightmare's tone. The edge to his voice implied he knew something that wouldn't be good for Error. 

Nightmare laughed, it was never a pleasant sound when he did it, "I know fear when I taste it." He started to circle Error like a shark, "I taste a very strong fear, actually. You've been trying to get rid of it, but it still haunts you every day." 

A tentacle reached out to touch Error's shoulder but he flinched away, stammering, "I don't know wHaT yOur talking about-" He cursed his glitches. 

Nightmare snickered again, "Your glitchiness would give you away even if I didn't already know." He leaned down close to Error's head, "Haphephobia, is it?" He whispered menacingly into his metaphorical ear, "Well, that makes this easier-" 

A tentacle shot out at Error and as it did, Ink ignored Error's look earlier and charged at Nightmare. 

"Dust!" Nightmare called and in a flash Dust was in Ink's face, bones flashing up from the ground. 

Ink would've gotten hurt if Cross hadn't pulled him back by his scarf, both of them stumbling. 

Dust was back on top of Cross in a flash, bones started to peak out of the ground yet again. 

Cross dodged and summoned his gaster blaster, the laser ready to set off in Dust's face. 

Dream sprinted over to Dust and shoved him down on the ground, half an attack and half a way to protect him. 

Meanwhile, Error was in the grasp of Nightmare who was heavily indulging in the negativity that Error was providing him. 

You see, as much progress as Error had made with his own family, he was barely able to touch them without breaking down in terror and pain. This was entirely unwelcome contact and he was scared out of his mind, cursing himself and his phobia through uncontrollable glitches.

"You should've stayed out of my way. Bothersome Guardian." Nightmare half sneered, half laughed.

Error whimpered in fright as Nightmare pressed a hand on his shoulder along with the tentacle that was wrapped around him. 

He couldn't respond because he was glitching too badly and Nightmare feasted off of the terror and hatred. 

"Now, I'll ask you only once." Nightmare threatened, "Where are Horror and Killer?" 

Error tried to squirm out of Nightmare's grasp, but to get out or even try to get out he would have to grab onto Nightmare, causing more pain and fear. 

Ink stumbled back to his feet from where he was, "Error!" 

Nightmare snapped his head around to look at him and smacked him away into a tree with one of his tentacles, "Stay out of this!" 

Dream yelped in surprise as he watched this, "Nightmare stop!" 

Nightmare was ignoring Dream though, he seemed entirely focused on getting his teammates back. 

He turned back to Error, "Now if you don't want me to hurt him again, tell me where they are." Another hand was placed on Error.

Error fell limp and helpless looking between Nightmare and Ink who was groaning in pain, "R-r-rOofT0pz. tH3y ARe UP tHer3." 

Nightmare grinned, "You are so easily scared it's almost pitiful." 

He moved to throw Error aside like a piece of trash just like Ink and it most certainly would have damaged him. 

But Dream yelled his name yet again from across the square where he was pinning/shielding Dust. "Nightmare don't! But him down!" 

Nightmare stared at Dream. 

A couple of months ago he would've ignored the pleas and thrown him anyway, taking delight in the negativity he would have gained from it. 

But now that he wasn't focused on getting his teammates back, he had realized what he had done. 

He was reverting back. 

He hated the Star's with all of his being, but he had told himself he wanted to be better. He promised his team he would be better. 

Which meant he had to be an example of what better was so they could all improve. This was not better. 

The look on Dream's face was the same as it always was when they fought. The way he begged him to stop was just as pitiful and sad. Nightmare hadn't done this the right way.

He dropped (didn't throw) Error on the ground. 

Error glitched relentlessly before crashing entirely and Nightmare felt his nonexistent stomach drop. He had just done that in front of Dream. 

Amnesia could've provided a fresh start for Nightmare and this was how he had handled it, even after he decided he would try and fix the relationship with his brother. 

'Nice going fool.' Nightmare mentally condemned himself. 

"Dream-" Nightmare started to approach him but Dream pulled out a positivity arrow in a flash. He looked scared. So scared. 

"Nightmare-" He said, his hands shaking. "Don't make me shoot you, please." 

Nightmare put his hands up slowly, disregarding his pride for once, "You don't have to shoot the arrow Dream..." 

"You- you lied!" Dream spat, he completely forgot about Dust and left him on the ground as he stood up. Cross was attending to Ink and Error now, watching in horror as this scene went down. 

"I didn't lie." Nightmare tried but he immediately regretted it because Dream shouted back. 

"Yes, you did! These people?! This group? I loved them, didn't I? They're my friends!" Nightmare was silent. He bit his tongue and looked at Dream. "Aren't they?!?" Dream repeated pulling back the drawstring on his bow.

"Yes. They are." Nightmare said quietly. 

He shook his head at Dust who was now standing up and didn't know what to do about Dream. He nodded to the rooftops and Dust took off to find his teammates, hesitantly. 

Dream's voice was wavering and the bow shook in his hands, "Then why? Why did you lie to me about that?! What do you gain from me working for you?" Questions that had been flooding his mind were now starting to spill out. 

Nightmare had not been expecting this day to go this way. He had hoped, foolishly, that they could get to Dream first and then have this conversation back at the castle in a controlled way. 

Nightmare hadn't decided how he was going to (if at all) tell Dream the biggest lie of them all and this was definitely not what he would've come up with.

Nightmare looked at the sun which was almost at its peak. He was weaker now than he had ever been. The negativity made up for some of it but at this point, not all of it. 

Dream was glowing. His eyelights were brighter and the arrow looked firey and out of control. He was filled to the brim with magic at the moment. Itching to rid himself of it, he looked ready to burst. Given the slightest reason he may use that arrow on anyone.

Nightmare hated to think what might happen to him if he actually spilled the truth. Dream would hate him again. He would lose it all. He could even die. This was the perfect time for Dream to kill him. He was at his mercy. 

Telling this truth was the biggest choice he would probably ever have to make. 

"Dream," He started, "I feed off of negativity. Just as you feed off of positivity." 

Dream blinked his eyes a few times, "So you were using me to get negative emotions?" He gritted his teeth, "Is that what you've been doing to the rest of your team too?"

"What- no," He paused, "Well...not on purpose, look Dream I need to tell you something." 

"It's a little late to have a change of heart, Nightmare." Dream replied although he looked intrigued slightly. 

Nightmare I didn't have the words to say and he didn't have the movements to describe it visually. 

He fumbled. Trying to be better was way harder than being hateful and controlling. 

Being spiteful was easy, people would listen to you because they were terrified. Being nice was hard because you had to earn trust and love. Those things took work and dedication. Nightmare didn't have the base to start this He didn't have to tools to build a base either. 

He just wanted to be there for his brother. He wanted to try again. Over the years he had finally grown tired of fake affection and fear. He hated himself probably more than anyone else could, so he pretended that their opinions of him didn't affect him. Nightmare could be evil if he wanted, he didn't care what you thought of him as long as he got his way. As long as he had control over who he was. 

But he realized now. Right now. That he had control even now. Control over his choice to be good and to fix this relationship. Or at least, to try. He could do that. He could put in a little effort. 

He spotted the circlet on the ground. 

The one that Dream had found and ran away with. Nightmare's circlet had skidded across the floor and now it was at his feet. 

He hadn't put that thing on in ages. It had always rested in the safety of that case. 

He would often trace his finger around the case, thinking about what it would feel like to put it back on. 

But he had never done it. 

He picked it up. 

"No." Dream shook his head, "If you killed him-" His eyes were full of tears, "I can't- I won't. I'll kill you, Nightmare." 

Nightmare shook his head, "Dream. No." 

Dream was crying now, "Then what? What do you need to tell me?" 

"I think you can figure that out." Nightmare put on his circlet for the first time in hundreds of years. It felt foreign and wrong. Yet also familiar and warm. 

Dream lowered his arrow slowly. 

Error had finally woken up from his crash. Now Ink, him, and Cross were watching for Dream's reaction. He was going to find out at some point. 

Dream had a thousand-yard stare, "W-what..." 

Nightmare's head tilted, "Dream. I didn't kill your brother."

"Then- I-" Dream couldn't seem to find the words. He stared at the circlet on Nightmare's head in disbelief. 

The child from earlier, still strung up shouted, "Silver child!" And it finally hit Dream.

Nightmare nodded, "I'm the silver child, Dream. I'm your brother." 

Chapter Text

It snapped almost entirely at once. Everything started to spill back to him. Nightmares face. 

The name he used to call him was now coming back to him. He remembered each letter. 

Night?  He used to call Nightmare 'Night'... 

He was confused as to how he had gone from Night to Nightmare until those memories came back too. 

The memory of the apple incident was the worst of them all. That was where the phrase, "Don't forget who I used to be." Came from.

Night had begged Dream right before he had been completely consumed by that goopy corruption. 

Then they had fought. Dream was frozen in stone for about five hundred years. 

When he got out all he could think about was his brother. He was five hundred and six but mentally he hadn't aged a day. His brother had all that time to grow up and he was still a six-year-old trying to find out what had happened to his brother.

He was foolish and naive with the newfound abilities that came with having the golden apple as a soul. 

Being able to hear the whole multiverse's emotions all at once was too much. It had almost been too much before when he could feel everyone around him. It was definitely worse now.

He remembered leaving Dreamtale and not having the heart to come back. Even though he felt life there. He ignored it because he couldn't bear the thought of having to see their disappointed faces again. 

"Why couldn't you save the villagers?" "Why would you let your brother do that?" "It's your fault." 

That's what he assumed they would say. They may just be ancestors of the villagers who survived but that still warranted blame and hatred. Call him a coward, he just couldn't look them in the eyes. 

He had to mature way faster than a six-year-old should. Suddenly the burden of protecting the whole multiverse was on a child's shoulders and he couldn't think about normal children's things like toys or school.

He didn't get an education, outside of what little was taught to him before the incident. Reading and writing were about all he could do and he did them with little grace. He needed more teachers after he broke out stone, he made slow progress.

Nightmare, however, could write in fancy cursive. He had exquisite vocabulary and a full library apparently. He had read scrolls and math books.

Nightmare was smarter than Dream. 

When Dream found Nightmare again it hurt a whole lot. His brother had gathered a group of people that would hurt others, just so he could feed off of the negativity. He felt stronger that way.

Nightmare had become suddenly obsessed with becoming stronger and more in control. 

Over five hundred years he had succeeded, at least, at becoming more powerful than Dream. Every time Dream tried to reason with him, he failed. 

Dream needed a team. 

When he finally reached adulthood (518), he met his best friend- Ink. 

Ink was very interested in the contents of Dreamtale. He had gone there and found out about the villagers. The villagers spoke of Dream and Nightmare so, Ink had found him. 

Dream had no interest in returning and frankly, at first, Ink and Dream did not get along. 

Ink believed in the overall picture of the multiverse. He saw the AU's as art pieces and individual stories. Good or bad, it didn't matter to him. He liked them regardless and he would protect the original intended script of the AU at all cost. 

Dream couldn't wrap his head around it at first. All he wanted was to help people. He felt as if he needed to save everyone. If given the chance, he would always try and stray the script toward a better ending. 

That caused Ink and Dream to get off to a rough start. But eventually, they did reach an agreement. 

Because they both met Swap. Swap was a mortal. He didn't care about scripts and he was logical about helping everyone they could help. He was a perfect middleman. Swap knew balance. Which is probably why Error is his best friend. 

That reminded Dream of the rivalry that was ever apparent too. Ink and Error were constantly at war. It seemed, even after Dream had convinced Swap and Ink to assemble a team with him, that Ink was off fighting Error. The two fought over Creation and Destruction. 

It was endless, it seemed. Not a single one of them was willing to change even a little for the sake of the other. The amount of negativity it produced was enough to catch Nightmare's attention. 

So when a new factor forced the two idiots to try and get along, Nightmare tried to rekindle the flame. 

But before that whole kidnapping situation, after years of battling Nightmare -Dream at that point was probably five hundred and twenty-four- Dream met Cross. 

Cross was overall, not a happy being. Dream had felt his negativity from another AU but when he got to him it was too late. Nightmare was already there. 

Cross worked for Nightmare for a while but it didn't take long for him to leave. Dream did his best to try and save Cross by bringing him to the Omega Timeline, where they fought his brother. 

It was a lot to remember. 

Because he remembered that after that he started to fall head over heels for Cross. But he also remembered that for some reason he couldn't tell Cross. He wouldn't allow himself to be happy, because it would distract him from others in need. He was also worried that Cross didn't love him because of him but because of the aura he gave off. 

He remembered promising Cross no one would ever forget him again. And he remembered breaking that promise when he had tripped and Nightmare had instinctively slapped him to the ground making Dream hit his head just right. 

He remembered it all. His mom, Nim. The village. His brother, his friends, and Cross. He remembered.

He backed up from Nightmare slowly. Dream remembered. But it didn't fix how he had been feeling before. Aside from being confused, he was anxious and terrified still. 

Especially since now he realized, he would never go back to the same person he was before. 

He had changed in those few weeks...months? with Nightmare and his Gang. 

He was able to speak up for himself a little now. He let his emotions show and now that he remembered, the fear was coming back. The two people inside of him warred. 

"Night-" Dream started to say Nightmare's name but all he could get out was the first part. 

It was like when they were kids. He didn't want to call Nightmare his full name. He never had wanted to call him his full name.

He wasn't a Nightmare.

He was cold and calm like the night. Sometimes the darkness swallowed him whole. But his brother was like the night. He was Night. 

He wasn't Nightmare. 

Not until Nightmare decided to be. 

Dream remembered being scolded for a while after he had broken out of the stone. 

'Stop calling me that! My name is Nightmare!' 

Dream eventually gave in. But he much preferred Night. Because when Night called himself Nightmare it wasn't because he liked it. Dream could feel that. He did it because he thought he was. The villagers told him he was. He told himself he was and to give himself a reason for feeling like he was a nightmare, he made himself one. He hurt people to gain control because depression and anger consumed him. Night was living a nightmare every day with himself. 

So that is what he became.

"Dream-" Nightmare started, he had his hands raised a little to be less threatening, "Don't freak out don't... don't leave." 

Dream sure thought about it. He thought about leaving. The adrenaline in him told him to sprint and never look any of these people in the eyes again. 

He considered it....

But instead, he let the relief flow through him. Nightmare had come looking for him. He was reaching out to him. 

He was acutely aware of every emotion Nightmare was feeling right now. 

The powers granted to his soul by the solstice were affecting his empathic levels to an uncontrollable degree and now that he remembered that he understood why he was so overwhelmed. 

Nightmare was scared Dream would hate him and that he would leave. And for the first time in...a long time...Dream felt the love Nightmare had underneath all of the sadness and anger. 

The love Nightmare had for the village. His crew. And his brother. 

Him.

"I'm not going to leave..." Dream said although he had started to sob uncontrollably, "Night..." Dream stammered through tears, "Sorry...I keep crying all the time." 

Cross stood up from where he had been sitting with Ink and Error, running over to him, "Dream!" 

He tackled Dream in a hug and Dream tumbled over. 

Cross couldn't seem to decide whether to attack Nightmare or stay hugging Dream, so he tugged Dream to his feet with him, pointing at Nightmare, "You! You're overwhelming him! Why would you tell him that!" 

Dream patted Cross' arm and Cross glanced at him, "It's alright Cross. I remember now." 

Cross' eyes widened, "W-what?" 

"I remember." Dream said, trying to pull himself together. But the new him didn't feel like hiding it anymore.

Cross pulled away from him in shock. Until his expression started to glow almost as bright as Dream actually was, "Wait your memories?! They're back!?" 

Dream nodded, "Most of them...I think?" He rubbed his skull, and gestured loosely to his circlet, "That jogged some memories." 

Negativity seeped out of Nightmare, "Dream...I'm sorry..." Nightmare almost looked childlike in how frightened he was of Dream's rejection. 

Dream let go of Cross and tried to approach Nightmare but Cross stopped him by grabbing his arm. 

Dream turned back and Cross looked at him, frightened. 

"It's alright..." Dream mouthed at his...well...even with his memories he didn't know what Cross was. Now he understood why Cross had such a hard time defining it. Neither of them had told each other. 

Cross looked skeptical but when Dream didn't back down he sighed and let go, "I trust you." He whispered. 

Dream approached Nightmare and his brother looked scared. "You kidnapped me." Dream stated plainly, "And then you tried to lie to me so you could become more powerful. Nice one." 

Nightmare shrunk back, "I...I want to be better Dream. I'm tired of fake love. Control and power bought me respect, but not true love." He looked at his twin, "I lost sight of...what love and warmth was to me. I lost sight of what mattered." 

"The corruption didn't help." Dream pointed out. 

"The corruption only amplified what I was already feeling, Dream!" Nightmare snapped, "I felt...ugly...and I was angry. I felt like I had to take the burden of being the Guardian of Negativity all to myself. So I became negativity. It made me feel powerful when I felt powerless. It was addictive. The corruption was like a drug I chose to take...and there's no going back." 

Dream paused. 

"Nightmare...why change now?" He put his hand up to his skull. The crack in it had healed but he still felt weak in that spot. "I've tried for so long...why now?" 

Nightmare glanced at Dust who had appeared out of the shadows, dragging Horror and Killer behind him, and then he looked back at Error, Ink, and Cross. Then back to his brother. 

"I just had to figure out what I wanted for myself. In my own time. Finding people that set good examples of trust and love, and also finding my own people...i t helped me understand that I wanted to try again." He glanced at Error who was glaring at him, "And... I've already screwed up... I don't expect you to forgive me. I am not looking for that. But I promised my Gang...my family I would try. So I thought, I would promise my other family I would try." 

Dream's eyes scanned Nightmare's one. As if he would find out if he was lying or not by that. He already knew he wasn't lying. His powers were too strong and they didn't detect a single lie. 

So Dream smiled. "I love you Night." Dream cried he reached out a hand to shake Nightmare's, "Can we end this with a truce?" 

Nightmare nodded but he raised a forehead brow at the hand, "A truce...yes. But that handshake...would probably hurt a lot right now actually." 

Dream laughed awkwardly and rubbed his hand on his torn clothes, "Uh...yeah..It just...I felt like hugging you but I thought that would be worse..." 

The sun's rays hit Dream at just the right angle, making him even harder to look at. He glowed even brighter and the golden apple- Dream's soul- suddenly appeared on the outside of Dream's chest and Dream stumbled, "O-ow!" 

Cross looked ready to leap, he pulled out his knives and shouted at Nightmare, "What did you do?!" 

"Nothing!" Nightmare shouted back hands (and tentacles) up in surrender.

Horror and Killer (who were now dizzily awake) were already surrounding the Star's in battle position. 

"Don't you dare hurt him," Killer warned, flicking his knife. 

"He hurt us first!" Error shouted back at Killer. 

Killer giggled, "If I recall, you're the ones who knocked us out and tied us up." 

Error blinked. 'Oh yah...' He thought. 

He stomped on the ground, glitching furiously, "W-Well YOu'Re Evil!" 

"They're not evil!" Dreams shouted, clutching his chest in pain. 

"Dream!" Cross gasped, dropping his knives and attempting to run to him again but Horror stopped him, axe in his face. 

Error snorted, "All oF you'Re memories probably aren't back because that looks prEtty evil to me. Their manipuLation tactics are still working on ya and everything." 

Nightmare looked guilty and he started at the ground, "They are not evil, Error. I take the blame for the damage they've caused." 

Dream looked up at Nightmare and Error, "Error, you were considered 'evil' once too. And Nightmare don't say tha- Ow!!" He clutched his chest again as his soul surged with golden magic, flashing everyone in the eyes. 

"My eyes!" Ink complained, turning away with the rest of them. 

"Dream! What is happening??" Nightmare cried. 

"What do you mean? It's you who's doing thi-" Ink tried to accuse. 

He was interrupted by Nightmare's soul- a black apple- suddenly appearing outside of his chest just like Dream's. Nightmare cried out in agony, falling to the floor.

"Nightmare!" Dream cried, almost forgetting his own pain. 

Nightmare looked worse, and it probably and to do with his weakened state in comparison to Dream's. 

Both groups were suddenly stunned and none of them could speak a word. 

A giant bubble of light had formed around Nightmare and Dream. Succluding them from the rest of the skeletons. Dream watched Cross get pushed farther and farther away, horrified. 

Error let all the villagers go, and most of them ran away in terror, a few watched from the shadows and cover of alleyways. 

It was quiet except for the sounds of pain they were both making and the woosh of the magic bubble of light around them. 

"I'm sorry- this is probably my fault-" Dream stammered, "I can't control it-" 

Nightmare was withering and squirming in agony. He seemed to be trying to hold on to his pride but he let go under the pressure on his soul. 

For the first time in hundreds of years, Nightmare looked to his brother for help. He finally wanted help. He wanted to be better. To hurt less. So he reached out. "I-it hurts..." 

Dream looked at his brother on the ground and the image of this having happened before flashed before him. The last time his brother looked like this was right before the corruption. 

The most agonizing point in their lives. 

Dream had thought about that day probably every day of his life (except the amnesia days obviously), wishing he could just go back and save his brother from all the pain. 

"I-i know, Night. I'm-I'm sorry..." Dream cried, his tears weren't doing him any good, the agony just kept pressing down on them. 

Nightmare was also crying. Dream hadn't seen him cry like this. "Dream... you're hurting too."  He acknowledged this for once.

Dream was going to deny it so that he could focus on Nightmare but he saw the pleading look in his brother's eyes. If Nightmare was going to change, so was he. He wasn't going to go back to hiding his feelings all the time. 

They could change together. 

Dream had an idea. 

He nodded at Nightmare, "Yah... it does hurt." He offered his hand to Nightmare again, "Night.... why don't we shake on that truce right now?" 

Nightmare grunted in pain, and astonishment at the stupidity of the suggestion, still crying in pain, "Dream! Th-this is not a good time." 

"Just hold my hand!" Dream pleaded. 

Nightmare stopped fighting back and stared at Dream. They looked at each other, and he understood. 

"Okay..." Nightmare agreed, very hesitantly. 

They both locked fingers, their hands burning from the pain of the two conflicting emotions. 

"Promise me-" Dream started, "That you really do want to feel better- to do better- and I promise to not hide my feelings anymore." 

Nightmare didn't even hesitate, "I promise." Nightmare nodded though another jolt of pain shot through him.

"We can share this burden. We're family...we won't hide anything from each other anymore. You don't have to carry the burden of being the Guardian of Negativity and I don't have to carry the burden of being the Guardian of Positivity." 

Nightmare turned to look up at Dream who was smiling, a year still running down one cheek, "Wait- what are yo-" 

"I can't say I hate mom. 'Cause I never met her, really. But since we promised to be honest- ow!- I'm going to be honest." Dream squeezed Nightmare's hand for comfort, despite the physical pain it caused, "It should never have been anyone's individual burden to take on a job like ours. It's cruel. And she was not a good mother for doing it." 

"Sure, yeah! B-but, Dream, wh-" 

The sun reached its peak and Dream did what he had planned to do, "It's okay Night. I love you, brother."

It's funny really. This never would have worked in any other circumstance. The events had lined up just perfectly. 

The creators really pulled some strings on this one. Because they were both there at the right time and right place. They both wanted it. And Dream thought of it. It was too good to be true. 

Their souls weren't purely one color anymore.

Dream had transferred some gold onto Nightmare and Nightmare had transferred some black onto Dream. 

They weren't burdened alone anymore. 

Nightmare wasn't corrupted. The inky blackness left him and he was just... him. 

The blackness lingered in both of them. 

Dream had accepted he couldn't be entirely pure and happy and he could live with showing everyone that proudly. 

Nightmare had accepted that he wasn't just sad and evil. He could be happy and too. He deserved to be happy. He would show everyone that proudly. 

They were both knocked out cold.

Chapter Text

The crowd didn't really have time to calm down when Dream and Nightmare were taken away from the village. 

The different sides put aside their differences in an attempt to help their respective twin to the best of their ability. 

Everyone was equally shocked at the appearance of the twins. No one stopped Cross as he held Dream, crying from relief and worry all at the same time. 

The Gang hovered over their boss in curious wonder. "He really does look like Dream." Killer muttered. Their group had taken Nightmare a little farther away from Dream's group but they were still quiet and stunned. 

"I think it's the circlet." Dust said, he pulled off the circlet, "Okay...no. He still looks like Dream." 

Horror punched Dust lightly, "They're twins. What do you expect dipshiz?" 

"I don't know?! He seemed so much scarier when he was all inky and bossy. Dream looked so opposite of him it seemed weird to think they ever looked alike." Dust said. 

"Well, I definitely agree with that." Horror nodded. 

"How'd this happen?" Killer wondered out loud, poking Nightmare's skeleton face. 

Nightmare stirred a little but didn't wake up, "Aw! He looks so cute when he's asleep now." Killer giggled. 

He went to poke Nightmare again but Nightmare caught his hand and shoved it away, "Get the funk off me, Killer." He muttered. 

Killer jumped and skittered backward. "Sorry Boss!" He blushed furiously from embarrassment and a little from fear.

Horror helped Nightmare up and Nightmare rubbed his head, "What..." He looked at his hand which was no longer covered in the corruption. Nightmare yelped and stumbled backward in the grass, "What the funk?!" His hands covered his mouth, "My voice!" 

Dust put his hands up, "It's alright, Boss! The corruption is gone. No need to freak out." 

Nightmare indeed looked like he was going to freak out, "W-what?!?!?!" He tried to stand but fell over again, his legs shaking. 

"Woah! Take it easy there Boss! Whatever happened to you and Dream...well it obviously was a lot." Dust exchanged a look with Horror. 

Cross ran up to them, "O-oh. He's a awake too." He seemed glad, but also awkward to be so lenient around the team. The team that might have been his team... probably in another timeline. 

The Gang exchanged looks and Killer nodded, "He's awake alright...and very confused. I don't suppose Dream got amnesia again, did he? I'm kind of curious what just happened." 

Cross sighed rubbing his arm, "I think you should come with me." 

...

Dream could barely walk, yet when he saw his Night again he broke into a full sprint, tackling his brother down the grassy hill. 

"Night!" He shouted, gleefully. 

The sun had finally started to set and the amount of positivity magic he had just used was enough to drain him dry. 

He was no longer in pain (from the overwhelming emotions at least) and he felt the other's emotions numbber than he ever had. 

Nightmare grunted in pain and patted Dream's shoulder, "Ow....ugh...I'm glad you're okay too, Dream." 

Dream unhurried his face from Nightmare's black-stained shirt, he was grossly sobbing, "AShdhdhsjsk, NigGggHhht-" He cried, "You look so nIcceeee." 

Nightmare felt his face flush from embarrassment for the first time in a long time, he attempted to push his ugly crying brother away from him, "Ughhhah! Dream you're getting snot all over me!" 

Dream sniffled, "Mmm sorry...I just ha-have a lot of things to catch up on cry-crying about." He was crying like a kid.

Nightmare sighed and he found himself patting his brother on the back while he continued to cry. 

His mind wandered to what had happened before he had woken up. What had happened??? What did Dream do??? 

"Dream-" Nightmare started to ask but he was interrupted by Ink jumping down the hill and tackling Dream in a hug. 

"Dream! You remember?!" Ink exclaimed, hugging Dream tightly. 

Dream- still crying- hugged Ink back, "Yeah, Ink. I do. 'm sorry for forgetting." 

Ink gasped, "What?! It isn't your fault! Come on, Dream. Give yourself some slack! I've forgotten the names of my own kids a million times, don't be so hard on yourself!" 

Dream still sobbed, "- shouldn've gone on that mission-" He mumbled, "I hit my skull real bad-" 

Ink collapsed dramatically, "Dream! What the funk are you talking about?! How is that your fault???" 

Dream paused and then cried again, "I- I don't knowwww. I'm just REaLly emOtiaNal right Now-" 

Error joined the group like a normal skeleton would, keeping a safe distance from them, "Ink stop strangling him. We need to find out what happened." 

Cross also appeared with the whole Gang following behind him, "I would like to know..." 

The Gang made their over to Nightmare. Killer piped up, "Me too! Where are your tentacles, Boss??? I liked them~" He gave a weird flirty smile and Nightmare slapped his head. 

"Now is not the time Killer." Nightmare hissed, "And just 'cause I don't look as scary doesn't mean I won't funk you up." 

Killer still looked proud of himself for finally managing to hit on his Boss. It was like he had a checklist of everyone he had ever hit on and Nightmare was the final challenge. Kinda like Fresh's Kisslist.  He didn't say anything else though, per Nightmare's glare.

Dream sniffled, "It was my magic." He said, he wiped the tears from his face and summoned his soul. 

The group of skeletons' jaws dropped as they had upon the apple. Instead of golden as it has always been. It was an exactly perfect gradient. Half and half. Half gold and half black. 

Nightmare summoned his soul too, out of curiosity, and found the same result. Instead of black and inky it was now half gold. 

"Woah..." Nightmare muttered, astonished. 

"It was a last-minute idea. I didn't know if it would work. But with all that power I had. It needed an exit or I was going to... well. I was probably going to explode or something." He looked at his soul, "I always thought it was unfair that I had to be 'perfect' and Night had to be 'evil'. We're just...we're people. We aren't all good. Not all bad. And I'm sick of being perfect." 

He looked at Nightmare, "And I bet you were sick of being ostracized. So I...I took part of Nightmare's corruption and gave him some of my positivity. We share them now." 

Nightmare blinked, "I... doesn't that make us normal? I mean, if we aren't guardians of the specific things then... what are we?" 

Dust piped in before Dream could this time, "Nightmare. You aren't defined by being the Guardian of Negativity. You're more than that." 

"Yeah," Horror nodded, "You've got hobbies and likes and dislikes. You're not just...evil." 

"You're also sexy." Killer got another hit in. Apparently the only thing holding him back from flirting before was his scary appearance.

"Shut up Killer!" Nightmare shouted, flushing from embarrassment. He stopped and looked down at his hands. In a flash, the black negativity had returned but when he looked it went away just as quick. "What the..." Nightmare marveled. 

"Huh..." Ink observed, "Looks like when you get negative emotions too strongly the corruption surfaces again. Weird." 

"So does that happen to you now too?" Error looked at Dream, wondering aloud.

Dream shrugged, "Uhhh... I don't know?" 

"If we make him angry we can find out," Cross suggested, though he blurted it really. He didn't actually want to make Dream angry. 

"That's a stupid idea." Error snarked at Cross. 

Cross frowned, "Well, I was just wondering-" 

"Well stop wondering because it was stupid." 

"Error stop!" Dream snapped. Indeed, he also was overcome with corruption, tentacles and all, with a golden sheen. "Oh my Nim!" Dream shouted in surprise. He stayed in the form longer than Nightmare had because he was distressed. 

Error laughed, "Heh. I knew that would work." 

Cross glared at Error, "You did that on purpose?" 

Error shrugged, "There's only one way I know how to upset him and it's insulting someone he loves."

Cross flushed furiously and turned his attention to Dream who was still kind of freaking out. "Hey, Dream. It's okay, if you just take some deep breaths, you'll turn back." 

Dream stammered a little and then shook his head, "I'm fine. I just didn't expect...this." He turned to Nightmare, "This feels very weird." 

"You're telling me." Nightmare chuckled a little. And for the first time in a while, the laugh didn't sound painful. 

The corruption faded from Dream and he looked normal again. He sighed, "We're going to have to get used to that..." 

There was a silence. 

"Now what?" Ink asked aloud. 

Dream looked at him, questioning. 

"It's just..." Ink swallowed, "Are we not fighting now or... what now?" 

Nightmare sighed and looked at the Guardians, "I do not plan on fighting you guys any longer.

"Don't plan?" Error glared at him firmly. 

"I'm not going to." Nightmare scoffed back at him. 

"You're not going to kidnap anyone either I hope. You seem to have been making a... habit of that." 

Nightmare looked like he was going to shoot something back at that remark but he had nothing snarky to say back. He simply gave up and shrugged, "I will not be kidnapping anyone either." 

"So the Stars and the Gang... are making a truce?" Ink asked curiously. 

Dream and Nightmare looked at each other and Dream laughed, "Yep and we shook on it too." 

"That's gonna change a lot." Ink thought aloud. 

The Gang happened to agree. No one knew quite what to do with themselves now. Were they supposed to hug it out and suddenly become friends? Cause that didn't sound appealing to any of them really. 

It's not easy to forget or forgive. So the group took their time. They went into the village and Dream and Nightmare apologized for the disruption. 

The villagers were stunned by the sight of Nightmare now and when they were told what had happened they didn't know what it do with themselves. 

They had no gold and silver child. They were just... people now. People with powers, but not specific to a certain category of emotions. 

The villagers began to realize that you can't really categorize either one of them as "evil" or "good". When they has first made that decision hundreds of years ago, they were just two little kids. 

Dream promised to come back to the village, he wasn't going to keep running away from the past. 

Nightmare promised to try and be better. He couldn't fix what he had done. But he could promise to be better going forward. 

"You did it," Cross said to Dream at the end of the day. They looked over the village from a hillside. Ink and Error were talking with the Gang, trying to be as pleasant as they could. 

Dream turned to Cross, "Hm?" 

"You did it." Cross repeated, "You saved your brother." 

Dream stared at the stars, "I guess you could say that. But in the end, he could only be saved when he wanted to be. I never thought about that before... sometimes people can't be saved unless they let you save them." 

There was a pause. "That's a hard lesson to learn," Cross remarked. 

Dream huffed, " Yeah... it is. It's hard to accept. I'm learning to be okay with it though. I can't help everyone." He turned to Cross, "Hey. I'm sorry I didn't used to be honest with you. I thought..."

He swallowed. He was about to be more honest with Cross than ever. But he wasn't going back to hiding things, "I thought that...my feelings didn't matter. They were easily disregarded and if I was hurting I felt like a burden telling anyone. I felt like it would distract from other people's happiness if I was...hurting." 

Cross nodded along, "Yeah... I know." 

Dream sighed, "Of course you did." He huffed another laugh, "You know a lot about me even stuff I don't know about myself." 

Cross shrugged, "I pay attention." 

"I'm sorry I forgot about you." Dream added, "I promised, and now... some memories are back. All the important ones. Hopefully, all the details will also return. I'm sure not everything is back yet. But I'm sure... it wasn't fun for you to be forgotten again. I'm sorry for breaking my promise." 

"Hey," Cross said, he turned Dream's face to look at him, "It wasn't your fault. I'll admit...that I was weirdly...angry that you forgot. I felt sort of betrayed but it's not like you can control it. Not any more than my friends and family could've controlled it back in X-tale." 

Dream smiled at him weakly, "Still sorry though." 

"Heh." Cross shook his head, "I can let that slide. But don't let it haunt you, okay? What matters is you remember now. And honestly, it was for the better, wasn't it? Your brother is back and the war is over. We're making progress because of you." 

"You give me too much credit." Dream said, "I didn't do any of it on purpose until like the last fifteen minutes. I hit my head too hard and then most of it was just trying to help people." 

Cross looked at their friends and the Gang. They were actually... smiling and laughing. "And you did just that," Cross said. 

They quietly gazed at the stars some more in comfortable silence. Dream suddenly became aware that Cross' hand was right next to his on the grassy hill. 

He wanted to move to hold it. He wanted to squeeze it and tell Cross he loved him. But could he? He contemplated in anxious thought for quite a while. 

His pinky slowly made its way over Cross' hand. Cross didn't seem to notice as Dream slowly made his hand overlap with his. Dream however was sweating and anxiously considering if this was a good idea. Could he let himself be happy? Like this... This was the biggest regret he had. Not telling Cross he loved him. And he could have forgotten forever... 

"Cross..." Dream started, his hand suddenly interlaced with Cross'. 

Cross finally seemed to notice their hands and he flushed full force. He looked at Dream, "Uh- um- what?" He was now back to being the anxious one. 

Well... right now they were both being anxious blushing messes together. 

"I- um... Have been meaning to tell you something for a long time..." Dream said, through a very heated face. 

Cross nodded, "Me too. Me too." 

They both opened their mouths to say it but then stammered, "Uh- you go first. No, you go first-" 

Neither of them seemed able to talk to Cross did what he could. He kissed Dream and Dream kissed back. 

...

It's amazing how one hit to the back of your skull can change your life dramatically. 

A sickening crack could ripple a timeline and everything in it, and soon enough, you aren't who you used to be. 

Dream and Nightmare changed a lot. They both promised to be better and they stuck to it. 

The Nightmare Gang reluctantly made progress toward their individual recoveries as well. 

With Nightmare setting a good example and plenty of time to heal, they were able to make progress. 

Killer healed a lot with the help of his cat, Soup and he would start to help other people with animal therapy as time went on. Everyone soon became aware of his "friend" Color. Who he had been secretly seeing for a long time now.

Dust still felt haunted by his mistakes. He was covered in his sins, after all. Forgiving himself was near impossible. But his friends encouraged him every step of the way. The Gang made it a mission to one day see his face underneath the hood. That became a running joke because they never seemed to find an angle they could see it. When he eventually let them see it, they were sorely disappointed to find out... he looked just like them.

Shocker.

After a while, Horror was able to overcome his eating disorder. It took a lot of time and patience from everyone around him, including himself. But he did learn to enjoy food again. He would become a really good chef. He and his brother spent a lot of quality time making food together. 

Dream went on to date and then to marry Cross. They had two little kids together. (Lux and Starcross respectively). That is after Ink and Dream accidentally made Pallet during a battle. That was interesting. But Cross tread Pallete just like the rest. He was a better father than X-Gaster ever could've dreamed to be.

Dream let himself be happy. That, of course, didn't mean he gave up his job protecting and making other people happy.

He was just able to take time for himself now too and speak up when it was too much. It was easier now. Especially with all the help from his new teammates.

Dream and Nightmare were able to put aside their differences and join together to help protect the people of the multiverse from other threats.

Nightmare and his team of outcasts joined the Stars in a quest to protect the multiverse. Not that anyone was excited about this.  A lot of trust had to be earned especially from Swap, Error, and Ink. 

Nightmare didn't get to be anywhere near Error and Ink's kids till way way later and even then it was awkward to look into the eyes of PJ who had no idea Nightmare had once tried to kidnap them. 

Error and Nightmare though, did eventually learn they had a lot in common. They (begrudgingly) tolerated each other's presence and sometimes they laughed at something the other ones said. (wow! Look at them go!!)

Nightmare and Dream protected and guarded feelings, together. With their newfound powers, they had to get used to working together. Sharing the corruption wasn't easy. But it was easier together.

That relationship was never perfect. They struggled a lot. There was a lot to heal from on both ends. But they loved each other enough to keep trying. 

One day, after a mission, Dream and Night visited the village again and sat up on the hill with the stump that used to be the tree of feelings. 

They had thought that seeing the stuno would bring back some awful feelings but in the end, they didn't feel much. 

That tree tried to put them in boxes and make six-year-olds into responsible gods when really...they were just six. 

Nightmare and Dream didn't hold onto resentment though. There was plenty they were still responsible for. 

But it was in the past. The tree simply stood as a landmark of things they had overcome. Things change over time. But they were back all the same. 

Nightmare brought a book he had started to read and as the sun set, he read to Dream. 

It was like when they were younger.

And they were happy.