Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dream burrowed deeper into the too-soft blankets he was surrounded by, too cold to worry about how smooth and silky everything was, how foreign it all was. He was freezing. They weren’t enough. He was so, so cold and there wasn’t anything he could do about it and he could barely move in the first place and he felt just so horrible and his head was aching and his vision was blurry and he didn’t know why.

(Dream thought back to Pandora’s Vault, the cell that he had spent a whole year of his life in, the prison that slowly, slowly became synonymous with home. He thought back to the cool dark obsidian surrounding everything there, the warm warm warm lava cutting off the cell from the rest of the world. He almost missed it. He knew that Technoblade would never let him go back. He knew that was a problem. He also knew how to solve it, but he couldn’t do that now; he wouldn’t be allowed to do that now. He just had to wait, which is what he always did; what he had been doing for so long and would have to do once again)

Dream was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a door opening. His eyes flew to the source of the sound, landing on the faint shape of a pink-haired man walking through the doorway, before hiding his face in the blankets. He was too tired and cold to deal with this and he felt like he wanted to die but knew he didn’t want to and knew he probably wouldn’t.

“Heyyyyy, Dream,” Technoblade said, suddenly by the bed. He tugged the blankets back a little bit, exposing Dream’s head. “How you’re doing there?”

“Ughhh,” Dream muttered, trying to cover himself with the blankets again. He was too cold, with them or without, but it still made him feel better, just a little bit. “Go awayyyy, Tech.”

“Not a chance, nerd. Not until you feel better,” Techno responded. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Four,” Dream told him. He was pretty sure that Techno was holding up two fingers, even if they all seemed to blur together. He still had to try, even if his head really hurt and he was still freezing.

Technoblade frowned, and Dream pushed down a rush of oh Prime he just fucked up because it was Techno, not Sam. Techno would never hurt him. “I’m holding up two fingers right now, Dream.”

“Sorry,” Dream looked away, back towards the blankets he was cocooned in.

“No, it’s okay,” Techno said. “It’s not your fault that you’re not feeling well. Can I check your temperature?”

Dream reluctantly rolled towards Technoblade, trying to move as little as possible to avoid the stinging pain and pins and needles stabbing him whenever he did. He didn’t want to get hurt. He didn’t want to be hurt. (But that had never stopped anyone before, had it?)

Techno reached out (Dream tried to suppress a flinch, an expectation of pain) and put a hand on his forehead lightly before drawing back. He grimaced. “You’re burning up, Dream.”

“‘M cold,” Dream murmured.

“That’d be the fever,” Techno informed him. “Sorry about that, but we can’t really help that much. I mean, we’re trying, but still. We can’t fix everything, and being sick is one of those things you just have to wait it out. It sucks.” He wrinkled his nose, and Dream let out a soft laugh. “Phil made you some soup, if you’re up for it. It’s hot, y’know.”

That sounded nice. He wasn’t hungry, but he was just so cold. Dream tried to push himself into a sitting position but failed, his arms buckling, collapsing back into his cocoon of blankets.

“Uh, yeah, that might make it a bit difficult,” Techno responded. “Don’t worry about it; I can go bring you some and we can work something out.”

Dream nodded. He was still shivering a little, and his head felt like it was full of cotton, and he hated it. “It’s fine. ‘M not hungry.”

“Well, you should still eat, y’know. You’re not going to get any better if you don’t.”

“Fine.” Dream leaned his head back onto his pillow. His eyes flickered closed. “Fine,” he told Technoblade again.

“Good. If you’re fine with it, I’ll go get some soup,” Techno explained. “Be back in a minute, okay?”

Dream nodded without opening his eyes. It was fine with him. (It wasn’t because then he’d be alone and he was safe when he was alone at least a little but he never wanted to be alone and he’d already been for so long but if he asked Technoblade to stay that would admitting weakness, admitting that he cared, and he couldn’t do that and he was already so much of a burden–)

The sheets rustled as Technoblade brushed against them as he stepped away from the bed, footsteps following across the floor. As the sounds faded away, Dream tucked himself back into the cocoon of blankets around him, hold onto the blankets with shaking hands. They were so suffocatingly soft and if he could feel them, then he couldn’t be back at the prison no matter how dark it was or how alone he felt.

The door opened again, and the footsteps were back. Techno was back. (Dream wasn’t sure if he was excited or scared or just so, so numb)

“Hey, bestie! You still in there?” Techno asked, setting a bowl down on the bedside table, and Dream poked his head out of the blankets. “Good – I brought soup!”

“Yeah?” Dream asked quietly, subconsciously glancing at the steaming bowl on the table next to him. It smelled good.

“Uh huh,” Techno answered. “Think you can sit up?”

Dream glared at him. “What do you think?”

“Okay, so no then,” Techno responded. “Well, that’s fine, y’know. We can deal with that. Spoonfeeding’s okay with you?” he asked, picking up the spoon next to the bowl of soup, a smile spreading across his face.

“Oh my Prime, Techno, I have hands!” Dream immediately protested, his face red. “I have fucking hands I can use!” But his refusals were more playful than anything else, and the tight painful tangle in his chest was starting to unravel, just a little bit.

Chapter Text

Dream watched one of the crying obsidian’s tears slide down and drop with a soft plop before running across the floor. It was like tree sap, he thought. Or like blood. There was blood here too, obviously. That’s why Sam was there, carefully pouring potion onto his back. Dream liked that Sam was there. Sam was nice. The Warden wasn’t, but Sam was. That was important. Sam and the Warden were very different.

It was funny. Sam and the Warden looked the same but were so different and Dream always needed to figure out which one was which, but he thought he’d gotten pretty good at that. He’d had a lot of practice, after all.

A lot of the time, it was the Warden. Dream thought it was increasingly often. He didn’t think Sam was always like this. He was pretty sure they used to be friends, had faint sepia-toned memories of what things were like before drowned out by the emptiness in his head.

But, then again, Dream didn’t know a lot. Sir made sure he knew that. Dream couldn’t suppress a shiver at the thought, even though he knew he was just going to mess Sam up, and he didn’t want to make Sam mad. If he was mad, he’d leave, and that meant Dream would be alone.

True to form, Sam sighed, the irritation clear in his voice even when Dream was facing away from him, but he didn’t get up, not quite yet. Dream was grateful for that. If Sam got up, he’d leave, and then Dream would be alone once again, trapped with nothing but his own mind and the ghosts he conjured up to keep him company. He knew it was inevitable - it was ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail; Dream had started alone and he would always end that way - but that didn’t mean he wanted it to happen.

But, after what seemed like hours or minutes or just seconds of molasses-slow, frozen amber time, sluggish, Sam finished and stood up, the potion bottles disappearing into his inventory, stepping towards the wall of lava without a glance back. A bolt of panic, fear, adrenaline, desperation ran through Dream, and he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain pulsing through him. That didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that was real, was Sam and the cell and Dream. Dream and the cell and Sam. The cell and Dream and Sam. 

They were all the same, in the end. Sam was the cell and the Warden and Vault, all at once. Dream was the cell and the prisoner and the architect and the Vault; they were all the same, all blending together, the careful lines showing where one ended and the other began were gone, washed away by a red tide of blood and time and desperation. That was all they were now, and they were all that now. They’d be all of that now, never able to untangle the suffocating strings of protector and protected and betrayed and traitor and hurt and authorizer and partner and battleground and indifferent observer to it all. Dream knew better than to try. 

So he didn’t. All he did was focus on himself and the cell in front of him and the Warden about to leave. That was all that mattered.

Dream was unsteady, drunk on blood loss, barely able to stand. He didn’t want Sam to go. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t want to know, inches away from the peaceful bliss of unconsciousness.

Without even meaning to, his lips formed a single word, a single syllable, an old familiar name that he knew like the back of his hand, and he called out to his keeper.

“Sam?”

Sam glanced back at Dream, looking irritated, but there was no smoke seeping out of his gas mask yet, no smoky halo around his head, which meant he wasn’t mad, or at least not much. “Yes?”

“Please, Sam.” Dream reached out, trying to touch his arm. Sam stepped back. Dream couldn’t see his eyes through his mask, but he indulged himself in imagining what they would look like. They would be dark, narrowed, maybe even disdainful. Dream was happy he was able to warrant that sort of reaction. It showed he still had some power here.

“Don’t touch me, Dream. And don’t call me that.” Oh. So it was the Warden then. Well, the Warden was better than being alone. Dream hated being alone.

“Please, Warden. Just stay. Just for a minute. Please,” Dream begged. He knew, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, that he was being pathetic, that he needed to shut his mouth and scrap his dignity up from the floor, but he didn’t care, not if it got Sam to stay. “It doesn’t have to be long.”

“Dream. Stop that this minute,” the Warden commanded, voice level and too loud, too loud for Dream, but he didn’t mind. If he could still hear Sam, even if the Warden was telling him to stop or ordering him around, that meant Sam was still there and he wasn’t alone and Sir wasn’t there either because the Warden wouldn’t be speaking to Dream if Sir was there. That meant Dream was safe. Even if the Warden hurt him, it was better than being alone. 

Dream reached out to take one of Sam’s hands, cutting his hand on the sharp sharp sharp netherite gauntlet. It didn’t even hurt that much. “Please. Just a moment.” When Sam didn’t pull away, he reached for the other one. “It wouldn’t take long, would it?” he asked, a sudden foolish confidence running through his emptied veins. He couldn’t think; that same bloodless haze had moved to cover his thoughts and now he couldn’t put together anything coherent and, to his surprise, he didn’t even mind that much.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, and, in that moment, Dream knew that he would leave, that it wouldn’t be enough, that he was going to pull away and leave Dream with bleeding hands and a bleeding body and a bleeding mind. And, because Sam was going to leave, and because Dream couldn’t let that happen, and because he couldn’t think of a single other thing, Dream reached up and kissed Sam on the lips.

As it turned out, Sam didn’t have to leave after all.

Chapter Text

June 20th, 2023 - Routine visit by Q and cleanup. The prisoner’s mental state seems to be declining; the incidents (see April 14th’s log - in short, talking to and acting like there is someone where there is no one there, as this prison is impenetrable and there is only one visitor currently allowed inside, whose visits are only ever a few hours) are becoming more common. This is a good sign for our future prospects, and refractions are becoming less frequent. The less he fights back, the more likely we are to get the book, and these signs of instability seem to suggest that he is closer to breaking, and us to our goal, than ever.

However, the prisoner’s physical state is getting dangerously low - healing potions are becoming more necessary, and more are needed to have the same effect as before. Additionally, blood transfusions have even been required at some points. I will speak to Q about this – he’s getting reckless or, worse, comfortable. We cannot afford that, and Q seemed dedicated to going too far and jeopardizing everything. It is my responsibility to prevent that from happening. If he continues this way, I may need to cut him off. It would be a security risk to not.

Stocks are filled and ready to go in the chance of an emergency. Everything inside the prison is in order. The redstone works properly and efficiently. It is all taken care of. The only thing that is not yet are the human factors, which will be dealt with at a later date.

Speaking of them, the prisoner has requested that the visits halt or even stop. This suggestion was rejected, as were his others involving food and the courtyard. I am simply fulfilling the duties I was entrusted with and following the rules that he set in place. I am simply the enforcer of law, of order, of justice. I am blameless, because the sword, and the arm that swings it, is blameless. I am just executing the people’s will.

That is all.

- The Warden, signing out

Chapter Text

Dream hissed as one of the stones under his feet crumbled away, shooting pain through his bad leg and leaving him off-balance, but he kept running, kept moving forward. A few steps in front of him was Technoblade, going just as fast as Dream was. If either of them fucked up here, they were both dead (or worse). They had to keep moving. Collapsing the cavern entrance was a smart move, but it would only buy them so much time, especially with this many people after them.

“You okay?” Techno asked, glancing back. Somehow, he didn’t fall over or even slow down when he looked back. Dream was reluctantly impressed.

“I’m fine. Just a bit of loose footing. You?” Dream was fine. He didn’t want to talk about himself. They didn’t have enough time.

“I’m doing great. Look–see that turn, right there?” Dream did. “We’re heading there. I’m pretty sure that leads to the Egg. That crowd’s,” he gestured behind him, to their pursuers, who, who would of guessed it, had blown the entrance open again and were after them once again, “not going to follow us into there. It’ll be safe.”

Technoblade laughed, a little awkwardly. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: ‘It’s dangerous, Techno! We can’t do that!’” That was, in fact, not what Dream was thinking – he was thinking about the mob behind him and a familiar voice echoing out through the chambers, a promise of death wrapped around edged reassurances of caring about him. “Well, we blocked the Egg off and it’s dead or close, so it should be fine, but those idiots don’t know that.”

“And you do?” Dream shot back, one eyebrow raised, but his mind was in a different place. Put one foot in front of the other. Take step after step. Keep moving forward. Don’t get distracted. Don’t stop until it’s safe.

“I’ve had to deal with the Egg a lot, Dream, and I’m pretty sure it’s achieved omelet status now. It shouldn’t be an issue, and it’s a good threat either way. I’m not sure how much longer we can keep this up.” Techno grimaced, wrinkling his nose.

That was a valid point. Dream didn’t know about Technoblade, but he was certainly feeling the familiar heavy exhaustion creeping into his bones, weighing him down, and the pain shooting through his body at every motion, and the way his lungs were heaving in his chest, trying to keep air pumping through his damaged lungs and keeping him breathing. “Fine.”

“Good. Just follow me and we’ll be fine.” Techno took a sharp turn towards the other corridor, speeding out of sight and Dream had to speed up to keep up with him (too scared that he’d slip out of sight and Dream would never be able to find him again because Techno had just left and didn’t want to be found anymore, not by him; that he didn’t want to have anything to do with Dream and would just leave him for the wolves).

Dream had to stop - his leg was throbbing, pulsing with pain, dead weight he had to drag behind him that he wished was just gone; his lungs were weak and screaming for air; his head was spinning and he had to stop, had to grasp the wall and hold on for dear life or else fall down and not get up - once he reached the other room, because that’s what it was - a room. Not a cave or system of tunnels anymore, but a room, with smooth, dark, polished walls and a floor covered by old faded carpet. A table was spread out in the middle of the room, rotting food placed on some of the platters on the table, chairs hastily thrown aside around it.

(Faintly, Dream heard shouts from outside, most far off, some a bit closer; he couldn’t make out any of the words and didn’t want to put in the energy to try to)

Dream’s eyes landed on Technoblade, standing behind the table with a strange look on his face. It wasn’t one Dream recognized, a strange mix of recognition and nostalgia and horror and whatthefuckdidIdo?

“Techno?” Dream asked, pushing himself up off the wall.

“Ah, yeah, Dream,” Techno answered. “It’s fine. I just didn’t realize it’d lead to here. Not exactly the best place, all things considered.”

“What even is this place?” Dream wrinkled his nose, glaring at the table.

“The room they held the Banquet in. Looks like no one got around to cleaning this place up,” Technoblade commented.

Dream huffed a laugh. “You don’t say.” He scanned the room, not quite sure what he was looking for but content to stop talking.

The walls looked like they were just one solid color at first, even in their current shadowy state, but Dream noticed that it wasn’t the case. There was actually a slight ruby tint to it all. That was interesting. It seemed important, even if he wasn’t sure why.

Dream saw a little, tiny crimson vine peeking out of one of the cracks in the wall. He reached out to try to touch it, but, the second it brushed against his skin, it sprung into motion, wrapping itself around his wrist and Dream–

And Dream–

And Dream was drowning–

A wave of red overcame him, voices he had never heard before but trusted completely suddenly overwhelming him, sending his mind spiraling, thoughts scattered and not his own, leaving him falling, falling, falling, drowning in a sea of crimson, unable to do anything about it, knowing he couldn’t win, that he couldn’t do anything to save himself, that he was so utterly helpless and completely out of control.

And he was still drowning, desperately trying to keep his head above the water, knowing that if he stopped for even a moment or let any of the red in he would be doomed but it was just so hard and the Crimson was just so convincing, telling him to calm down, to let go, to let himself stop and let himself fall down and down and down into the deep deep terrifying comforting red.

And then–

“Hey, Dream? You in there, buddy?” Techno asked, stepping towards him. Concern (and caution, like he was approaching a wild animal primed to bite) was written all over his face. Dream looked at him blankly.

Look at him , the voice, the red, whispered mockingly in his ear. Try to think of a single thing he’s done for you. Did he save you from the prison? From Sam? From Quackity ?

That was the wrong sore spot to hit. Techno had saved him, had saved him from all of them. He’d come back for Dream. He was probably the only reason Dream was alive right now, and he was the only way he’d make it out alive here.

Remember how he left you. Remember how he promised he never would, the crimson creeping deeper within him chided. I can get you out of here, if you just let me. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Dream. Give in, and you’ll have everything you could ever want.

“I’m fine, Techno,” Dream answered, ignoring the voice in his head, the red beginning to cloud his vision, the way the world was spinning, just the tiniest bit. The vine around his wrist was beginning to creep further up his arm. It didn’t hurt. He smiled, trying his hardest to be reassuring. “I’m fine. I just felt a little funny.” His voice didn’t sound like his voice. Dream knew not to worry about it. He was just worried, and anxious, and tired. That was it.

And, if you just let me in, if you just hand control over to me…you won’t have to worry anymore. You won’t have to be tired. You can take a break. You can let me take care of everything. It will all be fine, the voice coaxed.

Dream didn’t want to have to worry anymore. He was tired of being tired. He wanted to take a break. But he knew he couldn’t. He was the only one who could do what he had to. That was it.

You can still do it. I can just help you achieve what you want. Push you along. Set you on the right path. Help you along a little. Provide a bit of support if you ever need it. Help bring everyone together, as one big happy family. 

Isn’t that what you always wanted, Dream? Your heart’s desire? But that’s impossible. At least, it’s impossible without me. I am the only way to get what you want. The only way to make everyone happy. For you to be happy.

But, in the end, it’s all up to you, Dream. You don’t have to listen to me. You don’t have to take my bargain. The choice is in your hands, after all, but there is so much more I can offer you.

Dream liked that.

“Yeah? You sure about it?” Technoblade asked, one eyebrow raised.

Dream was. The red felt good. It made him feel comfortable. Powerful. In control. Just like how he used to always be but never was anymore. He liked how it made him feel.

The red grew stronger, reaching up from its place around his arm to settle around his heart, careful, comforting. The crimson haze coloring his vision grew stronger, almost blocking everything out for a moment. Dream felt happy. No, that was the wrong word. Satisfied was better. He was satisfied.

“Don’t worry, Techno. I’m sure. I just need a minute, I think,” Dream informed him. “You can keep going. I’ll catch up in a bit. It’ll be fine.” He smiled up at Techno, the Crimson within him beginning to wrap around his brain, his eyes beginning to flicker red red red.

Chapter Text

Sam tried to push himself off the ground attempting to swallow him, swearing under his breath. Explosions were raining down around him, casting everything in dark tones of red and orange and blasting Sam’s eardrums, his head throbbing. The armor – the Warden’s armor, the one he had worn for so long, the one that had become a second skin to him – was weighing him down, locking together and keeping him from getting up.

Sam was interrupted by the sound of a flutter of inhuman wings, a few spare footsteps behind him, and he barely had moments to prepare himself – he knew he was there, he was the cause of all of it, of course he was here, but he still hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with him, alone, just the two of them – before Dream swung into sight, a mocking smile on his face. It only widened when he saw Sam. Sam scowled. He wasn’t interested in this song-and-dance.

“Oh, what, Sam? You thought that I’d never get up after what you did to me? Really?” Dream asked, his eyes wide and wild and alight with bright green light and a strange sort of fervent anger. The fire raining down from above produced a glowing halo around his head. He looked too bright, too real, to actually be part of this world, to actually be human and natural. (He looked beautiful, and Sam hated that he thought that) “Well, that was fucking stupid of you, wasn’t it?”

“I did what I had to!” Sam protested, some old depleted embers catching fire again within him. “Sure, some of it was regrettable, but it was necessary, Dream!”

“If we’re in the business of deciding what is necessary,” Dream started, quietly, coldly, furiously, an axe materializing in his hand, “then why shouldn’t I say that killing you would be necessary?” He raised his arm up to rest the blade against Sam’s neck. It was trembling a little, unsteady, and the blade cut into Sam’s flesh the slightest amount. A single drop of blood ran down Sam’s neck.

“You can’t just say something like that when it’s not true. You have to have reasons for the stuff that you do,” Sam explained, trying to stamp out the way his voice was wavering, just slightly. He wasn’t afraid, especially not of Dream.

“Oh? And who’s to say that I don’t have my reasons?” Dream stepped back, spreading his arms wide. “I’m a god, Sam. I’m a fucking god! I’m a god and none of you fucking noticed!” he shouted, a hysterical laugh bubbling up alongside his words.

“ I’m the one who makes the rules here. I’m the one who’s made this world! And look where that fucking got me,” Dream hissed, lowering his arms. “Look how you all decided to thank me. And yes, Sam, that includes you too. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what you did. We both know that’s a lie.”

“I never hurt you, Dream.” It wasn’t a lie; not to Sam, at least.

(He didn’t voice his other thoughts – that Dream deserved it; that Dream wasn’t human, just like they’d always thought, and that meant everything they’d done to him was justified; that Dream seemed perfectly fine right now so they couldn’t of done too much and he should just forget about it; that if Dream had just done what he was supposed, what they had been asking, right at the beginning instead of never, none of this would have happened; that they had been making Dream better, stripping away his weapons to make his something new, something better, something toothless and helpless that could do no harm, and that he should of helped them help himself, because it was best for all of them)

“Oh, really?!” Dream stalked forward, grabbing Sam’s shoulders. Sam flinched, just the littlest bit. “ You never hurt me?! You, who made my life a living hell ?! Who let Quackity in?! Who might as well of held the knife in your hands?!” Dream laughed, dropping Sam like a sack of potatoes and turning away. “Yeah, totally. You definitely never hurt me.”

“I never did anything worse than what you did, Dream. In exile, you–”

“Well, I sure never tortured anyone, never cut off anyone’s arms, never kidnapped a toddler. And do you want to know why, Sam? It’s not because I’m better than you or anything like that. It’s ‘cause I never had to because I never got myself into those situations and wasn’t a lying pussy that thought it was ‘necessary', oh boo hoo. It’s because you’re an idiot, and I’m not.”

Dream turned back towards Sam, eyes cool and calm and seconds away from shattering forever. “That’s what is important here. I was smart and patient and determined and I won. You were an idiot and didn’t know what you were dealing with and you lost. All of you were,” he added, raising his voice at the end. “That’s what matters here. 

“And that’s. It,” he hissed. “Don’t try to make it something else. What matters is that you fucked up and I’m the consequences of that. You kicked me one too many times without even attempting to consider that I might get up and try to take my pound of flesh. What did you fucking think would happen?”

“ I thought that it was fine! You’d just give us the book, we’d leave you alone, and everything would be fine! That would be it!” Sam demanded. He took a moment to calm down. “You wouldn’t get the chance to hurt anyone else, we’d make it so that no one had to worry about dying, and we’d all be able to move on.”

“Oh, so it was about the book,” Dream commented listlessly, words pointed and dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I totally buy that. It definitely wasn’t about something like, I don’t know, control? Obsession? Being able to do whatever you wanted with no one being able to stop you? Nope, definitely not that.”

Dream suddenly smiled, his hair wild, unhinged, eyes flickering candle-flame red from the TNT surrounding him, falling from the sky. “But, whatever your fucking reasons, they don’t matter now. It’s too late for that, Sam. You fucked with me and I turned out to be a god, and that’s it. It’s over. Your story’s over and mine just got started, Sam. Too bad you won’t be around to see it.” The axe was back in Dream’s hand, swinging towards Sam, and then that was it.

(Sam woke up in a prison, back at his desk, just as the prison alarms started blaring and red light started flashing)

(Dream stood there for a moment, searching for that all too rare satisfying closure, some foreign catharsis, before moving on. He had other, more important things to do than look for something he wouldn’t be able to find)

Chapter Text

Punz leaped forward and Technoblade had to tackle them to the ground to keep them from going after Dream, both pairs of eyes locked on the doorway the split second it all exploded into flames.

Punz let out a wordless scream, their hands scrambling against Techno in an attempt to free themself. Techno tried to push back down on them without actually hurting them. It was hard. Techno found that it was always easier to hurt someone than to not, to actually help them, but he was willing to put in the extra effort. He wasn’t always close with Punz, but they’d grown to appreciate each other, and, even if he hadn’t, Techno didn’t like to make a habit out of hurting people (who hadn’t hurt him) for no reason.

“Let me go, Technoblade!” Punz hissed, blue eyes flashing in the dim light. Their hands were still clambering, scratching against his arms.

Techno rolled off of them, releasing their wrists last. It couldn’t hurt to be careful, he had learned time and time again. “There. You good now?”

“No, I’m fucking not! I’m not !” they spat. “Why–why did you fucking do that? We could of done something–”

“I did that so that you wouldn’t end up dead,” Techno stated calmly. He had to just not panic. He just had to try to defuse the situation. He could deal with everything else later, once everything was taken care of and done. Just not yet. He had to hold himself together for now. “It wouldn’t do either of us any good, and I don’t want Dream’s ghost haunting me for all eternity because I let you get yourself killed, Punz.”

“Well, that’s the thing! There’s no ghost !” Punz spat, stabbing a finger in Techno’s face. “Not when the soul’s instability’s the cause of death. Not when it’s a sacrifice.” Their voice broke, becoming softer. They reeled back, curling in on themself, hugging themself tight with their arms. “If there was just a ghost, it’d be easy. This–this is permanent.”

Techno moved to comfort them, pulling an arm around them, careful to pull back if they refused. He was honestly surprised that they were so vocal – all the time that he’d known them, they’d been reserved and tightly-strung – but he supposed that it was better they were lashing out now instead of trying to bottle everything up inside. “Dream got to go the way he wanted, on his own terms. Most of us don’t get that chance.”

“I know,” Punz whispered. “I know. It still doesn’t make it any better.”

Techno wasn’t sure why he kept talking. He wasn’t good at emotions. He wasn’t good at people . Phil was the one who was good at comforting people, reassuring them that everything was okay. Prime, he wished Phil was here, able to take care of this whole situation. But he wasn’t, so Techno would just have to hope that he was enough. “There was nothing either of us could do. If one of us went in there, we’d be dead too.”

“I know,” Punz repeated. “But…” they floundered, grasping for the right word. “But it would still be doing something . Being able to do something. Not just having to helplessly watch it happen.”

“Yeah?” Techno asked, knowing that he probably wouldn’t get a response. He knew that feeling; he was the one trapped in Pandora’s Vault for three months with Dream, having to watch every time Quackity “visited”. Punz might not have been there, but they’d been through their own share of suffering and not being able to do anything about it.

True to form, Punz just closed their eyes and leaned back against the wall behind them, swallowing quickly. A moment later, they opened their eyes again and sighed. Techno could tell they had changed. Their eyes were icy, remote, aloof, and their mouth was pulled into a thin line.

“You’re wrong,” Punz stated, coldly, confidently, emotionless, inflectionless.

“Heh?”

“It would of been better if you didn’t do anything. If you let me go after him,” Punz told Techno, simply, like it was simply a matter of fact.

“Why? Do you want to die?” Technoblade demanded.

Punz shifted entirely, the cold melting away and being replaced with frantic, helpless anger. Techno suddenly realized he had never seen them upset before, just irritated or annoyed, or at least not this viscerally . “Because at least then we would of died together! Because it should of been me!” they screamed, hands turned into vises and clinging desperately to their arms. “Technoblade, it should of been me !” Their eyes were filled with desperation, panic, a need for someone to blame and finding that within themself.

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that. Why would it be better if it was you?” Techno asked, trying to calm them down. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was panicking. Focus, focus. What would Phil do?

“Because he’s already suffered so much and I haven’t! Because people care about him and they wouldn’t if it was me! Because–because it would be kinder , Technoblade!”

“Death is never kind–”

“What would you do if it was me who died, Techno?” Punz demanded. “You’d be fine! You’d keep walking and tell Dream to forget about it and think to yourself good riddance !”

“I wouldn’t–” Techno tried to start.

“ Don’t lie to me ,” Punz commanded, tears streaming down their cheeks. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Technoblade.”

Chapter Text

“You think you’ll be done soon?” Punz asked, holding their communicator up to their ear with one hand and jumping from block to block over the lava running through the Nether. When they stopped, they idly checked their inventory, eyes running over the Nether wart and redstone dust and netherite nuggets and glowstone and spider’s eyes and blaze powder and ghast tears and gunpowder stored within. Their visit away from the Overworld had turned out to be pretty successful when it came to raw materials, which is what they wanted in the first place. Potions (particularly healing and regen) were in high demand right now, for both the server and themself (and Dream), and not everyone had the time (or ability) to go deep into the Nether to get the needed ingredients.

“Yep,” the voice on the other end of the line, no longer crackling and staticky, responded. “I’ll stop by your tower once I’m good.”

“Cool,” Punz replied. They stepped onto the solid ground (or at least as solid netherrack could get) of the Nether wastes and kept walking, keeping the knowledge that their portal wasn’t far off in the back of their mind. They just had to get a little bit farther and then they could be out of this place (and maybe not alone, if they were lucky). “I’m just about to leave the Nether, Dream, so we should be able to meet up.”

“Great.” Punz could hear the smile in his voice. It was infectious, and a corner of their mouth tugged upward. “How’d it go?”

“Pretty well, I’d say. I don’t think we’d have to worry about running out of ingredients for a while,” they told him, a hint of humor creeping into their voice.

Dream laughed, and Punz grinned. “That’s great, Punz. Gotta have that stuff, right?”

“Of course,” Punz agreed. Their eyes ran over the landscape in front of them, spotting a patch of darkness within the red red red of the Nether. That’d be their portal. “How you’re doing?”

“Fine. Just had to take care of a couple things, and I’m mostly done anyways,” Dream answered. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“If you’re sure,” Punz responded, shrugging even though they knew he couldn’t see them. They stepped through the Nether portal, immediately being hit in the face by a cool breeze. They sighed, taking a moment to appreciate the cold, fresh air and dark, star-scattered sky. It felt amazing after an afternoon spent in the oppressive heat. “Just left the Nether, Dream.”

“Nice! I’m heading to your place right now,” Dream informed them.

“Want to race?” Punz asked, a wide smile creeping onto their face. (It felt…normal, and Punz had been looking for that sense of normality for a long time. They were euphoric at the fact that they finally found it, even if it was just for a moment)

“Sure, but–” Dream’s voice cut out for a moment, and Punz’s heart dropped. “Punz? Punz, I have to–” Dream was cut off by something that they couldn’t hear, and everything fell silent.

“Dream? Dream?” Punz asked urgently, their voice involuntarily raising, becoming higher and higher the more panicked they got. “Dream, can you hear me?”

There was no response. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Dream wouldn’t just be ignoring them. They glanced down at their communicator.

[Call Ended]

Dream wouldn’t just hang up on Punz like that. They knew that. Something must of happened. Something must of happened.

Punz pulled up a map of the server on their communicator, watching the colors bloom onto the screen and tiny, moving pins appear. They’d made sure to attach most everyone’s user IDs to the map, an arduous task but one necessary to track where the server members were if needed, and they’d already had more than enough time on their hands in the past (before Dream escaped and they just had to wait and wait and wait and hope that it would get better, it would happen soon, nothing had gone wrong and it was just taking a while). Their whole job was to gather information, right?

All their eyes were looking for was a bright green dot, not too far off from where they were but no longer moving. Ringed by other dots.

Well, fuck. Punz had to get moving.

Chapter Text

Dream ran through his inventory in his head. Netherite armor – a spare set of Punz’s, one they’d gifted to him for Christmas after he got out –, axe sword bow shield, a couple healing potions, and there . Four ender pearls. If he was going to get out of here, his back literally up against the wall – or, more accurately, a sharp grass cliff in the middle of a forest –, that was how. But before he could even consider that, he had to make some breathing space, and the one way he’d do that was to start talking.

“Oh, what? You didn’t feel comfortable going after me yourself so you had to round up all your friends – and the people who aren’t your friends, too, I see you Ponk and Sam – for a big giant confrontation?” Dream taunted. He’d spotted the disquiet, the guilt, quickly flash across Sam’s face and Ponk’s little grimace, which meant he was doing something right. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t also surprised to find the two of them together here, given what Punz had told him. But, hey, things changed, and the more friction between the members of this little hunting party, the better.

Everyone else made sense, mostly. Sam and Quackity were to be expected, just the way Tommy and Sapnap were. It was never in question; they were the ones who wanted him dead or locked away the most. Dream had come to terms with that fact long ago. (He had had to; shock or denial or appeal to the good old times, to the childhood they shared, wouldn’t save his life, would just get him killed, unlike getting over it and accepting it was this new truth, the new situation)

Dream was a little surprised that Bad and Ant weren’t here too, but maybe they were having another Egg relapse. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were. (He still found himself looking instinctively for his absent guards, the only ones who wouldn’t hurt him or at least wouldn’t try to. That’s why they were almost never there, after all. Maybe that was why they weren’t here this time; not because they were busy but because Sam or Quackity thought they had too weak a stomach or too soft a heart)

Puffy wasn’t a surprise either, even if it was a little disappointing. He’d thought she’d cared for way too long, and now he owed Punz so much money. He’d made that bet years ago, Prime damn it! (She’d left him years ago, too. She’d left him and never looked back and when he tried to confront her about it, when he tried to ask her what he’d done wrong, was answered with hatred and disgust. He knew now she didn’t want to see him, except if he was bleeding out)

Speaking of Punz, he already knew they wouldn’t be here. Last he heard from them (which was not very long ago), they’d been far far away, and he wanted it that way. He didn’t want them to get hurt or be in danger alongside him. He never had. (Selfishly, he wished that they were here, just so he had someone on his side here, someone he could rely on, even though he knew it was a horrible, horrible thing to wish for)

Niki and some of the new people (look, they were new and most of them joined when he was out of commission, how was he supposed to memorize their names?) were also there, but they were sticking to the back and Dream couldn’t get quite a good look at them. From what he could see, Niki was also half-turned away and typing on her communicator, so it didn’t look like she was really that interested in the confrontation going on and therefore not much of a threat.

Quackity shrugged. “Some people just like to be prepared, Dream. What’s the harm in that?”

“The harm comes when you can’t do anything without the help of your fucking lackeys,” Dream told him. “Like, what happened the last time you tried doing something yourself? Nothing, ‘cause you never did that.”

“Shut up, Dream,” Sapnap hissed, a furrow between his brows and murder reflected in his amber eyes.

“Or what? You’re kill me? I mean, you already made that pretty clear, like, a year ago, Sapnap,” Dream responded. “And I think the rest of your pals here,” he gestured at everyone around him, “already think that’s the game plan, Sap.”  Dream shifted slightly, affecting an expression of pure boredom, careful slipping one hand behind his back and into his hotbar. He just needed one minute of keeping his *cough* companions busy and not getting killed to get the hell out of here.

Just one moment and then–

For some reason, everyone started screaming, and no one was looking at Dream anymore, because it was pretty easy to make out the fucking giant floating withers in the sky descending upon them.

Well, fuck, Dream thought, and he split. He wasn’t sticking around for this shit, not with his life on the line.

***

“You just carry around wither skulls at all times?” Punz asked, looking over the forest with sharp eyes.

“Duh. I mean, it came in useful this time, it comes in useful a lot,” Technoblade responded. He leaned forward, watching everyone scatter. “How’d you even figure out where it was all going down?” he asked, eyes still glued to the scene in front of him.

“I was talking to Dream beforehand. He told me where he was,” they responded, lying just the littlest bit. Technoblade didn’t need to know about all the details. They’d likely already told him too much. “You?”

“Niki texted me. Good thing we were both in the area, right?” Techno joked. “We wouldn’t want our favorite war criminal to end up dead, would we?”

Punz huffed a laugh. “Of course. That’d be horrible.” It truly would be, and their job was to make sure that’d never happen.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing here?” Sapnap hissed, pointing his sword at Dream. He was tired and stressed and he wasn’t even sure how Dream got in here and really did not want to have to deal with him right now. He didn’t want to deal with Dream’s mind games or threats. (He didn’t want to have to try to kill him, didn’t want to have to fulfill his promise)

“What, I’m not allowed to visit an old friend anymore?” Dream asked, pouting a little. Sapnap ignored the little shock of surprise at seeing him without his mask on. He didn’t understand why the villain wouldn’t be wearing it now.

(Sapnap had almost forgotten what Dream’s face looked like, pale and freckled and scarred – Sapnap didn’t think he always had so many scars, but he wasn’t going to question it right now. He had almost forgotten how large Dream’s eyes were, wide and childish and mischievous. He had almost forgotten how vibrant they were, bright bright, radioactive, almost unnatural green)

“No, you’re not! We’re not even friends anymore,” Sapnap protested. (Sapnap wasn’t sure if they were ever friends, because was Dream always like this? Had he just been lying the whole time? Was any of it real? And worse…what if Dream never changed, and they were all wrong?) “Not after you, like, tried to kill everyone–”

“Oh, when did I do that? Sure, my memory’s a biiiiit faulty, but I think I would remember something like that.” Dream grinned, batting his eyelashes, leaning languidly against the wall. “Well? Care to remind me?”

“You started like five wars, dude!” Sapnap ran a hand through his hair. “And you blew L’Manburg three times, and you tried to steal everyone’s stuff to control them–”

“But when did I try to kill everyone? Like, sure, I did that stuff, but half the server did too, and, hell, Technoblade blew up L’Manburg too! I was mostly just helping there, and I don’t see you going after him, do I?” Dream urged playfully.

“People did go after Technoblade, Dream,” Sapnap argued. “They tried to kill him.”

“Blah blah butcher army, blah blah Technoblade’s execution, yeah, I know.” Dream rolled his eyes. “But that was it. No one went after him after that, even though he went off and destroyed more stuff after that. Well, excluding the little part where he got locked in Pandora with me.”

What? Sapnap didn’t think he ever was told about that part. He hadn’t been keeping up a lot with the rest of the server, especially not when it concerned the Blade.

Then again, Dream could just be lying to try to mess with him.

Dream took one look at his face and laughed. “Wait, you didn’t know about that? I thought everyone did!” He chuckled. “I’d imagine that Quackity would go bragging to you about it,” he commented slyly, one finger raised to frame his face.

“What does Quackity have to do with this?” Sapnap asked. He didn’t want to talk about Quackity right now. He didn’t ever want to talk about Quackity with Dream. His ex-lover was too much of a sore spot for him.

“We were talking about Technoblade? And people going after him? Did you expect me to not bring up Quackity? I mean, that’s like, fucking impossible,” Dream remarked, one eyebrow raised. “And like, more specifically, Quackity’s the one to come up with the plan to lock Techno up, so then we gotta talk about him.”

“Whatever,” Sapnap muttered, rubbing his face. He certainly hadn’t missed this. “Let’s just stop talking about Quackity." He really didn't want to deal with this right now. "Why the hell are you here? How did you even find this place?”

“Just wanted to swing by, y’know, check how you’re doing?” Dream pushed himself up off the wall. “And it’s not hard to find. Doesn’t even make it on the top five secret places on this server. Too many builds,” he sniffed.

“I don’t know if you know this, but people need places to live, Dream,” Sapnap snarled.

Dream sighed dramatically. “I swear, if that’s another homeless joke–”

“You think we’re joking here?!” Sapnap exclaimed. “You’re just lucky that I haven’t stabbed you yet, Dream, and I really should of. This isn’t a game!” Sapnap shut his mouth, vibrating with rage, and suddenly realized that his hair was on fire again. Fuck. He needed to calm down.

“Well, that’s great,” Dream commented, completely unbothered, casual as all hell. “Just wonderful, really. Did you know your fiance was torturing me?”

“What?” Sapnap hissed. He needed a minute, even though Dream would absolutely not give him one. He couldn’t deal with this right now, when he could feel the fire building up inside his chest and tried to push it down. He’d already burst into flame once during this conversation, and he didn’t want to repeat that.

“Yep!” Dream responded brightly, but Sapnap could see something cold and calculating deep within his eyes. “Quackity’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Quackity wouldn’t do that,” Sapnap stated. He wouldn’t. Sure, Quackity had some flaws, and they weren’t…together anymore, or even talking at all, really, but Sapnap was sure he wouldn’t do that.

“He did! He did, Sap!” Dream insisted. Sapnap tried to ignore how his entire demeanor changed, how frantic (desperate) he seemed. It was just an act, just another way to try to deceive him and get him on his side. Sapnap wasn’t going to fall for it.

“You’re lying,” Sapnap told him. Dream had to be lying. Quackity wouldn’t do that. He knew that Dream was lying. Dream always lied. That was what he did. “You’re a liar, Dream. He would never do that.”

Chapter Text

Technoblade sighed, rubbing his forehead, and stepped towards the door. He was tired and still fighting the soul-crushing exhaustion of the ender guardians and really really worried. Yeah, sure, he got Dream out of the prison (which was supposed to be inescapable, so Techno thought he should get a little pat on the back for that), but he still remembered the state that he found Dream in and couldn’t brush off the fact that Dream, previously gently placed on the bed behind Techno, was still unconscious.

Techno wanted to…Techno wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. To be honest, he wanted to take a nap, but he knew he didn’t have anywhere close to the necessary time for that. He still had to talk to Phil (because he told Philza that he’d break Dream out sometime, but didn’t tell him that it would be today , and because he’d tried really hard to make the prison break a one-person job, which he pretty much succeeded in), figure out what to do about the server inevitably coming after him because he did not want to wake up to an unexpected mob of people on his doorstep, take inventory, get Chat to stop yelling at him…Look, it was a lot okay? Jailbreaks are usually very stressful for everyone involved.

Techno was about to open the door and leave when he heard a soft “Techno?”, so quiet he thought he must be imagining it, behind him. He still froze and glanced back, and, sure enough, he was met with wide, scared green eyes peeking out from underneath a pile of blankets.

“Dream? You’re awake?” Technoblade asked, trying to be subtle about his step forward, towards Dream.

Dream nodded quickly, his eyes still blown open and terrified. Ah fu–nope, he was trying to stay monetized here. He hadn’t wanted to scare Dream.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Techno tried. Prime, he wasn’t good at this. He was a warrior, not a therapist, but he’d have to be both now. “I’m not goin’ hurt you.”

“Yeah?” Dream whispered, his eyes still locked on Technoblade. His fingers, poking out of the pile slightly and gripping the blankets shakily, pulled the fabric closer around him.

“Of course, Dream. Can I come closer?” Techno asked.

Dream nodded again, and Techno stepped a little closer, and then a little closer. He sat down on the bed beside Dream, making sure not to squish him by accident.

“You don’t gotta worry about that, Dream. I’m not goin’ hurt you, and I’m goin’ make sure no one else gets the chance to,” he told Dream.

Dream blinked up at him. “You are?”

“Was that ever in question?” Techno asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah?” Dream’s eyes drifted away from him and onto the floor.

“Wait, really?” Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe it really wasn’t. Maybe he should disengage from the conversation and talk about something else. But he wanted to know, even though he knew it would just hurt the both of them.

Dream’s grip tightened, and he pointedly didn’t look at Techno. “When…when we were in the cell. When you sometimes were…not myself.” Technoblade had almost forgotten about that, had tried to block out those memories, of the times when Chat got too loud and he lost control. He knew what was coming next. “Sometimes…you would hurt me.”

Dream immediately started babbling again when Techno gave no response, hastily twisting to face him. “Not often! Not often! It didn’t happen often, and you didn’t want to do it, and…and we both knew that! And it was fine!”

“It wasn’t fine,” Techno refuted. “It wasn’t okay, Dream. I’m…I’m sorry, I…I wish you didn’t have to go through that, but it still wasn’t, and isn’t, okay.”

“I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to make you upset,” Dream whispered. He still wouldn’t look Techno in the eye.

“No, it’s fine, Dream. Don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t of brought it up,” Techno told him (or maybe he was just telling himself that, apologizing to his consciousness instead of the person he had actually hurt). “If it helps at all, it won't happen again. You’re out now. We both are.”

“I thought you weren’t going to,” Dream murmured, eyes downcast, glued to the floor. Techno could barely hear him.

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t going to break me out,” Dream repeated, a little louder this time but no less ashamed.

“Why? I promised–”

Dream nodded. “You promised, but then you left…and you’d promised that you’d never leave.” He curled in on himself, and Techno couldn’t stop himself from selfishly, selfishly wondering what had happened to the old Dream, Techno’s rival, the acrobat and daredevil, the one not afraid of anything, the one with a wheezing tea kettle laugh? Technoblade thought he knew, but he didn’t want to accept that. “You said you would never leave.”

Chapter Text

Bad stepped deeper into the forest, his ears pricked. He had to be careful here, true, but he also had to be fast. Despite what he’d told Sapnap, he remembered the whimpers from earlier, and, now that he had the camp set up, the area warded, and Sapnap safely settled down, he could go looking and hope he wasn’t too late.

Bad ran a clawed finger over one of the ferns brushing against him, the plant wilting under his touch. Invenies cruor in aqua dulcis, he hissed, the shadows folding in around him. He didn’t have time to waste here.

The demon sniffed the air, easily finding the heavy scent of blood he had been looking for. He could tell that it wasn’t animal blood either. That meant he had to get moving even faster.

Bad pushed his way through the forest, eyes locked on the path in front of him. He had to move fast if he wanted to be of any help. The forest pulled tight around him, covering his trail and opening up the way forward.

Bad stumbled to a halt as the scent became almost overwhelming, and he glanced forward to find what he had been looking for: a child, almost hidden by the greenery. They were pale, with matted blond hair falling to their shoulders, and had bright bright green eyes. Bad couldn’t tell if they were a boy or a girl. He took a step forward, accidentally announcing his presence to them, and realized why they were on the ground – one of their legs was stuck in a bear trap. Ah. That would explain all the blood then.

“Can I help you with that?” Bad asked, conscious of the way the kid’s eyes were locked on him. He didn’t need to ask if they were okay: that was already pretty clear. “I think I can get out if you let me?” Bad had to be careful here. He was pretty good with his own kid, but he knew how he looked. It was pretty hard to convince someone that you had their best interests at heart when you were immediately recognizable as inhuman, and, worse, obviously demonic.

“Try,” the kid hissed, their voice strained. Bad took that as an okay to move forward.

Bad stepped closer to them, ignoring the kid’s little flinch. “Sorry, but try to brace yourself. This is going to hurt,” he warned before he knelt down to carefully push down the springs on either side of the bear trap. The trap snapped open and the kid bit down a scream trying to escape their throat.

“I’m really sorry, but it would of just gotten worse if I didn’t do that,” he told them, trying to stop himself from reaching out to comfort them. They didn’t trust him, didn’t know who he was, probably had never met him before. Trying to touch them would probably just make everything worse. “Can I see your leg?”

The kid – Prime, he should really ask their name – slowly, carefully, pushed their injured leg towards him, hissing each time it moved. Bad leaned forward to take a better look at it.

Like he’d initially thought, it was covered in blood – and that alone was bad enough, blood loss wasn’t a fun way to die – but even through that Bad could see the injury there. He grimaced; if he’d had to guess, the bone was probably broken and an infection was probably incoming, because, well, it was a bear trap. They weren’t known for their cleanliness.

Bad ran options through his mind. Traditional medicine probably wouldn’t be much of a help here; it rarely was when massive blood loss was involved. Potions would probably be the best here, and he had healing potions, but he always kept it in the medkit he had left at the campsite .

There was another option, though. Demonic magic had always erred more on the side of destruction, and Bad was certainly no healer, but he’d picked up some tricks during his travels, and he’d needed them sometimes with a little daredevil like Sapnap. He only had one thing that would help with something as big as this, though–

“I need physical contact to help, sorry. And it’s going to hurt for a moment, but then it’ll feel better afterwards. Are…are you okay with that?”

The kid nodded sharply, and Bad reached forward to place one palm atop the injury and closed his eyes. Inuro vulnus, he whispered. 

This time, the kid actually did scream and Bad immediately felt guilty. He opened his eyes and was met with smooth skin where the huge gash used to be. The kid was still trembling.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay now.” Bad gave into his dad instincts and wrapped his arms around the kid. They didn’t flinch this time. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

***

Eventually, Bad peeled away and helped the kid to their feet. “You feel okay?” he asked. They nodded, staring at the ground. “Are your parents nearby?”

“I don’t have parents,” the kid whispered, fidgeting a little.

Bad frowned. He’d suspected that was the truth, but it still didn’t make it fine. “You don’t have anywhere to go?”

“Nope.” They looked away from him when they said it.

“It’s not safe for a kid to be out here alone,” Bad stated, a note of concern in his voice. “You can stay with me for the night, if you want. I’m just camping a little bit off from here.”

“Do you have food?” they asked, eyes narrowed.

“Yep!” Bad responded. “I–”

“Count me in,” the kid interrupted. A little smile creeped onto their face, and Bad smiled at that. He was glad they had some fire in them, and he was confident that they’d get along great with Sap. It would be nice for his kid to be around someone his own age for more than a couple minutes in towns or the like.

“Nice! And I apologize for not asking earlier, but what’s your name?” Bad asked.

“Dream,” they told him, and he smiled down at them.

“That’s a nice name,” Bad responded.

Chapter Text

Sam curled in on himself, trying to ignore the red creeping into his vision (the blood covering his arms) and focus on wondering what he’d done to deserve this. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this. He wasn’t the bad guy here. He never had been.

Oh, really? Then why did they all leave you? the Egg probed. No one’s going to save you; they all hate you. They’ll be glad if you disappear; they’ll be delighted if you die.

Sam ignored it. People cared about him, and he cared about them. He’d done it all for them. For Ponk, for Tommy, for everyone else. They wouldn’t let him die. They wouldn’t abandon him, and they hadn’t, no matter what the Egg said. It just wanted to break him down so that he’d give in to it. He never would. Not when he was the Warden, bearing the weight of the responsibility of keeping the server safe on his shoulders. Of keeping the prisoner trapped, unable to hurt anyone else.

And how amazingly you’ve done that , the Egg mocked. Under your guidance, Tommy died. You didn’t manage to keep him safe, did you?

Tommy’s death was a…miscalculation. He hadn’t accounted for that possibility when he let Tommy visit Dream (when he locked Tommy inside with the prisoner). It was unenviable circumstances. There was no good option, no right path to take; if he hadn’t done what he did, he would have endangered the security of the prison, and that would just lead to Tommy and so many others getting hurt. Anyone else would have done the same thing.

Would they? the Crimson asked snidely. Would they really? If it was Tommy’s choice, would he have you do the same thing? Would he have chosen to die?

“I’m not saying that Tommy would do the same thing, I’m saying that anyone else would do the same thing in my position,” Sam protested. “That’s different. I’m not cruel.”

Not like Dream, right? it whispered, and suddenly it was Dream, not the prisoner, not the tyrant, but the carefree teen Sam knew before all this. The only change was the red of his eyes, the thin red vines, looking almost like veins, creeping down his face.

(If Sam reached out, he could touch him, could break the illusion apart. He didn’t)

Not like Dream, the Egg repeated smugly, and the red-eyed boy disappeared. Sam wasn’t surprised. He had already known it was just a long-dead apparition. It couldn’t hurt him, or anyone else for that matter. Not like us, right? Really, what’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, Sam? We pulled Bad and the rest of them together. They’re happy now. All they had to do was give in. We haven’t hurt anyone who didn’t want it, the Crimson told him. Name one person we’ve killed. Name one person whose death we’ve caused. Not even killed directly. Just caused . Can’t name one, right?

Sam knew that the Egg hadn’t killed anyone yet. Yet. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t good, it wasn’t trustworthy. Just because something hadn’t happened yet didn’t mean it wouldn’t ever happen.

Oh, Sammy, you have so little trust in us. Maybe there’s still time for you to learn better, the Crimson contemplated. It would be good to find out, wouldn’t it? You’re only ever afraid when things are unknown, aren’t you? When you don’t know enough to see if it’s a threat or not. When it’s uncalibrated. We can fix that, the Egg promised. You just have to give us the chance, Sam.

Sam was never going to give it that chance. There was too much resting on him. The server trusted him to get his job done. To keep them safe. To keep the prisoner in check. The Egg would take that away from him. He couldn’t let that happen.

And then, before he could vocalize anything or the Egg could respond, a pickaxe slammed through the obsidian above Sam’s head, startling him. Light streamed in. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it. (He couldn’t hear the Egg anymore. He missed it, just a little bit)

“Sam?”

Chapter Text

“It’s really not that bad,” Dream protested. He glared at Punz from his place on the bed. It was fine. So he was a little sick maybe. So what? He wasn’t going to die, and, even if he did, Punz could just bring him back. It wasn’t an issue.

“I’m sure it isn’t, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there,” Punz answered, eyes down and unwavering as they took the thermometer out of his mouth. They clicked their tongue. “104. That’s bad, Dream.”

“I feel fine.” Dream shifted uncomfortably. He knew that was bad – they both did – but still. He didn’t want them to be worried about him, even if he could acknowledge that is a bit late for that.

“Good to know,” Punz commented. “It still doesn’t change the facts, Dream.” They reached over to grab a wet cloth and draped it over his forehead. Dream hated to admit it, but it made him feel a little bit better. “Want any water?”

“Sure,” Dream answered. He did – his throat was sandpaper at this point – and it wouldn’t hurt to say yes. Knowing Punz, they probably wanted him to.

“Here.” They passed him a glass of water and placed a comforting hand on his back as Dream struggled up into a vertical position. The glass was cold, so so cold against his fingers. The water was too. He decided he liked it.

(Punz’s hands were cold too. He wondered which one of them it was; where they actually cold or was he just hot? There wasn’t any reason for their hands to be cold)

“Anything’s been happening?” Dream asked as he handed them back the glass and lay himself back down.

“Not much. Things seem pretty chill right now,” Punz answered. “The manhunt’s still going on; no progress, though. No one’s heard from Tubbo or Technoblade for a bit; still not over Ranboo, I guess. Sapnap’s still Sapnap,” they rolled their eyes, “Sam’s gone silent, but that’s not new and you already knew that.” Dream hadn’t told Punz everything about what happened, had omitted a couple details (didn’t tell them it was a week, didn’t tell them about the cake, didn’t tell them about how the death had been a mercy), but they still had a rough idea. Even if they didn’t, even if he hadn’t told them a thing, they’d probably still know. The scar had been meant as a message, and it did its job well.

“George’s still asleep, Ranboo’s still dead, Tommy’s still annoying. Not much happened. Not much changed. You haven’t missed that much, I swear,” they said, grinning crookedly.

“Good.” Dream let himself relax a little. Good. He hadn’t missed anything. Good. “Thanks, Punz.”

“Of course,” they replied, smiling. “Anything for my favorite war criminal.”

Dream snorted at that. “Let’s not ignore the fact that you helped with like half of them, Punz.”

“Exactly. Our love language is murder,” Punz said dryly.

Dream rolled his eyes. “I mean, you’re not wrong.” He closed his eyes for just a moment. “Thanks for–thanks for all of this, really, but you didn’t have to do this, Punz. I’m not–incompetent. I can still do stuff,” Dream argued. He was still useful. He hadn’t been ruined. He didn’t need to rely on other people as a crutch, no matter what happened. “You don’t have to do this.”

Punz nodded. “I know. That doesn’t make it so that I don’t want to do this, and you doing stuff while you have a ridiculously high fever and five infections is just going to make it all worse.” They gestured for him to lift his head up and he did. They wrapped another wet towel around his neck. “It’s not going to help you get better, and we’re not on enough of a time crunch that it's necessary. We have plenty of time; we can take a couple days off.”

“We’re falling behind. We still have so much to explore–” Dream started.

“We can do that later. When you’re feeling better. It’s just going to get worse if you don’t take a break. We can deal with the opportunity cost. We can survive.” They leaned forward and kissed him, lightly, gently, for just a moment, on the lips before pulling away. “We can survive, Dream. It’ll be fine.”

Chapter Text

Dream took the glass bottle from Technoblade, ignoring the sirens blaring above them and blasting out his eardrums. His hands were shaking. He hoped Techno wouldn’t notice. “So we just swim through?” he asked.

“Just about.” Techno shrugged. “It’ll feel a little weird but won’t hurt. Just don’t stay long enough for the potion to wear off. You ready?”

“Yeah.” Dream pried the cork out of the bottle, ignoring the tremors and trying his best not to drop it. Once it was off, Dream used both hands to raise the bottle to his lips and swallow.

The fire resistance tasted like honey. It was sweet, sticky, more solid than the diluted healing potions Dream was used to (the ones shoved down his throat for months, just enough to make sure he wouldn’t die but not enough to fix anything else; Quackity didn’t want to completely start over, after all). It was a promise, a promise that he’d be able to get out of here, that Techno would make sure he wasn’t left here to rot.

Techno took the empty bottle from Dream once he was done. “Great.” He stepped towards the wall of lava blocking their way out, the glass barrier just rubble on the ground after he had blown it up. “You coming?”

Dream nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped towards the wall as well, and then once again. He was close enough to touch it. He had plenty of times before. It had never mattered before. (Would it now, or would he walk into the fire and burn just to respawn back in the cell once again? Would anything change?... What if Techno lied? What if he was just here to give Dream false hope, a helping hand, a way out, just to steal it away again? What if Technoblade was just going to betray him and hand him back to Sam and Quackity once his job was done?)

Techno walked up to where Dream stood. “You ready to go?” he asked.

Dream took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready. Just show me what to do.”

“You just gotta swim through. It’s not hard–You know what? I’ll go in front and you can just copy what I do, Dream. Just follow me,” Techno instructed.

“Okay.” Dream could do that. (He thought he could) “That works.”

“Great.” With that, Techno dove into the wall of lava and Dream just watched him for a second, frozen as he watched, before he pulled himself out of his irrational surprise (Techno told him that he was going to do that, that was the whole plan). Dream tentatively stepped towards the lava, stepped into it. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t burn. He wasn’t sure why he expected it to. He drank the fire resistance for a reason, after all.

Dream forced himself through the lava, thicker than water and harder to swim in, trying to keep Techno is sight so he could do what he was told and copy whatever the other man was doing. It was fine. He could handle it. He was making progress.

Until he wasn’t. Dream didn’t know what set him off – nothing had fucking changed – but suddenly his throat was constricting and his lungs were bunching up and his pulse was racing and he couldn’t see anything because his vision was spinning and he couldn’t even focus on Techno in front of him–

Dream was thrashing, drowning, his head forced under the water, except he wasn’t in water, he was in lava, but he wasn’t burning–But he was still drowning, his lungs filling with the liquid surrounding him, and he was dying .

Arms came from above to encircle him, and Dream fought against them for a moment (someone was touching him, holding him down, trying to keep him from escaping) before going limp. He couldn’t win that way. He didn’t have the strength anymore.

“Dream? You there?” Techno’s voice. That was Technoblade’s voice, coming from above. That meant the arms around him were probably Techno’s too, and Dream didn’t think that Techno was trying to hurt him, so that meant the arms probably weren’t trying to hurt him either. So it was fine and he had just been overreacting. Dream opened one eye to peek up and saw that it was Techno. So he was safe. Techno wouldn’t let him die. (Techno wouldn’t let him die; Sam wouldn’t let him die; Pandora wouldn’t let him die)

Apparently, that was enough of a sign of life for Techno, because he started talking again. “Okay, good. Uh, just hold on for a moment. We’re almost out of the lava.”

Dream could do that. He didn’t have to do anything. Techno wasn’t going to let him go. It was fine. (Despite the way Dream proved that he was weak, he was useless, he was given the most simple task imaginable and still somehow managed to fail–)

And then the weird gelatinous feeling was gone. Dream could breathe again. Techno had stopped, and the arms around Dream pulled away (he half wished they hadn’t, but he knew that was stupid, some lizard-brain part of him wishing for companionship and reassurance). Dream managed to stand up himself, conscious of the way Techno was unmistakably watching him to see if he needed any help. And, just like that, they were on solid ground again (on obsidian again).

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?” Technoblade asked. He was smiling, but Dream could still make out that undercurrent of concern, of pity.

“It wasn’t,” Dream responded. He didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, he looked over the room they found themselves in, full of levers and redstone and obsidian. “What next?”

Chapter Text

Punz glanced at Dream’s hands, bandaged and shaky as they paged through the book Punz had given him. They hadn’t said anything about it before, despite seeing glances of makeshift bandages and trembling fingers, despite noticing the way he limped each time they met up, the way he flinched every time they touched him (announced or not), the empty look in his eyes he sometimes had when he thought they weren’t watching. He didn’t want to talk about whatever happened in the prison, and Punz respected that. They didn’t want to pry.

But it had been weeks since the jailbreak, and Dream was still bandaged with blood seeping through the white fabric. Something was up. Dream wasn’t taking care of himself. Punz could only turn a blind eye to so much.

“I could help with your hands if you wanted,” Punz offered, forcing their voice to strict neutrality. They couldn’t imply that he needed their help – they’d get nowhere if they tried that – but they still couldn’t be argumentative, demanding, aggressive, couldn’t raise their voice. That never ended well.

Dream’s fingers stilled and he stiffened, even though he didn’t look back at Punz. “You don’t need to. They don’t hurt.”

“I don’t know about you, man, but from where I’m standing it looks like they’re bleeding,” Punz said. Careful, careful. They were treading a fine line here. They had to be careful. They couldn’t let that be an accusation.

That time, Dream did move to face Punz, closing the book and setting it down on the table beside him. They were in one of his old bases dotted around the server, a halfway point between Punz’s tower and Pandora’s Vault. Punz never felt comfortable in the prison anyways, and Dream never came to their tower unless it was an actual emergency. This was the best option for both of them. “They’re fine , Punz. I’m fine.” Punz doubted that, but they’d never tell him that. They could guess where that ended, and it wasn’t well. “These are just old. They don’t hurt. None of it hurts anymore. The potions took care of that,” he contested, staring Punz straight in the eyes and daring them to challenge his words.

Punz didn’t look away. “Potions can’t fix everything, Dream.” They couldn’t, and using them too often built up the body’s tolerance for them and risked addiction. Punz suspected that Dream had crossed that fine line long ago, but they didn’t blame him for it. It hadn’t been his choice, if they had to guess. “Traditional medicine’s still good for some stuff, you know.”

Dream scoffed. “Not really.” His mouth twisted into a contemptuous smile. “Look, Punz, do yourself a favor and stop worrying about me. I’m fine . I don’t need you to help me. I can handle things myself.”

There was no winning now. There never was once Dream made it into about competence, about independence, about not needing help and why would you ever think that he would? Punz looked away. “If you say so, man. Just, if you ever need help, just know that you can come to me.”

“Of course.” Dream didn’t look like he meant it.

Chapter Text

“Dream?” Dream froze, grinding to a halt just by the forest line, about to disappear into the woods, and George immediately regretted opening his mouth. He was just…surprised. He hadn’t expected to see Dream today. He didn’t even know that Dream was out of prison. Well, George had missed a lot, apparently.

George stepped forward, bow in hand, his body moving before he could even stop to consider what he was doing. He could leave, ignoring that he ever saw Dream, and ask Sapnap what had happened. Oh, and probably fall back asleep too.

Or he could walk forward, towards Dream, and try to get answers that way. George had always been the exception for Dream; maybe he still would be. ( Maybe he could finally choose not to be the coward he had always been )

“What are you doing out here?” George asked, more a demand than a question ( an inquiry, a plea ). He wanted to know; needed to know.

Dream turned to face him, a shiny white mask obscuring his face. George wished he wasn’t wearing it. He wanted to be able to see Dream’s face. That was what XD always got wrong; if George was still asleep, he wanted to know about it. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were too busy .” That last word carried a bite, and George flinched. They both knew he’d been sleeping.

“I thought you were still in prison,” George told him, deciding to cut straight to the heart of the matter. He wanted answers, even if the world felt floaty and dreamlike. He wasn’t sure he wasn’t still asleep. It was hard to tell these days.

“I was , until recently,” Dream bit back, his tone derisive, mocking. “Not that you seemed to care. You never visited, after all.”

George hadn’t. “I tried. Sam never let me,” he lied. It might as well be the truth. George was asleep for so long, but if he wasn’t, he thought that he probably would of tried to see Dream. That must count for something.

Dream scoffed. “He would do that.” He flexed his fingers. “Anything else? Was that,” Dream waved a hand, “like, all you did for a year? Just, like, sleep and get turned down by the Warden?” George could tell he was rolling his eyes behind his mask.

“I mean, yeah? It’s not like you did much more.” George knew it was a low blow but didn’t care. Dream was doing the same thing, after all. You didn’t bring a pillow to a knife fight.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Dream spat. “ You did. No one was locking you up, were they?”

George hadn’t expected that Dream would push back so much. He never had before, even when they fought. Usually, Dream and George would argue for a bit before Dream rolled over and did whatever George wanted to. 

( Unwilling, George was starting to realize that things had changed )

Time to change the topic. There wasn’t a way he could win if they kept talking about this. “Why did you leave us?” George asked. This was familiar ground, old hard-fought territory. George knew how to handle himself here.

“I had to keep you safe,” Dream said, his voice made of steel. It allowed no debate. “It was the only way to make sure you wouldn’t end up dead ,” he snarled. “That’s all I wanted. All I ever wanted.”

A shout rang out in the forest, heavy footsteps pounding and metal clinking. Dream and George stiffened. “Look, we can talk later. I gotta go,” Dream hissed.

“How will I find you?” George asked, unwilling to let Dream slip through his fingers again. He knew how hard it was to find Dream if he didn’t want to be found, and George could guess that he didn’t right now.

“Just ask around a little. I’ll come find you,” Dream answered. He turned away, green cape fluttering, towards the forest, before glancing back at George. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll come find you.”

Chapter Text

Bad stepped into the hallway where he heard the footsteps, turning the corner to see a figure clad in a green cloak at the end of the hallway, turned away from Bad. Dream. But what was he doing here…?

Bad stepped forward and kept his eyes on Dream. He hadn’t moved, even though Bad thought the sound of footsteps would startle him. Bad didn’t know what was going on there.

Bad didn’t even know how or why Dream was there either. These were part of the Eggpire’s old base, part of the Egg’s domain before it had been destroyed. (Bad knew it wasn’t actually gone, just trapped within obsidian walls and unable to hurt anyone else or twist anyone’s minds. Bad felt his stomach flip suddenly, deja vu running through him. He knew where he had heard that before)

“Dream?” Bad reached forward to try to place a hand on the boy’s (his son’s) shoulder, ignoring the shock running through his veins because why is Dream here–

An axe materialized in Dream’s hand and swung at Bad’s arm. He pulled back immediately to try to not get hit, and, for the first time, he got a good look at Dream. He wasn’t wearing his mask, surprisingly, his exposed face covered in scars, and his eyes were wide and panicked, open but unseeing. Bad suddenly realized that Dream didn’t recogonize him. (He ignored how his heart ached)

“Dream?” Bad asked again, quieter, cautious. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry, I was just being a muffinhead–”

“Bad?” The demon saw those bright green eyes beginning to focus, to see. Bad smiled.

“Yep, that’s me! I was just wondering what you were doing around here,” Bad explained. He had been, after all. (He was worried about Dream, about whatever Bad had excused away in that stupid prison, what he was too scared to ever bring up or even consider but knew was happening and this was just more proof of that)

“I…I just needed to think, Bad,” Dream answered, looking away and lowering his axe. It was still there, though. He raised one hand to run through his hair. “I’m didn’t need to disturb you, but I just needed to think.” Bad knew Dream well enough to know that that was a dismissal, but Bad wasn’t going to leave just yet.

“I wouldn’t recommend that you do that here,” Bad volunteered. “This place’s still…weird. I’m not sure the Egg’s completely gone, and, even if I knew that it was, this still isn’t a place I’d want to be.”

“That’s the point,” Dream told him, looking back up at Bad. “No one’s going to come looking for me in here. No one’s here. It’s safe.”

“Sometimes people avoiding places mean they’re dangerous, Dream,” Bad protested. “Just because–people aren’t there doesn’t mean that it’s safe.”

Dream scoffed. “It does when people are out after your head, Bad. Not that you would know.” He squared his shoulders. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave and look for somewhere else. I’ll be out of your hair. Just don’t tell people about this and everything will go great.”

That sounded like… “Is that a threat?” Bad sputtered.

“Yes,” Dream hissed. “That’s the thing you never understood, Bad. You have to threaten people to get what you want and keep yourself safe while you’re at it. You can’t just go around being nice to people and pretend they’ll never turn on you. You can’t be soft. We all know how that turns out.” Dream’s scowl deepened.

“I think it can be helpful. There’s other ways to get things done, Dream. I raised you to be better than believing that’s the only way,” Bad told him. The demon knew better than to say it wasn’t a way. He lived too long to honestly believe that. He’d done some things he wasn’t proud of, but he moved on, and so did everyone else. It was all fine in the end.

“I tried all the other ways!” Dream practically shouted. “I tried all the other ways, and this is the only one that’s ever worked. The only one to get me heard. Maybe that wasn’t the case for you, but it is for me,” he hissed.

Bad reached out towards Dream. Dream flinched away. “I’m sorry, but please just let me help you. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“I don’t need help. Just let me go and leave me alone, Bad.” Dream pushed past Bad roughly and ducked out of the hallway.

Bad sighed, rubbing his forehead. That didn’t go well, but he hadn’t expected it to. But now he knew more. And, if he knew more, he could do more. He still had access to some of those old visitor documents. He could start from there. He could figure this out. He could make everything better, even if it required a couple of shadows on the wall and a few judgments, a few appraisals, a little bit of work put into the execution. 

Bad could do it. He wasn’t going to let Dream spiral even deeper with this. He owed it to the child he raised (the one he raised to not be like him and, by a twist of fate and a couple of grasping hands, ended up worse).

Chapter Text

“Hey, Dream?” Punz asked, tugging at the blankets they knew were encompassing their partner. “You in there?” They had to check Dream’s injuries, change his bandages and all of that, and try to get some food into him. (They had to check on him; they had to see that he was okay because they knew that they wouldn’t believe he was without proof, and they hated that was the way things were now, that they couldn’t trust anyone, not even him)

They got no response. “Dream?” Punz repeated. Okay, they were starting to get concerned now. They pulled back the sheets, ignoring the sudden stab of guilt, because this felt like a violation. Dream wouldn’t want them to do this, didn’t want them to see him vulnerable or laid bare. But they had to see what was going on (see if the sheets were red with blood). They had to check that he was okay, that he was just asleep, that he was still breathing. They couldn’t be sure that he was.

Punz could actually see him now (there was no blood, no bile, just old scars and bruised skin), and they could see the slight rise of his chest as he inhaled. Good. He was alive. Punz didn’t want to have to revive him any more than absolutely necessary. (They didn’t want to see Dream die unless they absolutely had to) “Dream?”

The second Punz said his name again (what was it, the third time now?), Dream’s eyes snapped open, glassy and unseeing. They could tell instantly that he wasn’t lucid, that he was still trapped inside the prison of his mind (and maybe the physical prison he’d stayed at too). He pressed himself back, away from them, and they could see the way his shoulders were shaking. That was never a good sign, and Punz stifled the impulse to reach out and try to steady him (try to comfort him). “Sir?”

Oh fuck . That was bad. (Whenever Dream brought up sir, he was always at his worst, never even slightly there, let alone fully, and it always made Punz want to find out who and go get a little justice, consequences be damned) “Hey, Dream. It’s me, Punz.” They put their hands up in a universal sign of surrender and tried to visibly be relaxed, calm, to show that they weren’t a threat. No sharp movements. No nothing. “You okay? I just wanted to check that you were doing fine.”

Dream’s eyes cleared up a little (just a little). “Punz?” he asked. He looked like a drowning man, grasping widely for anything that might help him float, that might allow him to survive. Punz knew they couldn’t, that they were drowning alongside him in lies and slow-burning hatred and red-tinted memories, but they still had to try. They owed him that much.

Punz forced themself to nod. “That’s me.” They smiled, ignoring the way their chest tightened. (This shouldn’t be necessary, what had happened–) “You all the way there?”

Dream nodded. He seemed to distracted and wouldn’t meet their eyes. He pulled in on himself even more. “Yeah.” Then, quieter: “If you were planning on asking about it, don’t,” he hissed. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” A moment later, almost as an afterthought, “I’m sorry that you had to. Just…forget about it. Please.”

“Of course,” Punz agreed. “It never happened.”

Chapter Text

Punz carefully set the bouquet of lilies, gladiol, and larkspur down next on the grave in front of them. It was felt appropriate. The grey, overcast sky did too. (It felt like the world itself was grieving with them; it didn’t necessarily feel bad though) After a moment of hesitation, they sat down on the grass besides the flowers. Dew clung to the green shoots, but they didn’t care. Black fabric was hard to stain.

(They wanted to pretend that they were visiting an old friend, not a tomb)

“Hey, you can’t say I forgot, could you?” they asked, a bittersweet smile tugging at their lips. It had been exactly a year, they knew. They had been keeping track; it would be rude not to. Someone was only truly dead when they were forgotten, Punz knew, and they weren’t going to let that happen to him. He deserved better than that.

(He deserved better than any of this. He deserved a happy ending, some kindness, a world that didn’t hate him and people who didn’t either, a chance to recover and move on, and he had been on the path towards that. Punz and Techno had tried to make sure of that. He deserved so, so much, and still he ended up six feet underground. Even after everything he went through, he still had to be too kind, too selfless, to be willing to sacrifice himself for people who didn’t give a fuck about him. He still had to die)

Punz tasted salt on their tongue and realized that tears were running down their cheeks. They raised one sleeve to wipe them away. They knew that they were going to happen. They’d already accepted that.

Punz rolled their eyes. “I guess I’m the sentimental one now. You always managed to pull that out of me.” Punz knew it was silly but they wanted to talk and to keep talking. If they just kept talking, they could forget why they were there, could imagine him sitting besides them, a smile on his face and bright bright green eyes. They wanted to pretend, if only for a little bit. Tomorrow, they could go on and face life without him, could remind themself that he was dead and gone, no matter how tragic it was. But not today. Today they could pretend. They could indulge themself that much.

“You were always the romantic, though. It was nice. When you could,” they waved a hand, “forget about all of this and just let you be yourself. When we could hang out and go out. When everything was okay, just for a little while.”

Punz put their hand down. “But we both knew that wouldn’t last.” Their eyes drifted downwards and they could spot the gravestone and the flowers in the corner of their vision. They frowned, and their voice lowered, became softer. “I knew what you were planning. I knew that you were–willing to do that.” They smiled again, sadly. “I wasn’t as stupid as you thought I were, I guess. You didn’t hide it very well.”

Punz ran one hand over their face. “What I mean is that I’m sorry. I could of noticed and actually done something about it. There was so much I could, should , of done.” They sighed and took a deep breath. “We did so much together, so much to make sure neither of us would end up dead. And look where we are now.” They laughed bitterly. It was almost funny if you looked at it a certain way. The mourner and the corpse, one six feet under and the other wishing they were. Punz would drink to that.

But none of this was actually funny, entertaining. Nothing could last forever. Punz needed to sober up, and it didn’t take them long to. There was so much they wanted to say, they never got a proper goodbye or the opportunity to give one, but it all just came down to…

Punz reached out and plucked a petal off one of the gladiols. It was pale blue, and soft like velvet. Remembrance; endurance; strength. They had picked their flowers carefully.

Punz dug their fingernails into the petal. Enough procrastination, enough evasion. Time for the reason they came here.

“I’m…I’m just so sorry, Dream.”

Chapter Text

“Careful, it’s hot.” Philza passed Dream a cup of tea, who took it cautiously. Dream wrapped his hands around the cup; his hands were cold and the cup was warm. It was nice. “It went well, mates?”

“We got everything we wanted done, so I’d say yeah, it did,” Technoblade answered, hanging his cape up on a hook. 

Punz scoffed, rolling their eyes. “You don’t say, Technoblade.” They looked back at Phil and Dream. “I mean, he’s dead now and the whole place’s burnt to the ground. It’s taken care of.”

Niki smiled at the two of them brightly. “It’s safe to say we won’t have to worry about them anymore, right?” she asked, sitting down on the couch and narrowly avoiding sitting on Dream’s toes.

“Thanks, guys.” Dream knew they wanted him to say that, and he didn’t want to disappoint them. “Like, that’s great, thank you, but did you have to do that–”

“He hurt you,” Techno interrupted. “Quackity hurt you, and we needed to make sure that he would regret that.”

“Exactly,” Punz acquiesced. “We might not of had to do that, but we fucking wanted to, Dream.” (“My poor monetization,” Techno grumbled.) “He deserved it, and there needs to be consequences sometimes or everyone’s going to be running around doing whatever the hell they want.”

“I can’t speak for everyone here, but I think it’s safe to say that we care about you, and, uh, we don’t like people we care about getting cut up by people we don’t,” Ranboo volunteered from where he was hovering. 

(Phil offered Punz a cup of tea as well, and they took it. “Thanks.” The mercenary pulled out a chair and settled down)

“I couldn’t of said it better myself,” Techno agreed, and Ranboo puffed up a little bit at the approval. “We care, Dream. Even if you don’t want to admit it, it’s the truth.”

“Uh-huh.” Niki smiled over at Dream. “We care, and that’s the important thing here. We’re family at this point.”

“You have a point there,” Techno commented. “A very good point.” He glanced over a Dream. “You hear that? You’re never gettin’ rid of us.”

“Nope,” Punz remarked, smiling crookedly. “Not even this ‘until death’ shit. We all know that’s stupid.”

Dream rolled his eyes. “You know that I’m the necromancer here, right? I could just, like, not bring you back.” 

(He and Punz still hadn’t told the rest of the Syndicate about the Revival Book situation. They didn’t need to know about it. It would just invite too many questions)

“I think it’s a bit late for that, mate,” Phil told him, smiling faintly. “You wouldn’t still be here if that was actually a possibility.”

“Fine, fine,” Dream compromised. “I’ll stop. I’d totally bring all of you guys back if you died.”

“Good to know. Now I don’t have to worry about losing any of my lives,” Technoblade joked. “I can do as much stupid stuff as I want now.”

Dream glared at him. “That’s not what I said, Techno.”

“It basically is,” Punz responded. “Also, there seems to be a bit of double standard there, you know, considering the fact that you literally locked yourself up in prison.”

Niki grimaced. “Not your greatest moment, was it?”

“Let’s not talk about it right now. Doesn’t matter.” Dream really didn’t want to talk about that right now. (Or ever, really) 

“Thanks, I guess.” Dream pulled the blanket tighter around himself. He wanted to just make sure about one thing, but it would be showing vulnerability, opening himself up to admitting that he cared and getting hurt…

“Just checking but…you’re not going to leave, right?”

“Of course not, Dream. You’re one of us now. Yes, yes, I said it chat, you can stop screaming now.” Techno rolled his eyes but sobered up quickly. “You’re family, Dream.”

Chapter Text

Punz stepped forward and immediately the boy in front of them spun around, a sword slipping into his grip and coming to rest against Punz’s neck. “Don’t move,” he hissed. “Wait, Punz?”

Punz smiled. “Hello to you too, Purpled. It’s been a while.” It really had been, and things had changed. Purpled had always been a bit cautious, maybe even paranoid (which Punz supposed was their fault, really, as the one role model parent the kid had consistently throughout his life), but it had only gotten worse. His whole demeanor was more withdrawn, defensive, now.

“What are you doing here?” Purpled asked, cautiously pulling his sword away from them but still holding it tightly. Good. They weren’t planning on getting killed today. “How did you even find me?”

“I heard that Quackity blew up your base. Thought you might want some help getting revenge on me,” Punz told him smoothly, sidestepping his other question. It wasn’t technically a lie, even if it wasn’t the full truth. Nobody needed to know that .

“Why do you care? I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear anything about Quackity doing something to you, and, if you didn’t notice, we haven’t talked in months .”

Punz grimaced at the accusation. “And I’m sorry about that, but you weren’t exactly reaching out yourself or clammering for me to talk to me. I was also possessed for more than half of that, so,” Punz shrugged, “eh, a bit of a difficult time for both of us.”

Their smile twisted. “And that’s where Quackity came in, of course. Blew me up while trying to get at the Egg. Whole canon life gone in an instant, and it wasn’t even about me.” Punz scoffed. That was some common ground, at least. They were both mercenaries, and that meant they both knew what it was like to be targeted for something you were paid to do (to be treated like a weapon and nothing more, loyalties ensured with coin and that meant you didn’t have to worry about treated them well because they would obviously never desert you, because they weren’t people, and Punz was going to stop themself there).

Purpled relaxed a little bit at that despite their bitterness. “He would fucking do that.” He rolled his eyes. “And that’s it?”

Punz nodded. “Yep. But, well, if you don’t pay back your debts, anyone’s free to take advantage of you. We both know that,” they added.

“Of course.” Purpled narrowed his eyes. “We both know that.” He sighed. “So, you want to help me go kill Quackity.” 

“Kill him and burn Las Nevadas down,” Punz clarified, voice clean and even.

“I’m not opposed that,” Purpled commented. “Would be fucking catharic.” He raised his gaze up towards Punz again. “And if I said ‘no, I don’t want your stupid help’?”

“Then I’d leave. Let you deal with it yourself,” Punz responded flippently.

“You wouldn’t tell anyone else about it?” Purpled asked. They could hear the tiny bit of desperation he was trying so hard to stamp out in his voice.

Punz smiled. “Of course not.” They wanted Quackity dead, by any means necessary. (He had to pay for what he had done, and if Dream wasn’t going to come take his pound of flesh, Punz would do it for him instead) No way they were going to foil a murder attempt by going and telling him about it.

“Okay. Fine.”

“Do we have a deal?” Punz asked, reaching one hand out, one eyebrow raised.

Purpled took their hand and shook. “We do.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Dream?” Technoblade glanced over at the blond man huddling under Techno’s cape in the corner. He hadn’t spoken in hours, and Techno was starting to get worried. He’d only been here for a couple days, so maybe he didn’t have full context, Chat, but it was still justified. Dream was never quiet, at least not as long as Techno had known him. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not,” Dream muttered. His grip unconsciously tightened, pulling the cape tighter around himself. “You came.”

“And that’s a bad thing? You’re not alone anymore, right? Isn’t that a good thing?” Techno questioned. From what he knew, Dream being alone was absolutely not a good thing. Someone like that needed companionship, connections, other people around them. Either way, Techno had never been much of a fan of solitary confinement itself. Guess it came with being an anarchist.

Dream laughed weakly, bitterly. “If you’re looking at it that way, I guess. But you weren’t supposed to end up here! You weren’t supposed to come!”

“What, I’m not allowed to visit my old rival and become roomies?” Techno joked.

“Not when I’m counting on you to get me out of here!” Dream hissed. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter now,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Look.” Dream glared at Techno. “This isn’t just–some visit. You’re stuck here now, with me. You can’t leave. I was trusting you to break me out, so you being trapped here too completely derails everything. You’re just putting yourself in danger,” he added glumly.

“I think I can take care of myself, Dream,” Technoblade replied. “It might do you some good to worry about yourself first, y’know?”

Dream scoffed. “There isn’t anything I can do, Techno! Now that you’re here, Sam can do whatever he wants to you and when he comes–”

“It’ll be fine,” Techno interrupted. He wasn’t a slow learner, so it hadn’t been hard to pick up on the mysterious him Dream sometimes mentioned (or, worse, Sir, but that only came up when Dream wasn’t lucid, when he crying out during a nightmare or waking up from one), and he didn’t want to talk about whoever that was right now. (Technoblade did have to find out who he was, because he needed a name and face to be able to go hunting for them and enforce a little bit of karma, because you treated people the way they treated you and the people you cared about and whoever he was absolutely was not treating Dream well) “We’ll get out of here, and they won’t see us coming ‘til they hit the floor,” Techno promised.

A small, spiteful smile worked its way onto Dream’s face despite his best efforts. “Fine. I’m holding you to that, though.”

Chapter Text

Punz froze as the door in front of them melted away, consumed by shadows. They spun around, already knowing who they’d find, and the shadows closed in on them further, the walls now voids of darkness, and the floor too. 

(It felt like they were floating, but they knew they weren’t. It felt like Limbo, or at least some of them. It felt like the End. It felt like the void)

“Hello, Punz. I thought we should talk,” Bad greeted, white smile bright against his obsidian-dark skin. Punz was still half-surprised at the trim on his cloak being red instead of the white they had become so accustomed to.

“And this really was necessary?” Punz asked, raising an eyebrow and gesturing at the darkness around them.

Bad shrugged. “I wanted it to be private. We wouldn’t want any noisy muffinheads to listen in, would we?”

“I suppose not,” Punz answered. They started forward, and Bad did too, the two of them pacing a circle around each other. A dance, almost. “What did you want to talk about?”

Bad smiled apologetically. “I know it’s a bit of a touchy subject, but I think it’s important. You see, I was looking through some of Pandora’s Vault’s visitation books, and–”

“So this is about Dream then,” Punz interrupted bluntly, blandly. They’d never considered Bad much of a threat – too much of a bleeding heart for that –, but, now that they were trapped inside a shadowy dimension of his creation, maybe they were wrong.

“Basically.” Bad ducked his head for a moment before smiling up at them. “A couple things just seem…off about what was going on with him, back in Pandora, and I thought you might be able to help me to figure out what to do next.”

“And if I don’t?” Punz asked. Stakes, stakes, stakes. They needed to know how far Bad was willing to go. They needed to know so that they could know how to play their cards right, how much they would have to reveal and how much Bad might be able to help them.

Bad let his fangs show for once, twisting into something truly demonic instead of his typical gentler, humanoid appearance. Today was a day for many reminders, it seems. “Oh, that would be unfortunate, Punz. It would be quite sad if you weren’t willing to help me. You see, I helped raise that boy, and I would like a couple more fortunate things to happen to him. So, if you were against that goal, well, I couldn’t let you stand in my way.”

Ah. So Bad would kill them. Fun. But that also meant that Bad was trying to help Dream, which absolutely was not a popular sentiment on this server, and meant that he was willing for it. Punz remembered how he’d opened the conversation. “–I was looking through some of Pandora’s Vault’s visitation books–” So, he knew then, and that was what this was about. Quackity and Sam. Because there was no escaping them, ever.

But Bad cared , just like Punz, and that was what mattered here. That was it. They just had to convince him that they did too.

Punz let a smile slip onto their face. It had been so long since they had actually, honestly , smiled. “Of course. It seems like our particular goals line up, then. What would you propose?”

Bad’s smile faltered for a moment. They’d taken him by surprise, apparently. That wasn’t the response the demon was expecting. “You do?”

“Look, I care about him too, and if someone doesn’t stop that idiot, he’s going to end up dead.” Punz needed to explain; they could tell that much from Bad’s face. “The ‘betrayal’,” they indulged themself in some air quotes there, “was planned. So was the imprisonment. It was a fucking–” (“Language!”) –”stupid plan, but it was one. Dream thought that if he just,” they threw their hands up in the air, “removed himself from the situation, things might get better, and he’d get a bit of breathing space and a cool base. Of course, that’s not what happened, but that was still the idea.

“After the whole jailbreak thing, we met up, I noticed stuff was off and tried to help him out. That seems like what you’re going for,” Punz told Bad.

“Okay, that’s a lot of information, but, yeah, mostly. Basically, could you help me figure out a couple of good times to meet up with him and have a conversation, make sure he’s eating enough and taking care of himself,” Punz bit back “I can’t promise that much” because that was not what Bad was wanting to hear right now, “that sort of thing. It doesn’t have to be much,” Bad concluded, still smiling, still apologetic.

“I can do that,” Punz agreed. “We have each other’s numbers, right?”

“Yep!” Bad answered.

“Good. I’ll just call up when we need to talk, and we can figure something else out from there.” Punz paused for a moment, and lowered their voice. “You know what happened, right? I mean, you were a prison guard–”

“I told you I looked at the records, right?” Bad smiled conspiratorially. “That was the nail in the coffin for me, and, well, I decided to take care of those two on my own time. I thought it was appropriate.”

Punz smiled at him, teeth bared. “ Thank you, Bad. Someone fucking–” (“Language,” came the inevitable response, this time tired, softer) “-had to do it.”

“Of course. It was satisfying, I’ll admit.” Bad rolled his shoulders back beneath his cloak. “Anyways, it was nice talking to you.”

“You too,” Punz agreed. “It’s nice actually having someone I can agree with.” They rolled their eyes. “Now that there's two of us, we actually might be able to force him to take care of himself.”

“Oh, hopefully.” For once, Bad’s smile actually reached his eyes.

Chapter Text

Sapnap woke alone. That was how he knew something was off. He hadn’t been when he’d fallen asleep, so where had Karl gone? He scrambled out of the covers and off the cold bed, quickly grabbing a cloak and the sword hidden under the bed, before he started down the stairs. Dread pooled in his gut. (Where had he gone, was he okay, what if something happened to him–)

As Sapnap approached the dinner table, he noticed that a note was left on the dark, polished wood. With shaking hands, he unfolded the message and began to read.

Dear Sapnap,

I’m sorry for leaving on so short notice, Sap, but I have to. I’m the only one who can fix this. Don’t come looking for me. Just trust that I know what I'm doing♥️

Your love,

    Karl Jacobs

Fuck. That didn’t help calm his fears at all. It sounded like Karl was…leaving. Forever. Like it was a true goodbye, one where they’d never see each other again. Sapnap really didn’t want that to be the case. (Everyone else had already left him; he wasn’t going to let Karl do it too)

Sapnap crumpled the note up in his fist. He thought it was the pinnacle of restraint not to set it on fire right here and now. (It would be satisfying if he did, but, if this really was the last thing he’d ever hear from his fiance–)

But that was enough of that. He had to be productive. He had to try. If he was Karl, where would he go? Where would he be? How could he be found?

The library. These days, Karl spent most of his time in the library, squished in between old musty books and tall, tall shelves and shiny wooden desks. He’d probably be there, and even if he wasn’t, Sapnap could probably find some clue to where he’d gone.

Sapnap pushed the door to the library open, trying to keep a handle on his anger in order to stop himself from turning into a living wildfire. If he did that here, everything would go up in flames. Ignoring the venomous, sorrowful thoughts circling him and pulling his throat tight, he made his way to Karl’s favorite spot.

It was a mess, like usual. Books were sprawled across the desk, some open to random pages, some slammed closed. For once, Sapnap thought to read the books’ titles: The Town That Never Was. The Village That Went Mad. The Beach Episode. The Lost City of Mizu. The Masquerade. The Wild West. The Haunted Mansion. The Pit. The Maze.

Sapnap rubbed the bridge of his nose. None of this was helping him find Karl, besides maybe informing him about his fiance’s reading habits. That would be useful around Christmas time, but not right now.

Sapnap reached up to grab a random book off the shelf in front of him, and shook it harder when it didn’t come out, stuck for one reason or another. What he didn’t expect was for the bookshelf to move aside, revealing a passage forwards for him. He stood there, jaw hanging, for a moment before scrambling into action, squeezing himself into the hallway.

The walls were made of dark wood, and the floor was too, but Sapnap would have to be blind to ignore the swirling multicolor portal at the end of the passage. Ah. That wasn’t good, but that pretty much answered the question of where Karl went. And anywhere Karl went, Sapnap went.

Going through the portal felt like falling into the Nether. It felt like dreaming. It felt like panic. Colors flashed behind his eyes and nausea filled him, but Sapnap was used to that.

When he finally stood on solid ground, Sapnap scrambled to his feet and took a minute to look around. He was surrounded by white walls, flawless and ethereal; probably quartz. The roof was arched, graceful, and Sapnap suddenly decided that he was in a castle. The question was just whose. The rest of the room was empty.

Sapnap walked forward, walked out of the room, and kept on walking. The rooms blurred together, all smooth white, sometimes ballrooms, sometimes libraries, sometimes empty rooms save for white roses peeking out of elegant pale roses. He didn’t care. He just wanted to find Karl, and then leave.

In the end, Sapnap reached a courtyard (or at least that was what he was guessing it was from the glimpses of green he could see), the castle ending with a gentle caress of arches framing the sudden break from white walls and floors and roofs.

Sapnap ducked through the arch into the courtyard and froze. The field was green, lush, alive in way the SMP was not, and filled with pale, delicate flowers, white roses and oxeye daisies and dandelions and lilies of the valley. And sitting in the center of it all, kneeling in the middle of the field and wrapping the stem of one of the lilies around his fingers, clad all in white and grey but with achingly familiar fluffy brown hair, was–

“Karl?” Sapnap asked, his heart skipping a beat. If he was here, if this was it–

Karl turned towards Sapnap, smiling softly. His eyes were (empty, void of any recollection) a pale, pale gray. “Who’s Karl?”

Chapter Text

“Punz!” The mercenary turned towards Sapnap when he called their name, eyes cold and hard as stone, sword dripping blood. (Sapnap tried to not imagine where that came from, tried to not remember them going for his ex-fiance’s throat at the very beginning of this all) They were still, the eye of the hurricane, the only thing that was while TNT ran from the blood-red sky and the sound of explosions and swords clashing filled the air.

“Yes?” Punz asked, raising one eyebrow. They were smiling, calculated, cruel, utterly unconcerned and undisturbed by the destruction raging in front of them. “What is it, Sapnap?”

“You–you fucking betrayed us!” Sapnap shouted, fiery rage running through his veins and making him see red. “Everyone here’s going to end up dead because of you !”

“Oh, Sapnap,” Punz purred, voice silky, patronizing. “You don’t seem to understand. You can’t betray someone if you were never on their side, and whatever made you think that I didn’t want that?”

“We were friends ,” Sapnap protested. “We fought together! We might as well been brothers!”

Punz grinned, something angry, something unhinged , burning in their eyes. “To you , maybe. But not to me. Because I had to sit by and listen to all the fucking shit you said and not be able to do anything about it! Because I had to watch every decision you made and let it happen for the good of everyone .” They scoffed. “Not that that matters anymore.”

“Yeah, it still fucking matters!” Sapnap lunged at them, sword in hand. Punz pulled up their own at the last moment, steel hitting steel and force meeting force. “It’s not too late. I’m not going to let you and your friends,” (Dream and Techno and the rest of them and whatever they had done to Ranboo), “kill everyone!”

Punz pushed their sword forward and ducked down under Sapnap’s arm, neatly disengaging from the lock and putting some distance between the two of them, beginning to circle him. “If you ever have to say that it’s not too late, it is ,” they hissed. “I learned that lesson a long time ago, and it seemed like you never did. We can’t go back anymore. We just have to take care of our loose ends and start over. All we can do is hope that the next batch of people will go better than this one did.”

“You’re not talking about ‘loose ends’, Punz. You’re talking about people. Do you really not care?” Sapnap asked, probing their defenses with his sword as he spoke. They didn’t rise to the bait, at least not the physical one.

“Give me one good reason I should care.” Punz narrowed their eyes, languid, unhurried, motions leisurely and liquid. They flicked their wrist, their sword following the motion. “A good reason, Sap, one that actually applies to me. Don’t just try and tell me it’s the moral thing to do, the good thing. I really don’t care about that.” They sprung forward, a blur, a living weapon, an ending given human form, as they finished speaking. Sapnap barely dodged their swing, recoiling and retreating backwards. He was losing ground here.

“Because there’s plenty of people who haven’t done bad things here, and–And because people can regret their decisions! Can regret what they’ve done!”

Punz stepped back, unhurried, always watching, weighing their choices and waiting for Sapnap to make some mistake. “You’re not wrong. The new people haven’t, and we’re not going to hurt them. They’ll be fine, as long as they’re not a threat to us. As long as they don’t decide to try and stop us.”

“And if they die? If you weren’t trying to kill them but you did?” Sapnap questioned, trying to stay calm. Don’t give in to rage. Don’t set everything on fire, even if he really, really wanted to.

Punz smirked. “Well, we can just bring them back then. Dream’s not the only one with the Revival Book, after all.”

“Wait, what?”

“There is so much you don’t know, Sapnap,” Punz drawled. “You think I, what, decided to side with Dream at the last minute? You still think that I actually betrayed him? I mean, I like to think that I’m a good actor, but I didn’t think I was that good.”

“You were on his side the whole time?” Sapnap asked, smoke seeping out of his mouth as the anger within him burned brighter and higher and higher . He didn’t voice his other questions: you have the Revival Book? He gave you the book? (He trusts you that much?)

Punz flicked their wrist again, their sword coming to rest at their side. It would be more reassuring if their face wasn’t the smooth, emotionless mask it was. “Of course I was. I was never on your side, and I never was your friend. I never cared , Sapnap. Not about you.”

“Just Dream,” Sapnap hissed, eyes dark.

“Mm-hmm,” Punz agreed, nodding their head. “Justtttttt Dream. And,” their pale blue eyes darkened and they brought their sword up, towards Sapnap, “as for your other question, maybe some people do regret their choices. But I know that most of them don’t.” 

Their smile spread, darkening, eyes hooded and bright bright blue, staring out from the shadows falling across their face. “Do you regret what you did?”

Chapter Text

Dream closed the book with a decisive slam and set it down on the desk. Punz was long gone at this point; they had other things to attend to, and Dream was staying late tonight. He’d told them that he’d be done and gone soon enough, but it had been hours since. They’d done a lot today. They’d made some breakthroughs. (Found a way into the one place no one was allowed to be in) It had been productive. Dream wanted to get it all down, every little detail, wanted to create hypotheses about why and how and what they could use it to do. To brainstorm experiments and ways to test their understanding, ways to push the boundaries of what was possible and what was not.To record the implications. To get it all right.

(Punz would appreciate it, he knew)

It was the deep of night now, he knew. He didn’t trust himself, but he trusted the clock hanging from the wall and the other one tucked deep within his inventory. Sometimes he forgot that he had it with him. Usually he didn’t.

Either way, it was late. Dream knew that. He’d been busy. (He hadn’t slept in a week) He rubbed his face for a moment, trying to massage out the tiredness consuming him, careful not to touch the scars. He didn’t want to deal with that right now.

Dream pushed himself up from his chair and stumbled as he misjudged the distance. His head spun and for a moment he thought he would fall. (For a moment everything flashed black. For a moment everything was dark, dark despairing purple and too-bright lucid orange. Blood too. He could never forget that part of the tapestry of his imprisonment. He wasn’t allowed to forget it) He was fine. Just a little dizzy. It was fine.

Maybe he’d stay over tonight. It wasn’t like anyone (besides Punz) knew where this place was, so Dream was relatively safe. He might just need a little nap, or something like that. 

(Sometimes he got so tired he didn’t even know himself)

It was fine. Dream stumbled out of the room and down the hallway, fumbling with the doorknob of the bunker’s single bedroom before managing to pull it open. He staggered over to the bed and fell into it. It was soft. (It wasn’t supposed to be soft, it was supposed to be rough and hard and hot enough to cook an egg on) Whatever. He just had to go to sleep, just had to sleep long enough to get rid of this, and that was it. It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Chapter Text

“Dream.” Dream flinched when Punz said his name, glancing back at them for a moment. “Let me see.”

“No, Punz.” Dream twisted away from them, pushing down the sharp burst of pain, the twist of the knife. He didn’t want to look at them. He didn’t want to see their face, didn’t want to have to look them in the eye. Instead, he gazed down at the floor and tried to remind himself that it was stone, not obsidian.

“I could help. But I can’t do anything if you don’t let me.” Punz carefully set a hand on his shoulder and Dream bit back a flinch. “Please, Dream. Just for a minute.”

Everything hurt, but he couldn’t look weak in front of Punz. That would just make them abandon him (or worse, lead the hunters to him, or turn him over to the Warden and him). He couldn’t risk that. Not when they were his only ally.

But Dream already looked weak and pitiful and helpless. His refusal was just making him seem more pathetic then he already had. “Fine. Just for a minute.”
“Thank you, Dream.” He could tell Punz was relieved. “It’ll just be a minute, I swear.” 

Slowly, with their help, trying not to irritate his injuries any more, Dream shucked off the top of the orange jumpsuit, sticky with blood. He could hear Punz suck in a breath when they saw his back but they didn’t say anything about it. Good.

“We’ll need to clean the wounds,” Punz told him. “Let me go get a wet towel or something.”

Dream inclined his head. A symbol of agreement. (Submission) “Fine.” (He didn’t want them to go; he didn’t want to be alone)

“Thanks.” Punz got up and they were gone. Dream tried to suppress the short burst of panic in his chest. They were going to come back. It was fine. They weren’t going to leave him. They weren’t going to go get someone, weren’t going off to call the Warden and say that they found his elusive prisoner. (Weren’t going to go call him and receive a king’s ransom in gold, because Sir was a wealthy man and surely could pay any price Punz asked for)

A moment passed. Then another did. And then a third. Then, and only then, Punz was back. “Brace yourself. It’s cold.” And with that as the only warning, they slowly began to clean the wounds on his back, his arms, his chest. His face too, but they weren’t as clotted with blood. (Slowly, Dream felt better. Slowly, he remembered what is was like to be calm, be clean, be human)

Punz set the rag aside. “There. The blood’s gone now, but I’d hazard to guess that you already lost a lot of it.”

Dream laughed weakly. “You’re not wrong there.”

“That sucks, man.” They reached over to their bag, lying on the floor next to the couch. Glass clinked as they pulled something out. Dream couldn’t help the way that he flinched at the sound, because that meant he was hurting and it wasn’t over and it was never over because he would never let be over unless Dream gave him the book and he would never, never do that and even that wasn’t an assurance that he ’d stop and just let him die, please – “Healing potions okay?” Punz asked.

Dream ran his tongue over dry, cracked lips. “Sure.” Healing potions were the best way to do it. The only way.

“Okay.” Punz popped the cork of the potion bottle and carefully applied it to his back. “Anything hurt?”

“Just everything,” Dream responded. He wasn’t lying. It did hurt. He rubbed a hand over his face. Unconsciously, he curled in on himself.

“You okay?” Punz asked. Dream knew they weren’t even trying to hide the concern in their voice.

“It’s just…” Dream scowled. “Look, it’s hard to talk about. Just–do you think I’m ugly now, because of those ?” They both knew he was talking about the scars. Dream didn’t even know why he was trying. He didn’t want to talk about this, even if Punz probably wouldn’t lie. (Even though they had been lovers and that was why he was asking in the first place)

“Of course not.” Punz’s response was instantaneous. “They don’t matter, Dream. I don’t care about those, okay? I never did. I just care about you. That’s it.” Their eyes were ferocious, a deep clear blue, and, for once, Dream didn’t feel scared. They leaned over and kissed him on his forehead.

Dream smiled. “Nothing has to change,” he agreed.

Chapter Text

“Dream.” The man in question glanced back at Punz, face covered by a light wooden mask. The soul torch he was carrying (regular torches were too much of a risk now, with Dream; they didn’t use them often) cast pale blue shadows across the mask. “Why did we come here?”

“It’s an amplifier. Of magic. It’ll be helpful for us,” Dream answered. Punz expected the evasiveness. It was Dream, after all. This was normal. “When–in places where the End is open, going to one of these is the only way to access it.”

Punz hummed. “That’s it?” they asked, running their hand over the cool stone of the stronghold as they walked. (They bit back the what are you planning, please just tell me, you can trust me I promise; they'd get nowhere with that)

Dream shrugged. “Kinda. What, you think we came all the way out here for sightseeing?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me at this point,” Punz teased, pulling their hand away from the wall. They weren’t quite sure what is was made of. Interesting. This whole place was interesting, but they couldn’t push down the feeling that Dream wasn’t telling them something. More specifically, he wasn’t telling them what he was planning, why they were here.

Punz could tell that Dream was rolling his eyes behind the mask. “That’s stupid, Punz. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. We’re here.”

They stepped into the next room. It was richly furnished, dark tapestries covering the walls and an altar sat in the center. Dream slipped a dagger, beautiful and ornate and impractical, so unlike him, out of its sheath and set it on the altar. Punz was able to spot a small, star-shaped gem on the handle, pale and delicate and pulsing with some faint inner fire. Dream turned back towards them.

“We’re here, Punz. At the fulcrum of it all.” Dream spread his arms wide. “This is it. If there’s anything you want to tell me, tell me now. We might not make it to the morning.” Dream’s voice trembled, just slightly, his false bravado slipping, and that was the reason Punz knew something was off. It didn’t take long for them to realize what he was saying, why they were here, why they had needed to come here. What he was planning. What he was planning to do.

“No.” Punz’s refusal was immediate. “Dream, no. Whatever you think you’re doing, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

Dream pushed the mask away from his face. His eyes were large, scared, pleading. “Please, Punz. It’s the only way. The–the only way to fix this. The server’s falling apart – it’s about to slip into the Void at this point – and the Egg–”

“You don’t have to fix it. It’s not your responsibility. We can just leave. They don’t deserve you or your help. They don’t deserve your sacrifice, Dream, so don’t make it.” Punz closed their eyes for a moment before reopening them. “You don’t have to do this, Dream.” They tried to keep the pleading edge out of their voice.

“If I don’t try, if I don’t–do anything, nobody will. Nothing’s going to get better. There’s no one else who’d do it,” Dream answered quietly.

“And that’s for a perfectly good reason,” Punz rebuked, but they immediately softened their voice’s sharp edge. “ Please, Dream. Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears wet his face as Dream wept silently. “I’m sorry, Punz.” And he reached for the dagger, the beautiful, deadly sacrificial dagger he had set on the altar behind him. And Punz knew they couldn’t stop him. (They never could when it mattered)

The knife pierced his lung in an instant. He was there, and then, a second later, he was not. Punz caught his body when it fell. And they wanted to cry, even though they felt the rush of energy upwards, purifying, cleansing, carefully parting around them. They wanted to cry, and they could not. They had spent too much time bottling up their tears and their rage and everything else so horribly human about them to start now. So they did not cry, even though the body of the boy they loved lay lifeless in their arms.

Chapter Text

Technoblade passed Dream a green mug, filled to the brim with chamomile. Dream took a cautious first sip the second the piglin looked away and tasted the signature sweetness of healing pots. Ah. So it was Phil’s recipe then. He’d been trying to get Dream off potions, and, if that necessitated a different transfer method because potions were still all too necessary, so be it.

“Last night was fine?” Techno asked, rummaging through one of his chests as he spoke.

Dream nodded, even though he knew Techno couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I didn’t have any dreams.” He ignored the nightmares from the night prior, the way that he had woken up a cold sweat and could only count himself lucky that he hadn’t cried out. If they didn’t know about that, then Dream wasn’t going to tell them.

“Nice. Phil asked me to help patch up his roof ‘cause it’s drafty and Niki wants to talk about building her own house up here. She has her whole underground city, and anyone ’s allowed to stay there, but she wants to be a bit closer to us. Somewhere to stay when she comes up for the Syndicate meetings,” Techno elaborated. Dream could tell he was rambling but wasn’t going to interrupt him. “Like, Ranboo has–had a place up here too, even though he usually stayed with Tubbo.” Techno shrugged. “We didn’t question it. You don’t question stuff like that.”

“Sounds complicated,” Dream agreed. He really didn’t want to get swept up into the Ranboo relationship drama thingamajig. As far as he knew, and as far as he cared, Ranboo married Tubbo who had been killed by Technoblade, whom Ranboo had also been friends with and maybe Techno had been his mentor? Dream had no idea.

“You don’t say,” Techno responded monotonely without missing a beat. “Hey, you ever think doing that? Building your own house up here? Like, we all know you’re homeless, but you wouldn’t be if do that anymore. Now that I think about it, that would cause a significant decrease in my entertainment and probably cause some people to unsub, but who cares about that? I could make a good thumbnail out of that. A title too. ‘Dream finally gets a house’– Of course, you’d have to move out first–”

The cup almost slipped from Dream’s lax fingers, and he didn’t try to catch it. His breath hitched. So this was it then. This is when Techno told him to leave and never come back. He’d been so absolutely useless even since they’d brought him to the Arctic Commune, and now he was reaping the consequences of that. Techno realized that he was just dead-weight, just there to drag them down, pointless, a liability, not worth the effort to keep around.

Dream being there just put Technoblade and the rest of the Syndicate in danger. The server was going to come for him eventually, and they all knew it. Techno’s reputation could only keep them away for so long.

Dream knew this was coming. He just didn’t expect it to be so subtle, so polite. He didn’t expect to care this much. He didn’t expect to not want to leave. He knew it was the best think he could do, what he had to do, what he needed to do keep the Plan going. For all the sacrifices he made to be worth it. He knew he needed to leave before he was forced out, so that he could leave on his own terms and no one else’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Dream couldn’t hear anything besides his own thoughts. He couldn’t hear a single think that Techno said. He kept thinking, and he only sunk deeper the longer he kept thinking.

Suddenly, Technoblade was there, snapping his fingers under Dream’s nose. “Hey, you there, buddy? It would be really cringe if I broke you out of prison just for you to die on me. If you wanted to do that, you should’ve done it in the first week. Now it’s just weird.”

Dream scowled and leaned away from him. “I’m fine. Just…just thinking.”

Techno rolled his eyes. “Aren’t we all,” he commented. He paused and lowered his voice. “It was something I said, wasn’t it?”

Dream nodded, just a little bit. “I got worried that you were going to kick me out.”

“I’d never do that,” was Techno’s instant response. “Sorry, Teletubby, but that’s not happening. We’re roomies now, and I’m not going to do anything to change that. You can leave if you want, but I’d never make you.”

Dream smiled faintly. It hurt a little. “Thanks. It helps.” The mug, still held loosely between his fingers, helped warm his hands. He was happy he didn’t drop it.

Chapter Text

Dream clung to Technoblade’s arms, heaving through damaged lungs. He couldn’t breathe. Smoke clouded the air, clogging up Dream’s lungs, and he couldn’t breathe. He could barely see ten feet in front of him. 

Both of them were bleeding profusely, but still Techno staggered forwards, holding Dream in a bridal carry. An imitation of intimacy. That wasn’t what Dream had a problem with, though. That was probably the blood, and the pain, and the slow, insidious despair. (He knew they weren't going to make it)

“Just hold on for a moment,” Techno murmured. “Not much longer…”

They were almost there. They were almost off the killing field. They were almost safe, but Dream already knew it was too late. They couldn’t keep this up. Even if Dream himself was fine, and he was pretty confident that he wouldn’t be, Techno sure wasn’t going to be.

“Please…” Dream trailed off, clutching Techno with shaking hands. His eyes were tearing up. It was the smoke. It was in his eyes and his lungs and his mind and inside him and clogging him up and he felt like he was about to suffocate, to die (and that was probably because he was going to).

“Of course,” Techno answered him softly. “You’ll be fine.” A fine stream of blood ran from one of the arrows embedded in his back. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dream scoffed, dry and hiccuping, before it soon spiraled into a coughing fit. His lungs hurt. Every part of him hurt. “We’re in the middle of a battlefield.”

“Not the middle anymore, Teletubby. We’re out of there now,” Techno informed him.

“Thanks.” Dream muttered. Blood was soaking through his bandages, old wounds ripped open and new ones added, and was dying his cloak a bright crimson, but that was the least of his concerns.

“Hold on tight,” Technoblade instructed. “We’re going down.”

With only one look back, Techno pushed forward, off of the dirt and grime and trampled soil of the warzone and onto the rough stone of the cave. “Sorry.” He carefully set Dream down and pulled out cobblestone to block up the cave entrance. Dream could breathe a little, tiny bit better now. “That should be enough for now. With any luck, they’ll think it’s just part of the mountain.”

“I don’t think we have much luck,” Dream said snidely, “just going off our track records.” He tried to wiggle back and sit up against the wall. (He ignored the way the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, the way his heart sped up and panic set in, the way he had to keep reminding himself that the walls were cobble and not obsidian) He almost succeeded. (He wondered if he had any stitches left to rip)

Techno thumped down across from him. “Luck doesn’t matter right now. You do.”

Dream rolled his eyes. He ignored the way he felt his strength, his blood, leave him, leaving him drained and inches from death. If he reached his fingers forward, he could probably touch Limbo itself. “There’s no one else I’d rather be trapped in a cave with than you, Techno.”

“I’m flattered,” Techno raised one hand to cover his heart.

“And that will have to be enough.”

And they both knew that they were going to die, but they didn’t care. They couldn’t do anything about it, and every life ended in a funeral, not a wedding. They were together, and that was enough.

Chapter Text

Dream felt Punz’s presence behind him, hesitating in front of the doorway. He didn’t know what to think about it. Maybe he’d usually be nervous, paranoid, wanting everyone to stay in his line of sight. Or maybe he’d felt comforted that they were there with him, that he wasn’t alone. Right now, Dream just felt empty, numb, drained, a well run dry. He had already shed all of his tears.

“You can sit,” Dream told them idly. He knew why Punz was here. He just wanted to get this over with.

Punz carefully stepped over to the bench Dream was sitting on and sat down. “How are you doing?” they asked, softly, gently. They were trying not to spook him, trying to make sure he wouldn’t run.

Dream shrugged. “Could be worse.” He glanced away from them, looking off into the bleak arctic landscape. Techno found something beautiful in it, though Dream wasn’t sure what it was. Peace, probably, but it wasn’t the sort of peace Dram was looking for. Being alone was never peaceful, tranquil, for him. It just made everything worse.

Dream jumped a little when Punz placed their hand on his arm, and glanced back at their still, serious face. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but I just want you to know that it’s normal. Things get worse before they get better sometimes. Recovery’s never a straight line. You shouldn’t–beat yourself over what happened, man.”

Dream slipped his arm out of their grasp, too tired to exert any force but still wanting to escape, to get away from them and everyone else and the world itself. He curled in on himself. “I was doing so well, Punz. I was getting better. I thought I was getting better.”

“You are getting better. Just because this morning was–bad doesn’t mean things can’t improve. We just have to take it easy.”

“I know. But…but it’s just so hard sometimes. And then stuff like that happens, even though it’s been what, a year –”

“And it seems hopeless,” Punz finished for him.

Dream nodded. “Exactly.” They understood. They always did.

“I know,” Punz agreed. “You’re not the only one who has to fight that battle. Hell, most of us do now, because nobody’s allowed to be happy and stay that way around here. But things can get better. They don’t always, but they can , and that’s the important thing.”

Dream pushed himself up. On the horizon, the sun slowly crept its way across the sky, casting everything in pale blue and pink. “I guess. Things go on, no matter what.” Even if you don’t want them to.

Punz nodded. “Yeah. And that’s all that really matters. Because there’s always another chance, and another, and another. As long as you keep giving yourself those chances, you’ll keep getting them. Other people,” they rolled their eyes, “won’t, of course, but who fucking cares about them. Nothing’s permanent and neither are they.”

Dream intertwined his fingers, bony and numb from being out of the cold, with Punz’s, warm and their weight almost comforting. “I’m permanent. We both are. We’ll always be here. We’ll never die.”

A smile danced onto Punz’s lips. “We’ll still change. We can’t do anything about it, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”

“Of course not.” Dream leaned back, resting his head on Punz’s shoulder. “We can change. We can get better.” They squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

And there they sat, two lovers and liars and legends, but oh so simply, painfully human. And, for that moment, out in the snow and the cold but with a promise of a warm hearth behind them and a bright future, the tantalizing unknown, a promise that things will get better, in front of them, that was all they were. That was all that mattered. That was all that had ever mattered, even though neither of them had realized it until now. But they knew that now, and now that was the only thing that mattered.