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Sam hadn’t realized how deeply terrified of Dream he truly is. He knew he had some level of fear of him, when Dream was locked in that cell, but he could always leave and Sam would be safe and away from him. The people he cared about were safe. The threat was only hypothetical.
Shortly after Dream escaped he had been locked in that very cell, and Dream had visited him, and given him food, and even set him free-
No. He starved you if you didn’t agree with him and killed you like a trapped rat; he was not good to you.
Sam’s memory of his time with Dream in the prison is muddled and full of conflicting information, but the danger of Dream being free never quite hit him until he meets eyes with him at Foolish’s summer home. Dream turns to look at him and smiles, an unreadable but dangerous look in his eyes, and suddenly he’s backed up against the portal-side wall by a pickaxe all over again and he can’t move, he can’t breathe.
“Sam?” Foolish’s voice snaps him out of his trance.
Sam responds to questions robotically, keeping his distance from Dream. He keeps a hand on his axe as more of a comfort than any semblance of a threat.
“Why are you here?” he blurts out suddenly. Dream gives him a pointed look and Sam shrinks back, knowing he was in trouble for speaking out of turn, but Dream answers anyway. Sam isn’t paying attention, too busy trying to put distance between him and Dream.
Unfortunately, Dream seems to notice this, and inches closer when Sam isn't paying attention, grabbing his arm and pulling him in roughly to link their arms together. Sam grips his axe so hard his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t dare move a muscle, barely even breathing.
Every time Dream puts his arm around him, pulling him close to show Foolish they were friends, it’s a reminder that he could not escape Dream.
A reminder that he had no choice but to be good and play along.
Be good. Be good and he will be kind to you.
Say what he wants you to and he’ll put his axe away. He won't hurt you if you've been good.
Sam keeps a hand clutched onto his axe like a child gripping a security blanket until the moment Foolish is far enough away, and Dream urges him quietly to keep his hands off his weapon, if he knows what's good for him. Sam wills himself to let go, hands shaking as he tries to put it away in his inventory, but it apparently takes far too long for Sam to comply. Dream suddenly pushes Sam down into the cactus in front of them as Sam yelps in surprise, trying to catch himself with his hands as the axe clatters to the ground beside him. The thorns can't get to his covered face, but his arms and hands are exposed and take the brunt of the damage. Dream expertly plays it off like Sam had just fallen down, helping him up and even picking up his axe for him when Foolish turns around. Sam doesn’t dare deviate from that narrative but Foolish had heard him, and seems skeptical of Dream but moves on rather quickly. Sam sighs in relief.
Sam doesn’t know what Dream would do if he had been caught. He would prefer not to find out.
He tries not to panic when he realizes the axe never made it back to his inventory.
At every turn, Dream finds ways to debase and humiliate Sam in front of Foolish in subtle ways. It’s like a game to him, seeing how far he could push Sam without Foolish noticing something is wrong. Whenever Dream looks to him to back him up like he is expected to, Sam falls in line and does what he is told. Even when Dream drags Tommy’s name through the mud he stays quiet, barely containing his rage and holding back the overwhelming urge to do something. Sam doesn't want to find out what Dream would do to him if he ever laid a hand on him, and so he pushes down his anger, letting Dream continue to speak without interruption.
This one act of self preservation somehow feels like a great, unspeakable evil. He's failed Tommy again, out of cowardice and selfishness. It’s absurd now, how he thought he had the right to ever consider him family.
Eventually Dream tells Sam to “fetch” him some food, and like a loyal dog to its owner, he does exactly as he is told, even knowing Dream is just getting him out of the way so he can talk with Foolish one on one. Still, he gathers the wheat and makes the bread with shaking hands. He takes a little longer than he would normally so he adds an extra offering of golden carrots to bring to Dream like the good dog he expects him to be. He probably wouldn’t want to know what they’re discussing anyway, if Foolish really is striking some kind of deal with Dream. He doesn’t want to know what business Dream and Foolish have with each other if it makes his chest ache just thinking about its existence.
By the time Dream leaves, Sam is deeply exhausted. The needles of the cactus he fell into (pushed, he has to remind himself, he pushed you) are still buried deep into his hands and the few exposed parts of his arms from where he had tried to save himself. His hands shake and his nerves are shot, all he wants to do is go home and let Fran lay in his lap.
As soon as Dream is out of earshot, Foolish puts his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Man, that guy sucks.” He laughs.
Sam doesn't laugh. He knows better. “H- he's always been a lot, yeah, but it's not so bad-”
Foolish cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder in his blind spot and Sam visibly startles. “Relax, he can't hear you, Sam! Now you can say what you really feel.” He speaks kindly, humorously, like Sam isn't still terrified that Dream is listening, watching and waiting for him to slip up so he can kill him again. Sam only stares at the ground in silence in response.
Coward.
“I- I have to go,” Sam sputters, excusing himself before he can ruin this interaction any further. He shrugs Foolish's hand off his shoulder despite every fiber of his being screaming for him to stay, where he feels safe. “Y'know me, always got somethin’ goin’ on…” He tries to force some emotion into his cadence and his voice cracks awkwardly.
Foolish isn't buying it. “You sure, Sam? You look tense,” He reaches out before thinking and tries to grab Sam's hands and he winces, the motion pushing the needles around and shifting them in his skin painfully. Foolish carefully readjusts, gently turning his hands over to assess the damage up and down his arms. If he notices his hands are shaking, he doesn't mention it. “At least let me help you with this?” Foolish hisses through his teeth sympathetically. “That cactus did a number on you. We can go back into my palace, alright? The work can wait, can't it?”
Sam could just about break down and cry right then and there. He knows he doesn't deserve it. He knows, deep down, that he is taking advantage of Foolish's kindness. But he selfishly accepts his offer with a silent nod, telling himself it would be disrespectful to reject his offer. He should be grateful that anyone still cares about him enough to help.
Foolish smiles warmly in response, letting Sam follow him, His hand still oh so gently holding Sam's as they walk together into Foolish's summer home. Sam listens to Foolish talk, not truly absorbing what he's saying but it helps keep him grounded to listen to as Foolish leads Sam to his living space, letting him sit on his couch as he checks his medicine cabinet for tweezers and band-aids if need be.
“Go ahead and get comfortable, it might take a while to get all those needles!” Foolish shouts from the other room. He's not too sure about his helmet and visor, knowing Foolish will immediately ask questions if he sees the ugly scar cutting across his face, but he feels safe enough here to take off the rest of his armor and tuck it away in his inventory. He's not out in the open, and Foolish is within earshot if anything were to happen to him. He's still antsy about his missing axe but he convinces himself that it must be right outside where he left it, and it's just waiting there for him to be done. What reason would Dream even have to take his axe, anyway? He doesn't need it, he has his own already.
He reminds himself that his armor is safe in his inventory.
Foolish comes back with a handful of things that he sets down on the coffee table in front of the couch, and sits down next to him, tweezers in hand. “Alright, let's get started on these big ones, okay?” He carefully takes Sam's hand. Sam lets him work, watching him carefully pull the spines from his skin, tossing them into a small trashcan he had set down next to the couch.
It feels… nice, being taken care of so gently and lovingly. It makes Sam feel safe in a way he hadn't felt in years. His mind begins to calm and quiet down as he watches Foolish concentrate, like his brain itself is being wrapped in a warm, soft blanket. Foolish feels like safety. He feels like comfort.
“Alright, I think that's all the big ones I can get…” Foolish says, reaching over to the table. “Theres still some little ones stuck in your hands though. I'm gonna have to pull them out with this tape, is that okay?” Foolish looks at Sam for approval, holding up the adhesive and he nods wordlessly. Foolish smiles. He knows Foolish can't see it, but Sam finds himself smiling back at him. “I might need to check your face next, just in case anything made it through-”
“No, n- no, s'fine,” Sam forces out, words coming to him slowly and slurring together. “I'm okay.”
Foolish gives him a puzzled look, picking up on the change in his voice. “You sure you're okay?”
“Yeah,” he nods heavily. “Jus’ tired, I think.” And it's true, he's had a long, positively exhausting day. Foolish seems to accept this as an answer.
“Yknow, if you need to crash here you're fully welcome to any time,” Foolish offers, laying down the tape. “Okay I'm gonna pull this off now, this part might feel kinda weird but it's gonna feel a lot better once it's over.” Sam braces himself and Foolish peels the tape back quickly, taking the tiny spines underneath with it. Sam winces at the sting. “Yeah, I know…” Foolish cringes sympathetically as he prepares more of the adhesive. “I'm just glad it was just your hands and arms, this stuff sucks when it gets in your face.” Foolish catches himself. “Of course, not that I have experience falling into… cactuses? Cacti?”
“I didn' fall…” Sam blurts out, feeling safe enough to be honest for a moment.
Foolish looks up at him in surprise. “What?”
“Didn’ fall. It was-” Sam catches himself before revealing anything and immediately backpedals his confession on instinct. “I- sorry, I did fall. I dunno why I said that, D- Dream was right, I just fell.” He puts more energy into speaking properly than making the words sound convincing. Dream doesn't like when he talks like that, he needs to snap out of it.
Foolish stops what he's doing to look at Sam, who avoids making eye contact. “Did Dream push you?” Sam falls silent, staring at a spot on the wall. “Why are you covering for him so much, Sammy? This is- I'm worried for you.” Sam feels too small, too fragile as Foolish keeps questioning him. “I'm not dumb, I could tell you two were tense with each other and it was weird, I don't have to see your face to know that you didn't wanna be there. I’m sorry I didn't say anything earlier-”
Sam's breath hitches, soft but noticeable for Foolish to stop in his tracks. “S- sorry, m'sorry-” his voice wavering and thick with bottled up emotion, “C- can't tell, I- I wanna tell, but can't, n- not allowed!” Sam tries to explain to Foolish with limited words that he wants to tell him everything, he trusts him, he needs someone to know how much he has suffered, but he's so scared of Dream that he cannot risk it.
He distantly feels Foolish's arms wrap around him. “Hey, hey- You're okay buddy,” he soothes him like a scared animal, "You're safe here, you're safe with me Sam.”
“N- no,” Sam's voice wavers, “n- not safe, he- he' s gonna-”
“I won't let him,” Foolish squeezes him protectively. “I'll keep you safe from him.”
“…Promise?”
“I promise.” He speaks with such conviction in his words that Sam can't help but trust him. “You can tell me whatever you want, Sammy.” The way Foolish says his name so softly makes him fall further into this strange, clingy headspace, where most words fail him and he feels small and vulnerable in a way that has felt too dangerous for too long. He feels safe to let go fully for the first time, to let Foolish keep him safe and take care of him.
Sam pulls himself away from Foolish and takes his helmet off with shaking hands. He hears Foolish gasp. His hands shake so bad that the helmet slips out of his hands, clattering to the floor. He startles, flinching at the sound with a soft whine.
“Sam- oh gods, Sammy,” Foolish reaches out to touch his cheek, turning Sam's face toward him. Sam wants to lean into his hand, simultaneously craving and fearing physical contact in the deeply vulnerable state he's in. “What- how did this happen?”
“D- Dream-” he muscles through his fear, reminding himself that Foolish is here to catch him, “said h-he was gunna kill me again if I was bad,” his voice breaks halfway through his sentence, finishing his statement while swallowing down sobs. “S- so I gotta be good so he won’ h- hurt me again…”
“Oh, bubby…” Foolish pulls Sam in for another hug and Sam's resolve shatters, burying his face into Foolish's shoulder. He rubs small circles into Sam's back as he muffles his loud, ugly sobbing. “It's alright, Sammy, just let it out,” he soothes him, and Sam feels genuine safety and comfort. He doesn't remember the last time he'd felt this cared for, and it just makes him cry harder. “You've dealt with him all on your own for so long…”
Sam nods, still whimpering into Foolish's shoulder. “He s- scary,” he forces out, small and childish. “M’so scared…”
Foolish strokes his hair. “I know, bubby, I know,” Sam's cries have since subsided into sniffles and whines as Foolish cards his hand through his unkempt hair, gently scratching his scalp in a way that makes Sam's body relax into him. “Do you remember when this happened?”
Sam wracks his brain for an answer. “Uhm… a month ago I think? When… when he let me go from th’ prison-”
“He put you in the prison?!?” Foolish holds him tighter.
“N- no no, that wasn’ him.” Sam winces. “It was… somebody else.”
“Who, then?” he says, tone suspicious.
Sam pauses, guilt washing over him. He doesn't want Foolish angry at them, especially not Tubbo, especially not when he knows he deserved to be in there. “…Don’ wanna talk about it. Sorry.”
“Okay… okay, we can talk about that later. One thing at a time.” Sam sighs in relief. “How… how long were you in prison?”
“Dunno…” Sam struggled to remember a time frame. “I got… They did it aft’r Dream got out, but Dream said it was jus’ a few weeks when he let me out-”
“Sammy- no, it's been about two months since then.”
“Wha- n- no, it can’t…” Sam panicked at the revelation. “Dream said- he said he fed me every day, I- I counted-” Distress creeped into his voice until all he could do was hold onto Foolish and hum nervously, trying to make sense of the reality he was presented with.
“Oh… oh Sammy,” Sam hears Foolish's voice break. He wants to say he hadn't meant to make him cry, but the only thing that could come out was a high pitched whine. “I'm- this is awful, I'm so sorry you went through this, you didn't deserve any of it.”
Scared. Sam is scared. He's too small and too vulnerable and he's so goddamn terrified his entire body is trembling in Foolish's arms. He remembers when he'd sunk this deep before, and he'd been hurt. He'd been kicked and screamed at and left by himself for what felt like days (knowing what he knows now, it likely was multiple days) until he “acted right.” He can't let himself fall any further, he can't be left alone like this again.
His hands clench and unclench, the tiny needles digging into his palms and making him itch. He tries to anchor himself with the pain, desperately trying to claw his way back out of this state he's in before he gets in trouble again, but Foolish notices and takes his hands in his.
“Hey, hey- stop that, you're going to hurt yourself!” His tone is still ever gentle, redirecting rather than chastising him. “Here, let me finish this up for you, and if you want to we can talk more after that, okay?” Sam nods, letting himself relax slightly. Foolish gently talks to him through the rest of the process, which repeats about four or five times. Sam had hoped the pain would be enough to pull him back to normal, but not with Foolish's gentle and calm voice now giving him sweet encouragement after every application.
“Okay, one more buddy.” He places the tape down on his arm. “Ready?” Sam nods quietly. “One… two… three!” On three, as promised, he quickly pulls the tape away, finally ridding his skin of the last of the needles. “And we're all done!” Foolish ruffles Sam's hair affectionately, and Sam can't stop his tail from wagging at the gesture despite himself. Foolish giggles when he notices and Sam's face goes hot with embarrassment. Foolish, rather than judging him for the reaction, continues the gesture, this time gently scratching at his scalp again and Sam leans into his hand, tail still wagging a mile a minute. “Aww, heheh- you're like a puppy!” Foolish's voice bubbles with amused laughter, and something about that makes Sam feel warm and fuzzy as he giggles along with him. “Man, what's gotten into you?”
Sam pauses, pulling away, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious. “Feel small, n’ safe wif you…” He winces, his voice coming out childish in a way he's sure would be chastised. Sam looks at Foolish, who looks at him blankly for a moment before something connects in his brain.
“Oh! I see,” Foolish nods, seemingly knowing something even Sam isn't fully aware of. “Well, I'm honored that you feel so safe with me, little buddy.” He smiles warmly, and Sam covers his face in embarrassment, wagging tail betraying how much he likes this special treatment. “Aww, c'mere!" Foolish pulls Sam in for a hug that Sam is too quick to reciprocate. He rests his head on top of Sam's. “I'm not gonna judge you,” he murmurs softly, “you can do whatever you need to around me and I would be more than happy to take care of you, however you need me.”
Sam's heart feels so full he's sure it could burst. He clings to Foolish, barely holding back tears and hiding his face in Foolish's chest. “Fank you, Fooshie,” he mumbles softly, voice slightly muffled.
“Of course, bubby,” Foolish replies, rubbing small circles into Sam's back. “Anything for you. Anything at all. I'm here for you.”
“…Anyfing?” Sam is skeptical of the offer, not that he doesn't trust Foolish. He's terrified of asking too much and taking advantage of his kindness, and what he wants to ask feels too selfish to say without reassurance.
“Yes, anything.” Foolish answers him without judgement or expecting anything in return. It's a genuine enough answer that Sam believes him.
“…M'scared to go home,” he confesses. “Don’ wanna leave, bu’ I miss Fwan…” He usually hates talking when he gets like this but he's been made to feel safe. Foolish understands him just fine. Foolish won't just ignore him until he starts talking normal. Foolish won't make him cry on purpose as a joke or yell at him to stop acting like a fucking four year old because Foolish is safe. Foolish is safe. “Can… can me an’ Fwan stay wif Fooshie? Is tha’ allowed?”
Foolish runs a hand through Sam's hair, gently scratching at the back of his head. “Of course, Sammy! If you wanna bring Fran and stay here, you're totally welcome as long as you need to feel safe.”
Sam hums softly, snuggling in closer to Foolish and leaning into his light scritches. “Not too much?”
“Nah, I'd love to have you up here with me, actually!” Foolish smiles down at him. “It'll be nice having a roommate, I think.”
Sam lays his head down on Foolish's shoulder, letting Foolish's arm wrap around him comfortingly. His eyes grow heavy as exhaustion seeps back into his body. “Fank you baba…” he yawns, finally feeling safe enough to truly rest for the first time in the past month. “Wuv you…”
As Sam closes his eyes, he feels a soft kiss against his forehead. “Love you too, bubby…”
Sam wakes up on Foolish's couch with his thumb in his mouth.
He very quickly removes it, hoping to every deity that Foolish didn't see him, and readjusts himself, wiping drool from his mouth. He wishes he could forget everything that transpired before he passed out from exhaustion. It was utterly mortifying, being reduced to such a mess, all because he was too stressed to function after interacting with Dream. He's asking too much of Foolish and he's just too polite to say no, of course. What was he thinking? Foolish knows too much now, far too much, but he's trustworthy enough for it to not get back to Dream that he told someone about their… arrangement.
Sam can work with this. This is fine.
He trusts Foolish. That is a constant of the universe. Foolish won't betray him.
But he cannot stay. As much as he wants to, he doesn't deserve help.
Dream made sure that lesson would stick.
No one is coming to save you, Sam, he had said to him. Why would they, when you couldn't save a single one of them? When you hurt them?
“Hey, you feeling better? I was just about to make us some food!” Foolish enters the living room from the kitchen.
Sam nearly jumps out of his skin at his thought spiral being interrupted, turning around to face Foolish. “No, no I'm headed home for now, I'm so sorry for the trouble-”
“Sam?”
“Gotta get back to Fran, y'know? She's probably worried about me.”
“Sam…”
“Have you seen my visor? I swear it was on the ground-”
“Sam.” Foolish grabs his hand before he can walk away from this forever. “You can stay here, I already said it was okay-”
“I'm fine,” Sam tries to convince himself. “Just let me go.”
“No, you are not! Sam, you-”
“I don't know what I was thinking, asking you that!” Sam pulls his arm away, Foolish offering no resistance. “It was such a selfish thing to ask!! Think, Foolish, Dream’s out there. What if something were to happen to you because I'm staying here with you?! I never wanted to put that on you. I can't- I can't let anything happen to you because of me. Not after-” Sam cuts himself off. His eyes linger on the ring of scar tissue around Foolish's neck before looking away.
Foolish notices, hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You know that… wasn't your fault, right?”
Sam looks down at the ground, arms folded around himself like a hug. “…I was supposed to protect everyone…”
He was supposed to protect Tommy, and he died.
He was supposed to protect Foolish, and he died too.
He was supposed to keep Dream in the prison, and now he's escaped.
Foolish pulls Sam into his arms for a hug. “It's not your fault, Sam.” He holds Sam close to his chest. “It's not your fault. None of it was your fault.”
Sam silently lets the tears fall down his face while Foolish cards his hand through his hair. “I don't- I don't deserve you,” Sam finally says, his voice tired and thick with tears. “You're so kind, a- and so safe and I don't deserve it-”
“Sammy, you deserve the world to me.” Foolish hugs him tight. “I want to keep you safe. Please let me?” Sam sniffles, hiding his face in Foolish's chest. “Let's eat something real quick, and then we can go get Fran, okay? You must be hungry.” Sam pauses, finally nodding.
“M'tired…” Sam says wearily. He knows he just slept, but he feels the exhaustion deep in his bones. He's felt it for years.
He doesn't need to elaborate. “I know,” Foolish softly murmurs, scratching the back of Sam's head comfortingly. “I know, bud. You don't have to do this alone.” Without so much as a warning, Foolish scoops Sam up in his arms, effectively sweeping him off his feet as he squeaks in surprise. “Now get in here and let's get you fed so we can go get Fran!”
Sam covers his face with both hands, giggling while Foolish laughs right alongside him, carrying him effortlessly into the kitchen. Sam thinks that maybe he can let himself be taken care of, if it's Foolish.