Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With a loud, disoriented groan, Dream slowly opens his eyes, but they snap shut immediately when he’s met with the painful, blinding rays of the sun.

Wait, what?

Why is the sun bearing down on him, the blistering heat seeming to already tint his pale skin red from just moments of being outside?

He was just sitting on the couch, talking to Wilbur, so how the hell did he get outside?

Even though Dream is terribly confused, he’s very thankful that he can feel the sun’s rays. The feeling tells him that, no matter what’s happening, he isn’t back in that horrible cell.

When his eyes finally adjust to the bright scenery, he slowly and hesitantly raises his head and looks around. 

On one side of him, there’s a massive forest, distant speckles of greens and browns splattering the horizon everywhere the eye can see. 

Meanwhile, in the opposite direction, Dream hears the faint sound of crashing waves, unable to see the sandy shore, but knowing that it must be nearby.

But that’s strange because, if there was a beach nearby, he’s sure that Wilbur would have told him about it.

Wait…

Does that mean that he’s somewhere else?!

Instantly feeling panicked, Dream jumps to his feet, sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes scan the horizon again, knowing that he needs to find Wilbur’s cabin, and fast.

If Sam realizes that he left the boundaries of the cabin that they discussed, it’s all over for him.

He’ll be sent back to Pandora’s Vault.

Locked inside that dreaded cell, never to see the light of day again…

No, he can’t go through that again!

He just can’t!

While breathing heavily and trembling violently, Dream starts blindly moving forward, not knowing where he’s going, just driven by the desire to move, run, flee.

After a few moments of traveling, Dream notices a large, tall one-block tower looming in the sky, serving as a dirt and cobblestone beacon guiding him to… something…

While hoping that, if someone’s around here, they’ll help him find Wilbur, Dream quickens his pace, practically stumbling forward in his haste to figure out what’s going on. 

As he gets closer, Dream realizes that the tower isn’t stationary, but it’s growing larger and reaching closer to the clouds with each passing moment, telling him that someone is very high up. 

Someone is traveling to the sky, standing on a platform that must be just wide enough to support their frame.

That looks… dangerous… and terrifying.

Why would someone be up there?

If they fell, they’d be dead, unless there’s a body of water just outside of Dream’s field of view.

Despite already feeling exhausted, Dream pushes himself to go faster, his concern drifting from his own fate to the mystery person, unable to shake off the feeling that something here is very wrong. 

After a few more moments, he catches a flash of red and white from the person, paired with blonde, those colors instantly making him think of a certain blue-eyed boy, but that can’t be.

What would Tommy be doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

Just moments after asking himself that question, Dream gets his answer in the form of climbing over a large hill, allowing him to see an all too familiar landscape that he never thought he would witness again.

Two tents on the beach, one nothing but a crater, and the other just a few pieces of white wool clinging to the remaining sticks that once served as the foundation.

One-block holes litter the ground everywhere, even what remains of the path not safe from the destruction.

A once large, homey building made of stripped oak logs lays in shambles, only a few charred logs symbolizing the house that was built there. 

The sign that once proudly proclaimed the name of the building is snapped in half, thrown off to the side and discarded like thousands of other items that have been lost to the throes of TNT. 

Even without the sign, Dream would recognize this place instantly.

Logstedshire.

And, by the smoking remains and ashes fluttering in the air, this must be a very recently blown up Logstedshire.

But that’s just not possible.

Logstedshire blew up over a year ago…

So why does it seem so fresh, why does it feel like, just moments ago, this was still Tommy’s home during exile?

Tommy…

As Dream’s breath catches in his throat, he looks back up at the still-growing tower, unable to see the figure anymore, but, with a sick feeling, he already knows who it is.

Dream stares with mounting horror as Tommy keeps towering up, and up, and up.

Suddenly, Dream realizes that he's going to jump.

He's going to take his last canon life, all because of Dream's actions.

How couldn't he see it the first time he was here? 

And why is it so obvious now?

And why is he still standing there as Tommy keeps getting higher and higher in the clouds?

While running faster than he ever has, Dream screams at the top of his lungs, "Tommy, stop, don't jump!"

Much to his dismay, he sees the tower just grow taller, his words seeming to fall on deaf ears.

Oh prime, this is bad!

This is really, really, really bad!

Tommy’s going to jump...

And, without a doubt, if he falls from that height, he’ll die.

He’s going to die, and it’ll be all Dream’s fault.

No, he can’t let that happen!

He’s already failed Tommy so many times…

He’s trying to be better!

He promised that he would be better!

He can’t let this happen!

Even though Dream feels shaky and downright terrified, he begins jumping and placing blocks beneath him, too focused on helping Tommy to notice how he has the strength to do that or, when his hands hold the various blocks he was carrying around, none of his fingers are missing.

By the time Dream can see Tommy again, he’s heaving for air, determined to, no matter what, not look down, already feeling like he might pass out from just being so high up, even without seeing how far the fall would be.

“Tommy!” Dream calls out in a shaky, ragged voice, unsure if the boy will hear him, but desperate to catch his attention before he can make that fatal decision to jump.

Upon hearing Dream’s voice, Tommy pauses in laying down the next block, his posture going rigid with a powerful mix of anger and terror. 

Now that Tommy has stopped climbing, Dream picks up the pace, nearly slipping a few times in his haste, but he keeps pressing forward, realizing that every moment right now matters so much.

When Dream is only about five blocks below the height where Tommy is, he stops climbing, not wanting to crowd the kid, but also ensuring that he’s close enough so he doesn’t have to shout.

“Tommy…” Dream gasps out as he tries to catch his breath, having so much he wants to say but, after climbing over a hundred blocks into the air so quickly, he’s having trouble forcing the words out through his panic and exhaustion. “Please… don’t… don’t jump. Please.”

“Dream?!” Tommy angrily demands, breaking several blocks beneath him, wanting to get a closer look at the green bastard, unable to believe that Dream has the nerve to ruin even death for him. “Why the fuck are you up here?!”

“I’m here to stop you,” Dream slowly says as he finally regains control of his breathing, allowing him to make the platform three blocks wide and three blocks long, too scared to continue standing on the one-by-one where his toes poked over the edge at all times. “Please, don’t do it.”

“Why do you care?!” Tommy angrily demands as he breaks the remaining two blocks beneath him, putting him on the same level as Dream but, to his satisfaction, he is still taller than the masked menace. “You're the one that drove me up here in the first place, you green son of a bitch!”

“I know…” Dream whispers as tears rush to his eyes, knowing that Tommy speaks nothing but the truth, but he thinks that falling from this height would be less painful than the realization that he made Tommy climb up here so he could kill himself. “I'm so sorry, Tommy.”

“You're… sorry?!” Tommy asks in a loud, disbelieving tone as he steps closer to Dream, putting them face-to-face but, because of his crude, twisted mask, Tommy can’t actually see the man’s face. 

“I am,” Dream earnestly says as he looks up at Tommy, hoping that the kid can see the sincerity in his teary, emerald-green eyes, having not yet realized that he’s wearing his mask after so many months without it. “I've hurt you, Tommy, and I’m so sorry for that. I've done cruel, terrible, and selfish things to you. I'm a monster.” 

Then, while resisting the urge to reach out and touch Tommy, to reassure the kid that he means no harm, he continues with all the sincerity he can manage, “But Tommy, even after everything I've done, you're still a fighter. So, please, don't stop fighting. Don’t give up. Please.”

“Dream, what game are you playing?” Tommy asks after a few moments of tense, heavy silence, trying to figure out what this new manipulation tactic is, especially since it almost sounds real, but that just couldn't be true. 

What game are we playing today, Dream? 

One moment Dream’s talking to Tommy, and then the next he’s back inside his cell, Quackity’s voice whispering that question in his ear as the axe grazes over his delicate skin, not yet cutting him, but making promises of the pain that will soon follow.

He doesn’t know how he’s back in his cell, because he thought he was out, he thought he was safe with Wilbur, but Wilbur isn’t here and he must be back in his cell because he hears Quackity and the sound of his voice is so familiar and terrifying and he can’t fucking breathe because he’s so scared of being hurt more and he doesn’t want to be hurt anymor-

“Dream?” Tommy asks in a low, uncharacteristically soft tone, his eyes wide with alarm and confusion at the sight of Dream. 

While Dream had been standing moments ago, he’s now sitting on the corner of the platform, dangerously close to the edge. While whimpering uncontrollably, the loud, terrified sounds making Tommy even more lost, he watches as Dream brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a pitiful attempt at a hug. Dream moves to bury his face against his legs, but the mask gets in his way. With a loud, ragged breath, Dream grabs the sides of the mask, yanks it off his face, and chucks it away from him, his fingers shaking too badly to unlatch the buckle in the back, causing a few pieces of his hair to be ripped out, but Dream doesn’t pay it any mind, too distressed to focus on anything other than the fact that Quackity’s here and he needs to hide and make himself small and create fewer places for his tormentor to hurt hi-

“Okay, who the fuck are you, because you sure as hell aren't Dream,” Tommy demands as he continues towering over the shaking and unmasked man before him, knowing that this person sounds like Dream, but it just couldn’t be him.

Wait… 

That sounded like Tommy, not Quackity…

Is it really him?

Slowly and cautiously, Dream lifts his head from where he was trying to bury his face against his knees and, even though his vision is blurry from tears, he'd recognize Tommy’s signature red and white shirt and that mop of blonde hair anywhere. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” Tommy demands, but, instead of his voice being filled with nothing but anger, there are undertones of fear, feeling sick to his stomach at the sight of the man before him, who looks to be only a few years older than him, and may or may not be Dream.

“I’m Dream-m, Tommy,” Dream shakily says, his voice cracking embarrassingly partway through due to the lingering terror he feels.

“No, Dream would never take off his mask or apologize!” Tommy adamantly says, refusing to believe that this impostor could ever be Dream, especially when he acts so different from the monster who has tormented him in exile for so long now.

“I don't know how to make you believe me,” Dream dejectedly murmurs as he closes his eyes tightly, causing the tears to slip down his cheeks even more rapidly.

“Just tell the truth,” Tommy firmly states, but his voice takes on a bit of a pleading tone, wishing that Dream would just be honest for once in his fucking life. “Stop lying to everyone all the fucking time!”

“Okay…” Dream hesitantly agrees, doing his best not to flinch or cower away from Tommy’s anger, especially when he knows that it is more than deserved. “Well, Tommy, the reason why I'm so different is that I'm from the future.”

“You're lying,” Tommy accuses Dream without hesitation, not knowing whatever bullshit Dream is trying to use this time, but refusing to fall for any more of his lies.

You’re lying to me, Dream. You remember the punishment for lying, don’t you?

“N-No, I'm not, l-l-lying!” Dream frantically exclaims, Quackity’s voice in his mind, especially when he speaks of punishments, causes Dream to be filled with absolute terror, his mind consumed by nothing but fear and dread and the desire to try to lessen the pain before it even begins, causing him to continue begging desperately, “Pl-Please, s-s-sir, I-I promise, I'm n-n-not lying! Please, please, n-no more! Please!"

Okay, what the actual fuck is going on…

Dream is begging Tommy not to be hurt.

Since when was Dream scared of being hurt?

Hell, he doesn’t just seem scared, Tommy thinks he looks absolutely terrified, desperate pleas falling from his lips without stopping as he shakes violently like a leaf. 

And who the hell is he calling ‘sir’...

And why does he seem so afraid of whoever this ‘sir’ is?

Deciding that, for the time being, he can push aside his hatred for Dream in order to figure out what’s happening, he carefully kneels before Dream, making him still taller than the small, hunched figure, but at least he isn’t towering over him anymore.

While hoping that he doesn’t regret this, Tommy reaches out a hand toward Dream, a part of him naively wondering if, when he goes to touch Dream, strong jaws of the monster he’s so scared of will snap at him, but nothing of the sort happens.

When he places his hand on Dream’s shoulder, the man flinches so violently that Tommy grips tightly to him, worried that, without his strong grip keeping him steady, Dream might fall off the platform to a painful death. 

Sure, he’d still have two more lives, unlike Tommy, who’s on his last one, but, when Dream looks this scared, he doesn’t really want the man to die.

"Dream?" Tommy carefully asks, the sound of his name causing Dream’s head to snap up, his eyes blown wide in absolute terror and panic, gazing unseeingly at Tommy, but looking as though he thinks that the boy will be the last thing he sees before he dies. “It’s me, Tommy. No one else is here. Just you and me.”

Once again, the sound of Tommy’s loud, unmistakable voice slowly coaxes Dream back from the nightmare world that his head conjured up.

"T-Tommy?” Dream shakily asks as his eyes blink slowly, increasing levels of recognition filling them with each passing moment. “Y-You've come t-to v-v-visit me-e?"

“Dream, we're in Logstedshire,” Tommy slowly says, as though he’s talking to a small child, unsure what Dream means by asking if Tommy is visiting him, but knowing that, whatever Dream is thinking, it’s not right. “You've come to visit me.”

“Oh…” Dream mutters in a low, confused tone, not understanding what Tommy’s saying as the throes of panic still grip his mind. 

Then, when the word 'Logstedshire' finally registers in his mind, Dream gasps out, “ Oh …” afterward trailing off as he remembers that, somehow, he ended up back at Logstedshire, just after it was blown up.

“Dream?” Tommy asks as the man gets a haunted, faraway look in his eyes, hoping to call him back to the present before whatever that was can happen again.

Slowly, with wounded and pain-filled eyes, Dream looks up at Tommy, the teen sucking in a harsh breath of air at how wrecked Dream seems right now, the sight of his biggest tormentor looking so defeated causes him to hesitantly ask, “What happened to you?”

With a shudder that wracks his entire body, Dream looks away from Tommy, instead staring at the nearby clouds as he mutters, "I-I… T-Torture."

Wait, what?!

Dream has been tortured?!

When the fuck did this happen?!

He literally just saw Dream yesterday, there’s no way he could have been tortured during that time, right?!

Well, Tommy, the reason why I'm so different is that I'm from the future.

It sounds absolutely insane but, if Dream really is from the future, it would make sense as to why he’s acting so weird.

The Dream he knew yesterday never would have tried to stop Tommy from jumping. Hell, he probably would have encouraged him, that deranged laugh echoing around him as he told Tommy to jump because no one would miss him.

The Dream he knew yesterday guarded his face like it was his most cherished secret. No doubt, if he ever tried to take Dream’s mask, he would have slaughtered Tommy without hesitation. Yet, the man before him willingly removed his mask and threw it off a tall tower, causing it to shatter down below, never to be used again. 

The Dream he knew yesterday never would have apologized or said ‘please’, but this Dream has begged and pleaded not to be hurt multiple times now.

He can’t imagine the Dream he knew yesterday following orders from anyone, let alone calling them ‘sir’, but he heard this Dream say it with his own ears.

And, even if it’s the craziest thing he’s ever been told, he finds himself believing this Dream. 

The Dream he knows is a damn good actor, but he would never, ever stoop so low and apologize or beg not to be hurt, even if it was to make Tommy trust him even more.

So that means that this is real…

This Dream is actually from the future…

And, oh prime, that means that he really has been tortured, hasn’t he?

With something dangerously close to sympathy building inside him, Tommy cautiously asks, “Someone tortures you in the future?”

"For m-months-s,” Dream mutters brokenly, the tears slipping down his cheeks even more rapidly, those words terrible and painful to say out loud, especially since he’s never done so before. “E-Every d-d-day."

"Fuck, man, I'm sorry,” Tommy breathes out with a heavy sigh, giving Dream’s shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze as he takes back his hand. “You're a real bastard, but even you don't deserve that shit."

"Th-Thanks," Dream shakily says with a weak little smile, knowing that, if he had continued to hurt this Tommy, the kid wouldn’t believe that, but it’s comforting to hear all the same. 

“When will this happen in the future?” Tommy asks after a few moments spent in tense silence, unsure if he is asking something too personal, but there’s someone from the fucking future sitting in front of him, how could he not ask any questions?!

“A few months from now is when I’ll be locked in the prison,” Dream hesitantly says, not sure exactly what day today is, but assuming that the timeline is something like that. “I think about six months passed before he started coming to hurt me. And he did that to me for two or three months? It's hard to keep track…”

“Did he not let you wear your mask?” Tommy softly asks after a few moments of just thinking over Dream’s words, unable to fathom what it would be like to spend half a year in isolation, followed by months of literal torture; even though what Dream did to him during exile was nothing short of torture, something tells him that Dream’s was more… physical and that it lasted for much, much longer than his own exile. “Is that why you took it off?”

“ He burned it on his first visit,” Dream says with another full-body shudder, still remembering the anguished scream that tore through his throat as Quackity threw his beloved mask into the lava, never to be worn or comfort him again. “I haven't worn it in months… it just feels so… wrong. Like I'm pretending to be someone who’s long gone.”

For a few moments, Tommy just thinks over Dream’s words, trying to picture a version of Dream that feels like he’s pretending to be something he’s not when he’s wearing the mask, rather than it being a part of him like the man he’s always known. And, no matter how hard he thinks about it, he can’t imagine it. It’s just so… different from everything that makes Dream… Dream.

“So, why are you here?” Tommy asks after he loudly and awkwardly clears his throat, deciding that, even though he still doesn’t like Dream, the man would probably appreciate it if he stopped asking about the literal torture he went through.

“I don't know,” Dream slowly begins with a loud, heavy sigh, wishing that he knew why or how he suddenly ended up in the past. “I was… I was talking to Wilbur about the past and the regrets we have-”

“Wait, Wilbur?!” Tommy interrupts Dream in a loud, shocked tone, certain that he must have misheard Dream, that he didn’t just say Wilbur, who’s dead when talking about the future. “Not Ghostbur?!”

“Oh, prime, Ghostbur…” Dream mutters in a low, horrified whisper, suddenly remembering the ghost whose neck he snapped so brutally and easily when he teamed up with Tommy to try to take Dream’s final life. “That means Wilbur is in Limbo right now. Oh prime, I need to help him!”

“Dream, what the fuck are you talking about?!” Tommy exclaims with growing alarm in his tone, unsure what the man is talking about, but terribly concerned, especially since Wilbur might need help. “What the hell is Limbo?!”

“Limbo is where all the dead people go,” Dream rushes to explain as he stands up on shaky legs, knowing that he can’t just sit around when Wilbur, the man he loves, might be suffering in Limbo all over again. “It’s an empty void, except for a train station that takes people to and from there. Time moves differently in Limbo; every day here is a whole month there. Which means that my Wilbur was dead for thirteen and a half years before he was revived.”

“What the fuck,” Tommy mumbles in disbelief and horror; even though he hates Wilbur for blowing up L'Manburg, he still cares about him and doesn’t want anyone to suffer for thirteen and a half years, but especially not the person he once loved like a brother.

“I’m sorry, I’ve probably said too much and I’m overwhelming you,” Dream mutters with a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose both in frustration and an attempt to stave off the headache he can feel building. “Basically, Wilbur has been trapped, alone with his thoughts for a very long time. Especially if, oh prime, what if Wilbur came back to the past too?! He’s probably really panicking right now!”

“Okay…” Tommy hesitantly says, still not fully understanding what’s happening, but willing to follow this strange, new Dream’s lead, especially if it’ll keep Wilbur from suffering more. “So how do we revive him then?”

“I-I know how to revive people…” Dream hesitantly says, trailing off at the end, knowing that Tommy is going to have a very strong reaction to that, especially since no one here knows about the revive book yet.

“You what?!” Tommy screams, terrified by the idea of Dream of all people having the power to revive whoever he wants, whenever he wants to.

“Yeah…” Dream says with a weak, nervous chuckle, this conversation going about as well as he expected it to, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. “Schlatt offered me a book on how to revive people if I switched to fighting on his side, and I just couldn’t pass that up. I could use that knowledge to revive Wilbur again.”

“You shouldn’t have that much power, Dream,” Tommy firmly states, not caring how different this Dream seems; no one should have that much power, but especially not him. “You’re like… immortal.”

Dream laughs bitterly, the humorless sound sending a shiver down Tommy’s spine, a feeling of dread filling the boy when Dream says, “Tommy, I’m nowhere close to immortal. You have no idea how many times I was on the brink of death in that prison, regen potions just barely able to keep me alive long enough for the next day's pain to begin.”

“Is that why they hurt you?” Tommy softly asks, finally beginning to understand how all these little pieces of information fit into place. “To get the book?”

“Yeah,” Dream says in a false-nonchalant tone, shrugging in a pitiful attempt to pretend like this doesn’t bother him. “My only options were to give up the book and be killed, or keep the knowledge to myself and go through months of torture. Pretty shitty either way.”

“I…” Tommy starts to say but, for one of the few times of his life, he is entirely speechless, unable to think of how someone could be so cruel, especially since Dream’s torturer might even be someone he knows. 

Finally, Tommy settles on a soft, weak, “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Even after everything I did to you during exile?” Dream can’t help but ask, knowing that, yes, he does deserve it after everything he’s done, but some twisted part of him must like the pain, making him want to hear Tommy say that he deserved to be tortured to the point that he barely even recognizes himself anymore.

“I fucking hate your guts, but I still don’t think you deserve to have your only options be torture or death,” Tommy adamantly says and, although the words are harsh, Dream can’t help but smile ever-so-slightly, feeling like that strong tone is because of what’s been done to him, rather than what he’s done.

“Thanks, Tommy,” Dream honestly and sincerely says as he finally meets Tommy’s gaze, the younger of them sucking in another harsh breath, so unused to seeing Dream’s face, let alone the raw, open emotions on it. “That… means a lot to me.”

Then, with a heavy, guilty sigh, Dream softly continues, “And I know you’ll never forgive me, but I am so, so sorry. If I could take it all back, I would. I never would have let my jealousy get the best of me and stolen your disks. I never would have declared war on L'Manburg. I never would have forced Tubbo to choose his best friend or his country."

"But you did do all that," Tommy boldly points out, his words causing Dream to wince, even though he knows that Tommy speaks nothing but the truth.

"I know…” Dream mutters as tears rush to his eyes, so fucking tired of crying, but unable to prevent the waterworks that always appear behind his eyes. 

Then, while getting an idea, Dream steps toward Tommy and earnestly says with as much sincerity he can, “I can make your future better though, I promise."

"I don't believe you," Tommy says just as bluntly and without hesitation, refusing to listen to any promise made by Dream, even from one who seems like less of a dick overall.

"Okay, let's go to L'Manburg right now, and I'll ask Tubbo to revoke your exile and make you a citizen again," Dream firmly says with the beginnings of a smile, knowing that this won’t make up for everything, but he thinks it’s a damn good place to start.

"What?” Tommy asks in a low, disbelieving whisper, not wanting to get his hopes up, but already feeling that little bubble of hope and desire form in his chest, so easy to pop, but just as easy to grow into something beautiful. “I can go back?"

"Yes, Tommy,” Dream says just as softly with a heavy sigh, hating how eager Tommy is to go back, especially while knowing that he’s the reason why the kid is out here all alone to begin with. “That's where you belong, with your friends and people who care about you. You don't deserve to sit in loneliness with only me to keep you company.”

Then, with a faraway look in his eyes, one that speaks of countless hours spent in pain and misery, Dream murmurs, “I-I never knew how bad it was to be isolated. I spent so long without seeing anyone that a part of me looked forward to those visits because, even though he was literally torturing me, it was at least another person and I wasn't entirely alone."

"Prime, Dream, that's fucked," Tommy breathes out in a horrified whisper, unable to imagine being so lonely that he would look forward to torture because it meant seeing another person. 

“Oh, I know,” Dream easily agrees with a wry smile, his response causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in surprise and alarm, wondering if he’s standing hundreds of blocks in the air with a psychopath. “My head is so fucked up. And, after what I've done, I think yours might be a little too."

"No, I’m perfectly fine, because I am a very big man," Tommy states without hesitation, his words causing Dream to release a fond, surprised chuckle, finding it nice to just talk to Tommy again; even if it isn’t in the most ideal conditions, it’s nice to be able to just speak to the boy again without being terrified of accidentally hurting him more or Tommy wanting to enact revenge on him.

"Prime, I've missed you, Tommy," Dream can’t help but whisper, his eyes glossy with more unshed tears, wondering for the first time if maybe, just maybe, this is a second chance for him, the opportunity to make things right so he doesn’t end up in Pandora’s Vault again.

I haven’t missed you, Tommy wants to bite out but, when he notices the little smile that Dream gives him, unmistakable care and joy in his eyes, he holds back, deciding that, maybe this once, he doesn’t have to let the man know how much he hates him.

"Can we go to L'Manburg now?" Tommy softly asks instead, not wanting to give in to the hope he feels, but so eager to see Tubbo and everyone else again if Dream will actually let him.

"Yeah, of course,” Dream agrees without hesitation, his smile taking on a sad edge, but it doesn’t fade away completely, knowing that, even though it’s long overdue, he is finally doing something good for Tommy. “Let's go see your friends again."

Chapter Text

With wide, disbelieving eyes, Tommy steps foot onto L'Manburg soil for the first time in much too long, Dream trailing a few blocks behind the enamored kid, not wanting to crowd him during this vital moment.

“I forgot how big it is,” Tommy whispers in awe as he cranes his neck to look up at one of the looming spruce-wood houses, the build much more elegant than Logstedshire ever could have been.

“Me too,” Dream says just as quietly, equally as surprised by the vastness of L'Manburg; it’s been over a year since he’s seen any building that wasn’t Pandora’s Vault or Wilbur’s house, and even longer since he’s seen L'Manburg, so this situation is extremely jarring to both of them.

While shaking himself out of his stupor, Dream steps forward so he’s standing beside Tommy, the boy having paused in walking to take in the bustling city around him. 

“Are you okay with waiting here while I explain what’s going on to Tubbo?” Dream gently questions as he steps in front of Tommy, taking his attention away from the city to instead focus on the unmasked man.

“No, I want to see him now,” Tommy firmly demands in a much more confident tone than he has used in a while, feeling invigorated by being back in his beloved city.

“Okay,” Dream simply says as he shrugs his shoulders, afterward turning away from Tommy and beginning to walk toward the city center again.

“Okay?” Tommy hesitantly questions, rooted in place by Dream’s strange response, not at all expecting Dream to actually listen to him, let alone without any snide comments or complaints.

“I’m not going to stop you,” Dream easily says as he pauses walking, instead glancing at Tommy again, one of his eyebrows rising when he sees the boy not moving. “I think it would be better to explain things first since seeing you again will probably be overwhelming for him, but, if that’s what you want, I won’t make you stay here and wait.”

“Are you serious?” Tommy softly questions, hardly daring to hope that Dream is being truthful, but wanting to believe that this is real so badly. “I can go see him right now?”

“Yes, Tommy,” Dream says with a large, heavy sigh as he backtracks so he can stand in front of Tommy again.

While making eye contact with Tommy, the sight of Dream’s eyes still so unnerving to the younger of the two, Dream earnestly says, “Look, I know I’ve hurt you a lot, and I doubt you’ll believe me when I say this, but I really am trying to be a better person. So, if you don’t want to wait any longer to see Tubbo, you can see him right now.”

For a few moments, Tommy just stares at Dream with wide eyes, trying his absolute best to sense any signs of deception or manipulation, but he can’t find any, especially when Dream’s face is so open and expressive without his mask.

Hesitantly, Tommy takes a step forward toward the center of the city, immediately glancing back at Dream after he does so, scared that he did something wrong and that the tyrant will drag him back to the smoldering remains of Logstedshire any moment now.

While rolling his eyes at Tommy’s hesitance, Dream carefully grabs Tommy’s arm and firmly says, “Come on, let’s just go see him.”

Instantly, Tommy wrenches his hand away from Dream's grasp and holds it close to his chest as he grits out, “Don’t fucking touch me ever again!” 

“Sorry, I won’t do that again,” Dream softly says as he raises his hands in a placating gesture, internally berating himself for touching Tommy, especially after all the ways he hurt the kid during exile.

After hearing Dream apologize to him, as if that could make up for anything at all, Tommy’s hands clench into fists, feeling fury pump through his veins, almost as plentiful as the blood keeping him alive.

“I fucking hate you!” Tommy shouts as he lunges at Dream, the force behind the collision sending them both sprawling onto the grass below.

After rolling a few times from momentum, Tommy winds up on top, a wide-eyed Dream beneath him, unable to process how he was standing one moment, and now he’s on the ground, a furious Tommy above him.

“You’re the worst, you green son of a bitch!” Tommy screams as he pulls back his fist before sending it crashing against Dream’s nose, a sickening crunch echoing within the outskirts of L'Manburg from the brutal impact. “I fucking hate you!”

With a wince, Dream opens his mouth to speak, to apologize to Tommy, but he doesn’t get the chance because another powerful blow collides with his jaw, the impact snapping his head to the side as thousands of bright lights flash before his eyes.

“You fucking suck!” Tommy continues in that same tone, hot, angry tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks, making it impossible to see Dream very well, but the smear of blood on the man’s face is unmistakable even through his tears. 

“I know,” Dream whispers as tears rush to his own eyes from the smarting pain in his nose and jaw, not protesting or resisting Tommy's violent actions in the slightest; even though he could easily overpower the boy, Dream doesn't even try, knowing that he deserves this.

“Why aren’t you fighting back, huh?!” Tommy harshly demands, hating the thought that Dream might be pitying him because he’s crying instead of continuing to beat the shit out of the unmasked man.

“You deserve to hurt me,” Dream replies without hesitation, believing those words wholeheartedly; even though his bleeding nose feels like it’s on fire and his jaw is aching from Tommy’s punches, he can’t find it in himself to be mad at the kid, knowing that he deserves so much worse. 

“So you’ll just let me beat the shit out of you and not do anything?” Tommy challenges, not believing Dream for a single second, knowing that the manipulative bastard must be trying to lull him into a false sense of security and, the second he lets his guard down, he’ll be the one pinned to the ground, Dream above him and raining down fists on him relentlessly. 

While shrugging as much as he can with his arms pinned at his sides, Dream softly says with tears rapidly slipping down his cheeks, “Go for it. It’s not like this’ll be the worst way someone’s hurt me. And I deserve it.”

After hearing the pain and resignation in Dream’s voice, Tommy deflates, his anger leaving in a rush when he remembers that this version of Dream is not only from the future, but one in which he was tortured.

This is probably nothing new for Dream…

He’s probably used to being hurt and doing nothing to fight back…

He's probably used to being helpless as someone with more power than him hurts him however they want to...

Right now, he's taking advantage of the fact that Dream won't fight back, then using that to hurt him...

Just like the person who tortured him must have done.

And, suddenly, with those thoughts echoing relentlessly in his mind, he doesn’t want to hurt Dream anymore.

Sure, he still hates the green bastard so fucking much, but he doesn’t want to be an abuser.

Even though he easily could hurt Dream, could take advantage of the man’s unwillingness to fight back, the thought of doing so feels… wrong.

Dream clearly has already been hurt…

He doesn’t want to be like the bastard that tortured Dream…

And he doesn’t want to be like Dream, the bastard who takes advantage of people's exiles and kicks them while they’re already down.

So, even though he’d love to smash Dream’s face in until he’s nothing but a bloody, unrecognizable mess, Tommy releases a heavy sigh and moves off of the man, instead sitting on the grass beside him.

“Why?” Dream asks in a soft, disbelieving whisper as he slowly uses the back of his hand to wipe his bloody nose, unable to understand why Tommy isn’t hurting him more. 

“I don’t want to be like you and hurt someone who’s already suffering,” Tommy honestly and bluntly says, uncaring of how his words make the unmasked man feel, needing him to understand that Tommy isn’t doing this because he likes or forgives him in any way. “You’re a real bastard, Dream. You took advantage of my isolation and used it to hurt me even more. Now I could take advantage of the fact that you’ve been tortured and won’t fight back against someone hurting you, but that’s something you’d do, and I don’t ever want to be anything like you, got it?”

After a few moments of hesitation, Dream simply nods, knowing that there’s nothing he could possibly say to refute Tommy’s words, especially since they are nothing but the truth.

He forced Tubbo to exile Tommy.

And, instead of leaving it at that, he made it his mission to visit Tommy every day.

He hurt Tommy by blowing up his stuff.

He manipulated Tommy by making him think that he was the only person who cared.

Tommy was already in such a vulnerable position, and he twisted a terrible situation to make it even worse.

They both know what he did, and nothing he can do will change that.

So, instead of trying to defend himself or apologize, Dream slowly sits up, groaning at the pounding behind his temple from Tommy’s punches.

“Come on, let’s go see Tubbo,” Dream quietly says as he shakily rises to his feet, unable to even bring himself to look at Tommy, too ashamed by the knowledge that, not only did he hurt Tommy so badly, but that the kid is a much better person than he will ever be.

While glaring at Dream, Tommy also stands up, a part of him wanting to shove Dream onto the ground again, but he holds back, refusing to stoop down to Dream’s level of violence and cruelty.

So, instead of hurting Dream more, Tommy raises his middle finger high in the air before storming off ahead of the unmasked man, not wanting to spend any more time with him.

With a heavy sigh, Dream trails after Tommy, a part of him wanting to just leave so he can hide under a rock and promptly die to escape all his shame, but he knows that he needs to be here as proof that Tommy’s exile has officially ended. 

Even though he would love nothing more than to run and hide to escape what he’s done, Dream pushes onward, determined to finally do something right. It won’t make up for his many wrongs, but Tommy deserves this chance at a better life.

After a few moments of walking, Dream catches up to Tommy, who stands frozen near the center of L'Manburg, his wide eyes locked onto a familiar figure sitting on a flower planter. 

Clad in his fancy and formal presidential wear, the navy-blue suit making him look out of place among all the flowers behind him, Tubbo sits only a few blocks away from Tommy. His dirty-blonde hair, which falls to just above his ears, blows in the gentle breeze, his bangs covering his eyes more often than not, but the boy simply pushes them out of the way instead of cutting them shorter. His baby-blue eyes look down at the red tulip he's holding, twirling the flower in his hands every so often, and Dream can’t help but notice that the flower matches the same shade as the red in Tommy’s beloved shirt. 

And, even from quite a ways away, Dream can’t deny that Tubbo looks sad, much more heartbroken than he has ever seen the usually cheerful boy.

“Go on,” Dream gently encourages Tommy with a small, sad smile, knowing that he’s at fault for the sadness on Tubbo’s face and the shock that Tommy feels at finally getting to see his best friend again, but unsure how to fix either of those things.

“H-Hey, Big T,” Tommy softly says as he approaches Tubbo, the sound of his best friend’s voice instantly causing Tubbo’s head to snap up in shock.

“T-Tommy?!” Tubbo exclaims as he jumps to his feet, dropping the tulip onto the ground below in favor of throwing his arms around his friend in a gigantic hug, so ecstatic to see him again. “What are you doing here?!”

“Dream brought me here because he wants my exile to be over,” Tommy mutters as he hugs Tubbo back just as fiercely, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

“Wait, really?!” Tubbo asks in excitement, so surprised to hear that Tommy’s exile could actually be over finally, but hoping that it’s true. “Where is he?”

Dream takes this moment to step forward from where he waited a few blocks away to give them some privacy, giving a small wave as he says, “Hey, President Tubbo.”

“Dream?!” Tubbo asks in shock as he pulls back from Tommy’s embrace, stepping closer to the unmasked man, finding this entire situation so unusual. “Why are you bleeding?! And where’s your mask?!”

With a chuckle and a wry, bloody smile, Dream mutters, “The blood on my face is a gift from Tommy.”

Instantly, Tubbo rounds on Tommy, his eyes blown wide in shock and disbelief, especially when he sees the smug smile on Tommy’s face, telling him that what Dream’s saying actually happened.

Tommy gave Dream a bloody nose…

Not only that, but Tommy’s still alive after doing so, and, other than some minor scratches, he doesn’t even seem hurt.

“As far as my mask goes, I destroyed it,” Dream continues with a shrug, his face not holding any trace of regret for losing his mask. “I’m tired of hiding behind it.”

“What?” Tubbo mutters under his breath in utter disbelief, only loud enough for Tommy to hear.

“Yeah, he’s weird now,” Tommy says just as quietly with a bitter smile, glad that he isn’t the only one surprised by this new Dream. “It’s a long story, but I’ll tell you it later.”

Wordlessly, Tubbo just nods and then, while turning his attention back to Dream, he hesitantly says, “Tommy said you’ll let his exile end. Is that true?”

“It’s true,” Dream says without hesitation, smiling sadly at the joy on both the boys' faces. “It was wrong of me to exile him in the first place; Tommy deserves to be here with his friends. And I’m sorry for the ways I’ve hurt you two, both because of exile and all the fighting we’ve done.”

With eyes so wide that they might pop out of his skull, Tubbo looks back and forth between Dream and Tommy, the younger of them just shrugging at the older’s strange behavior.

Deciding to help out the terribly confused kid, Dream softly says, “I’ll leave you two alone now. If you need me to sign any documents to make the end of his exile official, just let me know.”

Tommy just nods his head in acknowledgment, Tubbo too shocked to do more than stare at Dream with wide, disbelieving eyes, his mouth agape in surprise. 

With a nod to Tommy in return, Dream walks away from the two boys, smiling to himself ever-so-slightly, knowing that, even if it was long overdue, he did a good thing. 

So, as the two boys hug each other tightly, Dream continues to travel farther away from them, making Tommy feel more at ease without him around them.

The second Dream is out of their sight, Tubbo demands, “Okay, why the hell was Dream acting so strange?! What happened to you two during exile?!”

“Come on, let’s sit down,” Tommy says with a heavy sigh, not looking forward to explaining anything of what happened during exile, but knowing that, if he could trust anyone to know, it would be his oldest friend. 

After they both sit down on the flower planter, Tommy is silent for a long time, causing Tubbo to sadly say, “I’m so sorry for exiling you, Tommy.”

In surprise, Tommy looks over at Tubbo, shocked to see tears racing down his cheeks.

Too surprised to speak, Tommy just silently waits for Tubbo to continue, which he does in that same sad tone, “I just didn’t know what to do. Dream made it so, no matter what, someone would get hurt. Either you’d get hurt by being alone in exile, or everyone else would get hurt by being trapped behind obsidian walls, never to leave again.”

Then, while hesitantly taking Tommy’s hand, Tubbo finishes, “Tommy, I never wanted to hurt you. You’re my best friend, and I should have fought for you. Maybe I could have figured out another way.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” Tommy adamantly says with a heavy sigh. “There’s no reasoning with someone like that. Trust me, exile taught me that very well.”

“Did he hurt you?” Tubbo asks in a horrified whisper, unable to stomach the thought of Tommy being alone and in pain, especially due to a decision he made.

“Yeah, he did,” Tommy mutters as tears rush to his eyes, his words weak but, with how much pain they bring Tubbo, his friend might as well have shouted at him. “Every time he came, he’d make me drop all my stuff in a hole, and then he’d blow it up. I could never make any progress because I was constantly starting from scratch.”

“Oh, Tommy,” Tubbo whispers sadly as he releases Tommy’s hand, instead pulling him into a hug. “I’m so sorry he hurt you like that.”

Even though it’s painful to talk about, now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop, causing Tommy to continue with a faraway look in his eyes, “He made me think that no one but him cared about me. I-I thought that he was my only friend. One minute he’d blow up my stuff, and then the next he’d smile and act like he cared about me. There was one time he gave me his trident and let me fly around, and it made me so happy because I felt like I finally wasn’t alone anymore. And sometimes he let me keep my stuff, and I always felt so grateful because of it.”

“What he did to you was awful,” Tubbo firmly says, tears rapidly falling down his cheeks at the pain in his best friend’s voice, especially while knowing that he’s the reason why Tommy was exiled in the first place.

“I know,” Tommy whispers after a few seconds of hesitation, realizing that yeah, what Dream did to him really was terrible. 

Then, with a heavy, reluctant sigh, Tommy continues, “Dream did a lot of really terrible things to me... but some pretty shitty things have also happened to him.”

“What do you mean?” Tubbo hesitantly asks, wondering how something terrible could have happened to Dream, especially when it sounds like all he did was make Tommy suffer. 

“It’s... complicated,” Tommy finally settles on, unsure of how to share what he’s learned about Dream without sounding like he’s finally lost his mind.

“I know I’ve done a shitty job of this in the past but, whatever you say, I promise I’ll listen to you,” Tubbo promises as he holds Tommy a little tighter, knowing that he’s failed his friend too many times, but hoping that he can make up for it. “Even if it sounds crazy, I’ll trust you.”

“Okay,” Tommy mutters with a relieved sigh, so thankful to hear Tubbo say those words. 

Feeling a little braver now, Tommy confidently says, “The Dream we saw just now, the one without his mask, is from the future, and that’s why he acted so strange.”

“What?” Tubbo asks in a low, disbelieving tone, knowing that he said he’d believe whatever Tommy told him, but he didn’t expect time travel to be his response. “Dream is a time traveler?”

“I know it’s crazy, but he really is,” Tommy earnestly says, hoping with all his heart that Tubbo will believe him. “I didn’t want to believe him when he first told me, I thought it was just more of his manipulation tactics, but he couldn’t have faked this.”

“What did he do?” Tubbo hesitantly asks, doing his best to give Tommy the benefit of the doubt, even though this sounds so impossible.

“He had a panic attack and begged someone he called ‘sir’ not to hurt him,” Tommy slowly and cautiously says, a small part of him feeling bad for sharing something so personal, but then he reminds himself that Dream is a green bastard, and suddenly he doesn’t feel so bad anymore.

“He what?!” Tubbo asks in a loud, shocked tone, unable to picture Dream having a panic attack, let alone begging during it.

“I know, it’s fucking insane to think of him like that, but I saw it with my own eyes,” Tommy says with a disbelieving chuckle, still unable to believe what happened, and he actually watched it happen. “I actually sent him into two panic attacks, and each one he came out crying and shaking.”

“What kind of fucked up future did he come from?” Tubbo questions softly, still finding it hard to believe the idea of Dream coming from the future, but he just can’t imagine the Dream he knows crying and panicking. 

“He was locked in prison and tortured for months,” Tommy bluntly says, but his tone takes on a sort of sad edge, truly believing that even Dream didn’t deserve that shit.

“No way,” Tubbo says in a low, horrified whisper, thinking of the prison that Sam and Dream recently started building together and how Dream not only managed to get stuck in there, but tortured too. “Are you serious? He’s been t-tortured?”

“Yeah, he really has,” Tommy says without hesitation and, even though there were no scars on his body as proof, Tommy fully believes that it’s true, especially since Dream’s begging and pleading not to be hurt refuses to leave his mind. 

Then, with a heavy sigh, Tommy softly continues, “Dream’s a real bastard, and he’s done a lot of fucked up things, but he didn’t deserve to be tortured.”

“I agree,” Tubbo says without hesitation, absolutely hating Dream, especially after learning what he did to Tommy during exile, but he would never, ever condone torture.

With another sigh, Tommy mutters, “I hate to say this, but that prison changed him. He’s… different now. Without the mask, he just seems more… human. And he… actually helped me. He knows what it’s like to suffer in isolation now and he ended my exile because of it.”

“Do you think that’s why he’s here?” Tubbo hesitantly asks, slowly starting to piece together the meaning behind this weird situation. “What if he’s back in the past to try to make things right? Y’know, so he doesn’t end up in prison again.”

“You think so?” Tommy asks just as hesitantly, finding it hard to imagine Dream trying to right his many wrongs but, from the few things the unmasked man has done so far, it could make sense.

“Yeah, I think so,” Tubbo continues, much more confidently this time. “I mean, think about it. He was isolated in prison, and then, now that he’s here, he ended your isolation. It sounded like he… enjoyed your exile, but this Dream ended it immediately. That sounds like he’s trying to fix what he did wrong.”

“He told me that he’s trying to become a better person,” Tommy slowly shares, not at all believing it, but, if it is true, that makes sense with what Tubbo is saying.

“Do you believe that?” Tubbo hesitantly questions, certain he already knows the answer, but he asks all the same. 

“Hell no,” Tommy adamantly says with a scoff, not even hesitating a moment before speaking.

But then, in a softer tone, Tommy hesitantly continues, “But, if he keeps doing shit like he did today, I might start to believe him.”

“Yeah, me too,” Tubbo softly says, able to admit that, even though he despises Dream, the one he saw today seemed much… better than the masked man who haunts both of their nightmares. 

Then, with a heavy sigh, Tubbo releases their hug and stands up while saying, “Come on, let’s go get you to your new room, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Thanks, Big T,” Tommy happily says as he slowly stands up and begins following Tubbo to the White House.

And while Tommy is very surprised by today’s strange turn of events, he can’t help but feel hope for the future for the first time in much too long.

Chapter Text

As Tommy and Tubbo continue catching up with each other after their time spent apart, Dream slowly walks away from the two best friends, his emerald eyes wide as he takes in the city around him.

He forgot just how massive L'Manburg is.

Sure, it’s nowhere near the size of the main SMP lands, but, unlike the homes there, L'Manburg has a sense of community. 

Rather than everything being spread out, there are homes and shops everywhere his eyes look.

Seeing all the wood houses and sidewalks bustling with people is… strange to say the least.

But… it’s also nice to see so many people together, happy and content as they wander about and chat with each other.

Dream has missed such a sense of unity and, ironically, it can be found here, in the place that he’s tried to destroy so many times.

So entranced by the magnificent city of L'Manburg, he doesn’t notice a familiar figure approaching him.

“Hey, Dream!” An all-too-familiar voice cheerily calls out from somewhere to Dream’s left, the sound immediately causing him to freeze, terror instantly pumping through his veins, as plentiful as the blood used to keep him alive.

Without hesitation, Dream begins sprinting away as fast as he can, knowing that, if he even looks in Quackity’s direction, he’ll be too scared to stand. 

Dream’s breaths thunder in his ears, his heart pounding as his legs propel him forward, having no clue where he’s going, just driven by the desperate need to escape before Quackity can hurt him all over again. 

If he wasn’t so overcome by fear, Dream probably would have thought rationally and remembered that he’s in the past with a version of Quackity that doesn’t have a long, jagged scar traveling down his face, leaving him blind in one eye.

But, instead of trying to approach this logically, he continues running for his life, the sound of Quackity’s voice being the thing that scares him most in this world and, while he isn’t trapped in a cell and actually able to run, he is certainly going to take this opportunity to get the fuck away from his tormentor.

Even though Dream wants to keep running forever and never stop so Quackity can’t find him and hurt him again, exhaustion tugs at his limbs, threatening to send him sprawling onto the ground, giving Quackity ample opportunity to catch up to him if he’s pursuing Dream.

So, while still consumed by panic, Dream runs up to the nearest house he can find, then desperately twists the door handle and, thank prime, finds that it's unlocked. 

Quickly, Dream enters the dark house, immediately terrified of his inability to see anything, but knowing that even pure blackness is better than staying anywhere that Quackity is.

While shaking and trembling violently from a combination of adrenaline and intense fear, Dream heavily sinks onto the floor against the front door, breathing too harshly and loudly to hear the shuffling coming from deeper inside the house.

With a torch in one hand, enchanted diamond sword in the other, the occupant creeps toward the front door, unsure who broke into his house, but ready to defend his property.

As Dream continues breathing heavily, he closes his eyes tightly, causing tears to slip down his cheeks even more rapidly now, so fucking scared of being hurt by Quackity again that he can hardly even breathe.

After a few moments of having his eyes shut tightly from terror, Dream sees brightness behind his closed eyelids, the sight making his eyes fly open in absolute panic. 

Through blurry, tear-filled vision, Dream sees a tall figure, their features nothing but a blob of forest-green and jet-black.

What Dream can see clearly is the sharp, shiny diamond sword pointed in his direction, the blade glinting dangerously as it rests just a few inches away from his throat.

“Who are you?” The man demands harshly as he takes a threatening step forward, putting the sword even closer to Dream’s throat.

Feeling even more terrified now, realizing that he might have just traded one threat for another, Dream releases low, frantic whimpers as he scrambles away from the deadly weapon.

Much too soon, Dream’s back hits the wall, making him, quite literally, backed into a corner. 

Knowing that he truly is trapped now, stuck with a stranger that seems intent on hurting him, Dream can’t hold back a loud, terrified sob. As Dream cries loudly and violently, he curls in on himself, trying to become as small as possible for when this person decides to hurt him.

“Hey, Mate, it’s okay,” the man softly says as he sheathes his sword, still unsure who this person in his house is but, based on how scared he seems, it’s obvious that he isn’t there with the intention of robbing him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hesitantly, Dream raises his head, his teary eyes unable to make out the man’s features still, but he no longer sees the flash of blue, telling him that the man's sword has been put away. 

“You’re okay,” the man softly continues as he kneels in front of the intruder, not wanting to tower over the obviously terrified man, especially with the way blood clings to his nose and mouth, telling him that this person is both scared and hurt. “You’re safe here, Mate. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Slowly, feeling comforted by those soft promises, Dream’s sobs cease, instead being replaced by the occasional hiccup. 

“There you go,” the man encourages with a small, sad smile, thankful that this person has finally stopped crying, those pained, broken sobs making him want to hug the man, but he refrained, not wanting to make him more afraid. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Shakily, Dream nods his head, not feeling very safe, but he at least feels safer with this man than he would outside where Quackity is. 

“I’m Phil,” the man says with a kind smile as he shifts so he’s sitting down rather than kneeling, his jet-black wings fluffing up behind him as he does so. “What’s your name?”

In shock, Dream’s head snaps up to look up at the man. His vision is still too blurry from all his tears to properly see him, but he can make out the faint outline of massive wings behind the man, telling him that he’s actually talking to Philza Minecraft.

Dream’s talking to Wilbur’s father for the first time…

And, instead of making a good impression on the love of his life’s parent, he’s terrified out of his fucking mind.

Sure, he fought alongside Phil and Technoblade during Doomsday, but there wasn’t much time for friendly conversation amidst all the bloodshed.

And besides, now that he’s in the past, Doomsday hasn’t happened yet.

Which means that this is the first time Phil is ever meeting Dream. 

“D-Dream,” Dream shakily whispers, his voice scratchy from all his crying, cringing at how weak and scared he sounds, especially in front of Wilbur’s father.

“Wait, you’re Dream?!” Phil exclaims in shock, unable to believe that the man before him, who is cowering in fear after having just finished crying, is the masked tyrant he’s heard so much about.

Shakily, Dream just nods his head, leaning back slightly after hearing Phil’s raised voice, hoping that the man won’t hurt him now that he knows who he is. 

Before Phil can say anything more, there is a loud, persistent rapping on the front door, the knocking sound causing Dream to whimper as he presses himself more firmly into the corner, certain that Quackity is the one knocking, eager to hurt him the moment Phil hands him over. 

With a frown, Phil watches as Dream begins shaking even harder as he tries to make himself small, not entirely sure what’s happening, but taking a guess that whoever is outside his front door isn’t a friend of Dream.

“Who is it?” Phil calls out, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

“It’s Quackity,” comes the muffled reply through the front door, those words making Dream flinch so violently that his head bangs against the wall, the sight of Dream’s terror causing Phil’s frown to deepen. “Have you seen Dream at all? I need to talk to him about something important.”

“Nope, I haven’t seen him,” Phil lies without hesitation, not knowing what Quackity did to make Dream so scared, but refusing to let the obviously terrified man go anywhere near him. “I’ll let you know if I do though!”

“Okay, thank you!” Quackity says with false cheeriness, not sure where Dream ran off to, but hoping that he’ll find the man soon.

“Of course!” Phil calls out as he sends a nervous glance at Dream, hoping that Quackity will leave before he makes Dream even more afraid. “Have a nice night!”

“You as well,” Quackity mutters with a sigh as he starts walking toward the next house, only a few more left to visit before he has to admit that he lost Dream entirely.

When Quackity leaves, Phil releases a heavy sigh and stands up, swiftly locking the front door, refusing to give the man a chance to change his mind and try to enter. 

Then, while keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he kneels in front of Dream again and softly says, “Hey, Dream, it’s okay, he’s gone now. I won’t let him hurt you, okay? He’s gone. It’s just you and me here.”

“G-Gone?” Dream shakily questions, not fully understanding Phil’s words, but hoping that he sent Quackity away.

“Yes, he’s gone, and he won’t be coming back,” Phil promises as he places a tentative hand on Dream’s arm, hoping that the touch will help ground the man rather than make him scared.

When Dream doesn’t flinch away from the touch on his arm, Phil takes that as a good sign. With slightly less hesitation, he reaches his other hand out to brush Dream’s bangs from his forehead, the hair keeping him from being able to properly see Phil.

While blinking in surprise at the kind touch, Dream slowly starts to uncurl from his hunched position, not feeling safe yet, but feeling less and less scared with each time Phil touches him without causing any pain.

“I promise you that I won’t hurt you, okay?” Phil promises with a sad smile as he gives Dream’s arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Slowly, Dream nods, not fully believing the winged man, but he really would like to.

“Would you like a hug?” Phil hesitantly asks, not sure if he’s overstepping, especially since he literally just met Dream, but, after seeing just how terrified the man was, he wants to help him.

Without any hesitation this time, Dream nods again.

While still smiling sadly, Phil slowly and carefully pulls Dream into a hug, giving the man a chance to get away if he wants to, but Dream doesn’t protest the movement at all.

In fact, the second Phil’s arms are wrapped around him in a strong, comforting embrace, Dream sags against his chest, a relieved sigh escaping him.

It’s definitely not the same as Wilbur’s hugs, but he’d be lying if he said that it doesn’t feel really nice.

With a genuine, though shaky smile, Dream wraps his arms around Phil in return, accidentally brushing against the silky-smooth feathers of his wings as he does so.

While also smiling, Phil wraps his wings around them both, creating a second hug, this one made of warm, soft feathers, much like a very, very nice blanket.

Dream’s smile becomes wider as he snuggles against Phil’s chest more firmly, the man’s strong arms and warm wings encasing him making him feel safe.

After a few more moments of just basking in the wonderful hug, Dream softly and sincerely says, “Thank you for protecting me.”

“You’re welcome, Dream,” Phil says without hesitation as he tightens his grip ever so slightly, relieved to hear Dream speak without his voice laced with terror. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I definitely wasn’t going to let him anywhere near you with how scared he made you.”

“Thanks,” Dream mutters sheepishly, hating how scared he felt but, because of it, at least Phil took pity on him and kept Quackity away. “And sorry that our first introduction turned out like this.”

With a surprised chuckle, Phil cheekily says, “Yeah, I definitely didn’t expect this to be how I met you.”

Then, in a much more serious tone, Phil continues, “It’s nice to officially meet you, Dream. And, if you ever need my help, you know where I live now, okay?”

“Okay,” Dream says with a grin, deciding that, yeah, he’s definitely starting to like Phil. “Thank you. I really appreciate you helping me.”

“Of course,” Phil easily says as his wings fluff up happily at the sincerity in Dream’s words. “And, if you need a safe place to sleep tonight, I have a guest room that’s open.”

“I…” Dream starts to say in an awe-filled tone, but he is unable to say anything more, his throat too choked up from the tears brought on by Phil’s unexpected kindness.

With an understanding smile, Phil softly says, “It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. If you’d like me to show you where the guest room is, all you have to do is nod.”

While trying his best not to cry again, Dream eagerly nods his head, so, so thankful for Phil, especially since he had no idea where he would sleep during his first night back in the past. 

“Come on, I’ll show you where it is,” Phil gently says as he stands up, his back popping at his change in position, the sound causing him to hold in a smirk, knowing that Techno would happily remind him that he’s an old man if he was here. 

Shakily, Dream stands up too, his limbs trembling violently from leftover adrenaline and fear, but he follows behind Phil without complaint, not wanting to do anything to anger the man, especially since Quackity could still be waiting for him just outside the house.

As Phil glances back at Dream, he catches sight of the blood on the man’s face, the sight causing him to frown and lead them to the bathroom instead.

“You should probably get cleaned up before you go to sleep,” Phil gently says when Dream raises a confused eyebrow upon seeing that they are in front of the bathroom instead.

As his cheeks flush from embarrassment, Dream raises his hand to touch his face, cringing at the dried blood clinging to the space between his nose and lips.

“Prime, I must look like such a mess,” Dream mutters with a self-deprecating chuckle as he uses the water basin to carefully clean the tender spots around his nose.

“It’s not your fault someone punched you, Mate,” Phil softly says as he hands Dream a dark gray towel so the man can dry off his face.

“It is, but thanks,” Dream bluntly says with a heavy sigh, knowing that it was definitely his own fault that Tommy punched him, but he still appreciates the sentiment in Phil’s words.

While frowning deeply at Dream’s words, Phil exits the bathroom and begins to lead Dream to the guest bedroom, wanting to know why Dream thinks it’s his fault that someone hurt him, but deciding that it would be best not to pry into what must be an uncomfortable subject.

Together, they reach the guest bedroom. Without a torch illuminating the bedroom, it’s hard to see everything, but the bed is plenty large for one person, and the baby-blue sheets are welcoming. Beside the bed is an oak wood nightstand, and a tall wardrobe rests on the other side of the room.

Hesitantly, Dream sits at the foot of the bed and softly asks, “Phil, why are you helping me?”

“You look like you could really use a helping hand, Mate,” Phil replies just as softly, a sad smile on his face as he looks at Dream. 

“I don’t deserve this,” Dream harshly says as he angrily wipes away his tears, wishing that he could just stop crying and that Phil would stop being nice to him for no fucking reason. “I’m a monster.”

“You don’t look like a monster with those tears streaming down your cheeks,” Phil says even quieter than before as he hesitantly sits beside Dream, placing a comforting hand on the younger man’s trembling shoulders. “You don’t look like a monster when you’ve got blood on your face and you’re terrified of being hurt. You just look like a kid who’s been through way too much shit far too young.”

“You don’t know me,” Dream angrily says as he shakes Phil’s arm off of him, knowing that he hasn’t been a kid in a very, very long time.

“No, I don’t know you,” Phil agrees with a sigh, a part of him wishing that he knew Dream, that he knew some way to help the young man who is obviously struggling to keep it together. “But what I do know is that, even though you’ve hurt others, you’ve clearly been hurt too, and no one deserves to suffer.”

With a sigh of exhaustion, Dream lays down on top of the bed, not wanting to get the covers dirty, even if he would love to wrap himself in the warmth of the blankets.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Phil exits the guest bedroom, only to return a few moments later with a fuzzy, dark green blanket.

When he carefully drapes the blanket over Dream’s form, the sleepy man slowly opens his eyes to look at Phil, his emerald eyes wide in surprise and glossy with tears.

“Get some sleep, Dream,” Phil murmurs as he smiles sadly at Dream, then he walks toward the door.

“Please, don’t shut it all the way,” Dream weakly whispers as Phil starts closing the door, that scared voice causing the older man to frown, wondering not for the first time who hurt Dream so badly.

“Okay,” Phil softly says as he leaves the door open partway, allowing the soft glow of the torch to enter Dream’s room, keeping him from being in total darkness or feeling trapped. “Good night.”

“Night,” Dream sleepily mutters as he pulls the blanket up a little higher, causing the fuzzy material to rest just under his chin.

With a heavy sigh, Phil goes back to his own bedroom and lays in bed, feeling a little colder without his favorite blanket, but prime knows that Dream needs the comfort of it way more than him.

And, if Phil lies awake for hours, his mind drifting back to the supposed-tyrant sleeping in the next room over with dried tears leaving marks along his cheeks, can anyone really blame him?

Chapter Text

“Wow, you were serious about this whole coming back everyday thing, weren’t you?” Dream asks with a raised eyebrow from where he’s seated in the corner of his cramped cell, surprised to see Quackity here yet again, especially since it feels like he was here just hours ago.

“Of course I was serious,” Quackity says with a scoff as he struts into the cell, a wicked glint in his eyes and a cold, calculating smile on his face as he continues, “How else will I get the book?”

“You are never getting this book from me,” Dream firmly says without hesitation, knowing that nothing is worth giving Quackity the power to revive people.

Even if it kills him, Dream refuses to let Quackity have this power.

“‘Never’ is such a strong word,” Quackity practically purrs as he crouches in front of Dream, still towering over the prisoner, but closer to the level of the prisoner’s slouched sitting position.

“Whatever,” Dream mutters under his breath as he rolls his eyes, looking past Quackity toward the ever-flowing lava curtain, wishing that it would just disappear so he could stop talking to Quackity.

“Anyways, I’m here now, and we’re going to do something different today!” Quackity exclaims in a peppy, cheery tone as he loudly claps his hands together, the abrupt sound causing Dream to flinch, which he immediately tries to hide by sitting up straighter.

“You’re not just gonna beat the shit out of me again?” Dream asks with a wry smile, knowing that his face must be bruised and bloody from Quackity’s visit yesterday, the one in which he punched Dream for what felt like hours, maybe even days.

“While that was fun yesterday, I have better plans,” Quackity eagerly says with that same twisted smile, greatly looking forward to today’s play session with Dream. “It’s my fourth day of coming here, but I feel like we haven’t made much progress yet.”

“Sure,” Dream sarcastically says, rolling his eyes once again, just wanting the man to get this over with so he can go back to sleep.

“So, I think we need some rules,” Quackity thoughtfully says, as though he hasn’t already spent hours dwelling on the rules that Dream will soon have to follow. “After all, every good trainer has rules set in place.”

“Trainer?” Dream asks in a low, confused tone, Quackity’s words finally catching his attention as dread starts to pool inside his stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“You, Dream,” Quackity explains in a condescending tone, as if he’s speaking to an idiotic child who refuses to listen to anything their parents say. “You’re the unruly mutt, and I’m the brave owner here to train you to be better.”

“What?!” Dream shouts in alarm as he sits up straighter, certain that he must have misheard Quackity, that the man didn’t compare him to an animal. “You can’t train me! I’m a person, not a fucking wolf!”

“No, you are not a person,” Quackity says in a steely tone as he grips Dream’s jaw tightly, forcing Dream to look into his good idea, the other useless because of the jagged scar that Technoblade gave him. “You are a monster. You’re even lower than an animal. At least wolves have laws to protect them from getting hurt, but no one is here to protect you from me.”

“You’re crazy!” Dream shouts as he tries to free himself from Quackity’s hold but, after so many months in prison and the beating Quackity gave him yesterday, he’s too weak. “You can’t do this to me!”

“I can, and I will,” Quackity easily says as he releases Dream’s jaw, instead shoving the man onto the floor of his cell. “Look around you, Dream. Is there anyone here to stop me?”

Dream stays silent, knowing that, no, no one here is going to help him.

Just days ago, he screamed his lungs out for Sam to help when Quackity brought that axe into his cell, but the warden never came.

He’s entirely alone, entirely at Quackity’s mercy.

“That’s what I thought,” Quackity says with a smug smile, relishing the defeated look in Dream’s emerald-green eyes. “So, unless you want this to be even more painful, you’re going to follow my rules.”

“I’m not going to do anyth-” Dream starts to say as he pushes himself up off the filthy ground, but he doesn’t get very far because Quackity speaks over him.

“Rule number 1: no talking back,” Quackity says in a loud, firm tone, making sure that Dream can hear him since this will be a very, very important rule for the prisoner to follow.

“What is that supposed to mea-” Dream starts to ask in a raised, angry tone, but, before he can finish, pain blooms across his face.

“Ow, what the f-” Dream whines as he clutches his left cheek where Quackity had just slapped him, a dull ringing already spreading through his ears.

Before Dream can even finish expressing his pained exclamation, Quackity slaps him again, this time on the right side of his face, the left currently covered by his hand.

“FU-” Dream shouts as the ringing in his ears grows even louder from that next slap, but, apparently, the universe hates him because Quackity hits him again, all for saying two little letters.

Instead of slapping Dream again, Quackity punches him in the nose, the harsh, unforgiving jab so powerful that it sends Dream sprawling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed expression as blood begins to seep from his stinging nose.

When Dream is silent for several moments, Quackity taunts with a malicious grin, “See, look at that, you’re already learning. Good boy, Dream.”

“Fuck yo-” Dream grits out, but his efforts only award him another harsh slap, the force behind it causing him to groan loudly in pain, afterward biting his bottom lip hard, not wanting to give Quackity that satisfaction.

“So, since this is taking a while to get through your thick skull, every time you talk without permission, I’m going to hit you,” Quackity sneers as he kneels beside Dream, peering down at the bleeding man as he lays on the floor of his cell. “Do you understand?”

For a few seconds, Dream hesitates, wanting to yell and scream at Quackity about how cruel and unfair it is to take away his freedom of speech, but he simply nods instead, his nose already bleeding profusely and a persistent ringing in his ears that’s starting to give him a migraine.

“Good boy, Dream,” Quackity purrs, his words causing Dream to bristle, but the prisoner simply bites his tongue, not wanting to be hit again just for talking. “Now, I think we’re ready for rule number 2. I’m a patient guy, so we’ll just do two rules each day, that way I won’t overwhelm your fragile little mind.”

“I’m not fragi-” Dream angrily starts to protest, but, before he can even finish, his words earn him another slap, this one making the ringing even more prominent, causing him to release a small, pained whimper.

“As I was saying, here’s your second rule of the day,” Quackity calmly continues, as though he didn’t just pause in speaking to smack Dream again. “You are no longer allowed to call me Quackity. You’re absolute filth, and you’ve lost the right to address me as anything but ‘Sir’.”

“WHAT?!” Dream screams the question in a horrified tone, certain that he must have misheard, that Quackity doesn’t expect him to call the man ‘Sir’ of all things. “You want me to cal-”

Once again, Quackity reprimands Dream for speaking out of turn, this time by delivering a swift blow to the man’s jaw, the impact of it causing Dream’s mouth to fill with the coppery tang of blood.

“Did I say you could talk?” Quackity asks in a sing-song tone as Dream tries his best to fight back the tears he feels building, hating how weak and helpless he feels right now, unable to even talk unless he wants to be in more pain.

Slowly, Dream shakes his head while clutching his sore left cheek, the first tear slipping from his eye, wondering for the first time if he’s going to survive Quackity’s supposedly daily visits.

“Now, I’m a nice guy, Dream,” Quackity says in a soft, soothing tone, the abrupt shift in demeanor causing Dream to blink in surprise, wondering how this is the same person who keeps hitting him when they sound nothing alike. “So, if you promise to keep your voice down, I’ll let you talk. Would you like that?”

With even more hesitation, Dream nods, wanting to ask the thousands of questions buzzing in his mind, but he also doesn’t want to be slapped or punched anymore.

“You may speak,” Quackity gleefully gives the command, feeling giddy over how well this is working already. 

“Y-You want me to call you s-sir?” Dream asks just above a whisper as he sniffles loudly, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks even more rapidly now.

“I don’t want you to, I expect you to, Dream,” Quackity says in a firm, no-nonsense tone, reveling in the way his words cause Dream to shiver violently from fear.

“What if I don’t call you that?” Dream asks even more softly, absolutely not wanting to call Quackity that, but terrified of what might happen to him if he refuses.

“Then you’ll be punished,” Quackity states without hesitation, that wicked glint in his eye again, greatly looking forward to Dream’s first punishment.

“P-Punished?!” Dream exclaims in panic as his glossy eyes go wide in alarm, having thought that he was already being punished enough. “As if this isn’t fucking punish-”

Quackity punches Dream in the stomach, ripping the air from his lungs with a pained, choked wheeze, the sound of Dream’s distress causing Quackity to grin madly.

“This is not a punishment,” Quackity explains in that deceptively calm tone of his, watching with rapt attention as Dream coughs and gasps for the air that he stole from the prisoner. “This is simply training. And, when you continuously fail your training, I will have to resort to more… drastic measures. You don’t want that, do you, Dreamie?”

“W-What will you d-do?” Dream chokes out when he finally has better control over his breathing, not wanting to find out what the man has planned, but deciding that not knowing is even worse.

“Well, since you’ve refused to follow these two simple rules, I think a punishment is in order,” Quackity gleefully says as he traces his hand up Dream’s face, stopping when he gets to the man’s long, matted hair.

“N-No, I-” Dream stutters out against budding terror, but his words are replaced by a pained squeak when Quackity’s hand in his hair tightens and twists painfully, tearing some of the strands from the roots.

“You lost the right to speak, Dream,” Quackity says in a steely tone as he yanks Dream’s head up sharply by his hair, causing the prisoner to release another cry of pain. 

Then, while letting go of Dream’s hair and gracefully rising to his feet, Quackity harshly commands, “Now stand up and put your arms above your head.”

For a few moments, Dream doesn’t move, his limbs beginning to shake and tremble violently from the anger in Quackity’s voice, having never felt this scared in his entire life.

“Stand up now, or I’ll break your fucking legs so you can’t ever stand again,” Quackity continues in an icy tone upon seeing Dream’s refusal, determined to not let the prisoner get away with this unruly behavior.

Instantly, Dream jumps to his feet and puts his arms up like Quackity asked, infinitely more afraid of never being able to walk again than whatever this ‘punishment’ might be.

“Good boy,” Quackity sneers, his words causing Dream to flinch violently. “Now get up against that wall with your back facing me.”

Too terrified to speak, Dream silently does as Quackity asked, hoping that, whatever this is, won’t be too terrible.

A few moments later, he hears a clanging sound, and then Quackity is grabbing his wrists and firmly locking them inside chains suspended from the ceiling.

Dream begins struggling with all his might, desperate to escape these chains that make him horribly defenseless, but there is nowhere to go, making him entirely trapped.

With a smirk, Quackity picks up a raw potato off the floor and shoves it in Dream’s mouth.

Dream gags violently and tries to spit it out, but stops when Quackity firmly says, “If that leaves your mouth, you’re getting another ten. And I’m aware that you don’t know what I’m talking about, but trust me, you don’t want ten more.”

Shakily, Dream nods, tears falling from his eyes in an endless flood of fear and pain as his mind starts to imagine whatever horrible things Quackity might have planned for him.

A few seconds later, Dream gets his answer in the form of a deafening crack of a whip slicing through the air.

Dream begins struggling even more frantically and making sounds of protest against the potato, but that doesn’t stop Quackity from delivering the first, harsh slice against Dream’s back.

With a muffled scream, Dream slumps against the wall, his vision graying out for several seconds at the agony that shoots through his entire being, starting at the delicate flesh on his back before spreading through his veins, the debilitating pain seeming to affect every part of him.

As the whip repeatedly meets his back, Dream can’t do anything but cry and shake violently, the rattling of his chains and muffled sobs joining the sounds of the unforgiving whip kissing his skin and Quackity’s wicked cackling, creating a symphony of pain and torment that Dream has to bear all alone.

After fifteen lashes, Quackity removes the potato, the gross, sopping wet food falling to the floor with a dull thud. 

Now that he can speak again, after releasing a ragged sob, Dream frantically begs, “I-I, pl-please, n-no m-m-more. I-I’ll b-b-be good-d.”

“You’ll be good?” Quackity asks with a smirk as he twists the prisoner around to face him, making him no longer able to see the beautiful and bloody lines across Dream’s back, but he still finds satisfaction in the tears streaming down Dream’s face.

Dream eagerly nods his head, willing to agree to anything as long as it’ll make this onslaught finally end.

“You won’t talk back?” Quackity presses with his smirk still in place, wanting to see just how far Dream is willing to fall after a little pain.

Dream continues nodding and sobbing uncontrollably, hoping that all this will just be over soon.

“You’ll follow my rules?” Quackity questions in a sing-song tone, eagerly awaiting the time when Dream will be entirely at his beck-and-call, always following his each and every word.

Dream nods more, not even coherent enough to understand what he’s agreeing to, just desperate to keep this from continuing, knowing that he can’t take much more of this agony.

“I don’t believe you,” Quackity bluntly challenges, his words causing Dream to flinch and whine pitifully.

“Pl-Please, I-I’ll follow all-l your rules-s,” Dream begs in between sobs, hoping that Quackity will believe him and finally make the pain go away.

“Prove it,” Quackity harshly demands, his good eye glinting with madness and unrestrained glee and having Dream, who used to be the most feared man on the server, begging and pleading to follow Quackity’s every whim.

“I-I w-will do a-anything and-d ev-everying you ask-k of m-m-me, S-Sir,” Dream chokes out, knowing that, when his pain finally lessens, he’ll hate himself for giving in, but he just wants this to stop so fucking badly.

“Good boy, Dream,” Quackity purrs as he begins running his fingers through Dream’s sweaty hair, the praise and kind touch causing Dream to whimper as he leans toward Quackity desperately. “It looks like you can learn after all.”

“Th-Thank y-you, S-Sir,” Dream whispers as his sobs finally come to an end, calming down much easier now that Quackity is touching him so kindly, rather than inflicting more pain.

“Since you’re behaving so well now, I’ll be nice,” Quackity continues in a soft tone, his words making Dream nod his head desperately, liking the thought of Quackity continuing to be nice to him. “I was going to give you 20 lashes, but I’ll only do 18. How does that sound?”

“Th-That s-sounds g-great, S-S-Sir,” Dream eagerly says as more tears rush to his eyes, but this time over Quackity’s kindness, thankful that the man is willing to lessen his punishment now that he’s following the rules. “Th-Thank you, S-Sir.”

Without warning, Quackity’s hand leaves Dream’s hair, the loss of the kind touch causing Dream to whine sadly, wanting it to come back. 

But, instead of being touched so nicely again, Quackity spins Dream around so the prisoner’s back is facing him. Then, with another wicked smile, Quackity brings down the whip again, the pain causing Dream to scream in unadulterated agony.

With a bloodcurdling scream, Dream jolts awake, his heart pounding ferociously in his chest as his loud, uneven breaths echo within his ears, having a hard time breathing through his overwhelming panic and terror.

Before Dream can get his bearings, he hears fast footsteps approaching him, the sound causing him to curl into a fetal position as he begs, “N-No, pl-please, please, d-d-don’t. Please, pl-please. N-No m-m-more. Please!”

“Hey, Mate, it’s okay,” a low, soothing voice says, his tone nothing like Quackity’s, telling Dream that, even though he doesn’t know where he is, his torturer isn’t here. “You’re safe here. I won’t hurt you.”

Slowly, Dream’s breaths start to even out, his body still trembling violently, but he can at least breathe a little easier now that he knows that what he just witnessed was just a nightmare.

Well, no, he wishes it was just a nightmare.

But it was real.

All of that was real, just the first way that Quackity broke him.

Before Dream can spiral too deep into memories of pain and torment, the kind voice encourages in that same soft tone, “That’s it, Dream, you’re doing so well. Come on, Mate, you’re safe here.”

It takes a few more moments but, finally, Dream calms down enough to recognize why that voice sounds familiar, causing him to shakily question, “Ph-Phil?”

“That’s me,” Phil says with a relieved sigh as he sits at the foot of the bed, relieved to see the dawning recognition in Dream’s eyes.

“Thank prime,” Dream mutters as tears rush to his eyes, so, so thankful that he’s no longer in his cell, that he’s here with Phil instead of Quackity, a man who has shown him nothing but kindness, even though he doesn’t think he deserves it.

“You okay?” Phil gently asks as he carefully takes one of Dream’s trembling hands in his own, his heart aching at the tears in his wide, terrified eyes.

Dream just shakes his head no, not trusting himself to speak without bursting into sobs.

“Do you want me to leave?” Phil hesitantly questions, not wanting to leave Dream, especially when he is so clearly hurting, but willing to do so if that’s what the man wants.

Dream shakes his head no more frantically, desperately not wanting to be alone, knowing how much harder it is to remember that he’s no longer in his cell whenever he’s alone.

“Okay, I’ll stay with you,” Phil easily agrees with a relieved smile, already thinking of the best ways to help Dream after what seemed like a pretty nasty nightmare. “I don’t think either of us are going back to sleep after this, so how about we go sit in the kitchen together and I make us some lavender tea?”

Hesitantly, Dream nods, then stands on shaky legs.

After resisting the urge to help steady Dream, Phil also stands up and heads toward the door, silently leading Dream to the kitchen. 

Without a word, Dream sits at the oak-wood table, not even bothering to look around the kitchen, his curiosity nonexistent at the moment, having been stripped away by the nightmare of Quackity’s cruelty. 

As Phil shuffles around in the kitchen to make tea, he catches Dream shiver out of the corner of his eyes, causing him to go to the guest room and grab the blanket that Dream used last night.

When he drapes the blanket over the trembling man’s shoulders, Dream’s head snaps up in surprise. 

Phil just smiles at him as Dream clutches tightly to the soft blanket, causing the younger man to smile back shyly, hoping that Phil will understand how much he appreciates the soothing warmth, so unlike Pandora’s Vault that it keeps him from getting trapped in the past. 

After a few moments, Phil finishes brewing the tea and hands Dream a steaming mug with a cartoon pig on it, the mug causing him to smile ever-so-slightly when the pig reminds him of Technoblade.

As he begins sipping on his tea, Dream slowly starts to feel more at ease, certainly not feeling even remotely okay right now, but he can't help but think that, if Phil keeps being so kind to him, maybe he will be soon.

Chapter Text

After handing Dream his tea, Phil spends a few moments just watching the man lift the mug to his mouth with trembling fingers, having so much that he wants to say to Dream, so much that he wants to ask about, but he doesn’t even know where to begin.

So, instead of trying to start a conversation that might end up terribly, Phil decides to fill the silence another way. With a bittersweet smile, Phil goes to the jukebox he has in the living room, brushing a layer of dust off of it before putting inside the disc Blocks, which used to be Wilbur’s favorite song.

As Dream listens to the music and drinks his calming lavender tea, all while wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, he begins shaking less, the throes of fear from his nightmare finally receding.

“Y’know, this used to be Wil’s favorite song when he was little,” Phil says with a sad smile as he returns to the kitchen and takes a seat at the table across from Dream.

Instantly, Dream perks up, looking at Phil with rapt attention, curious to know more about Wilbur, especially from someone as knowledgeable as his father.

Seeing that he has Dream’s attention, Phil reminisces with a fond smile, “He used to run around the house nonstop, always being chaotic. But, whenever I put on this song, he’d stand in front of the jukebox and dance around. He’d always ask me to dance with him, and eventually, we made up words for the song too. Hearing it always makes me smile, even all these years later.”

“That sounds really nice,” Dream whispers in awe, a little smile on his face as he imagines a tiny Wil and younger Phil smiling, laughing, and dancing together without a care in the world.

“It was,” Phil honestly replies with a watery chuckle as tears rush to his eyes, missing his son terribly. “He was a good kid.”

“He’s amazing,” Dream adamantly says, knowing without a doubt that Wilbur is the kindest, most amazing person to ever exist.

“I’m glad you think so,” Phil softly says, not quite sure why Dream would think that Wilbur is amazing, but he doesn’t question it, instead just smiling sadly at the thought of his now-deceased son.

For a long time, Phil and Dream simply sit in companionable silence, each of them thinking fond thoughts of Wilbur as they drink their tea.

When Phil finishes his tea and Dream looks much more at ease, he hesitantly begins, “So… Can we talk about tonight?”

“W-What about it?” Dream asks in a nervous tone, not looking forward to whatever it is that Phil’s going to ask about.

“Oh, y’know, the fact that you showed up at my house with blood on your face and were so scared that you started crying,” Phil says in a casual tone despite the severity of his words, feeling guilty when Dream flinches violently, but he presses on, “And now we’re both awake long before the sun because of a nightmare that made you scream bloody murder.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Dream whispers as tears rush to his eyes, hating what a burden he is, especially to Phil, who’s shown him nothing but unwavering kindness. “I can leave if you want me to.”

“No, Mate, you don’t have to leave,” Phil says without hesitation, his words instantly causing Dream to slump in his seat, so relieved that he won’t be forced to leave yet. “I just want to understand what happened. Look, I’m not going to ask about your nightmare, because I’m sure that’s very personal. But I would like to know why you said last night that you deserved to be hurt.”

“Tommy was the one who punched me,” Dream easily says with a shrug, thankful that Phil isn’t going to ask about his nightmare, knowing that this is much easier to talk about.

“Even though you’ve hurt him, that doesn’t give him the right to give you a bloody nose,” Phil firmly says, a slight frown creasing his features at Dream’s tone, as though the man thinks that Tommy being the one to hurt him justifies the violence he experienced.

“It does,” Dream nonchalantly says as he looks down at his half-empty mug, missing the way Phil’s eyes widen in surprise and alarm at his words. “That was nothing compared to the pain I’ve caused him. I would have let him punch me until I couldn’t walk if that could help make up for what I’ve done.”

“Dream…” Phil starts in a horrified whisper, but he has to pause for a few moments, unsure what to even say in the face of Dream’s wildly unhealthy outlook. “That’s so… wrong.”

“I don’t think so,” Dream easily says, oblivious to the fact that, with each word he says, he’s making Phil feel increasingly concerned about his mental wellbeing. “After all, they say that two wrongs make a right. I’ve hurt him, so, if he hurts me, then maybe everything could be better again.”

Prime, he needs to help this kid…

Phil doesn’t know how he’s going to do this, but he refuses to let Dream continue to think that everyone he’s hurt has the right to cause him worse pain in return.

“If you really believe that, why were you so scared last night?” Phil hesitantly questions, hoping that this will be a gentle nudge in the right direction, rather than making Dream shut down completely and stop talking to him.

“That had nothing to do with Tommy punching me,” Dream says without hesitation, but his voice is a little shakier than moments ago, really not wanting to think about last night’s close encounter with his ex-torturer.

“So you were running from Quackity?” Phil gently asks, unsure what the man could have done to make Dream so scared, but his absolute terror last night was so very obvious.

Dream flinches violently at the sound of his name, and that reaction is clear enough of an answer for Phil. 

So, while hoping that he isn’t overstepping here, Phil hesitantly questions, “Can I ask what happened between you two?”

“I don’t think you’d understand,” Dream softly says with a heavy sigh, knowing that he can’t just say: Sure, Phil, I’m scared of Quackity because, in another timeline, he tortured me for months while I was locked in prison.

“I’d like to try,” Phil earnestly says as he catches Dream’s nervous gaze, unsure what he’s getting himself into, but knowing that Dream seriously needs help and, while the kid’s still here, he’s gonna try his absolute best to make things better.

“Why?” Dream weakly asks, unable to wrap his mind around why Phil would go through so much trouble for him, especially since they met less than a day ago.

“Dream, you clearly need help, so please, just let me help you,” Phil all-but-begs, hoping with all his heart that Dream will stop being so stubborn and just accept his help. “It’s just you and me here, and I won’t share anything you say with other people.”

“Even Techno?” Dream hesitantly questions, knowing that, for him to even consider telling Phil the truth, he has to be sure that absolutely no one else will find out about this. 

“Yes, even him,” Phil honestly replies, willing to keep this a secret from everyone, even Techno, if that’ll get Dream to open up to him. “I promise you that, if you share this with me, I won’t tell a single person.”

“Okay…” Dream shakily breathes out with a heavy sigh, hoping that he won’t regret trusting Phil. “Well, I’m from the future.”

“What?” Phil questions in a shocked whisper, his eyes widening in surprise, certainly not expecting Dream to say that.

“Yeah, I’m from about a year in the future,” Dream says with a wry smile in response to Phil’s agape jaw and comically wide eyes.

After blinking away the shock and disbelief, Phil quietly asks, “Why are you here?”

“I guess so I don’t end up locked in the prison again,” Dream airly says with a shrug, not truly believing that he can avoid being locked up again, but hoping that, somehow, he can keep that from happening a second time.

“Prison?” Phil asks with a growing sense of dread, every concerning thing he’s learned about Dream seeming to flash before his eyes at the mention of this prison. “You were locked in the prison that you and Sam built together?”

“Yep, for almost a year,” Dream says with another shrug, trying to keep his tone nonchalant to make this hurt less, but tears rush to his eyes all the same.

“That’s a long time, Mate,” Phil says in a soft, understanding tone, feeling his chest clench painfully at the tears that start to slip down Dream’s cheeks.

“Believe me, I know,” Dream says with a bitter, watery chuckle, the pain-filled sound causing Phil to wince, his heart aching for the wounded boy in front of him. “It was a long time to be trapped in a tiny cell surrounded by lava, nothing there to keep me from going crazy. It was a long time to eat nothing but raw potatoes. It was a long time to have no contact with the outside world, except for the few visitors I got.”

“Dream, that sounds awful,” Phil says in a low, horrified whisper, unable to believe that a place so inhumane is even real, let alone that Dream spent almost a year trapped in there.

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Dream mutters as he does his best to choke back a sob, his body starting to tremble now, his skin seeming to tingle in all the places where his scars once resided.

“There’s more?” Phil hesitantly questions as that feeling of dread grows even stronger, unable to believe that this can get worse.

“I guess me suffering in that cell wasn’t enough for them, so they decided to t-torture me too,” Dream says with another watery chuckle, losing his internal battle partway through as a ragged sob tears through his chest.

“You’ve been tortured?!” Phil exclaims in outrage and disbelief as he jumps to his feet, wanting to destroy whoever hurt Dream this badly.

“E-Every s-single day for m-m-months,” Dream chokes out between sobs as he clutches to the blanket even tighter, curling in on himself as the memories of his pain and suffering start to overwhelm him. “I-It was-s absolut-te hell. I was already t-trapped in that f-fucking box, and then-n he just had to break-k me even m-m-more.”

“Who did that to you?!” Phil angrily demands as he begins pacing the length of the kitchen, his wings flared behind him, ready for a fight at any sign of aggression. 

“Tak-ke a g-guess-s,” Dream bitterly stutters out, hoping that it’ll be obvious who did it, knowing that, even after the month he had to heal from Pandora’s Vault, he still can’t say his name out loud.

“Q-Quackity?!” Phil shouts in utter disbelief, unable to believe that one of the people on the cabinet for L’Manburg would torture Dream.

Damn, Techno really was right about governments… 

“Y-Yeah, he was t-the only p-person who visited m-me for m-months, and he did it-t just to cut-t and b-burn and break m-m-me,” Dream gasps out in between sobs, trembling even more violently as he starts to remember all the ways that Quackity enjoyed breaking him until he became this damaged shell of a person that he is now.

Suddenly, Phil’s anger and adrenaline fade enough for him to realize how distressed Dream is, the boy’s broken sobs causing him to pause in his frustrated pacing, instead approaching him.

While slowly kneeling down on the floor in front of Dream, Phil places a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, using his thumb to rub soothing circles.

It takes a few moments but, feeling much safer due to Phil’s kind touch, Dream’s sobs finally come to an end, instead being replaced by the occasional hiccup.

After giving Dream a bit more time to settle down, Phil looks into Dream’s red-rimmed, teary eyes and gently asks, “Why would he do that?”

“At first, he wanted information,” Dream hesitantly says, remembering all too well the thousands of questions Quackity asked about reviving people. “But then it became less about that, and he just enjoyed hurting me. I think leaving me bloody and broken was the highlight of each of his days.”

“Prime, that’s so fucked,” Phil whispers as a shiver wracks his wings, unable to imagine not only suffering through torture, but also the knowledge that all that pain is bringing someone else great joy.

“I guess,” Dream says with a shrug that causes Phil’s hand to slip off his shoulder. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I had it coming to me after everything I did.”

Wait, what?!

Did he just hear that right?!

Does Dream seriously believe that he deserved that?

Needing to make sure that he heard wrong and Dream doesn’t seriously believe that he deserved to experience so much pain, Phil hesitantly asks, “You think you deserved to be tortured?”

“I think I deserve to die for what I’ve done,” Dream casually replies without hesitation, his words causing Phil’s eyes to widen as a choked little sound makes it past his defenses, the noise causing Dream to raise a confused eyebrow, but he continues nonetheless, “They should just execute me and get it over with. But, since they didn’t want to kill me, I guess torture is the next best thing.”

After a few moments of opening and closing his mouth uselessly, unsure what to say in the face of how truly awful this situation is, Phil abruptly stands up and pulls Dream into a bone-crushing hug that causes the boy to release a surprised oof.

“You do not deserve to die or be tortured,” Phil firmly says through gritted teeth as he continues hugging Dream, needing to make him understand that none of that was deserved. “Got it?”

Wordlessly, Dream just nods and sinks into Phil’s embrace, not believing his words the slightest bit, but still allowing himself to enjoy the warm, comforting hug.

After a few moments of just hugging Dream tightly as he tries his best not to cry, Phil softly says, “Come on, let’s go sit on the couch together.”

Dream just nods, then, reluctantly, he pulls back from Phil’s embrace and makes his way to the living room, Phil beside him the whole way.

Once they’re sitting on the couch, Phil pulls Dream close so the man is leaning against his side. With a relieved sigh, Dream instantly shifts so he is resting against Phil’s chest, the older man’s arm around him.

For a while, the two simply sit in companionable silence, Dream perfectly content to just bask in Phil’s soothing hold as the older man tries to collect his scattered thoughts.

Finally, Phil finds the strength to speak but, instead of addressing the fucked up situation that Dream went through, he settles on softly saying, “You remind me a lot of Wil.”

“Really?” Dream questions with a small smile, unsure how he reminds Phil of his son, but eager to hear where this goes.

“Yeah, he’d always want to be cuddled or touched in some way,” Phil says with a fond smile, but it takes on a sad edge, wishing that he could hug his son just one more time. “Whenever we watched tv together, he’d always fall asleep on my lap, and I couldn’t stand up for hours because I didn’t wanna wake him up. I think it helped him feel less lonely.”

“That sounds a lot like Wil,” Dream says with a large grin from the thought of a much younger Wil falling asleep on top of his dad while watching tv. “It helps me feel less lonely too. And I feel safer. Sometimes I think I’m still back in that cell, but kind touches help me remember that I’m free.”

“Can I ask how you got out?” Phil gently questions after a few moments of silence, not wanting to pry, but terribly curious how Dream finally got out of the prison, especially since he was in there for so long.

“Your son saved me, actually,” Dream says with his grin still in place, unable to keep from smiling whenever he thinks of Wil and his ever-lasting kindness.

“Wil saved you?!” Phil exclaims in shock, unable to believe that, in the future, his son, who’s dead, saves Dream from prison.

“Yeah, he’s the reason why I was finally freed,” Dream says with a bubbly laugh, still unable to believe that, thanks to Wil, he really is free again. “He was the first person to visit me after the torture began, and he was horrified by what had been done to me. He held me as I cried, and he stayed in that awful cell just so I wouldn’t be alone. And the next day, when… he came to hurt me, Wil protected me. Prime, he threatened to cut off Wil’s arms if he didn’t get out of the cell, but he still refused to leave. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

For several moments, Phil just silently thinks over Dream’s words, unable to believe that, somehow, his son was alive to do all this.

But, instead of asking the most obvious question, he can’t help but notice something in Dream’s tone.

It’s extremely… fond.

It doesn’t just sound like he’s grateful for what Wil did.

It sounds like he’s…

Oh…

“You love him, don’t you?” Phil softly asks with a small smile, but he already knows what the boy’s answer will be.

“With all my heart,” Dream replies without hesitation, his smile growing even wider as he thinks of just how much he loves Wil, and how much his beloved loves him in return.

“I’m glad,” Phil says with a large smile of his own, thankful that Wilbur has found someone who so clearly loves him, even though a part of him wishes that he could have been there to witness the two fall in love. “You both deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you,” Dream says with a smile so wide that his jaw starts to hurt, so, so ecstatic to hear that Phil not only is okay with their love, but that he wants them both to be happy.

“You’re welcome, Mate,” Phil says with his own smile still in place as he holds Dream a little closer to his chest, even more determined to keep the kid safe now that he knows that Dream is in love with his son.

After another stretch of silence that the two spend thinking of Wil, Dream firmly but hesitantly says, “So, as much as I’d love to keep talking, I really need to go help Wil.”

“Wait, Wil’s here?!” Phil demands in a loud, shocked tone, unable to believe that his son is alive again and he somehow didn’t know.

“No, that’s the problem,” Dream says with a heavy sigh as his smile fades completely, knowing that he needs to revive Wilbur, and fast, before the man he loves suffers in Limbo anymore. “In the future, he was revived but, now that I’m in the past, he’s still in Limbo. Limbo is about as bad as the prison, so I have to help him.”

“Oh…” Phil mutters under his breath before trailing off, his heart clenching painfully at the thought of Wil being anywhere that’s even remotely as terrible as the prison, especially since he’s the one who took his son’s final life.

“I hope you know that him being in Limbo isn’t your fault,” Dream softly says as he places his hand on top of Phil’s arm and gives the man a reassuring squeeze.

“How could it not be?” Phil asks brokenly as tears rush to his eyes, knowing that not only is it his fault for killing Wil, but also for being such a terrible father. “I killed him.”

“You killed him because he begged you to, Phil,” Dream gently reminds him, knowing that, with how caring Phil is, seeing his son that way must have been so heartbreaking. “Even though it’s terrible, Wil wanted to die, and you gave him that release. If you hadn’t, he would have spent his days locked in a cell, just like me.”

“What do you mean?” Phil hesitantly questions as that feeling of dread he’s becoming so familiar with creeps back in.

“He blew up L’Manburg,” Dream says with a dismissive shrug, not finding that to be that big of a deal, especially since he’s done that too, but he knows that others care a lot about the once-ruined city. “People would have been so angry with him, and I know they’d have tried to get revenge. So, either he could have spent his days locked in some filthy cell like me, or he could have spent it in Limbo. Neither are very good options but, at least in Limbo, he has the freedom to move and go wherever he pleases. And I saw how he was during the few weeks he spent inside my cell; he was going absolutely stir crazy. So, even though it sucks, I promise you that you did the right thing.”

“Thank you,” Phil softly says as a few tears race down his cheeks, not fully believing Dream’s words, but appreciating the sentiment behind them all the same.

“Of course,” Dream replies without hesitation, happy to comfort Phil, especially after all the kindness that the older man has already shown him. “I mean it too.”

After a few moments of silence, Phil clears his throat against the building tightness he feels before hesitantly asking, “Do you think I could see him again after he’s revived?”

“You miss him, don’t you?” Dream gently asks in return, clearly hearing the blend of pain and deep care in Phil’s voice.

“I miss him so m-much,” Phil says, his voice breaking partway through as he thinks of his son, who’s already been gone for so many months.

“I’ll ask him if he’s okay with coming here,” Dream easily says as he gives Phil’s arm another reassuring squeeze, knowing that he definitely deserves to see his son again. “Neither of us has a place to live, so, if you’re fine with us staying here for a bit, I’d love to come back.”

“Yes, of course!” Phil eagerly replies without hesitation, greatly looking forward to not only seeing his son again, but also having both of his boys living here with him for however long Dream and Wilbur agree to stay. “You both can stay with me for as long as you need to.”

“Thanks, Phil, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Dream says with a gigantic smile, truly feeling so, so grateful for Phil’s unrelenting kindness, especially when he expected the man to just kick him out and let Quackity hurt him all over again.

“You’re very welcome,” Phil says with a smile, feeling his heart swell with fondness for Dream. “And, if you need any help, make sure you come and find me, okay?”

“I will,” Dream replies with a smile of his own as he shimmies out of Phil’s comforting hold, a little hesitant to move from his soothing embrace, but the thought of hugging Wilbur once he’s revived spurs him onward. “And you can expect me and Wil to come back here sometime later today or tomorrow, alright?”

“Looking forward to it,” Phil replies as he also rises to his feet, feeling a little reluctant to let Dream go off on his own, but he reminds himself that, even though he has experienced great hardship, the man is still an excellent fighter, even rival to Technoblade. 

But, even though Dream can probably take care of himself, Phil can’t help but softly say, “Be safe, Dream. And please, take care of my son.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Dream promises without hesitation, knowing that, once he has Wilbur back, he’s never gonna let anything else hurt the man he loves. “I’d never let anything bad happen to him.”

“I’m glad,” Phil replies with a heavy, relieved sigh, feeling comforted that Dream really will keep his son safe.

Then, as he walks toward the front door, Dream trailing behind him, Phil grabs a long, jet-black fur-lined cloak and outstretches it toward Dream while saying, “Here, take this cloak so you don’t get cold.”

“Thanks,” Dream whispers in awe as he gingerly takes the cloak, his eyes widening at how soft it is.

When he slips the cloak over his shoulders, Dream can’t help but smile widely, feeling like he’s being swaddled by a gigantic, cozy blanket. 

With a small wave, Dream steps through the open front door and softly says, “See you again soon. And seriously, thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Mate,” Phil says with a small, sad smile as he opens his arms in an invitation for a hug.

Without hesitation, Dream rushes into Phil’s embrace, tightly wrapping his arms around the older man, hoping this will show the man how much his kindness truly means to Dream.

After a little while, Dream pulls back from the hug with a watery smile, the sight causing Phil to softly say, “Take care, Dream.”

Wordlessly, Dream just nods before approaching the door again, worried that, if he tries to speak, he’ll just start crying again, and that’ll lead to more hugging, and he’ll end up never getting out of the house.

So, after a final wave between the two, Dream turns away from Phil’s welcoming home and begins making his way through the near-desolate streets of L’Manburg, setting off to revive the man he loves.

Chapter Text

As the sun slowly pokes over the horizon, Dream makes his way through L’Manburg to where a stage and podium once resided, but now the land is but a crater, evidence of the damage that the man he loves caused during his descent into madness. 

Even though Dream wants to see Wilbur again as soon as possible, he opts to take the more round-about path, not wanting to cut through the center of town in case he runs into anyone, desperately not wanting to have to interact with anyone, especially someone like Quackity.

So, with a small, excited smile on his face, Dream makes his way through the grass along the outskirts of L’Manburg, making his way closer to the docks and, once he reaches them, he can cut across a less populated area to get to the site of Wilbur’s death.

If Dream had spent more time in L’Manburg, he’d have more than a fuzzy outline of the layout. But, because he has only come here for fleeting visits, he doesn’t know that the docks can be seen from the windows of many of the offices inside the White House. 

So, entirely oblivious to potential danger, Dream makes his way to the docks, smiling widely once he reaches them. 

With wide eyes, he watches as splotches of pinks, purples, and oranges melt around the rising sun, the shimmering colors reflecting gorgeously across the lapping waves of the ocean crashing upon the wooden docks.

As Dream stares transfixed at the sun rising above the ocean, something that he hasn’t seen in well over a year, he smiles widely, feeling so happy and free right now, especially while firmly bundled in Phil’s warm cloak.

Meanwhile, inside the White House, a tired occupant groans and rubs his exhausted eyes, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep, especially since the sun is starting to rise in the sky, but he still has mountains and mountains of paperwork to complete.

With a heavy sigh, he looks to the window, needing a few moments to look at something other than words swimming across thousands of pages, having spent so long doing this that he can hardly even think straight.

Except, when his eyes adjust to the light of the rising sun, he notices something that causes him to sit up straighter, curiosity instantly replacing his tiredness.

In the distance, he sees a cloaked figure standing in front of the docks, seemingly looking out at the sunrise.

And, even though he can’t tell who the person is from so far away, he quickly jumps out of his chair, gathering a few belongings before heading to the door.

At this point, he’s desperate for any excuse to stop doing his paperwork.

And, if he doesn’t get it all done in time because he was helping some poor, lost citizen of L’Manburg find their way, can Tubbo really blame him?

So, after grabbing his axe--just to be safe--he eagerly rushes out of his office, uncaring of the way the door loudly and obnoxiously slams behind him. 

It takes a few moments to navigate the winding halls of the White House, but soon he is standing outside, pulling down his black beanie slightly to protect himself from the chilly morning air. 

When he is about five blocks away from the person by the docks, he calls out to them, "Hey man, are you lost?" 

At the sound of his voice, Dream instantly stiffens, his breath getting caught in his throat as he pulls his cloak tighter to himself, wishing that he could just hide away and disappear.

"Oh, are you scared?” Quackity softly asks as he continues approaching the person, who’s now hunched over, their lanky frame seeming much smaller huddled under a cloak. “It's okay, I won't hurt you. I'm Q!"

As tears rush to Dream’s eyes, he continues staring out at the rising sun, wanting to hold onto this moment for however long he can, especially since Quackity is going to grab him and hurt him and throw him back in his cell and tortu-

"You gonna tell me your name?" Quackity asks when he stops beside the person, placing a comforting hand on their arm but, instead of his touch causing their shaking to lessen, the person flinches and whimpers violently.

And, even though Dream doesn’t want to speak to Quackity, he knows that he has to; whenever his torturer asks a question, he expects an answer, and refusing will only result in more pain, which is why Dream stutters out through his terror, "D-Dream-m-m."

"Wait, you're Dream?!” Quackity exclaims in shock, unable to believe that this person, who’s shaking and buried in a cloak, no mask in sight, is Dream. “What happened to your mask?!"

"It… broke," Dream weakly says after a few moments of hesitation, not wanting to share the real reason with Quackity, especially since he can so vividly remember when the man yanked off his mask and threw it into the lava curtain of his cell, forcing him to watch as the last thing he cared about was stripped away from him.

"Oh, sorry man, that must suck," Quackity quietly replies as he gives Dream’s arm a reassuring squeeze, certain that, since Dream wears his mask so much, it must be weird for him to be without it.

Dream doesn’t say anything, too busy trying to keep from bursting into sobs while begging and pleading not to be hurt, something that is becoming increasingly difficult the longer Quackity keeps his hand firmly pressed on his arm.

"So, what are you doing here?" Quackity asks after a few moments of awkward silence, curious why Dream would be here, especially since it doesn’t seem like he’s about to blow the place to the ground or threaten to build more walls.

"Needed to talk to someone," Dream mutters in a clipped tone, a few tears beginning to silently slip down his cheeks, wanting more than anything to just throw himself off the dock so he doesn’t have to deal with Quackity anymore, but the man still hasn’t let go of his arm.

"Who is it?” Quackity questions curiously, wondering who it is that Dream would’ve made a trip to L’Manburg to talk to. “Maybe I can help you find them."

"Thanks, but I know where they are," Dream coldly says without hesitation, refusing to tell Quackity about Phil, not wanting his tormentor to think that he has allies here.

"Oh, okay,” Quackity replies with a shrug, wishing that he could have shown Dream where to find them, especially since that would let him avoid his paperwork for longer. “I guess I'll see you around then."

"Bye, Q," Dream whispers with a shaky sigh, desperately just wanting Quackity to leave him alone so he can revive Wilbur in peace.

Except, even though they’ve both said goodbye, he doesn't let go of Dream's arm.

"You can let go of me now," Dream mutters as he tries to yank his arm free from Quackity’s grasp, but the man just holds on tighter, no doubt creating dark, ugly bruises on his skin.

With a smirk, Quackity moves closer to Dream, still holding tightly to Dream’s arm as he purrs, "Why would I ever do that, Dreamie?"

Dream's eyes widen in shock and fear, once again trying to pull away from Quackity, but his panic-addled mind makes it difficult to break free.

"What's wrong?” Quackity questions as he leans even closer to Dream, their faces nearly touching now, the man’s hot breath ghosting over Dream’s ear as he taunts, “You scared of little ol' me?"

"N-No, I'm n-not s-s-scared-d, Q,” Dream squeaks in absolute terror, his limbs trembling so violently that his legs threaten to buckle, hardly even able to breathe with Quackity so close to him.

“You know that's not what you're supposed to call me, Dream,” Quackity reprimands as he grips Dream’s arm even tighter, the pain in his arm and Quackity’s words causing him to whimper loudly and pathetically. “I didn't think you could forget such an important lesson. Looks like I'll have to teach you again.”

Oh prime…

He remembers…

This isn’t just Quackity of L’Manburg.

This is Quackity of Las Nevadas, the man who tortured him.

He’s alone with his torturer, and Wilbur isn’t even alive to help him this time around. 

Oh fuck, he’s so dead!

Overcome by pure, debilitating terror, Dream’s legs buckle beneath him, causing him to sink to his knees, his eyes blown wide in panic as he desperately looks for an escape, but his vision is blocked by Quackity, the man towering over him as he continues holding his arm in a vice-like grip.

With a wicked grin, Quackity roughly grabs Dream’s chin with his free hand and tilts his head up, forcing him to meet his gaze, his cruel eyes so familiar, even with the distinct lack of his usual scar.

"I don't know what we're both doing here in the past, but I'm going to enjoy every moment of it,” Quackity gleefully says, reveling in the absolute terror in Dream’s eyes, intoxicated by the effect he has on the trembling tyrant. “Look at you, Dream, you’re so much stronger here, and all your lovely scars are gone. I'm going to enjoy making all those cuts on your skin again. And, if you behave, maybe I won't need to take any more fingers.”

While grinning even more wickedly, he releases Dream’s chin and arm, instead shoving him face-first into the dirt, chuckling cruelly at the pained sound Dream makes when he hits the ground. 

Dream doesn’t resist as Quackity grabs both his arms and yanks them together behind his back, holding them both with one hand as he draws his axe with the other.

With a malicious chuckle, Quackity places his netherite axe against the back of Dream’s neck, the feeling of the cold blade causing Dream to retreat into his mind, silent tears rapidly streaming down his face as Quackity kneels down on top of his back, his knees straddling both sides of Dream’s torso, making him even more helpless, unable to rise from the ground between the weight on his back and the threatening kiss of the axe against his throat. 

Meanwhile, Tommy releases a loud, tired yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes after he was so rudely awakened by someone slamming a door in the room next to him.

For a few moments, he tries to go back to sleep, but, annoyingly, his eyes just won’t stay shut, causing him to crawl out of bed with a frustrated groan.

Maybe going for a walk will make him tired enough to sleep again.

Uncaring of the fact that he’s in pajamas, Tommy slowly trudges out of the White House, his socked feet not making any noise as he steps on the quartz flooring. 

When he steps outside, he squints against the rising sun, the sight of it much, much brighter than the dark halls he just walked through.

After his eyes finally adjust to the change in lighting, he’s surprised to see two people near the docks, wondering why anyone would want to be awake at this prime-forsaken hour. 

In shock, Tommy watches as one of the people sinks to their knees, then the other one grabs their jaw, yanking their head upward.

That looks… really uncomfortable. 

Feeling dread start to pool in his stomach, Tommy steadily approaches the two, the lingering tendrils of sleep leaving entirely as adrenaline begins to fill his veins from the unusual situation he’s found himself in.

After a few moments of creeping closer to the two people, Tommy abruptly stops in his tracks when he hears an all too familiar voice speak, but the words he hears sound wicked and terrible, so unlike the friend he has grown so fond of, “-enjoy making all those cuts on your skin again. And, if you behave, maybe I won't need to take any more fingers.”

...all those cuts on your skin again.

No, there’s no way…

...maybe I won’t need to take any more fingers.

Q would never…

No, of course not, he wouldn’t do that!

He wouldn’t hurt anyone, let alone resort to torture!

There’s no way! 

This has to be just some cruel, twisted joke, and any moment now he’ll turn to Tommy with a smirk and laugh over how shocked and horrified he looks.

But, instead of admitting that this is all pretend, Quackity shoves the person to the ground, a small, fearful whimper escaping them as they hit the dirt below.

Maybe he’s misunderstanding this…

Surely this can’t be real…

There’s no way Q would do this…

Right?

With a wicked glint in his eyes and a twisted smile to match, Quackity flips the person onto their stomach, pressing their face into the dirt as he grabs both their wrists, pinning their hands behind their back.

Why isn’t this person fighting back?

They’re so much taller than Q, why don’t they just overpower him?

Suddenly, Tommy is reminded of a conversation he had yesterday, the words echoing in his mind instantly making him feel sick to his stomach.

So you’ll just let me beat the shit out of you and not do anything?

Go for it. It’s not like this’ll be the worst way someone’s hurt me. And I deserve it.

This person isn’t fighting back against Quackity… because they think they deserve to be in pain…

That sounds a lot like… Dream.

And Dream won’t fight back because he’s already been through so much worse.

...maybe I won’t need to take any more fingers.

Prime, he really has been through so much worse, hasn’t he?

And, even though Tommy is too far away to make out any facial features of the person pinned to the ground, as Quackity presses his axe against their throat while the helpless person remains entirely motionless, he already knows who it is.

Laying in the dirt, a deadly weapon seconds away from killing him, is Dream.

And Quackity, his torturer, is the one standing above him, ready to inflict even more pain on someone who’s already so broken.

Even though he still fucking hates Dream, Tommy can’t walk away from this.

If he doesn’t step in, Dream is going to be tortured all over again. 

No one deserves to be tortured, but especially not for a second time. 

So, since Dream is unable to help himself, leaving him entirely at the mercy of the person who’s made him cry, beg, and plead not to be hurt more, Tommy is going to be the bigger person and help him.

He’ll push his personal feelings aside, and he’ll help the green son of a bitch so he doesn’t have to relive torture.

With newfound determination, Tommy quickly approaches the two while waving and loudly calling out, "Hey, Big Q, what’s up! And who the hell is that?”

“Oh, he’s no one important,” Quackity purrs fondly as he pushes his axe a little closer to Dream’s fragile skin, smiling madly as a few beads of blood begin to slip down Dream’s neck before mingling with the dirt below. “Just someone I caught sneaking into L’Manburg when he doesn’t belong.”

“Okay…” Tommy hesitantly says, afterward trailing off as he suppresses the urge to shiver at the mix of joy and bloodlust in Quackity’s tone, hating this side of the person he once called his friend. 

For a few seconds, Tommy looks away from Quackity to glance at Dream.

Wow, he really doesn’t look good…

Even though he must be horribly uncomfortable, Dream makes no effort to free himself from Quackity’s grasp. Instead, he is entirely still, his left cheek pressed into the dirt, no doubt rocks and pebbles digging into his skin uncomfortably. His emerald-green eyes are dull, almost lifeless, and terribly blank. Without blinking, Dream stares straight ahead, his eyes red-rimmed and constantly leaking tears. Dream’s chest slowly rises and falls, the sight of it making Tommy feel worried, expecting that, if someone was moments away from death, they’d be breathing heavily and panicking, probably begging and pleading to be saved. But Dream isn’t doing any of that. He just continues staring blankly ahead, tears slipping from his eyes as he slowly takes breath after breath, his arms pinned behind his back as Quackity presses his axe firmly against his neck.

It’s… definitely not a sight that Tommy ever wanted to see.

How many times has Dream gotten like this?

How many times has he been in such a terrible situation that he just disappears, his entire being vacant as his body is used and abused by his tormentor? 

Seeing Dream like this, a powerful tyrant who once held the whole world in his hands now reduced to this empty shell, feels so, so wrong.

After visibly shaking his head to clear his thoughts of Dream, he tears his eyes away from the battered man and says in the most casual tone he can manage, “Well, since Dream let me out of exile, I was hoping that maybe you could give me a tour? So much has changed in L’Manburg and I think you're just the man to show me the ropes.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Quackity dismissively says, not even glancing up at Tommy, his gaze entirely transfixed on the steady drip of blood escaping the cut on the back of Dream’s neck, the sight of the blood-red beads so delicious that he can almost taste the sweet, coppery tang of Dream’s blood. “I can do it later.”

“But Q, I'm bored and so tired of getting lost!” Tommy whines, uncaring if he sounds like a child, determined to do whatever it takes to get Quackity away from Dream, especially when he notices the almost… hungry glint in the torturer's eyes as he stares at the axe against Dream’s neck. “I've been gone so long, please show me around.”

For a long time, Quackity is silent, simply weighing his options.

On one hand, he wants nothing more than to use his axe to slice through Dream’s delicate skin, creating scar after scar to leave his marks on the ex-prisoner, wanting to be sure that Dream never, ever forgets how weak and pathetic he is. 

On the other hand though, Tommy being here complicates things.

While he would love to make Dream writhe and scream for all the world to hear, he doesn’t want Tommy to witness such violence.

Because, even though the kid has already fought in several wars, he’s still so young. 

He’s already seen too much bloodshed. 

And, while Tommy probably wouldn’t mind seeing Dream in agony, especially after everything the man did to him in exile, it wouldn’t be fair to enact his plans of blood and torment in front of the kid.

So, with a heavy heart over this missed opportunity to make Dream pay for his numerous crimes, Quackity releases a heavy sigh and reluctantly agrees, “Alright, fine, I’ll give you a tour.”

Quackity gives Dream’s pinned wrists one more painful squeeze, the touch promising the man that this isn’t over, but Dream doesn’t even feel it, too lost inside his own head.

While holding back a relieved sigh, Tommy intently watches as Quackity finally puts away the axe and steps away from Dream.

And, even though he’d never admit this to anyone, Tommy can’t help but feel glad that he saved Dream. 

In tense silence, the two of them begin walking away, neither of them really wanting to be with the other, but they tour the city together all the same.

Even though Quackity is gone, Dream doesn’t even notice, his arms staying right where his tormentor had them pinned, still trapped there by the throes of fear and shock gripping his battered mind.

For a long, long time, Dream just lays there, entirely unmoving, the only signs that he’s even alive are the tears still rapidly cascading down his cheeks and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest.

And that's the way Dream is found by someone, the sight of the once-tyrant causing this person to rethink everything they thought they knew about Dream.

Chapter Text

As Dream continues lying unmoving where Quackity left him, a man steps off the Prime Path on the opposite end of L’Manburg, nervously shifting the white headband in his hair while hoping that he looks okay after the long walk to get here. 

Usually, Sapnap stays far away from L’Manburg, knowing that many people still hold grudges against him for destroying L’Manburg with the help of Dream, George, and Eret. But today is a special today, so he’s willing to brave the scorn and disdain from the L’Manburgians. 

In just a few days from now, it’ll be the anniversary of when Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity got engaged, two months already flying by since that wonderful day. So, since they’re close to celebrating such an amazing day, Sapnap wanted to surprise Quackity at work and invite him to join them for a fancy dinner together. And, while most people wouldn’t consider McPuffy’s burger joint very fancy, he talked to the kind restaurant owner and, tomorrow, the two of them will work together to turn the fast-food place into a classy eat-in diner. 

Sapnap would be lying if he said that he wasn’t excited about their upcoming dinner date. In fact, he’s so excited that he’s here today to ask Q, even though he certainly could have waited until tomorrow.

As Sapnap nears the White House where his fiance works, he can’t help but smile widely, so thankful that he has not one loving fiance, but two. 

They’re both so amazing, thoughtful, sweet, funny, and just awesome to spend time with. 

He has no idea how he got so lucky, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing.

After a few more moments, Sapnap sees the White House in the distance, but something else catches his eye, the sight of a prone figure laying on the ground between the docks and White House causing the smile to slip off his face. 

Is someone… dead?

And right outside the White House?

Driven by morbid curiosity, Sapnap approaches the person, his plans of dinner dates and wonderful times temporarily forgotten in the face of this unexpected situation. 

As he gets closer, his heart leaps into his throat, terror gripping his chest when he realizes that he recognizes the still-form laying in the dirt.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s seen those emerald-green eyes, but he would never forget them or the trust that Dream showed him when he took off his mask, allowing Sapnap to see his face, his most carefully guarded secret.

Except, unlike the only other time he saw Dream’s eyes, they aren’t vibrant and shining with unrestrained happiness. Instead, his eyes are dull as they stare blankly ahead, red-rimmed and glossy from tears.

Frantically, Sapnap closes the distance between them and hurriedly kneels in front of Dream, his worry increasing even more when he sees Dream’s hands resting together on his back, no doubt because someone pinned them like that so he couldn’t get away. 

And, if Sapnap hadn’t fought in so many battles before, making him terribly familiar to the coppery tang of blood in the air, he would have missed the incision at the back of Dream’s neck. While the cut is small, it tells him that someone held a weapon a little too close to his neck, causing him to bleed.

Someone tried to kill Dream.

Sapnap knows that that thought shouldn’t bother him after the way Dream left him and George behind in favor of some fucking discs, but the thought of Dream dying, even if he has more lives, causes intense panic to painfully grip Sapnap’s chest.

Carefully, Sapnap rolls Dream onto his back, gently placing the man’s hands by his sides so they are no longer trapped beneath him, and, somehow, he doesn’t even move at all during this, seeming entirely unaware of Sapnap’s presence. 

“Dream?”

No response.

Absolutely nothing.

“Dream, please, you’re scaring me,” Sapnap mutters as he taps Dream’s cheek a couple of times, hoping that his touch will help rouse the man from this strange state he’s in, but still gets no response.

“Okay, something is seriously wrong,” Sapnap worriedly says under his breath as he scoops Dream into his arms, grunting at the weight of the taller man, but determined to carry him regardless. 

As fast as he can, Sapnap makes his way to the Community House, both he and George had moved back in there after Tommy burnt down the brunette’s mushroom house.

“George!” Sapnap shouts from outside the front door, hoping that he’ll come open the door for him so they can help Dream. “George, open the door!”

“What?” George asks in a low, confused tone as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, a loud yawn escaping him because Sapnap so rudely woke him from his nap. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Dream, I found him outside L’Manburg and he’s unresponsive,” Sapnap hurriedly says as he rushes inside the house, looking around for someplace to put their wounded friend. “I think someone tried to kill him.”

“Good,” George simply says with another yawn, missing the way his words cause Sapnap to suck in a sharp, shocked breath.

“W-What?” Sapnap questions in a horrified whisper, certain that he must have misheard, that George isn’t glad that someone tried to kill Dream.

“It’d be better for everyone if he was killed,” George casually says with a shrug, refusing to so much as look at the man in Sapnap’s arms, wanting nothing to do with him ever again.

“You can’t be serious…” Sapnap mutters in disbelief, knowing that Dream hurt them both, but he still doesn’t want the man to die . “He’s our friend!”

“Not anymore,” George scoffs, knowing that, even if they were friends once, they certainly aren’t now. “Don’t you remember what he said?”

“Well, yea-” Sapnap starts to say, knowing that he’ll never forget what Dream said to everyone that day, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish when George suddenly interrupts him in a bout of intense anger.

“I sure remember when he shouted: ‘I don't give a fuck about anything actually!’” George shouts, his tone laced with fury as he mimics the words that Dream screamed, the ones that always haunt his nightmares of the friend he once had. “Oh yeah, and he also said, ‘That's the only thing I care about on the server, actually’! How the hell could you forget about that?! He doesn’t care about us anymore, Sapnap! He only cares about those fucking discs!”

For several moments, Sapnap is stunned into silence, the man in his arms feeling much, much heavily after George’s outburst, so unused to hearing his friend yell, the sound evidence of just how badly Dream hurt him.

Finally, after taking a deep breath to steel himself, Sapnap softly says, “I-I know, I remember what he said. But something is really wrong with him, Geor-”

“Good, I’m glad!” George continues in that same loud tone as he throws his hands in the air, so fucking sick of Sapnap trying to defend Dream, even after everything he’s done to hurt them both. “I hope that whatever this is kills him! We’ve been his friend for so long, and he thinks he can just abandon us?! 

Sapnap opens his mouth to talk, but he doesn’t get a single word out because George angrily continues, “If he doesn’t give a fuck about anything but those discs, I don’t give a fuck about him! So, I want him the hell out of our house, and I don’t want to ever see him again!”

“But, Geor-” Sapnap weakly tries to protest, but he’s once again interrupted by a furious George.

“Get out!” George seethes as he angrily points to the still-open front door, refusing to let Dream stay here any longer. “Get him out of here!”

Wordlessly, Sapnap exits the Community House, flinching at the sound of Goerge slamming the door shut behind him.

As he walks down the Prime Path, clutching Dream a little tighter to his chest, Sapnap does his best to hold back tears as he dully wonders how his most treasured community, his greatest friendships, all fell apart.

Even though he knows that George is probably right, that Dream really doesn’t care about them anymore, he just can’t bring himself to abandon Dream the way that George has.

Sure, Dream already abandoned them first, so he can’t blame George for this. 

But, when he looks at Dream, sees those terribly blank eyes that are still leaking tears, he knows that something is very wrong. 

If this is something that happens to Dream often, no wonder why he’s been acting so cruel.

He must be terrified…

And, with how strong Dream always tries to act, this fear must be destroying him.

It must make the controlling, overbearing tyrant so angry to feel this scared.

And then that anger gets taken out on everyone else…

Including his best friends…

With a heavy sigh, Sapnap realizes that, for the first time in much too long, he might understand these changes in the man he once loved like a brother.

It doesn’t excuse anything he’s done, but it makes Sapnap feel a little better to know that, instead of being this evil, manipulative mastermind, Dream is most likely scared and angry, and he’s expressing those emotions in the worst ways possible.

And so, if that really is the case, Sapnap is going to help him.

He’s going to get to the bottom of Dream’s strange, unresponsive state, and then he’ll have a long talk with Dream to find out where his head is at because, if Sapnap had to take a guess, he’d say it's in a very bad place.

While walking faster, Sapnap makes his way toward his fiance’s place, hoping that Karl will be home, certain that the kind man will be willing to help Dream in the way that George wasn’t.

When Sapnap finally reaches Karl’s library, he hesitantly knocks on the front door, hoping with all his heart that Karl won’t turn him away.

“Sap, what’s going on?” Karl asks in a concerned tone the second he sees who’s outside his front door; while he always looks forward to visits from his fiance, Sapnap never turns up unannounced, and especially not while carrying someone in his arms, the sight making him extremely worried. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m okay, b-but there’s something wrong with D-Dream,” Sapnap stutters as he holds Dream a little closer to his chest, steadily losing his internal battle of not crying, especially since Karl is his last hope at helping Dream. “I-I need your help. Please, Karl.”

“Okay, okay, bring him inside,” Karl replies without hesitation as he holds the door open for Sapnap, running through a mental checklist of medical supplies they might need as he continues, “You can set him on the table there and we’ll have a look at him. And grab the pillow of the couch for his head.”

“Thank you so much!” Sapnap exclaims as he eagerly enters Karl’s house and library combo, so thankful that Karl is willing to help Dream.

When Sapnap carefully sets Dream down on the table, grabbing a pillow for his head and placing it under the man, he can’t prevent a few tears from slipping down his cheeks over how… fragile Dream looks right now.

Sensing his fiance’s distress, Karl comes up behind him and, while wrapping his arms around Sapnap’s middle in a hug, he murmurs,  “You’re welcome, Sweet Prince. You know I’d do anything for you.”

While smiling widely, a soft shade of pink dusting his cheeks from Karl’s words, Sapnap leans back against Karl’s chest, practically melting into his fiance’s embrace.

After a few more moments, Sapnap reluctantly pulls away, wanting to just live in this blissful moment with Karl forever, but he knows that Dream needs them.

“What happened?” Karl gently questions as Sapnap sits in one of the chairs at the table, his eyes welling with more tears the longer he looks at Dream’s unresponsive form.

“I found him next to the White House of L’Manburg,” Sapnap softly says, wishing that he knew what happened to Dream but, until the man comes back from… whatever this is, he’s out of luck. “He’s been like this for at least an hour now. There’s blood on the back of his neck, so I think someone tried to kill him.”

“Oh…” Karl mutters as he sits beside Sapnap, shocked to hear that someone not only tried to kill Dream, but, from the state he’s currently in, it seems like they nearly succeeded. 

After a few moments of contemplation, Karl thoughtfully says, “Hmmm, I think that maybe when he thought he was going to die, his mind sort of shut off? Possibly as a way to try to lessen the pain?”

“What does that mean?” Sapnap questions with a growing sense of dread, not liking the idea of Dream being so scared that his mind stopped functioning properly to try to protect him. “He’s just gone?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Karl softly says, not too familiar with the science of this but, during one of his trips to the past, he saw villagers trying to take care of someone who was in shock after nearly dying, and he thinks that something similar must have happened to Dream. “His mind knew that his body was in danger, so it just went blank.”

“Can he hear us right now?” Sapnap asks even quieter than before, but he’s pretty sure that he already knows what Karl will say.

“Probably not,” Karl continues in that same thoughtful tone. “If he could, I’m sure he’d realize that he’s not in danger anymore since neither of us would try to kill him.”

“Okay…” Sapnap mutters with a heavy sigh, hating how helpless he feels right now, especially since Dream is so obviously hurting, yet he doesn’t know how to fix it. “What do we do?”

“I don’t really know…” Karl mutters with a sigh of his own as he grabs Sapnap’s hand and begins rubbing soothing circles across his knuckles, hoping to help him feel better. “I think maybe just give him time? Eventually, he’ll have to come back and, once he does, we can show him that he’s safe so he doesn’t fall back into this again.”

“Alright, I can do that,” Sapnap determinedly says, wishing that he could do more to help Dream, but determined to be here for him when he wakes up so he can help his friend feel safe again. “Do you think touching him is okay?”

“Does he usually like it when you touch him?” Karl questions curiously, wondering how Dream deals with Sapnap when gets in one of his clingy moods, especially since those are some of Karl’s most favorite moments ever.

“Yeah…” Sapnap says with a small, sad smile, a faraway look in his eyes as he remembers the times when life was simple, nothing but The Dream Team enjoying each other's company as they explore the new lands of the SMP. “Before L’Manburg, he was always bumping my shoulder or trying to hug me and George.”

“You miss him,” Karl softly states as he gives Sapnap’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I really do,” Sapnap mutters with a self-deprecating laugh, knowing that it’s fucking stupid for him to miss someone who made it clear that he doesn’t care anymore, but he feels that way all the same.

“Have you told him that?” Karl hesitantly questions in that same tone, trying not to sound accusatory, even though he already knows what his fiance’s answer will be.

“No, he doesn’t care about us anymore,” Sapnap huffs with a bitter laugh, desperately wishing that it wasn’t true, but Dream made it clear that, compared to Tommy’s discs, he and George mean nothing. “He told everyone that all he cares about are those stupid discs.”

“Maybe he just said that in the heat of the moment?” Karl asks after a few moments of hesitation, trying to think of a reason why Dream might have said that. “Have you spoken to him since then?”

“No, I haven’t,” Sapnap mutters as his eyes drift to Dream’s still form, hoping that, whenever this passes, he’ll finally get to have a much-needed conversation with Dream.

“Sap, he probably still cares about you then, he’s just scared to show it,” Karl says with a sigh as he squeezes Sapnap’s hand, truly believing that, if Sapnap talks to Dream, he’ll find out that there’s more to the story. “I can’t imagine him not loving you. And, if he really doesn’t, then he’s an absolute nimrod that doesn’t deserve to call you his friend.”

Sapnap huffs a laugh and mutters, “Thanks, Karl.”

“Of course, any time, Sweetheart,” Karl happily says as he places a kiss on the back of Sapnap’s hand, the contact causing him to blush, no matter how many times his fiance does that. “Now why don’t you go rest, and I’ll let you know when he wakes up.”

“I…” Sapnap hesitantly starts to say, embarrassed to admit this, but he presses onward anyway, “I’d rather stay with him… It’s been a long time since we’ve just sat together like this.”

“I’ll leave you two alone then, but come find me if you need anything, okay?” Karl readily agrees as he gives Sapnap’s hand one more squeeze, then stands up.

With a small smile, Sapnap just nods in reply, and, after shooting Sapnap a large, fond smile in return, Karl exits the room.

When Karl is gone, Sapnap releases a heavy sigh and looks back at Dream, who still hasn’t moved even the slightest bit.

As he wipes away Dream’s tears, which have yet to stop falling since the whole time he’s been with him, Sapnap softly questions, “Why are you still crying, Dream? What happened to you?”

Then, even softer, he whispers ”What happened to us?”

For a long, long time, Sapnap just sits beside the still-unresponsive Dream.

And, eventually, Sapnap can’t hold in his own tears anymore, a loud, pained sob tearing through him.

While still crying, Sapnap rests his head against Dream’s chest, the steady heartbeat reminding him that Dream’s still alive and, even though it feels like he’s already lost his friend, there’s still a little hope left.

After a while of simply crying, a hand comes to rest in Sapnap’s hair, causing him to smile sadly, thankful that Karl is there to comfort him.

Except, a few seconds later, he’s met by a weak, raspy voice softly saying, “Don’t cry for me, Pandas. I don’t deserve it after everything I’ve done.”

“Dream? You’re back?” Sapnap asks just as quietly with a sniffle, tears racing down both their cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Dream softly replies as he begins carding his fingers through Sapnap’s hair, just like he used to do when they were both kids. “Thanks for keeping me safe.”

“Of course, I…” Sapnap starts to say, but the words get caught in his throat, unsure how to talk to his once-best friend.

When Sapnap doesn’t say anything for several moments, Dream sincerely says, “I’m sorry for not being a better friend.”

“Me too,” Sapnap earnestly replies without hesitation, releasing a relieved sigh, thankful that at least some of his Dream is still in there. “I should have been there to help you before things got this bad.”

“And I should have asked for your help before it got this bad,” Dream whispers sadly, wishing that he would have just asked for Sapnap and George’s help instead of pushing them away.

With a smirk, Sapnap can’t help but ask, “We’re a mess, aren’t we?”

With a weak laugh, Dream mutters, “Yeah, we really are… I hope that there’s some way to fix things one day.”

“I don’t know, you’ve hurt a lot of people…” Sapnap begins, but he trails off at the end, unable to say that he probably won’t ever be able to forgive the man that he once loved like a brother.

“I have,” Dream admits without hesitation, knowing that he has hurt more people than he ever should have.

Then, in a determined tone, Dream continues, “I’m trying to be better though. Yesterday, I ended Tommy’s exile. I realized that what I was doing to him was wrong, so now he’s back in L’Manburg again.”

“Did you give him back the discs too?” Sapnap hesitantly questions, not wanting to talk about those fucking discs, but, if Dream gave them back, it must mean that he doesn’t care about them more than his friends… right?

“No,” Dream breathes out with a heavy sigh, berating himself for giving back the discs when he ended Tommy’s exile, especially since he never should have taken them in the first place.

“You should,” Sapnap firmly says, his voice taking on an accusatory tone, hating the thought that Dream didn’t give them back already because he really does care about them more than him and George.

“Yeah, I really should,” Dream softly agrees, wanting to give them back as soon as he sees the kid, whenever that might be.

After a few moments of silence, Sapnap can’t help but sit upright, dislodging Dream’s hand in his hair, as he angrily asks, “Are those discs really the only thing you care about?”

“No, not even close,” Dream adamantly says without even a moment of hesitation, his time in Pandora’s Vault telling him that he was so wrong for putting those discs above his friends. “I care about you, Pandas, so much. And I care about George, even though I’m sure he hates me. And I care about Wilbur too.”

“Wilbur?” Sapnap questions as he slowly blinks in surprise, unsure if he heard that right. “When did that happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Dream says with a small huff of laughter, knowing that explaining how he’s from the future and fell in love with Wilbur would take a very long time.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sapnap mutters, deciding not to question it. “Maybe one of these days you could tell it to me.”

“Sure, I’d like that…” Dream softly says, afterward trailing off for a few moments. 

Then, after taking a deep breath to steel himself, Dream lets himself be vulnerable, finally explaining the reasoning behind his actions in the most open and honest tone he can manage, “It was stupid and wrong of me to say that I only cared about the discs. Because I care about you and George so much that it hurts. The thought of losing you two brings me so much pain.”

Then, while fighting back the urge to sob, Dream brokenly continues, “And that’s why I pushed you both away. I was scared of you two leaving me, so I left first. I was scared of others hurting you guys, so I hurt you instead because I thought it would be less painful that way. Instead, I just fucked everything up again and again.”

For a while, Sapnap is silent, simply watching Dream as tears continue slipping down his cheeks. 

And, even though part of Sapnap is scared of being hurt again, sitting here with Dream right now, no one around but the two of them, he can’t help but think that this is real.

This side of Dream is so different from the tyrant that he’s starting to become painfully familiar with. 

And, even though it’s scary, he finds himself believing Dream, because these moments of vulnerability are so rare, even before L’Manburg, but each of them are so distinctly Dream . 

If he were to say that this wasn’t real, that Dream is just trying to manipulate him, he would be taking this fragile display of trust and a glimpse into the real Dream, the man he loves like a brother, and shattering it into a million pieces.

If he were to accuse the man of lying or manipulating him right now, he knows that it’ll break Dream.

Because, even though Dream is the strongest person he knows, everyone has their breaking point.

And, by the looks of it, Dream is nearly at his, his tense, hunched posture telling Sapnap that he’s trying to prepare for rejection that’ll hurt so badly.

So, instead of letting Dream fall into the abyss, Sapnap gently takes Dream’s hand and carefully helps him sit up on the table.

While still holding Dream’s hand, Sapnap climbs on top of the table too, wanting to be on Dream’s level for this, to make sure his friend knows that he sees him, sees the man who’s been hiding in fear for so long.

With eyes wide in shock and disbelief, Dream wordlessly stares at Sapnap, unsure where this is going, but, after every moment he isn’t accused of lying, Dream starts to feel less and less anxious.

“I see you,” Sapnap whispers as he reaches out a hand toward Dream’s face, his heart clenching painfully at the way he flinches in fear, but he pushes on all the same.

As he carefully cups the left side of Dream’s face, using his thumb to gently wipe away his tears, Sapnap continues in that same soft, quiet tone, “I see you, Dream. You’re hurt and you’re scared, and that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Then, while being sure not to sound too angry and accusatory, Sapnap continues, “You’ve hurt a lot of people. Some of the things you’ve done make me feel sick, and I’m still so upset over the way you dethroned George like that. Prime, I just… before today, I didn’t know who you were anymore.”

Upon hearing that, Dream can’t help but shut his eyes tightly as a loud whimper escapes, hating himself for causing so much pain.

Unable to listen to such a pained sound from his friend and do nothing about it, Sapnap releases Dream’s hand and face, instead pulling the man into a bone-crushing hug. 

While holding Dream close, the man clutching Sapnap tightly in return, he softly whispers, “I see you, Dream. The real you. You’re still here. You’ve hurt a lot of people, and I don’t know if I can forgive you for that. But I’d like to try, because I know you’re still in there. You’re hurting too, and I want to help you. Please, let me help you. Don’t push me away.”

Dream opens his mouth to thank Sapnap for his kind words, but all that escapes him is a loud, violent sob that causes Sapnap to hold his friend even closer.

“I’ve got you, Dream,” Sapnap murmurs reassuringly as Dream begins sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re safe with me. Just let it out.”

And, even though part of Dream is still terrified of trusting anyone but Wilbur, he finds himself believing Sapnap’s words.

For the first time in much too long, Dream allows himself not only to cry without restraint, but to do so while being comforted by his best friend.

For a long time, the two just hold each other close, silent tears slipping down Sapnap’s cheeks as Dream continues sobbing, finally releasing all the pain and anguish that he’s been carrying long before his time in Pandora’s Vault.

Finally, when Dream’s sobs come to an end, he murmurs from the bottom of his heart, “Love you, Pandas.”

And, even though he probably doesn’t deserve to say those words after everything he’s done, they are true regardless. 

Instead of replying, Sapnap just smiles ever so slightly and holds Dream a little closer, resting his chin on top of Dream’s head as his friend curls against his chest.

And, while they still have a long way to go, Sapnap can’t help but feel like this conversation was definitely a step in the right direction.

Chapter Text

After a while of sitting together, the two pull apart when there’s a knock on the door, the sound making Dream tense from fear, but Sapnap places a reassuring hand on his arm as he calls out, “Come in!”

Hesitantly, Karl pushes open the door and pokes his head inside, smiling kindly at the duo, especially when he sees dried tear tracks on both their reddened cheeks.

“Hey there, Dream!” Karl happily says as he steps into the room, staying by the door to not overwhelm Dream, especially since his emerald eyes are wide in surprise and growing panic. “I’m Karl, Sapnap’s fiance. I’m glad to see you awake! Are you feeling any better?”

“Uh, h-hi,” Dream mutters nervously as he glances down at his lap, feeling caught off guard by Karl’s kind, bubbly personality, especially since it’s directed toward. “Yeah, I’m doing b-better now. I guess I have you two to th-thank for that?”

“You don’t have to thank us, but yeah, Sap brought you here so we could look out for you while you were like that!” Karl cheerfully says, thankful that Sapnap brought Dream here, especially since it seems like the two finally got a chance to talk and make up.

“Well, thank you, both of you,” Dream softly says as he briefly meets Karl’s light brown eyes, a shiver wracking his body at the thought of what could have happened if they didn’t bring him somewhere safe. “I appreciate you not leaving me there like that.”

“Of course, I’d never leave you while you were hurt,” Sapnap replies without hesitation as he gives Dream’s arm a reassuring squeeze, his words causing a deep shade of pink to coat Dream’s cheeks, his chest feeling all warm and fuzzy after hearing that.

“Thanks,” Dream murmurs with a shy smile, knowing that that one little word could never fully express how much he appreciates Sapnap’s words, but he hopes that his friend understands all the same.

“It was nice meeting you, Dream!” Karl excitedly says as he comes further into the room, stopping when he’s in front of Dream and reaching out his hand for a handshake. 

After a few moments of hesitation, Dream reaches out his right hand toward Karl’s, feeling… weird about being able to give a handshake again, still not entirely used to having all his fingers back.

But, since it would be strange to refuse such a common form of greeting and politeness, Dream’s right hand meets Karl’s, and the two of them shake hands.

The second Karl touches Dream’s hand, he sees a flash of white behind his eyes and, suddenly, he’s transported through time. 

The walls of his library fall away, and in its place he sees dark obsidian walls, the steady drip of crying obsidian heard on the ceiling above him. He’s laying slumped in the corner, the tingling of phantom pain engulfing his body and, if he wasn’t being protected from the brunt of it, he’s sure that he’d be in intense agony. Suddenly, there’s a figure above him and, even though he can’t tell who it is, he feels terrified of him. A hand reaches toward his face, rusty, bloody shears inching closer and closer. “St-Stop!” He shouts, but it’s not his voice. Instead, the voice is a pained, broken-sounding Dream, causing Karl to realize that, somehow, he’s living through one of Dream’s memories. At the same time he shouts, he reaches up a hand to grab the person’s wrist, stopping the shears from coming any closer. Without a word, the person drops the shears and, with their free hand, they pry off his weak grip, instantly snapping his left wrist, as if it was nothing more than a stick. As a scream tears through his throat, the person says something, but he can’t hear it, even just the small fraction of Dream’s pain that he feels makes him think that he might throw up. Suddenly, the person reaches for his right hand and pins it to the obsidian floor below. The person’s voice is muffled and distorted beyond recognition through the haze of pain, but Karl thinks he catches the words ‘shouldn't fight back’. Those words are the only warning he gets when, suddenly, an axe comes down on the index finger of his right hand, slicing it off completely. Then, without even a moment of hesitation, the axe is hurtling toward his hand again, slicing his pinky off as well, the debilitating pain causing him to pass out, which abruptly shoves Karl out of the memory.

Just as abruptly, Karl finds himself back in his library, except, he isn’t standing anymore. Instead, he’s kneeling on the ground, Sapnap worriedly calling his name as he wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Karl, hey, are you okay, please, talk to me,” Sapnap frantically begs his fiance, glancing at Dream for direction, but his friend just shrugs helplessly, looking about as panicked as Sapnap feels.

“Sap,” Karl mutters, his voice scratchy and hoarse from the effort of trying to hold back tears. “Please, leave.”

“What?!” Sapnap exclaims as he pulls back from Karl, looking at his fiance with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I’m not going to leave you after you collapsed for no reason!”

“It wasn’t for no reason,” Karl softly says as a shiver wracks his body, hoping that Sapnap will understand.

“Oh, is this about…” Sapnap hesitantly starts to ask, but he stops abruptly when Karl gives a curt nod. 

“I'll leave you two alone, but just shout if you need me, okay, Dream?” Sapnap says with a heavy sigh as he shakily stands up, every fiber of his being not wanting to leave Karl, but they agreed that, when it comes to his time traveling tendencies, he’d follow Karl’s lead without question.

Feeling absolutely terrified of what’s about to happen, Dream just wordlessly nods.

When Sapnap closes the door behind him, Karl slumps back against the wall, releasing a loud groan as he buries his head in his hands.

“D-Did I do s-s-something wro-ong?” Dream softly asks in a low, fearful tone, scared that Karl asked Sapnap to leave because he plans on hurting him, especially since Karl collapsed after touching him, making him feel like this is all his fault and, at any moment, he’ll be punished for hurting the kind man.

Quickly, Karl reassures him, “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

Then, with a heavy sigh, Karl meets Dream’s eyes and hesitantly says, “Look, Dream, I know we don’t know each other, but I want to tell you a secret, okay? Can I trust you not to share this with anyone? Sapnap is the only other person who knows this.”

Even though he doesn’t really understand what’s happening, Dream nods in agreement, determined not to betray Karl’s trust, especially since trust is something so rarely given to him.

“Okay, well, I’m a time traveler,” Karl says with a nervous smile, chuckling at the way Dream’s eyes widen in shock. “Any questions so far?”

“D-Do you know why I’m here?” Dream softly and hesitantly asks, hoping that Karl can explain to him why he, and apparently Quackity, suddenly ended up in the past.

“You’re from the future, aren’t you?” Karl questions just as softly as Dream, the memory he got of Dream’s hand suddenly making a lot more sense.

Even more hesitantly, Dream nods his head, then he questions, “Do you know the future too?”

“No, not really,” Karl says with a sigh, thankful that he doesn’t, already feeling burdened by what little he caught a glimpse of through Dream. “But, when I shook your hand, I saw something from the future.”

“W-What did-d you s-s-see?” Dream asks in alarm, knowing that, whatever it is can’t be good, especially since he had Sapnap leave the room.

“Someone cut off your fingers,” Karl says in a horrified whisper, feeling phantom pain shoot through his own fingers, the memory of Dream’s future making him feel like he was there in that moment, experiencing some of the pain Dream had. “You tried to stop them from hurting you with shears, and they broke your wrist and cut off your fingers.”

With a whimper, Dream brings his knees to his chest, hugging them closely, absolutely horrified that Karl, this absolute stranger, just witnessed some of the hell that he went through.

“Can I hug you?” Karl softly questions, unable to take how sad and dejected Dream looks, especially now that he knows that the man lived through a very, very dark future.

Hesitantly, Dream nods his head, really just wanting a hug from Wilbur but, since his revival attempt earlier ended with Quackity’s axe against his neck, he’ll take whatever comfort he can get. 

With deliberately slow movements, Karl stands up and approaches Dream, climbing onto the table with him and pulling the man into a large hug. 

Even though the hug isn’t from the person he wants it to be, Dream releases a content sigh and practically melts into Karl’s embrace, wrapping his arms around the man and holding him tightly in return. 

“I’m so sorry someone hurt you like that,” Karl whispers as he holds Dream close to his chest, his heart aching for the man, especially since he was once his fiance’s best friend. 

Dream just holds the kind man a little tighter, appreciating the apology; even though Karl had nothing to do with literally anything in his life, it’s still comforting to hear.

After a little while, Karl hesitantly shares with Dream, “I hate to say this but, when I touched you, it opened up a connection between us. So, sometimes I’m going to get random glimpses of your memories of the future.”

“What?” Dream asks in a low, horrified whisper as he pulls back from Karl’s embrace, unable to believe that these awful moments he’s experienced, some of which he hasn’t even been able to say to Wilbur, are going to be shared with this stranger. “You’re joking. Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m sorry,” Karl sincerely says, not wanting to invade Dream’s privacy like this, but the damage has already been done. “Time is a strange thing. Most people aren’t ever able to manipulate time but, for those who do, we’re connected by that shared ability. All it takes is a touch, and memories can easily be transferred between the two people. So, even though I wish it wasn’t true, you’ll get some of my memories of ancient time periods I’ve visited and I’ll get some of yours from the future.”

“I don’t want you to know what I’ve done, what’s been done to me,” Dream whispers brokenly as tears rush to his eyes, absolutely hating that this is happening, especially with someone he hardly even knows. 

“I’m so sorry, I promise I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Karl softly apologizes again, feeling terrible for creating this between them, but he had no idea that Dream would be like him, especially since he hasn’t met anyone else that is. “But, the future is special because, unlike the past, it can actually be changed. You, Dream, have the power to make sure that whatever awful things happened in the future you know don’t ever again.”

“You really think I can do that?” Dream softly asks as he finally meets Karl’s gaze again, seeing nothing but understanding and compassion in his light brown eyes.

“I think you’ve already started to change things for the better,” Karl says with an encouraging smile. “I mean, just look at you and Sapnap. Did you two ever get the chance to apologize to each other in the future?”

When Dream sadly shakes his head, Karl gently says, “You’re already making a difference then. Just try to make up for the ways you’ve hurt people and I guarantee that the future will turn out so much better.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dream mutters with a heavy sigh, still not liking this situation, but feeling a little better after Karl’s pep talk.

“Oh, I’m always right,” Karl cheekily says with a smirk, his words causing Dream to roll his eyes.

“I can see why you and Sapnap get along,” Dream mutters with the ghost of a smile, his smile turning into a grin when Karl releases a loud, high-pitched laugh.

When Karl’s giggles finally die down again, he asks in a much more serious tone, “So, since you’re here in the past, do you have someplace safe you can spend the night?”

“Not really,” Dream mutters with a wry smile, hating to think that all of Techno’s jokes about him being homeless were actually true. “Last night Phil let me stay in his house in L’Manburg, but I really don’t want to go back there after what happened to me earlier today.”

“Yeah, of course,” Karl easily says, curiosity eating him away at what happened to Dream to put him in the catatonic state he was in earlier, but he refrains from asking, instead offering, “Well, if you want, you could spend the night here. I don’t have an extra bed, but you could sleep with a blanket on the couch. It wouldn’t be the best, but you would at least be safe from whoever tried to hurt you earlier.”

“That sounds great,” Dream whispers as tears rush to his eyes, not understanding why both Phil and Karl, two people he barely knows, would go out of their way to give him somewhere safe to sleep, but he appreciates it so much. “Thank you, Karl. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I appreciate it.”

“Everyone deserves a safe place to sleep, regardless of what they’ve done,” Karl adamantly says as he gives Dream a sad smile, hating the absolute gratitude on the man’s face, especially since he can’t even offer him a real bed. 

Then, with a heavy sigh, Karl softly continues, “Look, Dream, I’ve heard a lot of bad things about you. I don’t know how much of it is true, but I trust what Sapnap tells me. I know that you two used to be best friends, and Sap would never become friends with someone who’s cruel or vicious. So, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. As long as you don’t hurt my fiance again, I’ll help you however I can.”

With tears streaming down his cheeks, Dream just eagerly nods his head, his throat too choked with emotion to properly thank Karl for his kindness, but he hopes that the generous man understands regardless.

“Get some sleep, Dream,” Karl says with a sad smile as he stands up, his heart going out to the man in front of him, knowing how hard it is to be in the past where everything is so confusing, but especially since Dream has also been wounded physically more than he could ever understand. “The couch is right over here, and there’s already a blanket on it.”

“Thank you,” Dream manages to whisper as he lays down on the couch, safely tucked under a bright orange blanket, the color instantly reminding him of Sapnap and his love of fire. 

“You’re welcome,” Karl replies with his sad smile still in place as he begins walking toward the door of the main library, definitely needing to write down this interaction in his diary so he doesn’t forget it. “Come find me or Sap if you need anything, okay?”

Dream just nods his head as his eyes slip shut, a small smile on his face as he drifts off into a peaceful slumber, feeling the happiest that he has since coming to the past, especially now that he has Karl and Sapnap as his allies and, maybe one day, they could all be friends too. 

Chapter Text

Slowly, Wilbur wakes up, his mind feeling foggy and sluggish, as if he hasn’t slept for several days now.

With a groan, Wilbur blearily opens his eyes. He expects to see soft rays of sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, casting a sleeping Dream in a beautiful glow that never ceases to make him smile.

Instead, his eyes widen drastically, his breath hitching when he sees a dreary, overcast sky that casts a dark, ominous shadow upon the train tracks surrounding him. 

Train tracks…

The only place that he knows has train tracks is…

Limbo.

While quickly jumping to his feet, Wilbur frantically looks around, a loud, broken sob tearing through his chest when he sees nothing but endless sidewalks and train tracks for miles, not a single person or train in sight. 

“No, no, no!” Wilbur screams as he sinks to his knees on the pavement, unable to believe that he ended up back in this hell when he was finally fucking free. “Please, let me out, let me out! I can’t, I can’t stay here! Please!”

But, just like every other time Wilbur begged and pleaded to be released from this purgatory of pain and loneliness, no one answers his calls. 

“Please!” Wilbur shouts desperately as he grabs handfuls of his hair and begins tugging hard, knowing that he can’t spend another minute in this place, let alone eternity. “Please, I’ll do anything! Let me out! Please!”

His eyes sting with tears, but he doesn’t know if it’s from the pain in his scalp from pulling out his hair or the pain in his heart at the thought of being trapped here again. 

After another harsh sob, Wilbur looks to the sky and screams, the hoarse, broken, and desperate sound doing nothing to ease the anguish he feels, especially since he knows that no one is listening.

He’s all alone.

Again. 

“Dream, please, please, help me,” Wilbur begs desperately, hoping that, somehow, the man he loves will save him from this hell a second time. “Dream, please! I can’t do this! I can’t fucking do this! Please, get me out of here! Please!”

For a few moments, the only sound he hears is his own wrecked sobs, the echo of them across the desolate landscape serving to mock him further.

Suddenly, he hears a set of footsteps, the sound causing his head to snap up as he finally releases his hair, uncaring of the torn strands that are tangled in his fingers.

“Dream?” Wilbur asks the approaching footsteps in a pleading tone, hoping with all his heart that his friend is going to save him from this hell. “Please, please, get me out of here. I-I fucking can’t stay here! Please!”

“Sorry, but it’s just me,” a deep voice calls out, his voice rough and scratchy from a mix of disuse and copious amounts of alcohol in his system, the sound of his voice causing Wilbur to sob harder.

Schlatt’s here. 

Not Dream.

Schlatt, the man who ruined his life and led him to be sent here in the first place, is here to watch him cry and beg to be released from here. 

And, even though he hates Schlatt, when the ram-hybrid kneels beside him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder, Wilbur can’t help but fling himself at the man’s chest, desperately craving any form of comfort, no matter who it comes from.

“Whoa, okay, this is unexpected,” Schlatt mutters under his breath as he suddenly finds Wilbur clinging to his front, the younger man’s arms tightly wrapped around his back, hot, damp tears already seeping through his black t-shirt. 

Hesitantly, Schlatt wraps his arms around Wilbur in return, so unused to giving hugs, especially not to his once-biggest enemy, but it is painfully obvious that Wilbur is in desperate need of comfort. 

When Schlatt holds him in return, albeit a bit awkwardly, Wilbur cries even harder, knowing that this hug is nothing like one of Dream’s, but thankful for the kind touch anyways, the contact helping to stave away some of the suffocating loneliness that threatens to steal his breath away.

After a long time of crying, Wilbur’s sobs turn into just the occasional sniffle and hiccup, but he still doesn’t pull away from Schlatt, wanting to savor this momentary comfort for however long it lasts. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Schlatt hesitantly questions, feeling horribly inadequate to deal with this but, since Mexican Dream isn’t around, he knows that he is the only one who can help Wilbur.

“I-I was finally free,” Wilbur mutters brokenly, his voice rough and scratchy from tears, but neither of the men comments on it. “I was revived, and I was finally free from here, but now I’m back.”

“Wait, you were revived?” Schlatt asks in a low, breathless whisper, excited by the idea that that old, ancient book he gave Dream about revival techniques could have actually worked. “Did Dream use the book to revive you?”

“H-How did you know that?” Wilbur warily asks, a shiver wracking his body at the thought of Schlatt knowing how to revive people.

“I’m the one who gave him that book,” Schlatt proudly says, drawing great accomplishment from the knowledge that, because of him, Dream has the power to revive people. “That’s why he fought on my side instead of joining Pogtopia. The temptation of being able to revive was too strong for him.”

“Oh…” Wilbur mutters, deciding that Schlatt’s words do make sense, even though he can’t figure out how the drunk could have gotten his hands on something so powerful to begin with. 

Then, while clearing his throat, Wilbur softly continues, “Dream used that book to revive me. And I helped him escape the prison cell that he had been locked inside.”

“No way,” Schlatt excitedly says with a disbelieving chuckle, finding this story to be a lot juicier than he thought it would be. “Then what happened?”

“I convinced the prison warden to help me build a house for Dream to live in and to let him out of his cell, and then we lived there together for about a month,” Wilbur says with a sad, but fond smile, hoping that, any moment now, Dream will revive him and they can live in their lovely cabin again. 

“Wait, you made the person keeping Dream locked up help you build a house and set him free?” Schlatt asks with another disbelieving chuckle, finding this story to be absolutely crazy, but enjoying every moment of it. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“You should know by now how persuasive I can be,” Wilbur cheekily says with a smirk, finding himself feeling less scared and lonely the longer he talks to Schlatt. “I just wrapped him around my finger, and he couldn’t resist when I asked him to ‘please let my friend free’.” 

With a hearty, surprised laugh, Schlatt jokingly says, “You’re so devious. The poor warden probably didn’t stand a chance.”

“Nope, he certainly didn’t,” Wilbur adamantly says, but a small part of him feels a pang of sadness talking about Sam, finding himself wishing that the ex-warden was here with him to keep him company too.

Then, while straying the topic away from Sam, Wilbur continues, “So, yeah, Dream helped me, I helped him, and we lived together for a month. I have no idea how I ended up back here though. I feel like I would remember dying, or at least have some kind of pain, but there’s just nothing. It’s like I never even left here.”

“That’s really weird,” Schlatt mutters, certain that, yeah, if Wilbur had died again, he’d have memory of it or a new scar, but neither seems to be the case.

Then, a little hesitantly, Schlatt continues, “I know our past together is pretty shitty, but, if you don’t want to be alone, I could keep you company.”

In shock, Wilbur pulls back slightly from Schlatt’s embrace to look at the ram-hybrid, surprised to find nothing but sincerity in those deep brown eyes, and a small, kind smile on his face.

With a shaky smile, Wilbur hesitantly asks, “Really? You’ll stay with me?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” Schlatt honestly says without hesitation, unable to forget the sight of Wilbur kneeling on the ground, tearing his hair out as he screamed in agony and loneliness; even if he and Wilbur aren’t close, and they probably never will be, he can’t leave the man to suffer like that in good conscience. 

Then, with a smirk that makes the brown in his eyes shine even brighter, Schlatt continues, “Besides, it’s not like I’ve got much better to do.”

With a weak laugh, Wilbur nods his head in agreement, deciding that, yeah, neither of them have much to do with their time, so they might as well spend it together.

“Thank you,” Wilbur sleepily murmurs as he rests his head against Schlatt’s chest again, feeling extremely tired and drained after his outburst. “I was wrong about you.”

“You’re welcome,” Schlatt whispers, wanting to ask what Wilbur meant by that last part, but he doesn’t get the chance, the man already drifting off to sleep in his embrace.

“This was unexpected,” Schlatt mutters under his breath as he lays down on the pavement, allowing the sleeping man to use his chest as a pillow.

And, even though Wilbur is asleep and wouldn’t know the difference, Schlatt keeps his arm firmly wrapped around him, protecting Wilbur while he’s unable to do so himself.

That’s how their days in Limbo go. 

Neither of them knows how much time passes, but they stick together through it all, Wilbur even tagging along during one of Schlatt’s workouts, smiling softly as the man ranted about the most efficient protein shakes. 

And then, finally, they hear it.

The sound of a train approaching.

With a large, blinding smile, Wilbur jumps to his feet, ecstatic by the thought of Dream finally coming back to revive him. 

“I think that’s for you, Kiddo,” Schlatt fondly says as he glances at the approaching train, the vehicle nothing but a speck in the distance, but, very soon, it’ll be larger than life, ready to take Wilbur to a much better place than here.

Instead of responding, Wilbur just throws himself at Schlatt’s chest, hugging the man tightly in hopes of conveying how grateful he is. 

“Thank you so much for staying with me,” Wilbur whispers as tears rush to his eyes, knowing that this time in Limbo would have been absolute hell without Schlatt here to keep him company. 

“Of course,” Schlatt easily replies as he returns the hug, a sad smile on his face as he continues, “I enjoyed our time together.”

“Yeah, me too,” Wilbur says without hesitation and, even though he never would have expected this, he genuinely is going to miss spending time with Schlatt. “You’re a good man, Schlatt. I’m glad I got to know you better.”

“Same here,” Schlatt says with a wide smile, his heart fluttering in his chest at being called a ‘good man’, something that no one has ever said to him before. 

Then, while pulling back from the hug, Schlatt softly says, “Come on now, you’ve got a train to catch.”

Eagerly, Wilbur pulls back from Schlatt and rushes toward where the train is pulling into the stop, the sight of the jet-black train so beautiful and relieving that Wilbur finds himself blinking back tears. 

While happily jumping onto the train, Wilbur looks back at Schlatt, waving to the man as he shouts, “Thank you!”

While rolling his eyes fondly at the kid, Schlatt smiles and waves back.

As the train pulls away, Schlatt’s heart feels heavy in his chest, but he can’t help but smile, thankful that Wilbur is getting another chance at life.

And during the times when Schlatt too is overcome by loneliness, he’ll hold onto those moments with Wilbur for as long as he possibly can, their unexpected friendship making it easier to get through each day of Limbo.

In a flash of light, Wilbur finds himself laying on the ground yet again, but, instead of being in the dreary landscape of Limbo, he’s somewhere bright and sunny, and he can hear the distant footsteps of people walking nearby.

He’s not in Limbo anymore…

Thank prime…

With a groan, Wilbur slowly sits up, clutching at his head as he does so, starting to feel a splitting headache from being revived.

After blinking several times to clear the specs in his vision, Wilbur sees a figure advancing toward him, their steps so fast that it almost seems like they’re… floating.

When the figure gets closer, Wilbur notices that they’re wearing a bright, oversized sunshine-yellow sweater and dark gray pants that pool around their ankles, each seeming too large. Next, Wilbur notices a mop of familiar dark brown hair, the sight of it, though shorter than his own hair, causes him to run a hand through his messy curls. Lastly, he notices a familiar pair of deep brown eyes staring at him, the color a stark contrast from the man’s translucent, light gray skin.

Wait a second…

Why does this person look like him but more… pale?

“Hello, there!” the stranger calls out to Wilbur, that voice, so similar to his own but more airy and echoey, causes Wilbur to flinch, finally realizing who he’s looking at.

He’s just been revived and, somehow, Ghostbur, the ghostly-version of himself, is the first person he sees…

Prime, why can’t life be simple just this once?!

“H-Hi,” Wilbur shakily whispers as Ghostbur stops right in front of him, peering down at Wilbur with a large smile as his body sways back and forth in the wind, occasionally floating closer toward the ground, but never actually touching it.

“Hello!” Ghostbur happily says, his smile never dimming, even when Wilbur flinches again at the sound of the ghost’s voice. “I’m Ghostbur! What’s your name?”

“W-Wilbur,” Wilbur hesitantly says as he, quite literally, pinches his left arm, the dull jolt of pain telling him that, yes, this is actually happening. “Wilbur Soot.”

“But you’re dead,” Ghostbur softly says in a confused tone, his smile being replaced by a small frown, recognizing the name as Alivebur, but, well, he’s pretty sure that, despite the name, the man isn’t actually alive.

“I could say the same to you,” Wilbur mutters with a disbelieving chuckle as he slowly stands on shaky legs, unable to believe that he’s talking with his ghost about which one of them is dead.

“I’m not dead, I’m a ghost,” Ghostbur hotly says as he crosses his arms over his chest, already deciding that he doesn’t like this Alivebur person. 

“Pretty sure that’s the same thing,” Wilbur points out with a smirk as he rolls his eyes, finding this whole conversation to be absolutely ridiculous. 

“No, it’s not,” Ghostbur adamantly says, afterward sticking his tongue out at Alivebur, the sight of his ghost, who’s acting so childish, causing him to roll his eyes.

“Okay, whatever you say,” Wilbur finally acquiesces, knowing that he has more important things to deal with than this pointless argument with a fucking ghost of all people. 

Then, while giving the ghost his most charming smile, Wilbur steps toward him and says, “I’m sorry, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. It’s very nice to meet you, Ghostbur, but I could really use some help. See, I was just revived, and it’s a real big world, and I don’t know who could possibly help me.”

“Oh, I could help you!” Ghostbur exclaims without hesitation as he instantly perks up, floating a little higher in his excitement. “What do you need help with?”

“If you could help me find my friend Dream, I would be so thankful,” Wilbur says with his smile still in place, but it shifts more toward a smirk, pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to get this ghost to help him.

“Dream…” Ghostbur mutters in thought, trying to think of why that name seems familiar.

“Oh, the little green guy, I love him!” Ghostbur cheers when he finally remembers Dream and all the fun times they’ve had together, along with Tommy there too. “He always joins me and Tommy on vacation, and we have lots of fun together.”

“Wait, vacation?” Wilbur asks as his smile fades completely, having no idea what this strange ghost is talking about, but feeling dread start to pool in his stomach. “You, Dream, and Tommy have all gone on vacation together?”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s the right word, but we’ve all spent a lot of time together!” Ghostbur eagerly says, excited to talk about the trio’s time together, especially since he’s never told anyone this before. “Dream visits me and Tommy in a place called… oh, that’s right, Logstedshire, that’s the name of it!”

“Logstedshire?!” Wilbur asks loudly in alarm, recognizing the name of the place where Tommy was exiled, having heard it when he helped Dream write the apology book to Tommy. “When was the last time you all visited there?”

“Just a few days ago,” Ghostbur continues in that same happy tone, oblivious to the mental turmoil he’s causing Wilbur right now. “Dream was there, and so was Tommy, and they did their fun little game where Tommy throws stuff on the ground and Dream makes it go boom!”

“Oh prime,” Wilbur mutters as he sinks to his knees, promptly retching as soon as he hits the ground, horrified by the realization that, somehow, exile is happening all over again.

“Oh, are you okay?” Ghostbur asks in a low, concerned tone, unsure why Alivebur is making those weird sounds, but deciding that he doesn’t like them.

“Fucking fantastic,” Wilbur grinds out through gritted teeth when the feeling of nausea finally passes, thankful that he didn’t actually throw up.

“I don’t like that word,” Ghostbur mutters under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting, that word reminding him of all the times Tommy would get angry and yell at him.

“That’s great, Ghostbur,” Wilbur mutters in return as he slowly stands up on shaky legs, feeling even weaker than he did moments ago, but he pushes past his fatigue, needing to understand what’s happening. 

As Wilbur tries his best to come up with another question about Dream, hopefully one that’ll lead him to his friend’s whereabouts, he hears heavy footsteps approaching them.

Curiosity peaked, Wilbur turns his attention away from the ghost, instead looking toward the nearby houses where it sounded like the footsteps were coming from.

Wait, houses?!

But he blew up L'Manburg!

When did they rebuild it?!

When he was last revived, it was nothing but a crater in the ground…

Sure, he and Dream lived in their cabin for a while, but they couldn’t have made this much progress rebuilding, right?

Before Wilbur can ask himself any more questions, he hears the footsteps grow louder, then skid to a stop, a loud gasp echoing throughout the otherwise quiet area of L'Manburg.

Slowly, Wilbur looks toward the location of the sound, his breath getting caught in his throat when he sees Dream, but not his Dream.

This version of Dream is lean and muscular, even beneath his lime-green hoodie, it’s easy to see how fit he is. Next, Wilbur notices that, even though Dream’s mask is off, showing off his sparkling emerald green eyes, his face is different. All of his scars are gone.

Upon seeing the lack of scars, his gaze drifts to Dream hands and, much to his surprise, both of his hands are whole and complete, all ten fingers right where they should be.

“You aren’t him,” Wilbur says in a horrified whisper as he takes a step backward, unsure how to cope with the knowledge that this isn’t the Dream he loves, the one who he spent countless nights with his arms around while promising to keep him safe.

As he continues to look at this Dream, continues to see the lack of scars or missing fingers, it hurts him so fucking badly, the sight making him wish that the man he loves could be so whole too.

He can’t stand to look at this version of Dream any longer, can’t stand to be taunted by something that he knows the person he loves most won’t ever get to have.

So, instead of staying here any longer, Wil does the only thing he can think of doing.

He runs away as fast as he can. 

Chapter Text

After looking at this version of Dream who looks so different from the person he cares about, Wilbur takes off running, not knowing where he’s going, just needing to get away from this Dream that’s so wrong.

And as Dream watches Wilbur run away from him, his heart seems to leap into his throat, his chest feeling unbearably tight at the thought of this not being the man he loves and is instead just Wilbur of Pogtopia, the person he once fought with before supplying him with TNT so the man would destroy Manburg. 

What if Wilbur doesn’t remember him, doesn’t remember all the moments they’ve spent together, all the times that they’ve shared ‘I love yous’ and held each other close when no one else was there to do the same? 

“Wil!” Dream shouts desperately at the top of his lungs, his voice almost as shaky as the rest of his limbs, feeling like his heart was shattered into a million pieces at the look of utter hurt and betrayal on Wil’s face as he turned and ran.

Hesitantly, Wilbur stops in his hasty getaway, that voice sounding so familiar that, even if it belongs to the wrong person, he can’t just ignore the fear and pain in his voice. 

Slowly, Wilbur turns around to find Dream sprinting toward him, the sight sending another stab of pain through his chest, knowing that his Dream would never have the stamina to run that fast or for so long.

“Wil, please...” Dream frantically chokes out in between heaving gasps for air as he finally stops in front of Wilbur, desperately grabbing his best friend’s hand in hopes that he won’t try to run away again. “It’s... me, Dre… please… don’t t-tell me… did you… forget me?”

“Is that really you?” Wilbur hesitantly asks, finding it hard to believe that this is his Dream when he looks so… different, but it’s impossible to deny the use of his favorite nickname for him. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Dream says with a relieved sigh as he shuts his eyes tightly, tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks as he continues, “Prime, I thought you forgot me. I thought that you didn’t remember any of our times together, and that’s why you ran. I thought I’d fucked up the revival and, since Ghostbur’s still here for some reason, you wouldn’t remember me at all.”

“I’d never forget you, Dre,” Wilbur says with all the conviction he can muster as he tenderly uses the hand not holding Dream’s to brush away his friend's tears.

“I’m glad,” Dream whispers, his voice choked with emotion as he tries hard not to burst into sobs, so thankful that he didn’t lose Wil. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get you out of Limbo sooner. These past couple of days have been fucking insane.”

“How did I end up in Limbo again?” Wilbur asks softly, a part of him scared to learn why he ended up back in that hell, but the fear of not knowing is even more terrifying.

“We’re back in the past,” Dream mutters with a disbelieving chuckle, his words causing Wilbur’s eyes to widen in surprise. “Right at the end of Tommy’s exile, to be exact. So L'Manburg’s still here, Tubbo’s president, and the prison hasn’t even been completed yet.”

“That’s why your scars are gone,” Wilbur whispers with dawning comprehension, realizing that, if the prison was never even built, none of Dream’s torture could have happened yet.

“Yep, the only ones left are in my fucked up head,” Dream replies with a self-deprecating laugh, the pained sound causing Wilbur to pull him into a much-needed hug.

With a relieved sigh, Dream returns the hug, so thankful that Wilbur’s back; even though he was only without the man for two and a half days, he still missed him so much.

“Your head is not fucked up,” Wilbur adamantly says as he holds Dream close, hoping to make the man he loves understand that he shouldn't be blamed for any of the trauma he experienced.

Dream just hums softly in reply, not believing Wilbur, but the words are kind and sweet, so he can’t help but like them.

After a while of just holding each other close, Dream reluctantly pulls back from the hug and softly says, “Come on, it’s not safe here.”

“Why not?” Wilbur hesitantly questions, knowing that, if they’re in the past, things should be much safer for Dream.

“ He’s in the past too,” Dream whispers and, even without saying his name, something Dream still has trouble doing even after a month of healing, they both know who he’s talking about.

“No fucking way,” Wilbur mutters with a bitter chuckle, wishing that, just this once, things could be nice and easy for them. “Has he hurt you?”

“Almost,” Dream says just as quietly, a violent shiver wracking his body, the sight of Dream’s fear causing Wilbur to take his left hand and hold it carefully in his own. “I wanted to revive you yesterday, but he found me. I-I called him ‘Q’, and he told me that that’s not when he taught me to do. So, that’s how I knew that he was from the future like us. And I just kinda… froze up. Next thing I knew, I was pinned to the ground and he had his axe against my throat.”

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Wilbur cuts in furiously through gritted teeth, his voice laced with anger and promises of pain, the sound of it making Dream feel warm and fuzzy inside, loving the feeling of Wilbur caring about him so much that he’d resort to such violent measures to protect him. 

“It’s okay, he didn’t do anything else,” Dream says in the most reassuring tone he can manage, but they both hear the slight tremble that gives away how shaken up he is over what Quackity tried to do to him. “Someone stopped him from hurting me. I-I kinda blanked out, so I don’t remember who it was, but they saved me. And then, when I came back, I was with Sapnap and Karl.”

“What?!” Wilbur asks in a loud, disbelieving tone, unable to believe that Sapnap, the ex-friend who told Dream he’d murder him if he escaped prison, took Dream home and helped him. “Why would he do that? And who the hell is Karl?”

With a soft chuckle at Wilbur’s adamant response, Dream thoughtfully says, “I think Sap felt bad for me. I mean, I was just laying in the dirt when he found me, and he said I didn’t respond at all when he called my name. He was probably scared that something was wrong with me. He’s got a big heart like that.”

“He said he’d take your last life if you escaped prison,” Wilbur harshly points out, having no fond feelings toward Sapnap or George after they abandoned Dream and allowed him to be tortured.

“Not this Sapnap,” Dream clarifies with a small smile, this Sapnap reminding him of his old friend so much more than the one who visited his cell. “We’re in the past, remember? I think George gave up hope on me once I dethroned him but, after Sapnap saw the state I was in yesterday, he could tell that something was seriously wrong with me. He doesn’t think I’m irredeemable yet, just that I’ve lost my way.”

“You want to become his friend again, don’t you?” Wilbur softly asks, finally losing his anger in the face of the unmistakable fondness in Dream’s tone. 

“If he’ll let me back into his life, then yeah, I’d love to be his friend again,” Dream says with a hopeful smile, knowing that it’s unlikely, but he desperately wants for it to be true. “He doesn’t know if he can forgive me, but he’s willing to give me another chance. And Karl, that’s his fiance, said that, as long as I don’t hurt Sapnap anymore, he’d help me out. So, yeah, it’s looking promising. It’s more than I ever thought I’d get, honestly.”

“I’m happy for you,” Wilbur honestly says, still not the fondest of Dream becoming friends with someone who hurt him so brutally but, paired with the knowledge that this Sapnap hasn’t done that yet and how badly Dream wants to be his friend, he’s willing to keep his opinions on this one to himself.

With that being said though, if Sapnap hurts Dream again, there will be hell to pay.

Wilbur will definitely make sure of that.

“Thanks, Wil, I’m glad you’re happy for me,” Dream whispers as a blush dusts his cheeks, the sight of it causing Wilbur to smile widely, all thoughts of revenge evaporating from his mind when Dream looks so lovely.

“Always, My Love,” Wilbur replies with his gigantic grin in place, feeling his heart swell with immeasurable fondness at the way Dream shyly ducks his face from view to try to hide his smile.

After a few more moments of just basking in each other’s company, so thankful to be back together after their time apart, the two finally separate.

“So, where to now?” Wilbur asks with a smirk, his next words causing Dream to roll his eyes, “I’m assuming you do have a plan, yeah?”

With a good-natured scoff, Dream starts walking and mutters, “Yes, of course I have a plan.”

Then, a little nervously, Dream continues, “I just don’t know if you’ll like it.”

While grabbing Dream’s right hand, interlocking their fingers as they continue walking through L'Manburg together, Wilbur honestly replies, “As long as it doesn’t put either of us in danger, I’m down for anything. I trust you to take the lead, especially since I’ve never actually been alive during this time.”

“Thanks, Wil, I appreciate your trust,” Dream murmurs with a little smile, feeling heat rise to his cheeks from Wilbur’s words, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Of course, Dre, that’s something you’ll always have,” Wilbur says just as softly as he gives Dream’s hand a reassuring squeeze, his words causing Dream to blush even deeper.

“I love you,” Dream says with a large, fond smile as he squeezes Wilbur’s hand in return, suddenly realizing just how badly he missed Wil during their time apart.

“And I love you,” Wilbur replies without hesitation, afterward taking Dream’s hand, which is still firmly held in his own, and bringing it to his lips to deliver a delicate kiss on top of Dream’s knuckles. “More than anything else in this world.”

Instead of replying, Dream just grins uncontrollably, his heart soaring with unadulterated happiness at Wilbur’s sweet words and loving gesture.

After a few moments of walking in silence, Wilbur clears his throat before cheekily saying, “So, I hate to bring this up, but you do know that Ghostbur’s following us, right?”

“What?!” Dream exclaims in shock as he whirls around, having no idea that they were being watched, too lost in his joy over being back with Wilbur.

Sure enough, when Dream turns around, he sees Ghostbur floating about five blocks behind them.

Instantly, the ghost closes his eyes tightly, creating little creases across his pale features as he mutters, “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me.”

While fondly rolling his eyes at the ghost’s child-like behavior, Dream backtracks to speak to the ghost.

When he’s only about a block in front of the floating figure, Dream says in a low, amused tone, “I don’t think you’ve figured out how to be invisible quite yet, Ghostbur.”

“Oh, I really thought it worked this time,” Ghostbur mutters as he slowly pokes open one of his eyes, pouting when he sees Dream in front of him and Aliverbur standing a few blocks behind the green-eyed man.

“Maybe next time,” Dream softly encourages the ghost, trying his best to fight back a smile when Ghostbur’s pouting instantly disappears, instead being replaced by a large, determined smile.

Before the two of them can say anything more, Wilbur steps forward and impatiently demands, “Why were you following us, Ghostbur?”

“Why’s he here?” Ghostbur asks Dream with a sour expression on his face, really not liking this Alivebur person.

Is this seriously who everyone compares him to?

He and Alivebur absolutely nothing alike, thank you very much.

“I revived Wilbur, and now he’s back,” Dream simply states with a shrug, unable to sense the tension in the air between the two counterparts.

“Then why am I here?” Ghostbur asks in a low, confused tone, not understanding how Alivebur is here when he’s here too.

Shouldn’t that be like… impossible or something?

With a hearty chuckle at the ghost’s question, Dream adamantly says, “Honestly, Ghostbur, I have no fucking clue how you’re both here.”

Then, in a softer tone with a shy smile, Dream hesitantly continues, “I’m glad you both are though.”

And Dream truly does mean that.

Back during Tommy’s exile, Dream got to know Ghostbur much better than he thought he would. 

Sure, sometimes the ghost was annoying, never truly understanding the gravity of any situation. Most of the time, Dream didn’t mind that, especially since it made it much easier to manipulate Ghostbur to do his bidding.

But, at the same time, his child-like ignorance is… refreshing.

Unlike everyone else, he’s entirely oblivious to all the pain and horrors of the SMP.

Ghostbur just gets to float around, collecting blue and playing with his sheep, Friend.

And during the times he allowed himself to just genuinely talk to the ghost without an ulterior motive, he found himself liking Ghostbur.

Not that he’d ever admit this out loud, but, after he killed Ghostbur to revive Wilbur, he sat in his cell and cried.

He cried for the loss of the life of the one person who never did anything wrong, the one person who never actually hurt Dream. 

As much as he needs Wilbur in his life, he wasn’t looking forward to killing Ghostbur again to do it.

So, despite thinking that it probably wouldn’t work, he tried reviving Wilbur without killing Ghostbur.

And even though he can’t even begin to comprehend how, it actually worked.

Not only does he have the man he loves back in his life, but he didn’t have to hurt anyone else to do it.

“Awww, I’m glad you’re here too, Dream!” Ghostbur exclaims with a large smile, oblivious to the fact that the green-eyed man would have killed him if it meant bringing back Wilbur. “And I really like how you look now! You have a very nice face, you shouldn’t wear your mask to hide it!”

“At least there’s one thing we can agree on,” Wilbur mutters under his breath, his words causing Dream to chuckle fondly, finding it amusing how blatant Wilbur’s dislike for his ghost is.

“Thanks, guys,” Dream mutters as he rolls his eyes at the two, but his heart does do a happy little leap at the knowledge that they think he looks nice.

Then, in a much more serious tone, Dream meets Ghostbur’s eyes and firmly says, “As much as I’m glad to see you again, Ghostbur, you can’t keep following us.”

“Okay!” Ghostbur easily agrees as he begins floating away, already learning everything he wanted to about his and Alivebur’s strange situation. “Bye then!”

“Oh, uh, bye!” Dream calls out with a disbelieving chuckle, expecting at least some kind of protest from the ghost. 

When Ghostbur turns a corner in the L'Manburg square, putting him out of the duo’s sight, Wilbur mutters under his breath, “He’s fucking weird.”

“I don’t know, I kinda like him,” Dream teases as he approaches Wilbur, a smirk gracing his lips at Wilbur’s offended expression.

“You better not like him more than me,” Wilbur grumbles as he crosses his arms over his chest, definitely not sulking at the thought of Dream liking a stupid fucking ghost more than him.

“Hmmm, I’ll have to get back to you on that one,” Dream playfully taunts, smiling widely at the glare Wilbur shoots him in return.

“Fuck you,” Wilbur mutters as he gently smacks Dream’s arm, his reaction causing Dream to laugh loudly.

And, when Dream laughs so hard that he devolves into a fit of coughs and wheezes filled with mirth and joy, Wilbur can’t help but chuckle alongside him, ecstatic to see the man he loves finally laughing and enjoying himself.

Finally, Dream calms down from his laughing fit, wiping tears from his eyes as he gives Wilbur a blinding smile, the sight of it causing Wilbur to absolutely beam, wanting to remember this moment and Dream’s beautiful smile for as long as he lives.

While still smiling, Dream takes Wilbur’s hand and mutters, “Come on, we actually have somewhere to be.”

Even though Wilbur is curious about where Dream’s taking them, he doesn’t question it, simply content to just look at the nation that he helped both build and destroy while keeping Dream’s hand gently held within his own.

Chapter Text

In companionable silence, Dream and Wilbur walk hand-in-hand, each of them enjoying the scenery around them, especially since it’s been such a long time since either of them have set foot inside any major city, let alone L'Manburg.

After a few more minutes, Dream comes to a stop in front of a spruce-wood house, the building large and uniform like many of the other homes nearby.

Wilbur raises an eyebrow in question, but Dream just grins deviously and winks at him before excitedly approaching the front door.

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all.

Maybe he should have asked Dream where they were headed after all…

But it’s too late now, because the front door is opening, and someone is stepping outside.

And then everything freezes.

Wilbur forgets how to think, how to move, how to even breathe when he sees who steps outside of the house.

With eyes wide in shock and disbelief, Wilbur watches as his father pulls Dream into a gigantic hug, wrapping his wings around the man he loves in a way that’s so achingly familiar.

He wants to come closer.

He wants to run away.

He wants to be hugged like that.

He wants to disappear before his father notices him.

Meanwhile, oblivious to Wilbur’s presence, Phil pulls Dream into a comforting hug and hurriedly asks in a worried tone, “Dream, how are you? Are you okay? Did you revive Wil? Is he okay?”

While laughing and hugging Phil back just as tightly, Dream mutters, “Jeez, one question at a time please.”

“Are you okay?” Phil asks again, and that question causes Dream’s heart to swell with happiness, having expected Phil to ask about Wilbur’s well-being, not his own.

“I… Yeah, I am now,” Dream mutters with a shaky sigh, still not over what Quackity did, but spending his time with Wil has definitely made him more at ease. “Something bad happened yesterday, but I’m doing better now.”

“Was it Quackity?” Phil demands as he pulls back from the hug to look at Dream, inspecting the boy for any injuries. “I’ll make him regret hurting you!”

“You’ll have to get in line then,” Dream replies with a smirk, finding it funny how both father and son want to ruin Quackity for hurting him. “It seems like quite a few people want to murder him on my behalf.”

“Oh yeah?” Phil asks with a raised eyebrow, glad that he isn’t the only one wanting to protect Dream. “And who’s on that list?”

“Well, Wil for sur-” Dream starts to say with his smirk still in place, but Phil can’t help but interrupt after hearing his son’s name.

“Wait, Wil?!” Phil hurriedly asks, a desperate edge creeping into his tone as he continues, “Was he revived? Is he here? Please, tell me he wants to see me? Is he safe? He isn’t hurt, right?”

And when Wilbur hears the obvious care and concern in his father’s voice, so unlike the hatred he expected, he finally shakes himself from his shocked stupor.

“Hey, D-Dad,” Wilbur croaks as he takes a hesitant step forward, his voice breaking partway through from the tightness starting to build in his throat.

At the sound of his son’s voice, Phil rapidly spins to face Wilbur.

Immediately, a choked sob escapes Phil at the sight of his son.

His actual son, not Ghostbur.

His son, who’s been dead for months, is standing in front of him, a small, shaky smile on his face as tears rapidly stream down his cheeks.

Without hesitation, Phil swiftly closes the distance between them, wrapping Wilbur in a bone-crushing hug as he cries out in joy and disbelief, “Wil! Oh, Wil, it’s really you!”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Wilbur mutters with a disbelieving chuckle as he holds his father just as tightly, certainly not expecting this to be his father’s reaction to seeing him again, but he is more than happy to oblige.

“I-I’ve missed you s-s-so much, W-Wil,” Phil gasps out in between sobs as he buries his head in the crook of his son’s neck, never, ever wanting to let him go again. 

Then, while still sobbing even more violently and desperately clinging to Wilbur, Phil rushes out in a guilt-laced tone, “I’m s-so, so sorry for k-killing you. I j-just didn’t know what to do-o, you were b-b-begging and everyone was s-staring and I didn’t want to hurt-t you but you were already hurtin-”

“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here now,” Wilbur gently interrupts as he holds his father even tighter, unable to stomach listening to his babbling apology anymore, especially when there is no reason to apologize in the first place. “There’s no need to blame yourself, you did exactly what I wanted you to do. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

Wilbur’s words and forgiveness make Phil sob even harder, choking and gasping for air as he continues clinging to Wil for dear life, terrified that, if they let go, he’ll lose his son all over again. 

Carefully, Wilbur maneuvers them so they’re each sitting on the grass outside of Phil’s house, worried that, if they kept standing, his trembling father might have fallen to the ground below.

With a sad smile and silent tears streaming down his cheeks, Dream approaches the sobbing duo.

Gently, he places a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, wanting to remind him that he’s here to support him too.

Instantly, Wilbur’s red-rimmed, teary eyes meet Dream’s, the older of the two smiling up at him as he continues hugging his father, hoping that, even if his throat is too choked with emotion to speak, Dream knows that he is so, so thankful that His Love reunited him with his dad.

For a long time, the three of them just sit in silence, the only sounds between them Wilbur’s and Phil’s harsh, relieved sobs as they continue holding each other close.

Finally, they both run out of tears to cry, but neither of them let go, still clinging to each other desperately.  

With his voice hoarse from crying, Phil buries his face more firmly in Wilbur’s chest and softly says, “I’m sorry for not being a better dad.”

And, if Wilbur hadn’t already exhausted his tear supply, he knows that those words would have made him cry all over again, unable to take the pain and guilt in his dad’s voice.

“I think you’re wonderful,” Wilbur adamantly replies without hesitation, cringing at how wrecked and raw his voice sounds from all his crying.

“Really?” Phil asks in a small, weak tone as he pulls back enough to look into his son’s eyes, searching for any kind of deception, but all he sees is love and adoration.

“I do,” Wilbur replies with a watery smile, genuinely believing that Phil is an amazing dad, one that he unfairly put in such a tough position.

Hesitantly, from where he stands next to Wilbur, Dream softly says, “And, it probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I agree.”

“Come on, get over here,” Phil says with a large, fond smile as he peers up at Dream, so grateful that the man reunited him with the son. “Join the hug, Dream.”

For a few seconds, Dream just blinks at Phil in surprise, not expecting to be let in on this moment between the father and son.

But he’s never been one to deny a free hug, so, with a large, shy smile, Dream sits down beside Wilbur, the man scooting back a little so both he and Phil can lean against his chest.

With a smile of his own, Phil wraps his wings around both his boys, feeling overjoyed at having his sons wrapped in his wings and arms.

“This is nice,” Dream murmurs happily as he leans back against Phil’s wings, resting his forehead against Wilbur’s left side as Phil holds tightly to them both.

“The family's all together,” Phil happily says with a gigantic smile, his wings fluffing up in joy and excitement. 

“Dream’s family now?” Wilbur questions with a smirk and a raised eyebrow from amusement, not expecting his father to have already adopted Dream into their family.

“Yes, he’s my son-in-law,” Phil confidently says without a moment of hesitation, his words causing Dream’s chest to fill with immeasurable warmth and happiness, never expecting to hear those words, but finding that he wants to hold them close to his heart forever and ever.

“Dad, we’re not married,” Wilbur can’t help but complain good-naturedly, but he doesn’t really mean it, simply happy that his father is already willing to welcome Dream to their little family.

“I don’t care,” Phil states in a firm tone, his words leaving no room for argument, not that either of the men would ever think of challenging Dream’s new place in their lives. “You two clearly love each other, and that’s enough for me. So, Dream’s a part of the family now.”

“Thank you,” Dream manages to choke out just above a whisper, his throat feeling terribly tight as he tries his best to fight back his own sobs, shocked at people being so kind and welcoming to him, but he would love to get used to this.

“Of course, Mate,” Phil replies with a large smile, shifting slightly so he can have one arm wrapped around Wilbur’s back, and the other Dream’s. “You deserve to have a family who loves and cares about you.”

“I…” Dream starts to speak, but he doesn’t know how to finish, absolutely stunned by Phil’s kindness and compassion.

And, ever-so-understanding, Phil just gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he softly says, “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.”

With a jerky nod, Dream closes his mouth, instead resting his cheek against Wilbur’s chest.

While trying hard to fight back more tears, Wilbur rests his chin on top of Dream’s head, holding the two people he loves most in this world close to his chest, refusing to let either of them suffer ever again.

For a long, long time, the three of them just continue holding each other close as they sit on Phil’s front lawn, all of their cheeks marked with dried tears, yet they each have smiles on their faces, overjoyed to finally have a family again.

But, eventually, Dream stands up, uncomfortable with staying in L'Manburg any longer, even though he would love for this wonderful moment to continue forever.

When Wilbur whines at the loss of Dream’s touch, he places his hand on Wil’s shoulder as he sadly says, “Come on, we better get going now.”

“Wait, you two aren’t staying with me?” Phil questions as he pulls back as well, doing his best to ignore the pang of sadness that stabs through his chest at the thought of them leaving.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel safe staying in L'Manburg,” Dream whispers as he looks down at the grass below them, unable to look into either of their eyes, knowing that he must be disappointing them both with his cowardice. “I know you’d do your best to protect me, but… he’s from the future too, and he’d do anything to hurt me again. I wouldn’t put it past him to come after you if you let us stay here, and I don’t want to see you hurt, Phil.”

And, even though Phil understands Dream’s reasoning and his sadness fades the slightest bit at hearing that Dream doesn’t want to see him hurt, he can’t stop the tears rushing to his eyes as he asks, “Where will you go?”

“I don’t feel comfortable saying it here, but know that we’ll be safe,” Dream softly says after a few moments of hesitation, wishing that he could tell Phil where they’ll be so the man can visit them both, but anyone could overhear them, and he’s not willing to compromise someplace that might be safe, especially before they can even get there. “I was given a comm by a friend, so I’ll message you once we make it there, but that’s the best I can do.”

“No worries, Mate,” Phil replies with a sad smile as he rises to his feet, wanting more than anything to ask them to stay, but he knows that would be unfair to do, especially since they already seem reluctant to leave. “Thank you for stopping by to see me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Dream happily says, knowing that this detour was definitely worth it. “We’ll come visit you soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” Phil earnestly replies as he gives Dream a smile.

Then, while turning to Wilbur, who’s standing up too now, Phil honestly says, “And Wil… it was really great seeing you again.” 

“Love you, Dad,” Wilbur murmurs sincerely as he pulls his father into another hug, this one much shorter, but filled with the same amount of love and fondness as their first embrace.

“Love you too,” Phil whispers as he hugs Wilbur back just as tightly, and, if a few tears escape his defenses upon hearing his son’s words, can anyone really blame him?

After a few more moments, Wilbur pulls back from their embrace, causing Phil to reluctantly release his hold.

With tears shining in his eyes, Wilbur turns away from his father, instead facing Dream and holding out his hand.

Without hesitation, Dream takes Wilbur’s hand, locking their fingers together while smiling at the unmistakable joy shining in Wilbur’s eyes.

And, no matter what life in the past is like, Dream knows that this moment makes everything worth it.

Regardless of what happens, whether he has to live through Pandora’s Vault all over again, he’s happy to be here.

Because, even without saying a single word, he knows that this is the happiest Wilbur has been in a long, long time. 

Sure, he knows that the times he and Wilbur spent in their cabin are some of their happiest moments, but this pales in comparison.

From the few times that Wilbur spoke about Phil, he could hear the longing in his voice, see the way he wanted to reconnect with his dad, but just didn’t know how to.

But now that they’re in L'Manburg, it was so easy for Dream to lead them both to Phil’s house. 

Being in the past has not only allowed Dream to grow close to Phil, giving him a family in the process, but it also allowed Wilbur to reconnect with the father that he loves so dearly.

Because of that, all this is worth it, no matter what comes next.

Chapter Text

With a final wave to their dad, Dream and Wilbur set off toward the Prime Path, which will lead them out of L'Manburg and instead off to a new adventure.

And, if they’re lucky, maybe they’ll get another ally on their side.

Or, maybe they’ll just try to kill them both on sight.

Honestly, it could go either way.

But, despite the danger, this is their best hope, because Dream absolutely refuses to spend another minute in L'Manburg, let alone another night, feeling like Quackity could be lurking around each and every corner.

After a while of walking in companionable silence, Wilbur curiously asks, “So, who are you gonna try to convince to take in our homeless asses?”

With a chuckle at Wilbur’s wording, Dream softly and hesitantly says, “You probably won’t like it, but they're our best bet. As king, they’re supposed to be neutral, and they’ve got plenty of space, so yeah, I hope they’ll help us.”

“Wait, king?!” Wilbur asks in alarm as he stops walking, their conjoined hands forcing Dream to pause too. “We’re going to ask Eret if we can sleep in their castle?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Dream retaliates with a raised eyebrow, more than happy to listen to Wilbur’s ideas, but he guesses that the man doesn’t have anything in mind.

“Well, no-” Wilbur begins, but he doesn’t get to say anything more before Dream interrupts him.

While tugging on Wilbur’s hand to make him start walking again, Dream says with a smirk, “Great, glad that’s settled then. To Eret’s castle it is.”

“I don’t like this,” Wilbur mutters as Eret’s looming castle appears in the distance, the rainbow-tinted windows shimmering in the sunlight.

With a little smile at the cartoon figure of Eret holding a pride flag on top of his castle, Dream replies, “I don’t like this either, but I really think this is our best option. Our only allies are all connected to him in some way, and I don’t feel safe sleeping anywhere that he might be nearby. So that takes out Phil, Sapnap, and Karl. The only other person would be Techno, but, if he isn’t from the future, I don’t think he’d be too keen on helping us. But I know that Eret would never be aligned with him, so that makes them our best option.”

“And if they refuse?” Wilbur hesitantly asks, knowing that Dream’s reasoning does make sense, but that doesn’t mean he likes this.

“Then we’ll beg Techno to help our sorry asses,” Dream replies with a smirk, but he really hopes it won’t come to that, unsure if he’ll be able to stomach seeing Techno again when the man didn’t come to his aid on that fateful day, leading to him being outnumbered and locked inside Pandora’s Vault for so long.

“Sounds fun,” Wilbur quips sarcastically, his response causing Dream to let out a small huff of laughter.

After a few more moments of walking in silence, they stop outside the towering door of Eret’s castle, the sight of it causing Dream to swallow nervously, unsure if he can do this.

Wilbur gives Dream’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then dips out of sight, but he still sticks close by, simply hiding behind a bush a few blocks away from the main entrance to the castle.

While taking a deep breath to steel himself, Dream slowly raises a trembling hand to knock on the door to the castle. 

After a few moments, Eret opens the front door, the sight of the king, especially after nearly a year of not seeing them, causes Dream to take in a sharp, surprised breath.

Clad in their royal wine-colored and gold-infused robes stands Eret, looking ever so regal and kingly. Their jet-black pants and sunglasses are the same dark, powerful color, the king’s white eyes just barely seen behind the barrier that their shades create. Eret’s chestnut-colored shoulder-length curls blow ever so slightly in the breeze, the sun casting its welcoming rays upon the shimmering gemstones in their rainbow-colored crown, making the light from their crown glow as it bounces off the walls of the courtyard to their castle.

“Can I help you?” Eret asks in a confused tone after a few moments of staring intently at the person in front of them, trying and failing to determine who they are and why they knocked on his door.

After clearing his throat, feeling terribly awkward, Dream twists his fingers together nervously as he quietly says, “Uh, hey, Eret.”

“Dream?!” Eret exclaims in shock, knowing that they’d recognize the man’s voice anywhere, but the nervous, unmasked person here is certainly not how they thought they’d ever see the tyrant. “Is that you?!”

“Yep, it’s me,” Dream mutters with a small chuckle, but it’s much-too-shaky and nervous to be genuine, feeling like a bug under a microscope the longer Eret looks at him, especially since the king’s eyes are guarded from his view. “Uh, could we talk?”

For several moments, Eret just stares at Dream, their mouth agape in shock, not understanding how Dream’s standing here right now.

Finally, just above a whisper, Eret voices the thought bouncing around their mind relentlessly: “How did you get out of the prison?”

Instantly, Dream’s head snaps up from the stone path he was staring at, his eyes blown wide in terror as he looks at Eret, his mind caught on one of the words that the king said.

How did you get out of the prison?

How did you get out of the prison?

How did you get out of the prison?

Prison.

Prison.

Prison.

They know…

Somehow, Eret knows…

Eret must be from the future too…

They know that Dream should be in the prison, and now he’s not, and the king’s going to send him back, they’re going to send him back to that hell and lock him up for as long as he lives, never to see the sun again, his whole world filled with nothing but the pain of Quackity’s torment and he can’t he can’t fucking do this he can’t go back there he can-

Suddenly, arms are wrapped around Dream’s torso, the embrace gently guiding him onto the ground as he gasps for air, panic gripping his mind too tightly for him to remember how to breathe. 

For a few seconds, Dream thrashes in the person's embrace, terrified that Eret’s grabbing him to take him back to the prison, but a comforting hand carding through his hair tells him that Wilbur must be the one holding him.

Instantly, Dream sinks back against Wilbur’s chest, taking in a loud, shuddering gasp of air, some of his panic lifting now that he knows Wil is here, certain that the man he loves won’t let him go anywhere near the prison again.

Meanwhile, as Wilbur holds Dream close, gently touching the man to help him through his panic attack, he glares at Eret and harshly demands, “What did you say to him?!”

“W-Wil?” Eret questions in a low, disbelieving tone, recognizing the man who’s sitting on the ground and hugging a hyperventilating Dream to his chest, but they can hardly wrap their mind around the fact that Wil’s alive again. “You’re back?”

“Yes, I’m back, and I’d like to know what you did to upset my friend,” Wilbur dismissively says through gritted teeth, doing his absolute best to not yell and scream at the king for upsetting Dream, knowing that His Love needs him to be calm right now so he can feel safe again.

“I just asked how he got out of the prison,” Eret softly says as they stare down at the two, their confusion growing with each passing moment, not understanding how Wilbur’s alive again, what Dream’s doing out of the prison, and why the two men seem so… close to each other. “I… really don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Oh…” Wilbur mumbles, all his anger leaving in a rush when he understands what’s happening, realizing that Eret probably didn’t mean to upset Dream, they’re just confused about the fact that they all time-traveled. 

Then, with growing confidence, Wilbur tears his gaze away from Dream, who’s finally starting to calm down now, instead looking into Eret’s sunglass-covered eyes as he states, “You’re like us.”

“Excuse me?” Eret demands with a raised eyebrow, feeling truly lost now, having no clue what’s going on or why these two, who shouldn’t even be here, are outside their castle door.

“Eret, have you, like, gone outside recently?” Wilbur asks with a disbelieving chuckle, finding it hard to believe that they haven't seen L'Manburg and realized that they’re all back in the past.

“No, not really,” Eret says with a shrug that makes their robes bunch up around them, not understanding how the time spent inside their castle is at all relevant right now. “There isn’t much of a reason for me to leave my castle.”

After a few moments of just peering up at Eret in disbelief, Wilbur releases a surprised laugh and drops the bombshell: “Well, you should definitely go out more. Maybe then you would’ve seen that we time traveled.”

“What?!” Eret shouts as they take a step back, certain that they must have misheard, that Wilbur didn’t say that they time traveled.

“Yeah, L'Manburg’s back,” Wilbur says with another laugh, this one more bitter than anything else. “Well, I guess technically it never was blown up that final time. We got sent back in time between the end of Tommy’s exile and before Doomsday.”

Meanwhile, Dream’s trembling finally comes to an end, his breaths even and regular again, still somewhat afraid of Eret but, with Wil holding him so nicely, he knows that nothing bad is going to happen to him.

Slowly, Dream shifts in Wilbur’s hold, moving so, instead of having his back to the man’s chest, their fronts are pressed together, allowing Dream to bury his face in the crook of Wilbur’s neck. 

With a fond smile, Wilbur places his hand on the back of Dream’s head, his other arm protectively resting against Dream’s lower back, glaring at Eret as he holds his best friend close, as though challenging the king to dare try to hurt Dream. 

But Eret hardly pays the two any mind, their scattered thoughts reeling over Wilbur’s words.

Time travel…

Wilbur said that they all time traveled…

But that can’t be true…

Right?

“No way…” Eret mutters in a disbelieving tone before trailing off, having no idea what to say in the face of something so… impossible.

“I know it sounds crazy, but you could literally go check L'Manburg and see that it’s still there,” Wilbur softly says, remembering the disbelief that he felt when Dream said they time traveled, but, when faced with Dream’s obvious changes and the nation of L'Manburg standing tall and proud around them, he had to face that fact that, somehow, the impossible became possible.

Eret starts walking away from their castle and the two men, determined to prove that Wilbur’s lying. 

Except, as they start walking, Eret begins to think more about all the strange inconsistencies of this situation.

Dream’s out of the prison.

Pandora’s Vault, the inescapable prison, is no longer keeping inside the one occupant that it’s supposed to. 

And despite spending a year in prison, Dream looks no different.

They would have expected the man to at least lose a little weight, but Dream looks the same as he had before ever being sent inside.

Also, Eret has been feeling… weird lately.

They didn’t know why but, the past couple of days, they’ve had this nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. 

And in line with that feeling, two people show up at their door, one of which should be dead and the other locked in prison. 

So, even though it’s such a crazy thought, Eret stops walking, instead backtracking to the two men as they say, “I believe you. I mean, it does explain why I’ve felt like something was… off these past couple of days. 

Then, with growing understanding, Eret continues, “Since we’re in the past, that’s why he’s not in prison, right? It hasn’t even been fully built yet?”

“Exactly,” Wilbur says with a relieved sigh, thankful that Eret believed him rather than walking all the way to L'Manburg to confirm that they’re in the past.

As Wilbur’s tone turns harsh, cold, and threatening, he holds Dream a little tighter and says through gritted teeth, “And I swear to prime, if you try to put him back in there, I will kill you.”

“Wilbur, he’s done a lot of bad things…” Eret starts to say before trailing off, not feeling particularly threatened by Wilbur’s words, even with the deadly glare that the man shoots them.

“Yes, he has, but no one deserves what he went through, especially not a second time,” Wilbur firmly and hotly says, absolutely refusing to back down, especially if that means Dream has to suffer through that hell again.

“What do you mean?” Eret questions as they move closer to the two, leaving only two blocks between all of them, dread starting to pool in their stomach after hearing Wilbur’s words.

“You never visited the prison, did you?” Wilbur questions as his anger diminishes the slightest bit, hoping that, if Eret hasn’t visited the prison, they won’t condone what Dream suffered through in that horrible cell.

“No, I never really had a reason to,” Eret says after a few moments of hesitation, feeling the tiniest flicker of guilt when they see Dream flinch, but, after everything the man did to hurt everyone, can anyone really blame them for not wanting to see him ever again?

“It’s probably for the best that you didn’t see him like that,” Wilbur mutters with a haunted, faraway look in his eyes, knowing that it’s better that he and Tommy are the only ones who had to see how far Dream fell inside that cell.

“Like what?” Eret questions as that sick feeling grows even stronger, starting to feel worried about what might have been done inside that prison unbeknownst to the public eye. “Wil, what happened to him in the prison?”

“They locked him in this obsidian box, surrounded by lava, so it was always hot,” Wilbur murmurs with that same look in his eyes, gently shushing Dream when the man whimpers at the mention of the lava that trapped him inside his cell. “He only had a cauldron of filthy water to drink from, and he was fed nothing but raw potatoes for nearly a year.” 

“Are you serious?” Eret asks in a low, horrified whisper, unable to believe that Dream was subjected to such horrible conditions, especially for so long.

“Yep, and that’s not even the worst of it,” Wilbur says with a bitter laugh, blinking back tears at the memory of Dream curled up in the corner of his cell, begging and pleading for Wilbur not to torture him as he clutched to his blanket for dear-life.

“There’s more?” Eret questions after a few moments of hesitation, not wanting to know what happened to Dream if it’s even worse than that, but, after the way they simply let Dream be locked up and suffer without ever checking in on the man, they know that Wilbur has every right to tell them how they failed as king.

While gently carding his fingers through Dream’s hair, Wilbur softly asks the man he loves, “Am I allowed to tell them?”

For a few seconds, Dream just blinks in surprise, not expecting Wilbur to ask him that, his heart filling with warmth at Wil’s thoughtfulness. 

And so, even though Dream really doesn’t want to hear Wilbur talk about his torture, he nods his head, hoping that this knowledge will make Eret more inclined to help them and give them someplace safe to sleep.

While smiling at Dream’s bravery, he begins rubbing soothing circles onto the man’s lower back, fondness bubbling up in him at Dream’s content sigh as he leans into the touch. 

Then, as his smile fades completely, being replaced by a grim, determined expression, Wilbur bluntly says, “Eret, he was tortured in that cell.”

Instantly, Eret releases a shocked, horrified gasp, absolutely reeling from Wilbur’s words and the confident way they were spoken, telling the king that, no matter how disgusting the thought of that is, it must've actually happened.

“Every single day, for literal months, someone came and tortured him,” Wilbur says in that same tone, but, as he continues, his words grow weaker, a shiver wracking his body when he remembers just how badly Dream was hurt. “It was so bad that, by the time I visited, he couldn’t even tell that I wasn’t his torturer. He begged me not to hurt him. They even cut off some of his fingers.”

Oh prime…

For months, Dream was tortured…

Not only that, but daily too…

As Eret sat comfortably on their throne, Dream was locked in a cell, screaming in agony as he was tortured…

What have they done?

Shakily, Eret kneels in front of Dream, unable to see the man’s face from the way he’s curled up against Wilbur, but they still firmly say, “Dream, I had no idea they were doing this to you. If I did, I would’ve told everyone and we would have gotten you out.”

While hesitantly lifting his head from the crook of Wilbur’s neck, allowing the king to see Dream’s teary and red-rimmed eyes, Dream croaks, “R-Really?”

“Yes, really,” Eret replies without hesitation, knowing that, even after everything he’s done, Dream didn’t deserve that.

So, with a heavy sigh, Eret softly continues, “The prison was supposed to keep you from hurting others, and sure, it did that, but it was also supposed to rehabilitate you. When you came out of that prison, we wanted you to be a better person. We wanted you to realize what you did wrong and work toward bettering yourself so it wouldn’t happen again. It was only supposed to help you, not hurt you.”

“I-I…” Dream starts to say, but his voice breaks as a loud, harsh sob wracks his body, making it hard for him to choke out the rest of his words. “It h-hurt me s-so b-b-bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Eret sincerely says as they hesitantly place a hand on Dream’s shoulder, ignoring the withering glare that Wilbur gives them for touching Dream. “No one deserves that. And, if you’d like, I’ll help you tear down the prison so it can never be completed.”

“Y-You will?” Dream asks as he sniffles loudly, not expecting Eret to want to help him tear down the prison, but the thought of it being gone fills him with such relief that he hopes the king is telling him the truth.

“Definitely,” Eret says with a sad smile, giving Dream’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before moving their hand away. “There’s gotta be a much better way to help you than that hell.”

“Thank you,” Dream murmurs as his sobs finally come to an end, hoping that the king understands how much he appreciates this. “That… really means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dream,” Eret replies with a heavy sigh, then they thoughtfully continue, “I don’t know why we’re in the past, but, while we’re here, we can at least try to make things better.”

“I’d like that,” Dream earnestly says with the ghost of a smile, hoping that, since they’re all in the past, they really can make things better.

And with thoughts in his mind of trying to better the future, Dream sighs heavily, then whispers the well-overdue apology, “Eret, I’ve been a really shitty person. I… I hurt a lot of people, you included… I’m sorry for persuading you to betray your friends in favor of power. I shouldn’t have done that, and I hope that, maybe one day, you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Then, while fighting back more tears, Dream continues in that same soft, guilty tone, “And I’m so sorry for dethroning you from your own castle and giving it to George… I… Prime, I don’t even know what I was thinking… I just… This isn’t an excuse, but I just haven’t felt in my right mind for a long time. When I look back on a lot of things I’ve done, I can’t even begin to rationalize them… And I’m really not trying to excuse anything I’ve done, I just… I really am sorry, Eret.”

“It’s okay, Dream, I’m not mad at you for removing me as king for a while,” Eret hesitantly says after a few moments of silence, shocked to hear Dream apologize, let alone so sincerely, but, instead of commenting on that, they continue with nothing but honesty in their tone, “I don’t know why you did it, but, even though it hurt me at first, I’ve moved on… And while your offer of me becoming king was a big motivator, I ultimately was the one who made that final decision. I truly believed, and still do think, that L'Manburg just wasn’t meant to be.”

Then, with a wry smile, Eret finishes, “And considering that everyone in this room has destroyed it at some point, I have a feeling you two won’t judge me for saying that.”

With a small, barely-there smile, Dream mutters, “I-I still don’t really like L'Manburg, but I don’t want to destroy it anymore. Somehow, that place makes people happy. I just want people to be happy again.”

“I…” Eret starts to say, but they pause for a few moments, shocked to hear that Dream doesn’t want to destroy L'Manburg anymore, especially since he’s always seemed so hellbent on doing so. 

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Eret softly admits, “Yeah, I agree…”

After even more hesitation, Eret finishes by asking, “Is there anything I can do to help you two?”

“Well…” Dream starts to say, but he hesitates a few seconds before nervously continuing, “Do you have an extra room we could stay in? I don’t have a house, and Wil has been gone for so long…”

“Yeah, of course, Dream, you two can stay here as long as you need to,” Eret agrees immediately, knowing that this won’t even begin to make up for the way they failed Dream by letting him get hurt so badly, but they hope that this is at least a step in the right direction. “This castle is definitely big enough for all of us.”

With a large grin and relieved sigh, Dream adamantly says, “Thank you so much, I really appreciate this!”

“We really appreciate it,” Wilbur gently corrects, giving Eret a small smile, feeling his animosity toward the king fade more and more with each way they treat Dream with kindness rather than contempt. “Thank you.”

“Of course, it’s no trouble at all!” Eret replies with a smile of their own, truly meaning it when they said that the castle was big enough for all of them, the looming building often feeling much too large when they’re the only one living there. 

Then, as their smile fades, instead being replaced by a confused frown, Eret hesitantly questions, “I just don't really understand… why here? Why not go ask George or Sapnap for a place to stay?”

“I… I have a lot of enemies, Eret,” Dream says with a heavy sigh, wishing that it wasn’t true, but he’s come to accept that that’ll probably never change. “One of them… well, they’re the person who tortured me. He came back to the past too, and he’s trying to hurt me all over again. And can I be honest with you?”

“Of course, nothing we discuss will ever leave my castle walls,” Eret earnestly says, believing that trust and confidentiality are extremely important, their betrayal to the people of L'Manburg having taught them just how hard it is to regain trust once it’s been lost. 

“Thanks…” Dream mutters, then, after a few seconds of hesitation, he allows himself to be brave and vulnerable, admitting the truth that he’s kept buried inside for much too long: “Honestly, I’m fucking terrified… I just feel so lost and out of sorts, I don’t know how to protect myself from him… I don't want him to hurt me, so I need somewhere safe to stay.”

With more confidence than before, Dream finishes by saying, “The first place he would check is George’s or Sapnap’s, and I don’t want them to get caught up in my mess. We wanted to go live with Phil, but L'Manburg isn’t very safe for me. So, that really just leaves you, and I doubt he would ever think that you were helping me.”

“That makes sense…” Eret thoughtfully says, not expecting Dream to confess something so… vulnerable with them, but they appreciate the man’s trust, causing them to continue in a determined tone, “Look, I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I want to help you. First time around, instead of trying to help you, we locked you up and let you be tortured, and that’s just not okay. So, you two can have a safe place to sleep here for as long as you need one, okay?”

“Thank you, Eret,” Dream whispers as tears rush to his eyes, not knowing what he did to deserve the king’s kindness, but he’s eternally grateful for it, glad that he decided to take a chance by coming to Eret for help.

“Anytime,” Eret replies with a sad smile, truly meaning that.

Because, even though they can never erase what happened to Dream, can never take back the torture that the man went through while no one stepped in to help, they can do everything in their power to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.

For a while, the trio simply sit in silence, the only sound being the nearby birds happily chipping and singing from where they soak in the sun’s warm rays on top of the outer walls of his castle. 

As Eret spends their time deep in thought, Dream simply buries his face in the crook of Wilbur’s neck again, content to just bask in the safe, comforting embrace of the man he loves. 

Meanwhile, Wilbur is more than happy to do the same, smiling as he continues holding Dream close to his chest, so happy to have His Love back in his arms, especially after all the time he spent in Limbo without him.

After a few more moments of silence, Eret softly and hesitantly asks the question that’s been plaguing their mind for a while now: “Why do you think I’m here in the past too? The only major damage I’ve caused was betraying L'Manburg, and that happened too long ago to fix, even during this timeline.”

For a few moments, Wilbur is silent, just thoughtfully reflecting on Eret’s words, trying to think of some reason why the king might be here with them too.

Finally, Wilbur settles on asking, “Well, is there anything else you could help with? Maybe something you didn’t directly cause, but it’s still a problem you know about?”

“Not rea-” Eret starts to say without hesitation, but they abruptly stop, then loudly exclaim something that they don't know how they ever could have forgotten. “Oh, The Red Banquet!”

“What’s that?” Dream asks in a low, confused tone, having no idea what the king’s talking about, telling him that this banquet must have happened while he was trapped in Pandora’s Vault.

“It’s a party that people corrupted by the egg had,” Eret explains in a rush as they jump to their feet, suddenly filled with adrenaline that causes them to pace as they recount that day. “They said they wanted to right their wrongs, ‘let bygones be bygones', but it turned out to be a death trap. They trapped us all in the egg’s lair and wanted to sacrifice us to the egg so it would hatch.”

“What the fuck…” Wilbur mutters under his breath, Dream wearing a similar shocked expression, neither of them understanding what the egg is or how it could have tried to kill so many people. “This is real?”

“Yeah…” Eret softly says, then hesitates, not wanting to think about what Foolish did for them that day, but they continue anyway, “They wanted to kill me first because I’m king, but Foolish stepped in and protected me. He gave up his life so I could live.”

“Wow,” Wilbur mutters in that same awe-struck, disbelieving tone, absolutely shocked by how much could have happened during his time spent in Limbo.

Meanwhile, even though Dream is still shocked, his brain is running at about a mile a minute, instantly recognizing this egg as a threat to his server, one that he has to neutralize quickly before it can cause even more damage.

With these thoughts in mind, Dream pulls away from Wilbur’s embrace, clambering to his feet as he approaches Eret and questions in a determined tone, “Is there some way we can destroy the egg before this happens?”

“I think so,” Eret says as he continues pacing, remembering that, at The Red Banquet, the egg was immune to TNT, but, now that they’re in the past, it probably isn’t that strong yet. “Did you all see a lot of vines on your way here?”

“Vines?” Dream hesitantly questions, having absolutely no idea what Eret’s talking about, but growing concerned by the thought of an egg that can create vines on his server. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Yes, this is wonderful!” Eret eagerly exclaims as they finally stop pacing, knowing that, if the vines haven’t even started yet, the egg must be weak enough for them to stop it. “That means that it must not be very strong yet. I doubt it’s immune to TNT at this point, so we can probably just blow it up.”

“Immune to TNT?!” Dream shouts in alarm and disbelief, terrified of there being something on his server that can’t even be destroyed with TNT, a deadly weapon that could level an entire nation. “What?!”

“Yeah, you missed some wild stuff with that egg, Dream,” Eret mutters with a bitter chuckle, knowing that a lot has happened revolving around the egg that the server admin was entirely aware of.

Then, while growing excited, Eret eagerly continues, “But I bet this is why I’m here! So we can stop the egg before the banquet ever happens!”

With a massive grin on his face, looking forward to going anywhere with TNT, Wilbur jumps to his feet and cheers, “Alright, let’s go make some omelets then!”

“Wait, you’re coming too?” Eret hesitantly asks as they spin around to face Wilbur, their robes billowing around them as they stare at Wil in a mix of hope and surprise.

“Well duh!” Wilbur eagerly says as he claps a hand on the king’s back, refusing to miss out on a perfectly good opportunity to blow shit up. “I’m not just gonna let you stop an evil egg all by yourself. Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s good to have you back, Wil,” Eret says with a small, fond smile, unable to deny that they’re glad to have Wil back again, especially since this man is so much more like the friend they had before L'Manburg, not the one who slipped toward insanity while inside Pogtopia.

“Thanks!” Wilbur adamantly says, trying his best to ignore the way his heart flutters at hearing that Eret is glad to see him again. “It’s good to be back!”

While grinning at the two friends reuniting, Dream excitedly asks, “So, when should we destroy this egg?”

“Now?” Eret questions after a few moments of hesitation, really wanting to destroy the egg now, especially before it can grow any stronger. “I mean, there’s no time like the present…”

For a few seconds, Eret trails off, then continues in a confused tone, “Er, past, I guess? This is confusing.”

“Ugh, tell me about it!” Dream adamantly says, looking forward to finally having other people around who are in this crazy time-traveling situation. “I’m so glad you both are from the future too, or else I’d be so lost.”

“Yeah, me too,” Wilbur agrees with a smile, then it widens to a grin as he exclaims with child-like excitement, “Oooh, we can be like an epic trio and call ourselves... the Triple Ts! Time Traveling Trio!”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Dream mutters without hesitation as he raises an eyebrow at Wilbur, unable to believe that he wants to call them the Triple Ts.

As they begin walking inside the castle together, Eret cheekily says, “I don’t know, I kinda like it.”

“Are you serious, Eret?” Dream demands as he whirls around on the king, shocked that they’d encourage Wilbur’s stupid idea.

“Ha, looks like you’ve been outvoted 2-1, Dre!” Wilbur smugly says, his words causing Dream to roll his eyes. 

“I can’t believe this,” Dream mutters as they enter the castle, not looking around the place, instead stubbornly staring down at the stone floors so he doesn’t have to see that stupidly proud grin on Wil’s face.

“Come on, Triple Ts, let’s roll out!” Wilbur gleefully says, afterward biting down on his bottom lip to keep from bursting into laughter at the disgusted look on Dream’s face.

Eagerly, Eret begins grabbing supplies while Wilbur happily dances around Dream, the younger of the two definitely not sulking.

”Aww, look at you, you’re pouting,” Wilbur teases with a gigantic smile, reveling in the fact that Dream feels comfortable enough around him to express his displeasure, even if it’s about something as minuscule as a name for the trio. 

“I am not pouting,” Dream says through gritted teeth, all the while still looking down at the floor, even when Wilbur’s dark brown boots enter his field of view from the man standing in front of him.

With an even wider grin, Wilbur reaches his hand toward Dream’s face and boops his nose. Instantly, Dream’s features scrunch up as he pouts even more, the sight causing Wilbur to chuckle loudly and happily. 

Before Wilbur can tease Dream anymore, the two are interrupted by Eret entering the main room and saying, “Okay, I’ve got all the TNT we’ll need, but armor is a little trickier. I have only one extra netherite set, but I could make diamond for one of you.”

“Wait, do you have an ender chest?!” Dream excitedly asks as he finally looks up from the floor, instead staring at Eret with hope in his eyes. “Maybe my armor is in there!”

“Oh, sure, right over here,” Eret says as they walk out of the main room, Dream and Wilbur following them as they all travel through a long, narrow hallway before coming across a spacious storage room, each wall lined with shelves upon shelves of chests and various items scattered about. 

Against the wall opposite the door is an ender chest, the teal and charcoal-colored chest with a swirling void resting inside is such a beautiful sight that Dream finds himself rushing to it without another thought.

With shaky hands, Dream opens the ender chest, tears rushing to his eyes when he sees his beloved armor inside. 

While smiling widely, Dream swiftly puts on the armor, releasing a heavy sigh of relief at the protection the sturdy, enchanted armor brings. 

“It’s… been a long time,” Dream mutters in awe, a blinding smile on his face as he runs his fingers over his beloved netherite chestplate, having missed his armor so much during his time in Pandora’s Vault, especially once Quackity started visiting.

“You look good,” Wilbur softly says as his gaze wanders over Dream appreciatively, smiling widely at the sight of Dream looking so strong and powerful, so much more like the confident man he was before entering the prison.

“Thanks, Wil,” Dream happily says as he turns toward Wilbur, giving the man a wide, magnificent smile that steals Wil’s breath away, wanting to savor such a beautiful sight forever and ever. “I feel… really good.”

And Dream really means it.

For the first time since Quackity’s visits started, Dream feels good.

Not only that, but he feels comfortable in his own skin.

When he looks down at himself, instead of seeing a broken body littered with scars, he sees a toned figure fit with muscles. 

And now, with his armor hugging him as it offers him safety and protection, he feels amazing. 

If this is what being in the past is like, he wants to stay here forever.

After a few moments of simply watching Dream with a small smile on their face, Eret approaches Wilbur and hands him their spare set of netherite armor.

And even though Wilbur still doesn’t really like wearing armor, he puts it on without hesitation, inclining his head toward Eret in thanks for their generosity.

Once all of them are clad in netherite armor, they set out to destroy the egg, walking in companionable silence as Eret takes the lead, taking them all to end the egg’s reign of fear and tyranny, once and for all. 

Chapter Text

It takes a while but, eventually, Dream Wibur and Eret reach the egg’s lair, the path a little harder to navigate without blood-red vines creating a glaringly obvious trail to the egg, but they manage it.

And after going through a long, narrow tunnel with a staircase descending down into a cold, damp cavern, they finally reach their destination.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Dream mutters as they all step into the dark, seemingly endless underground cavern, the dimly lit area empty except for the large, obsidian-encased egg they can see in the farthest corner of the room.

“Tell me about it,” Eret mutters as their eyes dart around the room, surprised to not see any vines on the ceiling or various tendrils of the egg on the ground, but the place still gives off the same dark, dangerous energy. “I’ve got a lot of bad memories here.”

For a few moments, the trio makes their way to the egg in silence, each of them tense, expecting something bad to happen at any moment.

As the group continues walking, Dream swears he hears a low, distorted whisper, the words unintelligible, but they make his stomach churn uncomfortably, a shiver wracking his body from the terrifying sound.

When Wilbur notices Dream shiver violently out of the corner of his eyes, he reaches out his hand without hesitation, not wanting Dream to be scared ever again.

With a relieved sigh, Dream tightly latches onto Wil’s hand, instantly feeling less on edge now that the man he loves is touching him so kindly. 

After a few moments of continuing on their path to the egg in silence, Wilbur turns to Eret and asks with a cheeky grin, “Do you want to hold my hand too?”

“What?!” Eret sputters in disbelief, certain that they must have misheard, that Wilbur didn’t just ask if they wanted to hold hands.

While smiling widely and lifting his free hand in the air, Wilbur clarifies, “My hand. Do you want to hold it?”

“Why would I do that?” Eret questions with a disbelieving chuckle as they look at Wil’s hand, trying and failing to understand what the newly-revived man is doing.

“It’ll help keep us all safe,” Wilbur replies with a shrug, afterward biting his bottom lip to keep from bursting into laughter at the absolute shock and disbelief on Eret’s face.

“How would holding your hand keep us safe?” Eret asks exasperatedly, still failing to grasp what in prime’s name Wilbur is trying to do.

As his smirk returns, Wilbur turns away from Eret, instead looking at Dream as he asks in the most serious tone he can manage, “Are you feeling safer now that you’re holding my hand, Dream?”

“Definitely,” Dream replies without hesitation, a smirk appearing on his face too at Wilbur’s goofy behavior, feeling less scared the longer Wilbur keeps up this stupid bit.

While raising his eyebrows in a way that says see, I told you so, Wilbur smugly asks Eret, “Do I need to say anything more?”

“I am not going to hold your hand, Wil,” Eret firmly says as they roll their eyes at Wilbur’s question, absolutely refusing to hold his hand.

“Oh, I see what’s going on,” Dream teases with his smirk still in place, deciding to join in on the fun. “You’d rather hold my hand, huh, Eret?”

“No, I don’t want to hold either of your hands!” Eret exclaims as they throw their hands in the air in exasperation, becoming frustrated by how weird both of them are acting right now.

Upon hearing Eret’s outburst, the duo doubles over in a fit of laughter, using one hand to clutch their now-aching stomach muscles from laughing so hard, their other hands still firmly locked together.

After a few moments of laughing so hard, Wilbur and Dream can’t even stand upright anymore, both of them plopping onto the ground below as Dream devolves into a fit of gasps and wheezes from laughter, the sound of Dream’s laugh making Wilbur laugh even harder.

As Dream and Wilbur keep practically dying of laughter, Eret rolls their eyes at them, but they can’t hide the little smile that slips onto their lips as they continue watching the two.

“You’re… really missing… out,” Dream gasps out in between his wheezing giggles, his words making Wilbur laugh even harder, the man choking and sputtering from laughter as Dream continues, “I’m an… excellent hand… holder.”

“That’s it, I’m blowing up the egg myself!” Eret calls out as they start walking away from the two idiots cry-laughing on the ground of the egg’s lair.

“Nooo, Eret... come back!” Dream exclaims in between his laughing fit, tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks, but he doesn’t try to wipe them away, feeling happier right now than he has in a very, very long time.

“Yeah, at least help us stand up!” Wilbur adds on as his laughter finally starts to die down to just occasional giggles at Dream’s boisterous and wheezing laughter.

With a heavy sigh, feeling like they’re dealing with toddlers instead of grown men, Eret reluctantly turns around and faces the duo again.

When they’re standing in front of the two, they reach out their hand and help Wilbur stand up, something that Wil is grateful for since he feels a little light-headed and unsteady on his feet from all that laughing. 

While smirking wildly, Wilbur glances down at the hand that Eret’s holding and cheekily says, “Y’know, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just asked.”

“You two are the worst!” Eret exclaims in outrage and disbelief as they yank their hand out of Wilbur’s grasp, the king’s words causing them both to giggle uncontrollably, making it impossible for Dream to get off the floor because he’s laughing so hard.

As he continues giggling, Wilbur gently picks Dream up and guides him to his feet, a small part of him worried about the still wheezing and laughing man because it's starting to sound a little painful, but he doesn’t say anything, simply basking in the sound of Dream laughing without restraint, a beautiful sound that he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

When the two can finally breathe easily again now that their laughing fit has passed, Wilbur wipes away his tears of mirth and smugly asks, “Hey, that worked, didn’t it?”

“What worked?” Eret questions with a weary sigh as they pause while walking toward the egg, not yet turning around to look at the two, but still giving the duo their attention.

“I made you both less scared,” Wilbur happily replies with a smile, unsure if his plan would actually work, but it turned out way better than he could have expected.

After Wilbur saw how scared both Dream and Eret were while down here, he wanted to do something to help lighten the mood.

And what better way to do that than by acting like a complete idiot to make each of them laugh?

“Huh…” Eret mutters under their breath after hearing Wilbur’s words, surprised to hear that not only was Wilbur doing that on purpose, but that it actually worked.

Even though they're all still down here in the place that scares Eret more than anything else, for the past few minutes, the king hadn’t even thought of The Red Banquet once, too distracted by Wilbur’s childish behavior. 

And so, with a disbelieving chuckle, Eret continues, “Yeah, I guess you did.”

“See, there’s a method to my madness,” Wilbur cheekily says as he and Dream catch up to Eret, a wild but happy glint in Wilbur’s eyes as he looks at Eret.

“If you say so,” Eret mutters as they all continue approaching the egg, but they can’t help but smile, extremely happy to have Wilbur back, their stupid banter reminding them of the friend they had before L'Manburg started.

After a few more moments of walking in companionable silence, the atmosphere between the group no longer tense and fearful, they come face-to-face with the egg.

Encased in obsidian, the egg towers over all of them, at least four blocks taller than Wilbur, and even more so for the other two.

But even with the way the egg looms over them all, Wilbur can’t find it in himself to feel even the slightest bit afraid, especially when he hears the echoes of Dream’s wonderful laughter inside his mind.

“Ready to blow this shit up?!” Wilbur gleefully asks as he releases Dream’s hand, instead pulling TNT out of his inventory that Eret gave him before they all left their castle.

“Sure am!” Dream eagerly agrees as he pulls out his own TNT, ready to make this egg pay for ever trying to take over his server and brainwash people into turning against each other.

“Let’s do this,” Eret replies as they step closer to the egg, beginning to place TNT all along the obsidian encasing the egg, determined to stop the evil being before The Red Banquet can ever happen again.

Soon, the egg is covered in several layers of TNT, Wilbur being adamant to be the one to climb on top of the egg, not wanting either of the other two to get hurt.

As he jumps down from the top of the egg, Wilbur grins widely, his entire body seeming to tingle from adrenaline, enjoying the familiar rush he gets just before he’s about to blow something up.

“You good?” Dream asks with a smirk when he sees the glint in Wilbur’s eyes, one that most people would probably call maniacal or evil, but he knows that Wil is just excited to do something he enjoys, no matter how destructive it is.

But as long as he doesn’t go blowing up any more nations, Dream’s content to let Wil have his moment. 

“I’m fucking amazing!” Wil adamantly says as he skips over to where Dream and Eret are standing, bouncing up and down from giddiness.

Then, while turning to Eret, Wilbur eagerly questions, “Can I be the one to blow it up?”

While raising their eyebrows in surprise and disbelief, Eret turns to Dream, wondering if they should be concerned.

But, without seeming the slightest bit afraid, Dream shrugs his shoulders and says, “He likes blowing shit up. Just let him have his moment.”

After a few more seconds of hesitation, Eret releases a disbelieving chuckle as they hand the torch to Wilbur, unsure how their day got so strange, but here they are.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Wilbur exclaims as he takes the torch from Eret, the light of the flames so close to his face and his too-wide grin making Wilbur look like a madman, the sight causing Eret to take a step back in alarm, seeing a flash of the man who screamed about an unfinished symphony as he destroyed the nation that so many had fought and died for.

Without a word, Eret and Dream begin walking away, not needing to stand anywhere near the egg since Wilbur will be the one to blow it up.

Once they are a safe distance away, and out of earshot, Eret hisses, “Are you sure we should let Wilbur do this? He has that look in his eyes, and I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either, but he really wants to do this,” Dream mutters as he glances over at Wilbur, who’s cackling to himself as he waves the torch around, almost as though he’s trying to taunt the egg before he blows it up.

“Dream, are you sure he’s… stable?” Eret worriedly asks as they forcefully tear their gaze away from Wilbur, not wanting to offend Dream since he seems to care about the man, but they can’t help but feel that this is wrong. 

“Honestly, Eret, neither of us are stable,” Dream replies with a bitter laugh, his words causing Eret to take a step back, wondering if they’re alone with two insane people and an evil egg. “You already know what happened to me, but Wil went through a lot of shit too. After he died, he got sent to Limbo, which is just an empty void with a train station. Time moves differently there and while he was dead less than a year for us, that was thirteen and a half years for him. He spent that long trapped and alone. So, after everything he’s been through, I think he’s entitled to a few moments of madness.”

“This isn’t healthy, Dream,” Eret mutters after a few moments of hesitation, their heart aching for Wilbur now that they know how long he spent alone, but that still doesn’t erase the feeling of this being wrong. “He looks like he’s going insane!”

And as they watch Wilbur laugh and dance around while holding the torch, much too close to the TNT to be doing such a thing, Dream releases a heavy sigh, knowing that Eret’s right.

Without a word, Dream begins walking away from Eret, knowing that he needs to stop Wilbur before this escalates any further.

Because, even though he loves and trusts Wilbur, Dream would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a little afraid.

He’s seen this glint of madness in Wilbur’s eyes before when he pressed that button and then begged his father to kill him, but that doesn’t make this any easier.

He knows that neither of them has the best grasp on their mental health, but it’s somewhat terrifying to see how easily some TNT can cause Wilbur to slip.

While doing his best to keep his fear out of his tone, Dream softly asks, “Hey, Wil, what are you doing?”

“Oh, you’re here,” Wilbur says with a too-wide smile as he spins around to greet Dream, the sudden movement causing Dream to flinch, but Wilbur doesn’t seem to notice. 

Then, while thrusting the flames out toward Dream, the abrupt movement making Dream jump back in surprise and alarm, Wilbur questions in an eerily monotone voice, “Look at the flames. Don’t you love the way they dance?”

And as the flames dance across Wilbur’s face, creating a harsh glow on his usually soft features, Dream swears that Wilbur’s eyes look almost… red.

“I thought you were going to blow up the egg?” Dream questions as he takes another step back, his hands starting to tremble the longer he looks at Wilbur, this man so different from the one he loves.

“Well, I was, but then I heard the whispers,” Wilbur replies in that same monotone voice, the dead, emotionless tone, paired with those words makes him back away more, not liking this one bit. “They told me not to blow up the egg because it could help me. The egg can help us, Dre. It can protect you, keep you safe, and even kill Quackity. Don’t you want that?”

And suddenly, Dream realizes what’s happening.

Wilbur isn’t slipping toward insanity because he has the power to destroy things with TNT.

No, this isn’t Wilbur at all.

It’s the egg.

The egg is inside Wilbur’s head, warping and twisting the man he loves into this terrifying shell of the kind person he knows.

Instead of answering Wil’s question, Dream takes off sprinting toward Eret, knowing that he has to keep his distance from this version of Wilbur, especially since he doesn’t know what the egg is capable of.

“Dream, what’s wrong?” Eret questions in alarm as Dream comes sprinting toward them, gasping and panting as tears stream from his emerald-green eyes.

“It… has… him,” Dream breathes out as he stops in front of Eret, trying in vain to calm his too-fast heartbeat from both running and terror.

“What?” Eret asks as their blood runs cold, having thought that, since the egg was locked in obsidian, it wouldn’t be able to affect any of them.

“It’s brainwashing him,” Dream replies with a violent shiver as he recovers from running over to Eret, trying his best to fight back tears as he continues, “That’s why he isn’t blowing it up. He was trying to convince me that the egg would protect me.”

“It will protect you, My Love,” Wilbur suddenly says, the sound of his emotionless voice causing both of them to jump in alarm, Dream’s heart threatening to shatter at the sound of his favorite nickname said so wrong. “But the egg needs to be stronger to keep us safe. It needs to be free, and it needs to eat. You’ll help me feed it, won’t you, Dre?”

“No, he will not,” Eret firmly states as they stand protectively in front of Dream, pulling out their netherite sword to defend them both, all-too-familiar with what it is that the egg wants to eat.

And this time around, Eret’s making sure that no one is sacrificed to the egg.

“Oh, Eret, you really think that you have any say in this?” Wilbur purrs as he steps closer to the two, the flames of the torch dancing dangerously in his hands. 

Eret doesn’t say anything, instead pulling a torch out of their inventory with their free hand, quickly thrusting it behind their back for Dream to grab.

In shock, Dream takes the unlit torch, not knowing why Eret handed it to him, but ready for whatever the king’s plan might be.

Suddenly, Eret lunges forward, using their sword to swipe at the torch in Wilbur’s hands, slicing it in half as the still-lit pieces fall to the ground below.

Without a moment of hesitation, Dream rushes to the broken torch, holding his unlit one out to transfer the heat from one to the other.

As the slashed torch meets the ground, the flames begin to lick and lap at the stone below them, not spreading nearly as fast as it would on grass, but it’s still dangerous.

And yet Dream runs closer to the flames rather than away from them.

Dream hears the sound of swords clashing together, but he barely pays it any mind, instead focused on the searing heat tingling his skin, trying his best to not let it burn him as he reaches his hand out to the flames.

Finally, the flames leap onto his torch, his hand turning red from the heat of the flames much-too-close to the handle of the torch, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Now that he has a lit torch, Dream sprints away from the growing fire, instead rushing to the egg, knowing that he needs to stop it before it can twist Wilbur’s mind any further.

His heart pounds furiously, the only sound he can hear is his heavy footsteps slapping the stone and the rush of blood in his veins drumming inside his ears.

After what feels like forever, Dream finally reaches the egg but, before he can drop the torch to light the TNT, he hears a loud scream of pain.

With growing horror, Dream turns around and, about ten blocks away from the dancing flames, he sees Wilbur and Eret. While the two had been engaged in combat only moments ago, Eret is now on their knees, clutching their right arm in agony as blood seeps from the wound on their bicep. Meanwhile, Wilbur towers over the king as he stands behind them, holding Eret’s own sword against their throat threateningly, moments away from ending the king’s life.

“Oh, Dreamie,” Wilbur calls out in a sing-song tone, his voice causing Dream to shiver violently, his skin bristling at the name that Quackity often called him, hating how cruel the man he loves sounds. “If you care about your little friend here, you’ll step away from the egg.”

“No, don’t do it!” Eret shouts, their voice hoarse and pain-filled, but their message is still loud and clear.

“If you try to blow up the egg, I’ll kill them,” Wilbur says in that same monotone voice, but it now has a cruel edge, telling Dream that the egg really will make Wilbur kill Eret.

Either he can blow up the egg and let Eret die, or he can save Eret and lose Wilbur to the egg.

How is he supposed to choose?

How is he supposed to trade one life for another?

Thankfully, before Dream has to make his choice, Wilbur suddenly moves his sword and pushes Eret far away from him, sending the king sprawling onto the floor.

Despite their injury, Eret quickly scrambles away, not knowing why they were suddenly released, but refusing to waste even a second of it.

“Dre,” Wil says in a rough, scratchy tone, the sound of his voice causing Dream to move closer to him rather than farther away, knowing that this is his Wil, not the egg. “I-I can’t, it-t’s too st-strong.” 

Suddenly, Wilbur shudders violently and sinks to his knees, the sight making Dream want to run to him, but he stops when a hand snakes around his wrist, keeping him firmly rooted in place.

“We need to blow it up, now,” Eret firmly says as they continue holding onto Dream, neither of them noticing the way the king’s blood coats their fingers as it drips onto Dream’s wrist.

And even though it’s so hard to tear his gaze from Wilbur, who’s curled in on himself as he fights his internal battle against the egg, Dream allows Eret to pull him toward the egg.

When they are close enough to blow it up, Dream finally snaps out of his stupor, instead facing the egg with emerald eyes blazing with determination. 

“ No one hurts Wil,” Dream says through gritted teeth as he throws the torch at the TNT-encased egg.

Then, while grabbing Eret’s bloodied hand, Dream starts sprinting away from the egg as fast as he can, all the while hearing the dangerous tick of TNT as they run.

Suddenly, the world beneath them shakes, sending them both sprawling onto the ground below, deafening booms echoing throughout the underground cavern. 

With a pained cry, Dream releases Eret’s hand, instead pressing his hands against his ears, trying to block out the harsh, violent sounds of the TNT. 

As parts of the ceiling begin to crumble around them, Dream realizes with horror that they used too much TNT, causing the whole underground area to begin falling apart.

Fuck, they’re so dead!

Frantically, Dream looks to his right, seeing the still-spreading flames climb higher and higher.

Dream’s horror grows when he sees a body lying only about five blocks away from the deadly flames, just moments away from being consumed by the harsh, blistering heat.

And without another moment of thought, Dream’s up on his feet, sprinting toward the flames for the second time today. 

As he gets closer, he hears weak, pained coughs coming from the person, the sound telling him that it’s Wil.

Laying dangerously close to the flames is Wilbur, and he’s making no move to get away from them.

“Wil!” Dream shouts in alarm and terror as he finally reaches the man he loves, kneeling beside him as he checks for injuries. 

And much to Dream’s dismay, he sees a large chunk of stone from the ceiling pinning Wilbur’s right leg to the ground, making it impossible to move away from the steadily approaching flames.

While coughing violently at the smoke emanating from the fire, Dream begins trying to pry the stone off of Wilbur’s leg.

Except, no matter how hard he pushes and pulls, the stone doesn’t budge, the rock too heavy for Dream to move.

“G-Go,” Wilbur weakly whispers after Dream fails to move the stone, not wanting His Love to get hurt too when the flames soon reach him.

“N-No… not l-leaving… you,” Dream gasps out in between his hacking coughs, refusing to let Wilbur die, not when he just got him back today.

As they continue hacking and coughing from the smoke, they hear faint footsteps, the sound causing Dream’s head to snap up.

And illuminated by the orange glow of the flames is Eret, their white eyes shining blindingly bright as they walk toward the two, having lost their sunglasses during the blast.

When Eret kneels beside both of them, reaching their uninjured arm out to help, Dream has to choke back a relieved sob, putting all his energy into moving the stone.

Finally, with their combined strength, they push the stone off of Wilbur’s leg, a pained cry leaving his mouth as his broken leg gets jostled by the movement.

Without wasting another second, Dream carefully scoops Wilbur into his arms, finding it difficult to carry the taller man, but he presses on, needing to take him away from the flames quickly.

While coughing violently from the smoke, Dream stumbles away from the flames, his left leg screaming in agony at each step, probably injured from the blast, but he doesn’t pay it any mind, determined to get Wilbur to safety.

“H-Here!” Eret calls out in between coughs as they point at an opening in the wall created by the blast, the explosion so powerful that sunlight streams through the top of it, the underground area now exposed to the outside world.

“The fuck is goin’ on down there?!” A new voice calls out, their voice echoing from up above as they peer down the hole in the ground, their baby-blue eyes widening in surprise when they see someone through the haze of smoke.

“T-Tom-mmy!” Eret shouts up at the brightness, unable to see the kid, but they’d recognize that voice anywhere. “H-Help!”

And even though Eret’s betrayal is still fresh in his mind all these months later, making him hate the king for betraying them all for power, he doesn’t hesitate before replying, “I’ll make a ladder!”

Before he can jump to his feet to grab sticks to craft a ladder, Eret’s weak voice stops him, “H-Hurt… c-can’t.”

Oh fuck, this is serious…

Eret is stuck down in a cave that seems to be on fire, and they’re too hurt to climb a ladder.

While trying his best not to panic, Tommy pulls out a pickaxe, beginning to dig a staircase down, uncaring of how dangerous or reckless it might be.

Even if Eret is a traitor, he isn’t going to leave them to burn.

Finally, Tommy reaches the underground cavern, shocked to see that it is a long, hollowed-out area, debris falling dangerously from the ceiling in many places.

Instantly, he’s assaulted by the cloying stench of smoke, his eyes burning fiercely as he starts coughing violently.

Wanting to get out of here quickly, Tommy grabs Eret’s arm to help them up the stairs, dully noticing that the other one is covered in blood.

Suddenly, Tommy stops helping Eret when he hears a weak cough from deeper inside the room.

With one last glance at Eret, who’s now starting to go up the staircase, Tommy travels away from the exit, the heat of the nearby flames instantly making him sweat, but he presses on, knowing someone else must be trapped in here.

It takes a few moments but, finally, he notices two figures lying on the ground, holding each other close as they cough weakly. 

Quickly, Tommy sprints toward them, grabbing the closest person’s arm and rolling them onto their back, his eyes widening comically when he sees lidded emerald-green eyes staring up at him.

As he continues coughing, choking on the smoke-filled air, Dream sees someone kneeling above him with blurry vision, unsure who it is, but hoping they’ll help.

Without a moment of hesitation, Tommy carefully pulls Dream to his feet, the older man scarcely able to stand, but, with his arm around Tommy’s shoulder, he barely manages it.

When they move a few blocks towards the exit, Dream’s hazy, pain-filled mind clears enough for him to remember that Wil was beside him, but now he’s not.

“W-” Dream tries to say his name, but another hacking cough cuts him off.

While coughing violently too, Tommy continues helping Dream walk toward the staircase out of here.

And even though the man seems much too weak to get out by himself, Tommy helps him lean against the wall, then rushes back into the cavern, refusing to leave the last person behind, even if his lungs are screaming for fresh air.

After what feels like years, Tommy reaches the person, the smoke too thick for him to see them, drawn to them solely by their strangled coughs and gasps for air. 

Carefully, Tommy picks up the person, knowing that, even if it’s heavier and harder on him, they don’t have time for him to slowly walk with them to the staircase like he did with Dream.

After several moments, each of which Tommy fights against his growing exhaustion, he finally makes it to the stairs, the daylight flittering through the haze of smoke down in the cavern.

As he starts to get higher up the stairs, he’s able to see a little better, the smoke not as thick here.

About ten steps away from the top of the stairs is Dream, slowly crawling up the stairs and out of the cavern as he continues coughing like mad, seeming desperate to get out, but unable to stand and walk.

When he reaches the steps that Dream’s on, he carefully squeezes past the man, rushing up the rest of the stairs. 

The second he makes it to the top, he takes in a large, painful breath of fresh air, then sets down the person in his arms, not even sparing them a glance before going back down for Dream.

While coughing even harder than before, Tommy descends the stairs, barely able to make out Dream’s slumped form through the harsh, smokey air.

But once he spots Dream, he bends down and helps the man rise to his feet, slinging his arm over his shoulders.

As each of them coughs and gasps for air, they slowly make their way out of the underground cavern.

And, finally, when they reach the top, Tommy’s knees give out from underneath him, sending both him and Dream sprawling onto the grass below.

Chapter Text

For a long time, the four of them simply cough as they lay on the grass, trying their best to breathe in fresh air to expel the smoke in their lungs.

After a few more moments, Tommy sits up with a groan, his throat absolutely on fire, but at least he isn’t coughing anymore.

While pulling a water bottle out of his inventory and taking a few sips to soothe his burning throat, he turns to Dream, who’s still coughing and gasping for air, his lungs in worse shape due to how much longer he and Wil were down there after Eret got out. 

Carefully, Tommy helps Dream sit up and drink some of the water, having some difficulty because of Dream’s gasping and sputtering, but, finally, the water helps Dream’s coughing cease.

“W-Wil,” Dream chokes out in a hoarse voice, looking around for the man he loves, but his vision is so blurry that he’s having trouble finding him.

Dream hears a weak cough off to his left, the sound causing him to slowly move off of whatever he’s sitting on, instead crawling toward the source of the sound.

Finally, Dream reaches him, pulling the man close to his chest and stroking his hair soothingly as he hopes that Wil’s painful coughs come to an end soon.

As Wilbur fights to breathe, his lungs working in overtime after all the smoke he inhaled, he faintly feels hands wrap around him.

And with what feels like the last of his strength, Wilbur hugs them in return, the kind hand in his hair telling him that it must be Dream holding him so tenderly.

“Pl-Please,” Dream croaks to no one in particular as tears stream down his cheeks, his heart clenching with fear the longer Wilbur keeps coughing, his breaths getting progressively shallower and weaker. 

Meanwhile, Tommy stares at the two in absolute shock, his mouth agape as he watches Dream clutch desperately to Wilbur, crying silently as he runs his fingers through the man’s hair.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Why is Dream fucking cuddling with Wilbur?!

And how is Wilbur even alive?!

When Wilbur releases a low, wheezing gasp, the sound so much more frightening than his coughing, Tommy snaps out of his stupor. 

Quickly, Tommy takes his ender chest out of his inventory, rummaging through his items a little desperately, fear spurring his movements when he realizes that Wilbur might die.

Again.

Finally, Tommy finds what he’s looking for, holding his only gapple reverently, wanting to save it only for emergencies but, as Wilbur grows weaker and weaker before his eyes, Tommy knows that he has to use it.

With the enchanted apple in hand, he approaches Dream and Wilbur, kneeling beside them as he peers down at the two, unsure how to feel about their weird closeness, so instead he focuses on just trying to keep his friend alive. 

With red-rimmed eyes from all the smoke, Dream glances up at him, the raw hope and desperation in the man’s eyes making Tommy blink in surprise, certainly never expecting to ever see Dream look so desperate. 

As gently as he possibly can, Tommy grabs Wilbur by his shoulders and hoists him upright, flinching at the wounded, animalistic sound that Dream makes as he reaches toward the empty air, tears leaking from his eyes at the loss of the man he loves.

Taking pity on the clearly hurting man, Tommy gruffly says, “Relax, I’m saving him.”

Instantly, Dream does relax, his pleading whimpers coming to an end as he slumps back against the ground, his hands still reaching for the spot that Wilbur occupied moments ago, but it isn’t as frantic and desperate.

While tearing his eyes away from Dream, Tommy holds the gapple to Wilbur’s lips.

For a few moments, Wilbur doesn’t do anything, just continues fighting for air, his lungs steadily failing as time passes.

Finally, Wilbur realizes that something is pressed against his lips, causing him to weakly open his mouth wider.

Instantly, Tommy pushes the apple closer and coaxes Wilbur to bite down.

As Wilbur slowly chews the apple, the healing properties of it start to seep through his body, focusing on his battered lungs.

Slowly, starting to feel more alert, Wilbur opens his mouth again, allowing Tommy to help him take another bite.

After a few more bites, Tommy moves the apple away, not wanting to overwhelm Wilbur’s body too quickly, especially since he nearly died.

Weakly, Wilbur wraps his arms around the person helping him, but they’re much too tall, causing him to realize that this isn’t Dream, the thought drawing a scared whimper from his lips.

Instantly, Dream hears the pained sound from Wil, his hands reaching even more desperately out in the direction he thinks Wil’s in.

For a few seconds, Tommy just watches Dream in stunned silence, wondering why he’s trying so hard to get to Wilbur, especially when he seems so weak and hurt.

When Wilbur releases a loud whine and begins weakly trying to get out of Tommy’s hold, he turns his gaze away from Dream, instead looking at Wilbur.

And even though he can’t bring himself to begin to understand why, it’s clear that the two want to be near each other.

So, even though he doesn’t really want to, Tommy carefully helps Wilbur move so he’s laying down in the grass again.

Immediately, Dream tries to scoot closer to Wilbur, small, wounded sounds leaving him when he can’t find the strength to move.

Meanwhile, Wilbur doesn’t even try to move, just laying on the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks as he makes his own little whimpering sounds.

While Tommy still doesn’t understand what the fuck is happening, he can’t help but frown at the two, who so obviously want to be close but are too hurt to move.

With a heavy sigh, hoping that he doesn’t regret this, he carefully helps Dream move forward, knowing that he is the less injured of the two.

Instantly, Dream wraps his arms around Wilbur tightly, burying his face against his chest as weak sobs escape him, the sound of Dream crying causing Tommy to stare at him in absolute shock.

Seriously, what the fuck is happening?

Why is Dream crying and hugging Wilbur?

And why is Wilbur hugging him back just as tightly?

After a few moments of watching them, Tommy tries to stand up to go talk to Eret, but his limbs protest moving, keeping him firmly rooted to where he’s sitting on the grass. 

So, instead of seeing the king with his own eyes, he calls out, “You still alive over there, Eret?”

“For now,” Eret mutters with a wry smile, feeling coppery warmth still steadily oozing from their arm, unsure how much blood they’ve already lost, but it’s probably nearing a concerning amount. “Is help coming soon?”

Oh, fuck, he really should have contacted someone to help them already...

Sure, he got them out of the fire, but, since he can’t even move and doesn’t have any potions, they might die anyway. 

“Yep, he should be here soon, Big Man,” Tommy says in the most reassuring tone he can manage, not wanting Eret to panic like he is because no one is coming to help them.

Eret just hums in response, too hurt and exhausted to keep talking.

Quickly, Tommy pulls out his communicator and finds Tubbo’s name in his direct messages, hastily sending his friend his current cords.

Before he can elaborate on why he sent his location, Tubbo types: Whats with teh cords

Get here w health pots

are u okay???

While smiling sadly at the concern in Tubbo’s message, Tommy types out: ive been better but the others r hurt wors

Im comin now

With a relieved sigh, Tommy puts his comm away, instead laying down in the grass, too exhausted to keep sitting upright, especially now that he finally feels like he can rest since Tubbo will be here to help soon.

After a few minutes, or maybe hours, Tommy hears a familiar voice shout, “Tommy! Can you hear me?!”

“Over here, Big T,” Tommy replies, but his tone isn’t as boisterous as usual, his throat still aching from all the coughing he did.

Tommy hears hurried footsteps approaching, followed by a shocked gasp from Tubbo.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, Eret’s fuckin’ bleeding out and those two’ve got failing lungs,” Tommy can’t help but snap when Tubbo kneels beside him and begins checking him for injuries, appreciating his friend’s concern, but knowing that it’s better spent with helping the others.

Despite Tommy’s words, Tubbo thrusts a regen potion into his hands before walking away to help Eret.

And even though Tommy would love nothing more than to drink the potion, he knows that Dream and Wilbur need it more, especially Dream since he wasn’t given a gapple like Wil.

With a pained groan, Tommy sits up, noticing Tubbo slowly helping Eret sit up so he can give them a potion, but he hardly pays them any mind, instead looking at Dream and Wilbur.

Instantly, Tommy notices how pale Dream looks, almost all of the color drained from his face as he takes slow, labored breaths, every exhale coming out as a low, pained wheeze.

He’s dying…

Wilbur must know that Dream’s dying too, whispering sweet nothings into the man’s ear as he holds him close, tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks.

And even though he still thinks Dream is a real bastard, Tommy finds himself moving closer to the two, not wanting the man to die, especially not when Wilbur seems so upset by the thought of his death.

So Tommy gently grabs Dream to help him into a sitting position, but that’s made impossible when Wilbur doesn’t let go, whimpering uncontrollably as he clutches to Dream even tighter.

With a heavy sigh, Tommy helps them both sit up so they’re leaning against his chest, realizing that trying to pry Wilbur away from Dream is more trouble than it’s worth, knowing how Wil gets when he’s in one of his clingy moods.

As Wilbur continues hugging Dream close to his chest, Tommy maneuvers Dream’s head so he can see the man’s pale face. 

Slowly, Tommy helps Dream drink the regen potion, the man barely conscious, yet he drinks the potion without any trouble, as if he’s done this many times before.

And if it was anyone else, Tommy probably would have thought that the ease of which he drank the potion was just a coincidence, but he can’t help but think that Dream has probably been in this position before, hardly able to stay awake, but drinking the potion being given to him so he doesn’t die.

Before Tommy can dwell on that thought anymore, Tubbo says in a cheery tone, “Okay, Eret’s all patched up now! Who’s next?”

While rolling his eyes good-naturedly, unsure how Tubbo can be so happy even surrounded by gravely injured people, Tommy mutters, “These two are fuckin’ dying over here and very heavy.”

Hurriedly, Tubbo approaches them, kneeling down beside Tommy and quickly pulling out a regen potion.

Gently, Tubbo places his hands on one of the man’s shoulders, trying to pry him off of the other person so Tommy isn’t crushed by their combined weight, but he stops when the man whines loudly.

“Hey, we just want to help you,” Tubbo softly says as he rubs his shoulder reassuringly, but the man just shakes his head, holding onto the other person even tighter.

“He’s not gonna let go,” Tommy says with a heavy, knowing sigh, remembering from their times in the caravan that, when Wil was in a clingy mood, he refused to let Tommy go for hours. “You can take them both after I finish giving the potion to Dream.”

“Wait, that’s Dream?!” Tubbo exclaims in shock, wondering how the pale, nearly-lifeless man leaning against Tommy’s chest could possibly be Dream.

And if that’s Dream, who the hell is clinging so tightly to him, refusing to let go?

“Yep, it’s him alright,” Tommy mutters with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to believe that his leisurely walk through the SMP turned into him nursing back to health three people that he saved from dying in a fire. “This day's so fuckin’ weird, man.”

“Tell me about it,” Tubbo agrees as he keeps looking at Dream, watching as, thanks to the potion, color slowly starts to return to his cheeks and his breaths get stronger. “So who the hell is that?”

Before Tommy can respond, Dream asks in a low, weak whisper, “W-Wil?”

Wait, Wil?!

Did he just hear that right?

Did Dream really just ask for Wil, as in Wilbur Soot, the man who’s been dead for months after he went insane and blew up L'Manburg?

And then, somehow, things get even crazier when Wilbur holds Dream even tighter as he whispers reassuringly, “Shhh, I’m here, Dre. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” 

Even though Wilbur’s voice is weaker and raspier than he’s ever heard it, Tubbo would recognize the voice of his once-president anywhere.

But… how?

Wilbur should be dead!

Why is he alive all of the sudden?!

And why is he cuddling Dream and whispering that he’s safe?!

While laughing at the absolute shock and disbelief on Tubbo’s face, Tommy mutters playfully, “I told you today was fucking weird.”

With a disbelieving chuckle, Tubbo softly says, “Yeah, I guess so. What even happened here?”

As he continues helping Dream slowly drink the potion, Tommy warily says, “I have no fucking clue. I was just going for a walk, and then I heard a ton of explosions. When I went to check what happened, I saw a hole in the ground and there was smoke everywhere. Then Eret called out for help, so I created a staircase down to them. As I was helping them out, I heard someone coughing, and that’s when I found those two in the middle of the room. The fire was so close to them, but they weren’t moving, just coughing and hugging each other.”

“Wait, you went down into a fire to help them?!” Tubbo asks incredulously, shocked at how reckless Tommy was, especially while on his final life. “You could have died!”

“Yeah, but if I didn’t go down there, they would’ve died,” Tommy says in a heated and confident tone, knowing without a doubt that, if he hadn’t found them, all three would be dead.

“They all have more lives though!” Tubbo protests, frustrated that Tommy would risk his last life for people that will just respawn again.

“That doesn’t mean that they deserve to die,” Tommy says in an uncharacteristically soft tone as he looks down at Dream, watching the way Wilbur clings to the slowly dying man like his entire life depends on it. “If you saw them all dying in a fire, could you really just walk away from them?”

“No, I couldn’t,” Tubbo mutters with a heavy sigh, his anger finally dissipating when he realizes that Tommy’s right.

Regardless of who it is or how many lives they have, Tubbo would have done the same thing, even jumping into a fucking fire if there was a chance to keep the people trapped inside from dying.

For a few moments, the two are silent, simply watching as Wilbur keeps holding tightly to Dream, his eyes wide and unseeing as tears slip from them, seeming like he’s on the brink of a breakdown.

“Wil,” Tommy firmly calls out to his friend, but the man doesn’t look at him, just flinching as he continues staring at Dream, as though, if he keeps watching, Dream won’t be able to slip away. “He isn’t going to die.”

Finally, that gets Wilbur’s attention, his glossy and teary brown eyes looking at Tommy with so much hope and desperation, so similar to the look that Dream gave him when he said he’d save Wil.

“R-Really?” Wilbur croaks as he continues looking up at Tommy from his hunched position beside Dream, hoping that he isn’t lying, feeling like his heart is absolutely shattering the longer Dream looks so weak and pale.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine, Big Man,” Tommy says with a small, reassuring smile, not entirely sure if Dream will survive, but, with how on-edge Wilbur seems, he definitely isn’t going to say that. 

“Thank prime,” Wilbur mutters as he buries his face against Dream’s chest, a ragged, choked sob escaping him as he holds Dream tighter. 

What the fuck Tubbo mouths to Tommy, his eyes wide with disbelief as he watches Wilbur cry as he hugs Dream for dear life. 

The only response Tommy gives Tubbo is mouthing I know, his eyes equally as wide and disbelieving. 

Finally, Tommy finishes helping Dream drink the first potion, the man looking much better than he had before he started drinking it, his face not nearly as pale and his breaths stronger than they were before.

“Get them off me,” Tommy huffs as he looks at Tubbo expectantly, his limbs protesting having to sit up while supporting the weight of two wounded, grown-ass-men.

With a chuckle, Tubbo scoots forward and gently maneuvers the two so they’re leaning against him instead of Tommy. 

Tommy releases a heavy, relieved sigh, getting ready to lay down again, but he pauses when a potion bottle is pressed into his hand.

When he raises a questioning eyebrow at Tubbo, his friend says with a knowing smile, “I only gave you one potion, so that means you haven’t healed at all.”

Then, as his tone takes on a hard, but still teasing edge, Tubbo firmly continues, “So, drink the potion or I’ll shove it down your fucking throat.”

“So clingy,” Tommy mutters as he uncaps the potion, but he can’t help but smile ever-so-slightly at the care in Tubbo’s voice, even though his way of caring is usually threatening Tommy into taking care of himself. 

After flipping Tommy off for his comment about being clingy, Tubbo pulls out another potion, this one for Wilbur.

As Wilbur continues holding tightly to Dream, he suddenly feels something cold press against his lips, the feeling of it causing him to flinch.

“I’m just trying to heal you, Wil,” Tubbo softly says as wraps his left arm around Wilbur’s back, his other hand still pressing the bottle to Wilbur’s lips. “Please, drink it.”

Immediately, Wilbur opens his mouth to drink the healing potion, desperately wanting something to help alleviate the pain in his leg, no doubt so many bones in it fractured and shattered from when that stone fell on top of him.

And as he feels the potion slowly start to mend his broken leg and aching lungs, Wilbur releases a heavy sigh of relief, clinging to Dream a little less frantically now that his pain is fading away.

When he’s finished the potion, Wilbur doesn’t necessarily feel good, but he doesn’t think that he’s in danger of dying anymore, so that’s at least something.

But if they give him one more, he’ll probably be right back to peak condition, his wounded leg and battered lungs nothing but a distant memory.

Instead of giving Wilbur another potion, Tubbo pulls out a second one for Dream, knowing that the man needs at least one more to be out of danger of dying, then several more to recover fully.

He sure hopes he grabbed enough…

When Tommy sent him that message, he just grabbed whatever healing potions he could find the fastest, then ran out of the White House, terrified that something bad had happened to his friend just a couple of days after he had finally got him back.

Luckily, he has at least one more potion, which he brings to Dream’s lips, slowly coaxing the man to drink more potions. 

And much like Wilbur, Dream begins to feel his pain lessen as he drinks the potion, his lungs able to function without each inhale causing an unpleasant burn and the pain in his left leg from the blast becoming nothing more than a distant twinge.

Once he’s finished the potion, Dream slowly cracks open his eyes, everything blurry from how badly the smoke irritated his eyes, but he knows that opening his eyes was a good decision when Wilbur releases a relieved sigh.

While hugging Dream even tighter, Wilbur happily exclaims, “Dre, you’re okay!”

With a weak chuckle, feeling anything but ‘okay’, Dream mutters, “Hey, Wil.”

“How you feeling, Big D?” Tommy asks after a few moments of simply watching the two, still finding it so fucking weird how cuddly and close they are.

“T-Tommy?” Dream asks in a quiet and confused tone, recognizing the kid’s voice, but not understanding why he’s here. “Wh-What?”

“I’m the one who pulled your sorry asses out of the fire,” Tommy says with a smirk, feeling smug from the shock and disbelief on Dream’s face. “I can’t believe all three of you almost lost to a fuckin’ fire!”

“Actually, we almost lost to an evil egg that possessed Wil and nearly killed me,” Eret quips in an overly cheery voice from where they’re sitting off to the side. “We had to blow it up before it could brainwash him anymore, and then we got trapped by the flames and hurt in the explosion.”

“Fucking what?” Tommy questions in a low, disbelieving tone, hardly able to process that Eret said evil egg, possessed Wil, and nearly killed me all in the same sentence.

Tubbo looks just as shocked, but he doesn’t say anything, instead helping Wilbur drink another health potion. 

“Oh, do you not know about the egg?” Eret softly questions, surprised by their lack of reaction to the fact that they blew up the egg.

“No, I don’t know about some fucking egg!” Tommy exclaims in disbelief, wondering how Eret can speak so casually about something that sounds absolutely insane.

“Alright, well, I don’t know too much about the egg, but I think Bad was the one who first found it,” Eret starts to thoughtfully say, deciding to educate Tommy and Tubbo on the egg since they don’t seem at all familiar with it. “The egg has the power to control people’s minds and make them do whatever it wants them to. I think it… whispers things to them and corrupts them? Something like that.”

“And it did this to Wil?” Tommy asks in a low, horrified whisper, not liking the thought of anyone being possessed by a weird-ass-egg, let alone someone he cares about.

“Yeah, he was going to blow it up, and then he started acting weird, staring at the torch in his hand instead of throwing it,” Eret hesitantly continues, doing their best to suppress a shiver as they remember the absolute madness that was shining in Wilbur’s blood-red eyes. “He and I started fighting while Dream ran to blow up the egg, but the egg made him stronger than me, and it made him stab me and hold my own sword against my throat.”

“‘m sorry,” Wilbur murmurs as he pauses drinking the healing potion, feeling absolutely terrible for the way he attacked Eret, even though he had no control over it.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for,” Eret adamantly says, not blaming Wilbur the slightest bit for what happened, especially since the man somehow managed to snap out of the egg’s hold to let them go. “I know that wasn’t you, Wil, the egg made you do that.”

Wilbur just nods ever-so-slightly, then continues drinking the healing potion.

With a heavy sigh, Eret continues explaining, “Somehow, Wil snapped out of it and pushed me away from him, so I ran to Dream and we blew up the egg. We placed too much tnt though, and some parts of the ceiling began to break. A huge piece of stone got trapped on Wil’s leg, and Dream and I had to work together to get it off. We were so close to the flames, I honestly thought all of us were going to die before we could free him.”

“Prime, that sounds terrifying,” Tubbo mutters under his breath as he glances at Wilbur’s leg, seeing the large, but slowly-fading purple bruise adorning the skin on the lower part of his leg. 

“Yeah, not how I thought my night would go,” Eret mutters with a disbelieving chuckle, certainly not expecting to have learned that the three of them time traveled, then all working together to destroy the egg and nearly dying from it possessing one of them. 

Dream releases a weak huff of laughter at that, definitely sharing that sentiment. 

For a few moments, everything is silent, the only sounds being Wilbur slowly finishing the last of the health potion, wishing he could just gulp it all down quickly, but the way Tubbo has it positioned makes that impossible. 

Finally, once Wilbur finishes the potion, he sits up fully, his body no longer hurting, his lungs and leg feeling the same way they had before entering the egg’s lair, as though none of his injuries ever happened. 

Gently, Wilbur holds Dream close to his chest as he moves them away from Tubbo, no longer needing the kid to help support their weight.

“‘m t’red,” Dream slurs as he leans back against Wilbur, his eyes slipping shut of their own accord, despite how badly he wants to stay awake until he’s somewhere safer.

“Rest, Love, I’ll protect you,” Wilbur murmurs reassuringly, afterward placing a gentle kiss on the top of Dream’s head, the feeling of it causing him to smile sleepily, passing out in Wil’s arms moments later.

Once Dream is sleeping soundly in his arms, Wilbur glances up to see Tommy, Tubbo, and Eret all looking at him with mouths agape in shock.

“Don’t fucking judge me,” Wilbur hotly and angrily says as he holds Dream a little closer, protecting the man from their stares, even though he’s blissfully unaware of them in his sleep. 

 “You just kissed his fuckin’ forehead?!” Tommy sputters in disbelief, this day just getting weirder and weirder as time goes on.

“Yes, and your point is?” Wilbur snaps, refusing to let them judge him for loving Dream.

None of them say anything for several moments, causing Wilbur to let out a frustrated huff as he stands up, still holding Dream protectively against his chest.

“Thank you for saving our lives, goodbye now,” Wilbur curtly says as he starts walking away, part of him knowing that he’s being rude, but he just couldn’t take the judgment in their eyes as they stared at him, looking at him like he’s some disgusting creature for finally finding something in his life that makes him feel happy, safe, cared for, and loved.

And when Dream makes him feel so, so amazing, how could they look at him like their friendship is wrong?

“Wil, wait for me!” Eret exclaims as they quickly scramble up to their feet, not wanting to let Wilbur try to navigate his way back to the castle by himself.

As they chase after Wilbur, Eret earnestly calls out to the duo still sitting on the ground in shock, “Seriously, thank you for saving us, we really appreciate it!”

Neither of them respond, just staring at each other with wide, disbelieving eyes, hardly able to grasp the idea of anyone kissing Dream’s forehead so lovingly, let alone Wilbur doing that.

“Wil fucking kissed him,” Tommy mutters in absolute disbelief, seeing Wilbur do that over and over again inside his mind. “Why would he kiss Dream?”

“Come on, bossman, let’s go home,” Tubbo softly says as he slowly rises to his feet, feeling just as stunned as Tommy, but he squashes it down when he sees the sun starting to set, not wanting them to get caught out in the dark.

Numbly, Tommy walks home with Tubbo at his side, neither of them talking, each wondering not only how Wilbur got revived, but why it seems like he’s… in love… with Dream.

Yeah, Tommy’s ready to just go to his bed in the White House so he can sleep this fucking weird-ass day away.

Chapter Text

As Tommy and Tubbo return to the White House, Wilbur and Eret make their walk back to the castle in silence, but theirs is tense and heavy, Eret wanting to apologize for upsetting Wilbur, but they don’t know how, still so shocked by what they saw. 

Finally, after clearing their throat awkwardly, Eret settles on softly asking, “You really care about him, don’t you?”

“I do,” Wilbur replies without hesitation as he holds Dream a little closer to his chest, wanting to protect the man he loves from harm, especially since he nearly lost him to the egg. “I truly believe that, even though he did some terrible things, he’s a good person at heart. I don’t know what happened to make him hurt so many people, but that’s not him anymore.”

For a few moments, the duo descends into silence, thankfully not nearly as tense and awkward now that they’ve started talking.

Then, finally, Eret hesitantly says, “I think you’re right.”

“You do?” Wilbur questions in a surprised tone, certainly not expecting Eret to agree with him that Dream’s a good person at heart who just fucked up a lot.

“At first, I found it hard to believe that he could have changed so much, but I saw it today,” Eret continues in that same hesitant tone, finding it hard to admit this, but it’s nothing but the truth, one that they know Wilbur would want to hear. “The old Dream would have enjoyed the chaos and corruption of the egg, but he worked alongside us to stop it. He could have easily just left it alone, but he saw a problem and helped us fix it. So, yeah, I believe you when you say that he’s a good person who did some bad things. It’ll take a long time for me and the others to forgive him fully but, if he keeps this up, I can’t picture most people hating him forever.”

“Do you hate him?” Wilbur hesitantly asks, a part of him not wanting to know if Eret hates the man he loves, but he knows that it’s important to find that out now, that way he knows if he needs to keep a more vigilant eye on the king to protect Dream.

“Not anymore,” Eret says without hesitation, surprised to find that, after admitting that, they feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off their chest. “I did when he first dethroned me, but I meant it when I told him that I got over it. And honestly… I had a nice time today. I haven’t felt this alive in a long time, and that’s because of you two. So, no, I don’t hate him. One day he and I might even be able to become friends again.”

With a gigantic grin, ecstatic over Eret’s response, Wilbur eagerly says, “I’m sure he’d love that!”

“He doesn’t have many friends, does he?” Eret softly questions with a small frown, knowing what it’s like to lose all their friends because of the mistakes they’ve made and, even if Dream has messed up so many times, Eret thinks the man doesn’t deserve to experience that same loneliness.

“Nope,” Wilbur sadly says, wishing that Dream had more friends, but he just doesn’t understand how to make others see the wonderful man that Dream is now, rather than the tyrant he once was. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m his only one.”

For a little while, the two continue walking back to the castle in silence, a question on the tip of Eret’s tongue, but they refrain from asking it, not wanting to offend Wilbur.

Finally, when they just can’t tamper down their curiosity anymore, Eret hesitantly questions, “Can I ask why you’re his friend?”

“I’m his friend because he needed me to be one,” Wilbur states in a firm, determined tone, truly believing that they became such wonderful friends because each of them was in desperate need of someone they could rely on, someone to take away the suffocating loneliness that once consumed their lives. “That cell was awful. For the rest of my life, I’ll never forget the horrible stench or how his blood coated the walls. He was in desperate need of comfort and, since I was the only one there, that meant I could help him or leave him while he was in pain.”

With a sad, bittersweet smile, remembering those early days with Dream far too well, Wilbur continues, “He barely knew me, but he clung to me so tightly and cried in my arms. And when his torturer came back the next day, I just couldn’t let Dream continue suffering. Before I knew it, we were friends. And then, a few days later, I fell in love with him.”

“You’re in love with Dream?” Eret asks as they blink in surprise, and even though they had guessed that from the way Wilbur clung to Dream and kissed his forehead so tenderly, it’s an entirely different thing to hear the man so freely admit that he loves Dream.

“Not in a romantic way, like, I don’t ever want to kiss him or anything like that, but I love him more than anything else in this world,” Wilbur replies with a large, fond smile, his heart feeling warm and fuzzy whenever he thinks about Dream and how much he loves the man, especially since he knows that his best friend feels the same. “I want to wake up each day with him in my arms. I want him to be by my side for as long as we both live. He means everything to me, and I’d do whatever it takes to keep him from experiencing so much pain again.”

When Wilbur finishes, he ducks his head a little, a slight blush coating his cheeks, realizing that he might have gotten a little carried away talking about his love for Dream, but he doesn’t try to take back the words, meaning each of them wholeheartedly. 

But instead of making fun of him, the king releases a loud, excited squeal before happily exclaiming, “Okay, that’s adorable! You’re like platonic soulmates!”

“Yeah, sure, if that’s what you wanna call it,” Wilbur mutters with a chuckle, but he can’t deny the warmth that Eret’s words bring, happy that the king is so accepting of their love. “You can tone down the fangirling now.”

In response, Eret simply giggles, the sound making Wilbur smile even wider, enjoying the feeling of being able to just talk and laugh with Eret again, no nation creating a rift between them.

Then, once Eret’s laughter fades, in a more serious tone, they sincerely continue, “I’m happy you have each other.”

“Thank you,” Wilbur mutters as he blushes even harder, no doubt looking like a beetroot, but thankfully with the sun starting to go down his reddening face is much less noticeable. “Me too. He’s made me a better person, and I think I’ve done the same for him.”

“You definitely have,” Eret reassures without hesitation, a small smile on their face as they glance down at Dream, the man looking peaceful and content in Wilbur’s embrace. “I’ve never seen him so… relaxed. I’m sure you’re the reason behind that.”

“Yeah…” Wilbur softly agrees as he also looks at Dream, a small, fond smile on his lips from watching the man he loves sleep soundly in his arms. “I’m glad he feels safe around me. Prime knows he needs someone like that after everything he’s been through.” 

“I bet,” Eret says with a heavy sigh, knowing that, after months of literal torture, Dream definitely deserves someone or something to help make him feel safe. 

Then, a little hesitantly, Eret softly continues, “I understand if you don’t believe me yet, but I promise that he’ll be safe in my castle.”

“Thanks, Eret,” Wilbur sincerely says with a relieved sigh, feeling a massive weight lift from his chest at Eret’s assurance that no harm will come to Dream when they’re inside the king’s castle. 

Then, with a small, wistful smile, Wilbur continues, “I’ve really missed you. It’s nice to be able to just… talk to you again, instead of spending our time together strategizing for battles. And I don’t know if I’ve ever said this before, but I’m not mad at you for betraying L'Manburg. When you did it, I was hurt, but not anymore. Hell, I followed in your footsteps and pressed a button to blow up the nation too.”

“I’m glad there’s no hard feelings between us,” Eret earnestly replies with a wide smile, Wilbur’s words making them feel warm and giddy inside, their heart soaring after hearing that the man isn’t upset with them for what they did so long ago. “If you want, maybe we could be friends again.”

“I’d love that,” Wilbur happily says, really looking forward to having another friend, especially one that he doesn’t think will try to hurt him, still remembering the way Eret approached the flames so they could help free his leg that was trapped underneath the rubble of the collapsed cavern. 

So, yeah, Wilbur definitely considers Eret his ally now, but having another friend would be even more amazing.

“Me too,” Eret softly says with a large smile of their own, equally as excited at having another friend, especially since both of them have been without many friends for a very, very long time. 

For the remainder of their walk to the castle, the two let comfortable, companionable silence drift between them, neither of them needing to say anything else, already knowing that each of them would like to be friends again and, much to Wilbur’s relief, Eret is not only open to Dream’s presence, but also his love for the ex-tyrant.

Finally, when they reach the castle, Eret tentatively breaks the silence by saying, “It’s getting late, so I’ll show you to your rooms now. Or would you prefer to share one?”

“I’d rather share with him,” Wilbur says without hesitation, hoping that Eret won’t make things weird or ask any questions, not wanting to have to explain to the king that holding each other close helps keep both of their nightmares away.

But instead of prying, Eret just smiles and leads Wilbur down a couple of hallways before stopping in front of a closed door and saying, “Here, you can use this room.”

“Thank you, Eret,” Wilbur adamantly says as the king opens the bedroom door for him, allowing him to enter the room and place Dream on the bed, which is a soft magenta color, matching the stained-glass windows of the bedroom. 

As Wilbur steps on the light-gray rug in front of the bed, he dully hopes that he isn’t tracking mud everywhere, but he can’t very well untie his boots while still holding Dream.

So, with great tenderness and care, Wilbur sets Dream down on top of the covers, then begins to carefully take off the man’s armor as Eret kindly says from the doorway to the bedroom, “Of course, you’re very welcome! And if you or Dream need anything at all, please, don’t hesitate to come find me. I know we all don’t have the greatest history, but I want to help Dream. He didn’t deserve to be hurt like that. And if there’s something I can do to protect you both, I’ll do so without hesitation.”

“You’re a good person, Eret,” Wilbur sincerely says as he glances at Eret over his shoulder, giving the king a large, blinding smile, one that he usually only reserves for Dream but, just this once, he'll make an exception. “I appreciate that.”

“Thanks, Wil,” Eret softly says after clearing their throat against the building tightness, feeling heat rush to their eyes from Wilbur’s words, having not been called something that kind in a very, very long time. “It really is good to see you again…”

“Yeah, you too,” Wilbur honestly says with his smile still in place as he continues gently taking off Dream’s armor. “Today has been… really nice. Definitely unexpected, but in a good way.”

“I’m glad,” Eret replies with a relieved sigh, happy to hear that, while they both thought today was unexpected, they each enjoyed it. “Well, I guess this is good night then?”

“Night, Eret; hope you sleep well,” Wilbur says with a smile as he pauses after taking off one of Dream’s netherite boots, instead using one of his hands to wave to Eret. “And thanks again for your hospitality.”

“You’re welcome,” Eret replies with a smile of their own as they wave to Wilbur in return. “Good night, Wil.”

And softly, being mindful not to wake up Dream, Eret closes the bedroom door. 

Once all of Dream’s armor is off, Wilbur quickly shucks off his own borrowed armor, releasing a heavy sigh when the netherite material no longer weighs him down, unable to understand how people can wear armor nonstop for hours.

With a wide smile, Wilbur pulls back the magenta comforter, then he picks Dream up and carefully tucks him in, afterward climbing in on the other side of the bed so he can spoon the sleeping man.

As he wraps his arms around Dream, the sleeping man’s back firmly pressed against his front, Dream releases a soft, content sigh in his sleep, the sound making Wilbur grin uncontrollably, always happy to receive confirmation that Dream loves cuddling as much as he does.

And with that smile still on his face, Wilbur lets his own eyes slip shut, promptly drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Text

While Wilbur and Dream sleep peacefully, the younger man held securely in Wilbur’s warm embrace, another person stirs in the dead of night, unable to sleep despite the bone-deep weariness he feels.

With a heavy sigh, the person crawls out of bed and begins putting on his netherite armor, never going anywhere without it, unless he’s in the home of the one person he trusts.

But, since that person isn’t here, he finishes strapping on his armor, smiling ever-so-slightly at the rush of power he feels from his many enchantments. 

After grabbing his netherite sword and enchanted riptide trident, two things he has to have on him at all times, he starts walking toward the front door of his house.

Except, when he’s about to leave, his pickaxe glints in the glow of the moonlight, the sturdy and powerful tool seeming to call out to him, beckoning him to grab it and do something that he’s been trying to avoid for the past couple of days now.

While sighing loudly in frustration, he grabs the pickaxe, the weight of it in his hands feeling much, much heavier than it ever has before.

And so, instead of spending this sleepless night killing mobs to help blow off some steam, he sets off in a direction that he’s all too familiar with.

After a while of traversing across the Prime Path, he sees the larger-than-life blackstone creation in the distance.

Even though the prison is only half-built, posing no danger currently, he feels bile rise in his throat, not wanting to go any closer to it, but knowing that he has to.

So, with a heavy heart, he approaches the prison, gripping his pickaxe so tightly that his joints begin to ache.

He doesn’t want to do this…

He doesn’t want to destroy something that took so long to build…

But he knows that he doesn’t have a choice.

Because, as long as this prison exists, they aren’t safe.

And so, in the dead of night, a lone figure begins tearing the prison apart, block-by-block, all the while the rest of the server sleeps peacefully, oblivious to the mental turmoil he’s facing as the prison, and his entire world, seems to crumble around him. 

After a while, he collapses to his knees, the shattered remains of blackstone blocks digging into his skin painfully, but he can’t bring himself to care as a loud, ugly sob tears through his chest.

Uncaring of the rubble he’s on top of, he moves so he’s sitting down, his back leaning against the outer wall of the prison, purposely looking away from the cause of his breakdown.

But even without seeing it, he knows that it’s still there, cruel and mocking until he tears it down.

How is he supposed to destroy it though?

How is he supposed to go any closer when, every time he looks at the small obsidian cell, he sees blood plastered to the walls, a broken occupant crying, begging, pleading to make the torture stop?

How can he look at the empty cell and think of anything but the man he watched break before his eyes, all the while without doing a single thing to stop it?

He… just can’t.

There’s no way to look at that obsidian box without being reminded of the terrible person he became.

He doesn’t want to be like that again.

He doesn’t want to be The Warden ever again.

But every prison needs a warden and, as long as his creation still stands, there’s no escaping that role. 

Which is why he has to destroy it.

But how is he supposed to destroy something that he can’t even look at without breaking down, holding himself tightly as he shakes and sobs uncontrollably?

He can’t…

He’s failed…

He’s failing Dream all over again.

For a long, long time he just leans against the prison wall, crying violently and uncontrollably until he runs out of tears.

Now, instead of crying, he stares unseeingly in the distance, the stars above him watching him intently, no doubt laughing and judging him for his failure.

When the cruel stars slip away, being replaced by the first rays of the rising sun, he slowly drags himself to his feet, not wanting anyone to walk by and see the absolute mess that he’s become.

And even though he’d love nothing more than to run and hide, to pretend like this night and the whole damn prison never even happened, he knows that he can’t.

He’s been a selfish coward for much too long, and he’s so tired of it.

So, with a heavy sigh, he begins making his way back home, vowing to himself that he’ll return later tonight to continue tearing down the prison, ready to do this every single night until this monstrosity is finally gone.

Meanwhile, Dream wakes up from the first few rays of sunlight flittering through the magenta window belonging to their temporary room.

For a while, he just lays in bed, snuggling against Wilbur’s chest, smiling fondly when the sleeping man grumbles something unintelligible as he holds Dream tighter in return.

It’s… good to have Wil back.

Really good…

Prime, he doesn’t know what he would have done if Wilbur didn’t remember him…

When he saw Ghostbur and Wilbur standing side-by-side, something that shouldn’t even be possible, intense fear gripped his heart, so powerful that he couldn’t help but let out a horrified and shocked gasp.

And the way Wilbur looked at him, the flash of pain and betrayal, was almost too much for Dream, nearly sending him to his knees crying and pleading for the man in front of him to be his Wilbur.

Then, when Wilbur took off running, his fear skyrocketed, causing him to shout the man’s name in desperation, knowing that he couldn’t lose the man he loves, he just couldn’t.

But, thankfully, he didn’t lose him.

Wil’s right here.

The man he loves more than anything else in this world is sleeping soundly beside him, holding him so lovingly, even while asleep. 

After a while longer of just laying in Wilbur’s arms, thinking of their crazy situation of being in the past, Dream suddenly has an idea that makes him quickly snatch his communicator from the oak-wood nightstand beside him.

While rolling his eyes fondly at Wilbur’s protesting whine in his sleep because he moved away, Dream powers on the communicator.

He quickly sends a message to Phil, telling the man that they’re both safe, feeling a little guilty for not reaching out sooner, but, between finding out that Eret is also a time traveler and nearly dying after defeating an evil egg, he can’t blame himself too much for forgetting.

Now that Phil knows that they are doing well, Dream goes back to his direct messages, locating Karl’s name, the unexpectedly kind man who gave him a spare communicator so Dream would be able to keep in touch with him and Sapnap.

While smiling ever-so-slightly at the device in his hands, he lays back down, chuckling softly at the way Wilbur instantly pulls him close to his chest again, the man extremely clingy while asleep and awake, but Dream wouldn’t want to change a thing.

After a few seconds of nervous hesitation, Dream types out: Hey Karl. Can I talk 2 you?

Despite the sun rising only an hour ago, Karl responds immediately: Whats up?

Can I have some advice?

Sure thing!

I wanna give an apology speech to all the people from lmanberg and others Ive hurt

That sounds like a great idea! 

After seeing Karl’s words, Dream releases a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, relieved that Karl thinks his speech is a good idea.

You think so.?

Definitely! This could realy help change the future! Some wont believe youre sorry but doing this in front of everyone takes courage and Im sure theyd be willing to admit that

You think I should do it then?

Totally!

I think maybe Ill ask Tubbo if I could do it on the lmanberg stage? What do ya think?

Thats great place! Everyone can go there and you can speak

Alright… Think I should write it out before?

I dont think so,. if you mess up on stage thats better than having it seem rehearsed. It needs to be honest and believable for people to take your words seriously. of course you should like think about it but don’t actually write it down to read off or memorize

I can do that. Think people gonna come if they know Ill be there?

Hmmmm maybe not. What if you just ask Tubbo to invite everyone for a speech but dont mention wholl be giving it?

I think thatll work. Thanks Karl I really appreciate it

Of course! Thats what friends r for!

For a few moments, Dream just stares in shock at Karl’s last message, hardly daring to believe that he’s seeing this right.

Did Karl really just call him his friend?

No, he couldn’t have…

So many people hate him…

Why would Karl want to be friends with someone like him?

So, even though Dream knows that he probably just misunderstood, he can’t help but ask: wait friends??? You wanna be my friend??

We’re already friends! duhhhh!

Oh…

Karl doesn’t just want to be his friend, he thinks they already are…

Wow…

He was not expecting this…

This is nice…

Really nice…

Right… Thanks 4 being my friend! I… really don’ have many of those

Well I glad I could be ur friend then,,. I know its really confusing and scary bbeing in the past like this. So Im here to help you get thru it

While smiling widely at the warmth in his chest that Karl’s words bring, Dream earnestly types out: Thank you! I appreciate that

course. Unless theres anything else you wanna talk about we should sleep. its p late right now

Wait, did Karl just say that they should go to sleep?

But… the sun is already up…

Has he really not gone to sleep yet?

Deciding not to question Karl’s seemingly terrible sleep schedule, Dream instead types out: K. Thanks for listening

ur welcome! You dont have 2 keep thanking me tho! Friends remember? And friends help each other out!

Wow, Karl genuinely wants to be his friend and help him out…

And even though Dream doesn’t understand what he did to deserve this, he smiles so widely that his jaw hurts as he types out: Ur right… Ur a really good friend karl

glad u think so. happy to be ur friend! Now get some sleep!

While smirking, instead of telling Karl that he already slept at a time that normal people do, he types instead: K... Mom

With a surprised, high-pitched giggle from Dream’s words, Karl replies with a smirk of his own: ha ha ur so funny Dream

I know Im hilarious

Sure are. Gnight

As he continues smiling at their banter, the feeling of just joking around with someone so nice and comforting, especially after all the time he spent alone in this cell, he types out: sleep well karl. Talk to you soon k?

Looking forward to it buddy!

And, unsure how to respond to Karl’s words, especially since they seem so honest and real, Dream simply types out: :))

:))

When Dream sees that smiley face returned by Karl, he can’t help but smile even wider, feeling so, so happy to finally have a friend.

Sure, Wilbur is his absolute best friend in the whole world and the man he loves more than anything else, but Dream would be lying if he said that the thought of having another friend doesn’t bring him immense joy. 

After setting his communicator down in their bed, Dream turns his full attention back to Wilbur, holding the sleeping man in his arms as he wiggles closer, making it so Wil’s chin is resting on top of his head.

And, as sleep slowly starts to reclaim him regardless of it already being well into the morning, he smiles widely, so, so happy to have both Wil and his new friend Karl in his life.

Chapter Text

“Thank you all for coming here today,” Quackity says with a large, excited smile as his gaze darts around the room, his focus shifting from the bloody, hand-drawn images on the walls to instead look at the other three occupants inside the cramped, dimly-lit room. “I know it’s been a while since we last met, but I thought it was important to discuss… recent developments.”

As Fundy’s ears perk up, causing him to sit up straighter, he asks while looking curiously at Quackity, “What kind of developments?”

With a wicked, sinister grin, Quackity says in the most convincing tone he can manage, “Well, Dream has been spotted in L'Manburg several times the last few days, and I think he’s planning something.”

“I don’t think so,” Tubbo says without hesitation, normally not being one to ever defend Dream but, considering everything that’s happened the past few days with the strange… time-traveler, Tubbo can’t help but think that Q is wrong here.

“Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo, Dream is always planning something, even if we can’t see it yet,” Quackity says in a low, condescending tone, the glee in his eyes shifting more toward cold fury, refusing to let Tubbo ruin his plans.

“No, seriously,” Tubbo continues in a firm, strong tone, doing his best to ignore the way Quackity scoffs at his words. “Dream was here on Tuesday because he came to end Tommy’s exile.”

“What?” Ranboo excitedly questions, his head snapping up to meet Tubbo’s gaze, hoping that he heard him correctly, that Tommy really is free from exile now. “Tommy’s exile is over?”

“Yeah, Dream officially ended it,” Tubbo mutters with a disbelieving chuckle, still in awe that Tommy is actually back in L'Manburg, safe and sound once again. “He was acting weird too.”

“Oh yeah?” Fundy hesitantly questions, his tail swishing back and forth nervously, his anxiety always spiking whenever someone mentions Dream, still remembering how the masked man drove his dad to blow up the country that they all had worked so hard to build. 

“Super weird,” Tubbo says in a serious tone as he nods his head, unsure if people will believe him, but he knows that, as president, it is important for him to inform his trusted cabinet members of Dream’s… strange behavior. “He wasn’t wearing his mask, and he said he broke it because he was tired of hiding behind it.”

“Wait, you’ve seen his face?!” Ranboo asks in a raised voice, absolutely shocked that Tubbo has seen what Dream looks like, especially when the tyrant has never once been spotted without his mask firmly clipped to his face.

“Yeah, I had no idea it was him until he spoke,” Tubbo says with another disbelieving chuckle, still remembering the shock he felt when he heard that all-too-familiar voice coming from a man that he never could have imagined. “It’s really strange. I expected him to look all evil and shit, but he just looked… normal. He looks just a couple of years older than me even, green eyes, and he even has freckles.”

“Tubbo, he’s just trying to manipulate you into trusting him,” Quackity hurriedly says, taking this opportunity to jump in and remind them all that Dream is a monster, especially since he’s from the future and has done even more horrible things than anyone here could even imagine. “Don’t tell me that you’re falling for it.”

“No, of course not, but Tommy sai-” Tubbo adamantly says, not wanting to ever be manipulated by Dream again, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish before Q interrupts him.

“Tubbo, are you really gonna listen to what Tommy says?” Quackity asks with a loud, cruel chuckle, his tone filled with derision that causes Tubbo’s skin to bristle, unable to believe what Q’s implying. “He spent months alone in exile, his judgment probably isn’t the best-”

Abruptly, Tubbo jumps to his feet, his chair screeching loudly before toppling to the ground below, the harsh noise causing Ranboo to make a distressed warble, but Tubbo doesn’t pay him any mind.

With clenched fists, Tubbo stalks toward Quackity, ready to wipe that stupid smirk off his face and teach him that no one talks about Tommy like that.

When Quackity sees the unrestrained fury in Tubbo’s eyes, he softly continues, “Tubbo, you know I’m right. Exile fucked him up, and he just isn’t the best judg-”

Before Quackity can finish, Tubbo’s hand snaps out, punching Quackity’s jaw so hard that the man sinks to the ground below, wincing as he clutches the left side of his face. 

While towering over Quackity, Tubbo angrily grits out, “Don’t ever speak about Tommy like that. He went through hell in exile, and I don’t appreciate you being rude to my best friend because he’s suffered.”

Then, as Quackity slowly starts to stand up, Tubbo firmly continues in a heated, no-nonsense tone, “You may be the leader of our group here, but don’t forget that I’m the President of L'Manburg, not you.”

“Okay, you’re right, I deserved that,” Quackity murmurs demurely, willing to pretend to be cowed in order to keep Tubbo from beating the shit out of him, even though, on the inside, he’s begun to plot all the ways he’ll make Tubbo regret defying him. 

While giving Tubbo his most charming smile, Quackity continues, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. After all, it’s not Tommy’s fault what happened to him.”

Then, as his gaze hardens, his smile turning into a scowl, Quackity finishes in a passionate and hate-filled tone, “Dream is at fault for all the pain that Tommy and so many others have gone through. He’s hurt all of us so badly. Which is why we need to kill him, and fast, before he completes whatever he’s planning.”

“How should we do it?” Fundy hesitantly asks, not really wanting to talk when so much tension is raging between Tubbo and Quackity, but the fox-hybrid would be lying if he said that the idea of killing Dream didn’t intrigue him.

“I say that, next time he comes to L'Manburg, we take him by surprise, knock him unconscious,” Quackity eagerly says as he turns his focus on Fundy, a malicious glint in the man’s eyes that causes Fundy’s ears to press against his head in fear. “Then, we lock him in the dungeons. We let him rot for a while, rough him up a bit, and then we kill him.”

While choking back a horrified gasp at what Quackity’s proposing they do, Tubbo firmly says, “No, absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Quackity angrily demands as he rounds on Tubbo, shooting the younger man a withering glare, but Tubbo doesn’t back down, refusing to let Quackity do this, especially since he knows that Dream has already experienced literal torture. 

“You seriously want to lock him in the dungeons and…” Tubbo starts to question in an incredulous tone, pausing for a few moments to swallow down the bile he feels rising in his throat at the thought of them hurting someone so badly. “You wanna beat him before killing him?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Quackity asks in an indifferent tone with a shrug, missing the look of horror and understanding that flashes across Tubbo’s face.

“Q, it sounds like you want to torture him,” Tubbo says in a low, disgusted whisper and, even though he's sure that Quackity will deny it, he knows the truth.

Quackity is the one who tortured Dream, and he’s trying to convince the other Butcher Army members to join him in destroying a once-tyrant who already seems so broken.

While rolling his eyes at Tubbo’s accusation, knowing that the child has no idea what he’s talking about, Quackity steps toward the boy and says in a condescending tone, “Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo, torture is such… a strong word. I don’t want to hurt him, but I think he deserves to pay for all the people he’s hurt.”

Then, as he places a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, ignoring the way the boy stiffens, Quackity continues in a soothing, understanding tone, “Think of poor Tommy. Dream’s the reason why he spent months in loneliness. Just think of all the ways he could have hurt or manipulated him. Locking Dream up is for his safety.”

If Tubbo hadn’t seen Dream with his own eyes, hadn’t watched as he desperately clung to Wil when they were both hurt and dying, he probably would have listened to Q.

If he didn’t know that Dream was from the future, one in which he was tortured for months, he probably would have joined Quackity in the cause to kill Dream, even if that death was slow and painful. 

And if he had joined Quackity, he’s sure he’d regret that decision for the rest of his life.

Because even with how much he hates Dream, especially now that he knows more about Tommy’s exile, he can’t condone the man being tortured.

Especially not a second time. 

So, after taking a deep breath to steel himself, Tubbo meets Quackity’s cold, calculating gaze and challenges, “Really, because it seems like he’d be locked up for your enjoyment.”

“What?!” Quackity asks, making sure his voice sounds like he’s horrified, not wanting to let anything slip through his defenses, especially since Tubbo is getting dangerously close to the truth. “You think I’d enjoy hurting someone?”

“I don’t know, you seem pretty keen on the idea,” Tubbo mutters after a few moments of hesitation, being overcome by a flash of doubt for a few moments, wondering if maybe he’s wrong about Q.

Q wouldn’t actually torture someone, right?

Right?

While stepping even closer to Tubbo, putting them face-to-face, Quackity earnestly lies in his most convincing tone, “No, Tubbo, I don’t want to hurt him, but I would do so to protect the good people on this server.”

“Then let’s just kill him,” Tubbo suggests a little desperately, hoping that Quackity will agree to this because, if he does, maybe that means he’s wrong about one of his closest friends being capable of something so despicable. “We knock him out and just chop off his head. We don’t need to imprison and torture him.”

But when Quackity speaks again, all his hopes of Q not being this monster that he thinks he is shatters, bile once again rising in his throat as Quackity questions with a dark, dangerous twinkle in his eyes, “But don’t you want him to suffer after the ways he’s hurt us? After the ways he’s hurt Tommy?”

While taking a few steps back from Quackity, allowing him to see all three of the people in the room, Tubbo firmly commands, “We are not doing that. If we’re killing him, we’ll do it humanely. No dungeons and definitely no torture. These are presidential orders. Got it?”

Both Ranboo and Fundy nod their heads while agreeing verbally, but Quackity doesn’t, the sight making Tubbo extremely worried about what he’s thinking.

And even though Quackity is adamant about Dream being the one who’s planning something, Tubbo can’t help but worry more about whatever it is that Q has planned.

As the Butcher Army discusses their plans for revenge, on the other side of L'Manburg, Phil glances over at his communicator, desperately wanting to talk to Techno about everything he’s learned these past few days, but his promise to Dream that he wouldn’t share any information with the piglin-hybrid keeps him from picking up the little device.

Although, he promised Dream that he wouldn’t tell Techno what they spoke about that night…

He never said that Phil couldn’t speak about Wilbur being revived…

And what kind of father would he be if he didn't brag about his wonderful son to his best friend?

Feeling determined now, Phil picks up the communicator, finding Techno’s name and typing out: Hey mate can you come to my house in lmanberg? I wanna talk to you

Meanwhile, in the snowy tundra, Techno frowns down at his communicator, reading Phil’s message several times over, but it still doesn’t make any sense.

With a smirk, Techno says aloud to the empty air, “Chat, I think Phil’s having an old moment. Looks like he forgot we blew up L'Manburg already.”

Phil so old

Old man

L for the old man

L

L

L

E

L

We said l not e

L

E

E

E

Tuning out chat’s nonsense, Techno turns his attention back to his communicator and replies: I think you're getting old Phil. Lmanburg's a crater, remember?

This time it’s Phil’s turn to blink at the communicator in shock, unsure why Techno thinks L'Manburg was blown up when he’s sitting on the couch of his house in L'Manburg.

What are you talking about? Im literally inside my house in lmanberg Phil types out in his confusion, wondering if Techno is just trying to mess with him and, if so, this isn’t funny.

“Chat, he’s really losing it,” Techno mutters as he shakes his head at the communicator, but despite his joking tone, he can’t help but feel a little worried about Phil.

Trying to jog the old man’s memory, Techno types: You don't have a house in Lmanberg anymore. Remember Doomsday? You me and Dream all blew it up until it reached bedrock

Once again, Phil reads the message over several times, feeling confused and concerned at the mention of this Doomsday, where apparently he, Techno, and Dream all destroyed L'Manburg so badly that it became a crater down to bedrock.

Wait… Dream…

Dream’s from the future…

And Techno’s talking about something that clearly never happened…

Oh…

Techno must be from the future too…

With growing urgency, Phil quickly types: Im sure you think Im just old and crazy right now but you seriously need to come to lmanberg now. Theres been a lot of changes since you were last here and youll want to see this

After sighing heavily, really not wanting to make the trek through the snow just to see a crater that he’s already seen a thousand times, Techno replies: Fine I'll come. But this better be worth it. I had plans for today

With a smirk, Phil teases: We both know your plans are just curling up by the fireplace with steve

Techno stares at the message, glances at Steve curled up by the fireplace, then looks back down at the message with a scowl.

Crowfather knows all

All hail crowfather

Old man called you out

Big L

Technosoft

Technosoft

Technosoft

“Chat, you are the worst,” Techno deadpans with a heavy sigh, his words only making chat go at it even more, causing him to once again forcefully tune them out.

After gathering some supplies and petting Steve before leaving, Techno exits his house, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as a chilly breeze whips through the air.

While grumbling to himself in frustration, Techno travels through the snowy tundra surrounding his home, hoping that Phil has a good reason for dragging him all the way out to L’Mancrater.

After a long time of walking, making him wish that he took Carl, but he wasn’t about to bring his beloved horse into enemy territory, Techno finally spots L'Manburg in the distance.

And once he sees L'Manburg, he stops dead in his tracks.

L'Manburg is back.

It isn’t a crater anymore.

L'Manburg stands just as tall and proud as it had before Doomsday.

But how?

In a similar state of shock, Chat rapidly fires off questions, creating crazy theories as to how this could be happening, the most notable of which are that he’s dead because Steve killed him and his purgatory looks like L'Manburg, he’s simply having a very vivid nightmare, and that he time-traveled to the past. 

While forcefully tuning out Chat’s ridiculous voices, Techno cautiously approaches L'Manburg, feeling like he shouldn’t be here. 

After a few moments of tip-toeing around, waiting for something bad to happen at any moment now, Techno finally reaches Phil’s old house, relieved to see the man standing outside of it.

Except, something seems... off.

While he’s still wearing the same forest green and white bucket hat, the same dark green cloak and massive jet-black wings, he seems… different.

For one, his hair is shorter, just barely poking out of his hat rather than falling down to his shoulders. 

And while he has the same baby-blue eyes, his aren’t the same. His eyes are much… kinder, like the world hasn’t beaten him down as much yet, leading to him being more open and trusting to people other than him and the Syndicate.

Hesitantly, Techno stops in front of this not-Phil and demands, “What’s going on? Why is L'Manburg back? And why do you look so different?”

With a sympathetic sigh, Phil opens his front door and gently says, “Let’s have a seat, you had a long journey to get here. I’ll make you some tea, and then we can talk. I have a lot to tell you.”

And even though he’s still terribly confused, Techno follows Phil inside without hesitation, recognizing that voice and kind tone anywhere.

While this Phil seems different from his best friend, he still is the kind, compassionate man he knows, one that he’d do anything and everything for.

So, while sitting at the dining room table with their cups of tea, Phil begins to explain the strange situation that they’ve found themselves in.

Chapter Text

On the other side of the SMP, Sapnap slowly enters Karl’s bedroom, a frown creasing his features when he sees his fiance still laying in bed, shivering under a mound of blankets despite it being well into the morning. 

While sitting on the sunshine-yellow comforter of the bed and placing a hand on where he thinks Karl’s shoulder is hiding under the blankets, Sapnap kindly and gently says, “Karl, I’m worried about you. What’s going on? You’ve been acting weird ever since Dream came here.”

“I-” Karl starts to whisper, but he has to clear his throat when his voice breaks from a mix of disuse and crying. “I’m sorry, Sap, but I can’t tell you.”

“Oh…” Sapnap mutters as tears rush to his eyes, trailing off for a few moments, knowing what he needs to ask, but scared to hear his fiance's answer. 

Finally, as the first tear slips down his cheeks, Sapnap brokenly asks, “Do you not trust me anymore?”

“No, no, no, I trust you, Sweetheart, I really do,” Karl assures him without hesitation, never wanting his beloved fiance to think that he doesn’t trust and care for him with all his heart.

“Then why won’t you tell me?!” Sapnap asks in a loud, frustrated tone, feeling his heart shattering the longer he looks at Karl, his face pale and his eyes closed as dried tears mar his cheeks.

“Sometimes learning the truth hurts more than not knowing,” Karl murmurs as he shivers again, wishing that he didn’t know what he does now, those memories haunting his every waking moment and plaguing his nightmares.

“Karl, you’re scaring me,” Sapnap whispers as he begins running a hand through Karl’s chestnut-brown hair, doing his best to hold back a sob when his fiance flinches under his touch. “Please, I just want to know what’s going on.”

When Karl hears the genuine pain and fear in Sapnap’s voice, two things he never wants to hear from the man he loves, Karl softly says, “Okay, I’ll tell you…”

Then, after a few moments of hesitation, Karl weakly questions, “You know how I’ve mentioned that, if a time traveler touches another person with that ability, they can see each other’s memories regarding their most recent travels?”

Sap hesitantly nods, unsure where this is going, but feeling dread start to pool uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

“Well, that happened yesterday,” Karl mutters with a bitter laugh, wishing for the millionth time that he had never shaken Dream’s hand. “With Dream.”

“No way…” Sapnap softly says in a low, disbelieving tone, thinking that he understands what Karl’s words suggest, but he can hardly believe that it’s true. 

“Dream’s from the future, Sapnap,” Karl bluntly says with a heavy sigh, shivering once again as he remembers what happens to Dream in the future. 

“My best friend is from the future and I had no idea?!” Sapnap questions in a loud, disbelieving tone, feeling absolutely shocked to his core; hearing Karl say that aloud is so much worse than simply thinking that something so crazy might be real.

Why… Why didn’t Dream tell him?

Before Sapnap can follow that line of questioning until it drives him mad, he’s pulled from his thoughts when Karl thoughtfully says, “I think this was a really recent thing. Like, definitely less than a week.”

Wait, so maybe Dream hasn’t been hiding this from him for years like he had originally thought...

Is there any way to tell how long Dream has been here, other than how strange he acted?

Is there anything that the… old Dream never would have done?

Not reall-

Exile.

Thinking that he’s onto something, Sapnap shares, “He told me yesterday that he ended Tommy’s exile the day before.”

“I bet that’s when he got here,” Karl continues in that same, thoughtful tone, certain that, in order for Dream to have stopped something so significant, that must have been their time-traveler Dream. “The old Dream showed no signs of wanting to end Tommy’s exile but, now that he’s here, he must have ended it as soon as he got here.”

“So, what, this Dream from the future has been here for… three days?” Sapnap hesitantly asks, still hardly able to wrap his mind around the fact that the two people he’s closest to both have time-traveling abilities.

Life’s fucking weird...

“Yeah, I think so,” Karl mutters under his breath, having a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that, just three days ago, he was the only time traveler on the SMP, and now he's not.

“Huh, wow, okay,” Sapnap murmurs with a disbelieving chuckle. “This is fucking weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Karl says with his own laugh, but his is bitter and haunted, a faraway look in his eyes as he continues, “And that’s not even including the memories I keep getting from him.”

“What are those like?” Sapnap curiously asks, not noticing the pained look that flashes across Karl’s face because of his question. 

“They’re h-horrible,” Karl says just above a whisper as he shivers violently, his voice cracking partway through as he resists the urge to cry. “I haven’t slept since Dream came because of them.”

“What?” Sapnap asks in a low, horrified tone, slowly starting to realize that this must be why his fiance has seemed so tired and not wanted to get out of bed since yesterday. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, they’re…” Karl slowly starts to say, but he pauses for a few moments to collect himself, once again shivering as he finishes, “Prime, they’re awful .”

“And Dream…” Sapnap begins to ask, but he cuts himself off, unable to put into words the horrible things that might have happened to his best friend. 

“He lived through all of it,” Karl says with another bitter laugh, wondering how Dream is even alive , especially since he’s sure he’s barely even scratched the surface of Dream’s horrible memories. “I can only feel a fraction of his pain in the memories, but it’s still so terrible.”

“His pain?!” Sapnap exclaims in alarm, terrified by the thought of Dream not only being in pain, but that Karl is experiencing this pain as well. “Karl, what are these memories about?”

“I don’t know exactly, but they always happen in the same place,” Karl slowly starts to say, not wanting to relieve these memories but, since he’s already this deep into his explanation, he might as well just tell Sapnap everything. “It’s just a small room made of obsidian, and there’s a wall of lava that keeps him inside. Sometimes he’s alone, but most of the time someone’s with him. I can’t ever tell who the person is. Whenever they talk, their voice is distorted to the point that I can hardly understand their words. I think I’m not meant to find out who they are.”

“Wh-What do they do to him?” Sapnap softly asks, not really wanting to know what this mystery person has done to Dream but, after he’s already failed his best friend so many times, he wants to understand so he can better help Dream.

“Terrible, terrible things,” Karl whispers brokenly as he shivers violently once again, hearing the echoes of Dream’s loud, agonized screams inside his mind. “I… It seems like they visit just to… hurt him.”

As the dread pooling in his stomach starts to grow even more uncomfortable, Sapnap hesitantly asks, “Dream’s been hurt?” 

“So many times,” Karl continues in that same pained tone, curling in on himself under the covers as the first few tears finally slip past his defenses, his heart aching for Dream; even if he doesn’t know the man well, he firmly believes that no one deserves to experience the horrifying memories that he’s seen. “Sometimes the person asks about a book and, whenever he refuses, they hurt him.”

“Karl…” Sapnap breathes out his fiance’s name, his chest feeling tight as he hesitantly continues, “That sounds like… he’s being interrogated.”

“I think he is,” Karl softly says, trying his best to keep his words kind, knowing how much it’ll hurt Sapnap when he realizes the full extent of what happened to Dream. “And, when asking doesn’t work, that’s when they bring out the... tools to hurt him.”

They bring out the tools to hurt him.

No…

There’s no way…

No one would do that to Dream, would they?

Even after everything he’s done, there’s no way…

Right?

Even though Sapnap hopes to prime that he’s wrong, he asks the question that, deep down, he already knows the terrible answer to: “He’s been… tortured?”

“Yeah…” Karl continues in that same soft tone, afterward trailing off, unsure what else there is to say in the face of the horrible future that Dream somehow managed to survive.

“And you’re…” Sapnap starts to ask, but he has to pause there for several moments, taking in a large, shaky breath as he hesitantly continues, “You’re really watching it all happen?”

“I don’t want to, but this connection between us is open and now there’s no way to stop it,” Karl says with a frustrated sigh, his tears falling even faster now, his voice taking on a slightly whining quality, just wishing that he could make the memories stop .

“How many memories have you seen?” Sapnap asks as he gently begins carding a hand through Karl’s hair, his heart aching over the pure distress that his fiance is experiencing.

“Four,” Karl mutters, assuming that that number sounds small and pathetic but, when all of them are of brutal, unrelenting torture, he might as well have witnessed thousands of memories. 

“And all of them were…” Sapnap hesitantly starts to ask, but he can’t finish, unable to ask if Karl has seen four memories of Dream, the man he’s always loved like a brother, being tortured . 

“Yeah,” Karl simply and bluntly states as another shiver wracks his trembling form.

“Karl, this is fucked,” Sapnap says in a firm, angry tone, hating that his fiance is so clearly suffering. “You shouldn’t have to see that.”

“As a time traveler, this is just part of my burden to bear,” Karl recites the words he’s been taught without hesitation, but it’s so much harder to believe that when he’s literally watching someone break before his eyes. “Sometimes we see things we don’t like, and that’s something we can’t change.”

“You don’t have to go through this alone, Babe,” Sapnap earnestly says as he keeps one hand comfortingly in Karl’s fluffy hair, his other hand tenderly brushing away the tears slipping down Karl’s cheeks.

With a bitter, heartbroken laugh, Karl firmly says, “I’m not going to tell you about your best friend being tortured.”

“Good, because I really don’t want to know,” Sapnap says without hesitation, already horrified to learn what Dream’s gone through, so he definitely doesn’t need the specifics of his treatment. “But after you have one of those memories, I want you to come find me. We could cuddle or something, just anything to help distract you from it.”

“That sounds nice, but you live so far,” Karl sadly says with a wistful look in his glossy eyes, wishing that he could seek out Sapnap’s company whenever he wants it, but that just isn’t possible. “I can’t walk to the Community House every time I need you.”

“Well, uh, what if I moved in with you?” Sapnap hesitantly and nervously asks, unsure if he’s overstepping his boundaries, especially since they’ve never talked about living together before, but he just can’t leave Karl like this in good conscience. 

“Seriously?” Karl asks in a low, disbelieving tone as he finally meets Sapnap’s dark brown, almost black eyes, which shine with nothing but fondness and barely-concealed hope.

“Would that be okay?” Sapnap continues in that same, nervous tone, a shy little smile on his face.

“Okay?!” Karl questions incredulously, a large, blinding smile on his face at the thought of Sapnap living with him. “Sap, I would love it if you came and lived with me!”

“Really?” Sapnap softly questions, his smile growing a little wider, surprised by Karl’s adamant reaction, but extremely happy to hear it.

“Of course!” Karl eagerly says without hesitation. “I always love it when you visit me, so it’d be awesome if you were here all the time!”

“Okay, well, I guess that’s settled then,” Sapnap says as his smile turns into a full-blown grin, certainly not expecting this to be the outcome of their talk, but he’s very excited that he’ll get to spend more time with his beloved fiance. “I’ll move in with you so I can cuddle away the bad memories.”

“Looking forward to it,” Karl honestly says as he continues staring at Sapnap with a large smile.

Then, as his smile becomes closer to a smirk, Karl questions, “Wanna practice now?”

“You know you could just ask me to cuddle with you,” Sapnap teases as he rolls his eyes at Karl’s attempt to initiate a cuddle session.

“Fine,” Karl says with a loud, over-exaggerated sigh.

Then, with a large, cheeky grin, Karl puts on his most sophisticated accent and states, “Dearest Sapnap, I cordially invite you to a cuddling session on one of the finest beds known to man. Do you accept?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Sapnap mutters as he rolls his eyes again, lightly punching Karl’s shoulder as he slowly stands up to move under the covers.

Karl releases a loud, high-pitched laugh at Sapnap’s response, the sound causing Sapnap to smile widely as he crawls under the covers, holding Karl close as he rests his chin on top of his beloved fiance’s head. 

Soon, each of them fall asleep together and, for the first time since he met Dream and opened the connection between them, Karl sleeps peacefully without any nightmares or memories to bother him, completely safe in his fiance’s arms. 

Chapter Text

As Karl and Sapnap cuddle together, Wilbur and Dream rest in a similar position, both of them smiling as they hold each other close in bed, thankful to be together again after their time apart, even if it wasn’t for that long.

But, eventually, they have to get out of bed. 

When Dream stands up, his communicator falls to the light gray carpet below with a soft clatter, the sight of it causing Wil to hesitantly ask, “Who gave you that communicator?”

As he picks up the communicator, Dream shyly says, “Karl gave it to me right before I left his house.”

“Is that who you were messaging?” Wilbur asks even more hesitantly, trying his best to keep his voice neutral, to not let any of the ugliness clawing at his heart seep into his tone, lest Dream find out the horrible things he’s beginning to think. 

Please, just let this be the work of an overactive imagination…

He can’t lose Dream…

He just can’t.

When Wil sees the gigantic smile on Dream’s face and the happy sparkle in his vibrant emerald-green eyes, he forces himself to look out the window instead, feeling his heart shatter as Dream excitedly says, “Yeah, I talked to him when I woke up. It was really nice.”

“That’s…” Wil starts to say, but he trails off, unable to tell the truth--that’s horrible--but he can’t force out the lie either--that’s great, Dream, I’m so happy for you.

When Wilbur suddenly stops talking, Dream turns to him in concern, a frown creasing his features when he takes in Wil’s slightly slumped shoulders as he stares out the window forlornly.

As he cautiously approaches, Dream softly and gently asks, “Hey, Wil, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Wil mutters dejectedly, closing his eyes tightly as he feels heat rush to them, not wanting to cry in front of Dream.

He’s supposed to be the strong one...

He has to be strong for Dream...

Even if Dream’s replacing him with someone else. 

While frowning even deeper, Dream slowly and tentatively takes Wil’s left hand, gently leading him to the foot of the bed as he kindly says, “Come here. You know you can trust me, right? Let’s talk about what’s bothering you.”

Now that they’re both sitting on the bed together, so close yet with an entire ravine splitting them apart, Wilbur stubbornly stares at the light gray carpet, still trying his best not to cry.

“Wil,” Dream gently says as he places a hand on Wilbur’s arm, unsure why his friend is acting so… distant, but becoming more and more worried the longer he continues this strange behavior.

Finally, as the first tear slips past his defenses and rapidly slides down his left cheek, Wil chokes out just above a whisper, “Do you like Karl?”

“Well, yeah, he seems really cool,” Dream says with a shrug, not understanding why Wil just asked him that, but still being as honest as possible with his answer.

“Oh,” Wil breathes out in a heartbroken whisper, trying to commit to memory the warmth of Dream’s hand on his arm, knowing that, any moment now, Dream’s going to leave him to instead spend his time with Karl.

And, once again, he’ll be all alone...

Fuck, he won’t have anyone to hold him close and whisper sweet, soothing words to him to help keep his nightmares at bay...

Before Wil can spiral any farther, he’s pulled from his thoughts by warm, calloused hands cupping his cheeks, a gentle thumb tenderly brushing away his tears.

“Why are you crying, Love?” Dream softly questions as he continues wiping away Wil’s tears, freaking out on the inside because Wil’s crying and he never does that, but trying to remain calm and collected so he can help his friend.

Spurred on by Dream’s kind touch and sweet nickname, Wil shakily voices the only thought echoing in his mind, “Please, don’t leave me.”

And after hearing that weak admission, Dream finally understands what’s happening.

Wil thinks that he’s going to leave him and instead spend his time with Karl.

While wishing that he had realized the root of Wil’s distress sooner, Dream pulls him into a tight hug and earnestly says, “I will never leave you, Wil. Not for Karl, Sapnap, or any other friend I make. I love you so much.”

With a sniffle, Wil hesitantly questions, “You really mean that?” 

“Definitely,” Dream says with a reassuring smile as he pulls back from the hug slightly to look into Wil’s glossy brown eyes. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and nothing can come between that. I promise.”

“Okay,” Wil whispers as he smiles shakily, his tears finally coming to an end now that he knows that Dream isn’t going to leave him. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Dream replies without hesitation as he keeps one arm firmly rooted to Wil’s back, the other tenderly wiping away the last of his friend’s tears. “And I’ll remind you whenever you need to hear it.”

As his smile becomes a little less shaky, he leans into Dream’s hand on his cheek, so fucking thankful that he was wrong, that Dream isn’t leaving him.

After a long time of just basking in each other’s warm, comforting embrace, the two pull back from their hug, instead sitting at the foot of the bed again.

Feeling much calmer now, Wilbur curiously asks, “So, what’s up with you and Karl then? Do you know him well?”

“Not at all,” Dream says with a little huff of laughter, surprised at how well he and Karl got along when the man was one of the few people on the SMP that he’d never met. “Yesterday was actually my first time ever meeting him. He’s a time traveler though, usually goes to the past. He said he knows how confusing it is to be in the past, so he wants to help me. Last night he was giving me advice.”

“Oh…” Wil mutters in a low, surprised tone, afterward trailing off for a few moments as he tries to collect himself and process the fact that Karl is also a time traveler. “Wow. I was not expecting that.”

“Yeah, it was a surprise for me too,” Dream says with a chuckle at Wil’s shocked expression. “I think he genuinely just wants to help me because he’s a nice guy, and I’m really glad to have another person on my side.”

“I’m glad too,” Wil says without hesitation, meaning his words wholeheartedly; now that he knows that Dream isn’t replacing him, he wants the man he loves to gain other friends and allies, knowing that, after all the horrors he’s experienced, he definitely deserves kindness. 

“Thanks, Wil,” Dream says with a brilliant, blinding smile, the sight of Dream’s joy causing Wil to grin back as well. 

For a while, the two just continue grinning like idiots, both of them content to just enjoy this moment where they’re both safe, smiling, and happy.

But, eventually, reality does come crashing over them again when Dream suddenly remembers the reason why he spoke to Karl earlier. 

A little nervously, Dream breaks the companionable silence they had fallen into by blurting out, “I need to go visit Tubbo today. I want to use the L'Manburg stage to give an apology speech to everyone.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea!” Wil happily says after a few moments of just blinking in surprise, certainly not expecting Dream to say that, but ecstatic that he wants to apologize to everyone. “Do you want me to come with when you go talk to him?”

“As much as I’d love to have you there, I think this is something I should do on my own,” Dream says after a few moments of hesitation, nervous about going into L'Manburg alone, especially after what happened the last time, but he also knows that this speech is something that pertains to him and him alone.

While he’d love to have Wil by his side the whole time, this speech is about his wrongs. 

He’s hurt so many people, and that’s something he needs to own up to. 

Even though it would be easier to talk to Tubbo about giving the apology speech while Wil’s by his side, this isn’t about doing what’s easy.

This apology speech is about finally doing the right thing, regardless of how hard that might be.

For a few moments, Wil wants to protest, wants to insist that he comes too to keep Dream safe, but, once he sees the passion and determination in Dream’s eyes, he instead says, “Arlight. But I want you to contact me so I know you’re safe.”

While rolling his eyes fondly at Wil, Dream teases, “Okay, Mom.”

Instead of smiling at Dream’s words like he normally would, Wilbur takes Dream’s hand and pleads in an earnest tone, “Dre, please, I need to know that you aren’t being hurt again, especially since he’s here too.”

“Alright,” Dream agrees without hesitation, his joking nature fading instantly at the genuine fear and worry in Wil’s tone. “When should I contact you?”

“Send a message to Eret before midday,” Wil says decisively after a few moments of thinking, deciding that this is the best way to ensure that Dream will be safe. “I don’t have my own communicator, so that’ll have to work.”

“Okay, I will,” Dream promises as he nods his head in agreement. 

After a few moments of hesitation, Wil softly says in a worried tone, “Dre, seriously, if you don’t send a message by midday, I’m going to search every block in L'Manburg until I find you.”

“I know you will, and I wouldn’t want to have it any other way,” Dream says with a small, reassuring smile as he gives Wil’s arm a gentle squeeze, hoping to help ease some of his friend’s fear and worry. “I promise that I’ll message before midday. And, if I don't, I want you to come find me.”

“Thank you,” Wil breathes out with a relieved sigh, some of the tightness in his chest finally loosening now that he knows that he’ll receive a message from Dream telling him that he’s safe. 

Then, a little sheepishly, Wil softly continues, “Sorry if this seems overprotective, I just care about you so much. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I understand, Wil, I really do,” Dream continues in that same, reassuring tone with his smile still in place, his words taking on a fond edge as he continues, “And you never have to say sorry for the way you feel, not when you’re around me. Besides, it’s nice to know that you care about me so much.”

“I care about you more than anything else in this world,” Wil says without hesitation, meaning his words wholeheartedly.

“I’m glad,” Dream says with a wide, happy smile, his chest feeling warm and fuzzy after hearing how much Wil cares about him. “I feel the same way about you.”

“That’s really nice to hear,” Wil shyly says with a relieved sigh, knowing deep down that Dream loves him, but it’s always great to hear Dream say it, each confirmation helping to ease some of his worries and insecurities.

“I’ll say it as much as you need me to then,” Dream adamantly says without hesitation, willing to tell Wil twenty times every day how much he loves him if that’ll help the man he loves feel safer and happier. 

“I love you,” Wil murmurs as he pulls Dream into another hug, so fucking thankful to have someone so amazing in his life. 

“Love you too, Wil,” Dream replies with a fond chuckle as he hugs Wil back tightly in return.

After a while of holding each other close, Dream pulls back from their hug and promises, “I’ll send a message before midday, okay?”

“Okay,” Wil softly says as he releases Dream completely, allowing the man to stand up and start putting on his netherite armor. 

Then, as he forces a smile onto his face, Wil continues, “Looking forward to hearing from you then. And good luck!”

“Thank you!” Dream earnestly and happily says as he starts lacing his netherite boots, the rest of his armor already shimmering beautifully as it hugs his skin.

Once Dream is clad in his armor, he makes his way toward the door, pausing before opening it to call out to Wil, “See you later!”

“See you soon, Dre,” Wil says with his forced smile still in place, hoping with all his heart that Dream will be fine.

As the door slides shut behind Dream, Wil buries his head in his hands while releasing a loud, frustrated groan, already regretting letting Dream go alone. 

Realistically, Wil knows that he can’t stay by Dream’s side at every moment.

But, since he met Dream in the prison, this is only his third time ever being apart from the man.

The first time was when he delivered Dream’s apology book to Tommy, and leaving Dream alone in that cell, even for just an hour, was one of the hardest things he’s ever done.

Then, the second time was when they got sent to the past, resulting in him spendings months in Limbo without Dream.

If it weren’t for Schlatt keeping him company, he doesn’t know how he would have survived being back in Limbo all over again.

But, thankfully, Dream got him out of there. 

And now, just a day later, he’s already being asked to leave Dream again.

Granted, it’ll probably just be for an hour or so while he talks to Tubbo, but that might as well be years.

Who knows what could happen during that time…

What if Quackity finds Dream?

What if Dream gets lost in L'Manburg and ends up somewhere he shouldn't?

What if Tubbo tries to hurt Dream?

Isn’t Dream, like, an enemy of L'Manburg?

Would Tubbo try to hurt Dream?

He helped them yesterday and saved them from the egg but, if Dream was the only one hurt, would Tubbo have still helped?

Before Wil can spend any more time asking himself questions with no answers, a gentle knock on the bedroom door pulls him from his thoughts.

Slowly, Eret opens the door to Wil’s room, frowning when they see Wilbur sitting at the foot of the bed, his knees to his chest and his head in his hands, looking more worn down and defeated than they’ve ever seen the once-president of L'Manburg.

While placing a tentative hand on Wil’s shoulder, Eret softly says, “Come on, Wil, let’s go eat breakfast together. 

And even though Wil doesn’t really want to leave, he lets Eret help him stand up and guide him to the kitchen, hoping that talking to the king will be better than being alone with his thoughts of Dream. 

Chapter Text

As Wil and Eret eat breakfast together, Dream quickly walks to L'Manburg, not wanting to waste any time by gawking at all the buildings of the SMP; even though he would love to take in all the sights on his beloved server, especially since he hasn’t seen so much of it in a really long time, Dream knows that the longer he’s gone the more Wil is going to panic. 

So, with quick, purposeful steps, Dream makes his way to L'Manburg, determined to talk to Tubbo about his speech so he can continue making his server a better place. 

Meanwhile, as Dream sets foot on L'Manburg soil, Techno makes his way to the front door of Phil’s house, ready to return home after a long, grueling conversation with his best friend.

Time travel…

He actually time-traveled… 

When Phil first told him that, he didn’t want to believe it.

But, the more they talked, Techno started to think less and less that Phil was crazy and instead that, somehow, the craziest thing happened to him. 

Apparently, he isn’t the only time traveler, which is even crazier. 

Phil knew that Techno time-traveled because another person already talked to the old man about time traveling. 

All of this is so… weird.

It just doesn’t make sense.

L techno confused

L

L

E

L

Technolost

Technolost

L

L

With a heavy sigh, Techno forcefully tunes out Chat’s nonsense, hating how talkative the voices have been today, especially after Phil started talking about time travel. 

As he gives a final wave to Phil, Techno exits his house, his cloak billowing behind him in the warm breeze as he shuts Phil’s front door.

“Time to go home, Chat,” Techno mutters as he starts walking away from Phil’s house, hoping that, once he returns, Steve will have some insights into this strange situation.

Maybe his polar bear time traveled too.

He wouldn’t be surprised by that after everything that’s already happened.

Before Techno can begin making the long walk back home, he pauses by Phil’s front lawn, a flash of purple and lime-green drawing his attention.

A couple of houses down, Techno sees a familiar figure, a mop of blonde hair, a lime-green hoodie, and netherite armor tightly hugging his slim form as he continues walking away from Techno.

While walking in the direction that Dream’s heading, Techno calls out, “Yo, Dream!”

Techno expects Dream to turn around, to be met with a porcelain mask that never ceases smiling. 

Techno also expects Dream to just continue walking and ignore him, maybe even flip him off as he does so.

What he never, ever would have expected is for Dream to sink to his knees, startled and terrified by the sound of someone’s voice behind him.

“You good?” Techno hesitantly calls out as he continues approaching Dream, terribly confused as to why Dream’s kneeling on the cobblestone ground because he said hello to the guy.

Dream doesn’t respond, just shaking and hyperventilating, unsure who spoke to him, but their voice was loud and booming, so much like Quackity’s voice on the days he was angry, the days he caused the most pain.

As Techno stares down at the trembling man who’s curled into a tight, fearful ball, he’s entirely at a loss for words. 

But, unsurprisingly, Chat always has something to say.

Green man scared

L

L

Dont just stand there help him!

Hes having a panic attack

Get Crowfather

L

Crowfather!

For once, Chat’s words actually help him, spurring him into action and causing him to rush to Phil’s house.

Once he reaches the house, Techno doesn’t even bother with knocking on the front door, instead throwing it open violently, uncaring of the way it slams against the wall and causes the entire house to shake and tremble.

With an amused tilt of his head, Phil asks from inside the kitchen, “You’re already back? Didn’t think you’d miss me so soon.”

While trying to sound calm and collected, Techno starts to say, “Dream-” 

But, before Techno can finish, Phil pushes past him and exits his house, detecting the worry in Techno’s tone, the sound immediately causing his fatherly instincts to kick in.

When he sees Dream in the middle of the street, hunched in on himself, Phil’s face softens as he frowns, quickly sitting beside the distressed boy.

Ignoring Techno’s piercing gaze, Phil pulls Dream onto his lap, wrapping his arms and wings around him.

Instantly, Dream takes in a loud, shuddering breath, slumping back against Phil as he continues trying to catch his breath, recognizing the soothing touch of Phil’s soft, warm wings, the sensation instantly helping him feel much safer now.

Comforted by Phil’s soothing embrace and warmth, Dream finally comes back to himself, causing him to sheepishly whisper, “Sorry ‘bout that. Thanks for your help.”

“You have no reason to apologize, and I’m always happy to help you,” Phil replies without hesitation as he continues holding Dream close to his chest, hoping that their shared touch will help Dream’s trembling come to an end. “We’re family now, after all.”

“Thank you,” Dream whispers with a shy, shaky smile, his heart doing a happy little flutter in his chest at the reminder that Phil and Wil are his family now.

After a few moments of just watching the two with wide, disbelieving eyes, Techno clears his throat before he slowly says, “So… Care to explain what just happened?”

“Tech?” Dream asks in a low, awe-filled tone as his head snaps up.

And even through his blurry, tear-filled vision, Dream still recognizes the tall, pink blur in front of him as the imposing, all-powerful Technoblade.

“Hallo,” Techno drawls as he looks at Dream, meeting the man’s emerald-green eyes.

This dream?

Why’s he kinda…

Ikr

His eyes are so pretty

I think im an apologist now

Rly? All it takes is pretty eyes?

Ha u admit theyre pretty! I bet youre secretly an apologist for him now to

As Techno once again tunes out Chat’s nonsense, he does realize something important from the voices’ strange conversation. 

He can see Dream’s face.

He’s never seen his face before…

And, by the way Phil doesn’t seem at all surprised by Dream’s lack of his usual mask, Techno guesses that this isn’t his first time without the mask.

But why?

Why would Dream not be wearing his mask?

He’s known the man for years, and not once did he take it off, even in the safety of Techno’s cabin with no one else around.

Now he’s just walking through L'Manburg without his mask, his face on display for everyone?

Something isn’t right here…

That feeling of wrongness grows even more when Dream gives him a small, fond smile and hesitantly whispers, “It’s… really good to see you again.”

“It is?” Techno can’t help but question as an eyebrow shoots up in surprise, unable to picture a world where Dream is… happy to see him. 

Why does Dream seem so… excited to see him again?

With his shy smile still in place, Dream softly and honestly says, “Yeah, I’ve missed you. When I was in my cell-”

As his eyes widen in shock and alarm, Dream abruptly cuts himself off, shutting his jaw with such haste that a loud, painful click of teeth can be heard by all three of the men.

And, suddenly, things start to make more sense for Techno.

Dream’s acting so strange, seeming happy to see him, because he’s from the future too. 

He’s spent… What, a month or two in prison?

So that means Dream hasn’t seen him in a couple of months.

And even though Techno probably wouldn’t feel the same, he can understand a little better now why Dream’s looked at him with so much awe and fondness.

He supposes too that this also explains why Dream and Phil seem so… close.

He’s pretty sure that, before Doomsday, Phil and Dream had never met.

So, that means that they must have met recently, and Dream’s probably how Phil found out about time traveling.  

While feeling very confident, Techno states: “You’re from the future too.”

“Wait, you’re…” Dream whispers as he slowly starts to calm down from his slip-up, thankful that Techno already knows about his cell and won’t ask what he meant by that.

But, as soon as his fear and horror lessens, Dream is met with a new problem.

Techno’s from the future. 

He knows about the prison.

He knows about the prison and did nothing to help him.

While dropping his gaze to the cobblestone ground, unable to look at the piglin-hybrid anymore, Dream softly and weakly mutters, “Oh, you’re him.”

“Don’t act too excited now,” Techno says with a snort, ignoring Chat’s alarmed voices at Dream’s abrupt change in manner.

“Why did you do it?” Dream asks in that same soft, weak tone as he slowly pulls back from Phil’s embrace, needing to stand on his own two feet as he finally has this conversation with Techno. 

“Dream, I’ve done a lot of things, I’m gonna need you to be more specifi-” Techno flippantly starts to say, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish, blinking in surprise when he’s interrupted by a furious Dream.

“What didn’t you help me?!” Dream angrily shouts as he stalks toward Techno, his hands trembling violently at his sides in a mix of fear and rage. “Why did you let them hurt me?!”

“Heh?” Techno questions in a confused tone as he stares down at Dream, who’s now standing just a couple blocks in front of him. “What are you on abou-”

“The prison!” Dream seethes as fiery emerald-green eyes meet confused, blood-red ones. “Why did you let them lock me up?! Why didn’t you help me?! I needed you!”

“I was busy,” Techno honestly replies with an indifferent shrug, not understanding why Dream’s getting so upset.

So what if he had to spend a month or two in the prison?

It probably did him some good, let him collect his thoughts so he wouldn’t keep doing what he was doing. 

“That’s all you have to say?!” Dream screams as he angrily jabs a finger against Techno’s chest, hot, frustrated tears slipping from his eyes because of Techno’s words and the way he said them, like he doesn’t even care about the hell he went through. “You were busy?! I was tortured for fucking months and you were busy?!”

“What did you just say?” Techno hesitantly asks, having heard what Dream said--it’s impossible to miss with the green teletubby literally screaming in his face--but he finds the man’s words hard to believe. 

He’s probably just over-exaggerating...

Techno’s sure that Dream just thinks the terrible prison food was akin to torture.

He’s always been dramatic like that, hyping things up to create a better story. 

“They locked me up and fucking tortured me, Techno!” Dream continues in that same loud, angry tone, the shaky in his hands spreading through the rest of his body, making him tremble violently like a leaf as he continues, “Every single day for months! No one ever came to check on me or help me! You were the closest thing I had to a friend, and you never once visited me!”

“Sorry, but I was bus-” Techno slowly starts to say again, unsure what Dream wants from him, but he’s unable to finish when Dream angrily interrupts him once again.

“Don’t fucking say you were busy, not while I was being tortured!” Dream hisses through gritted teeth as he jabs his finger more firmly against Techno’s chest, wishing that he could form that hand into a fist and punch Techno for being so stupid and inconsiderate. “Don’t you understand?! Every damn day he cut, bruised, whipped, and burned me! He even cut off my fucking fingers! So don’t you dare tell me you were busy while I was going through hell!”

When Dream finishes speaking, all Techno hears is silence, aside from the un-masked man’s loud, furious breaths as he struggles to keep from breaking down.

For the first time in Techno’s life, he doesn’t hear the voices.

The one constant in his life, a never-ending background noise that always persists despite his attempts to tune it out, is just gone. 

Chat is entirely at a loss for words…

And even though Techno rarely agrees with Chat, he feels the same way.

What is he supposed to say in the face of that?

How is he supposed to keep talking to Dream when the man seems to have suffered so badly, all while he didn’t even try to help him?

He thought Dream was only in prison for a month or so.

But, apparently, he was in there long enough to be tortured for months.

He cut, bruised, whipped, and burned me.

He even cut off my fucking fingers.

As Techno relives Dream’s words over and over again in his mind, Chat suddenly finds their voices, a loud, angry uproar, hundreds of thousands of people all screaming and crying out for revenge, vengeance, and blood, blood, blood blood blood blood.

And, as the Blood God, how could Techno possibly refuse Chat’s desperate pleas for him to slowly and painfully slaughter whoever dared hurt his rival?

While Techno silently struggles with his inner battle to come to terms with Dream’s harsh treatment in Pandora’s Vault, Dream keeps heaving and shuddering violently. 

After a few moments of tense, heavy silence, Phil, who’s been standing awkwardly off to the side, loudly clears his throat to get Dream’s attention, then quietly murmurs, “I’ll give you two some privac-”

“No, Phil, please, don’t leave me alone with him,” Dream hastily and desperately interrupts the older man as he moves away from Techno to instead approach Phil, willing to beg and grovel if it’ll keep the man from leaving him alone here with Techno, especially since his once-friend doesn’t even seem bothered by the fact that he was tortured, “I can’t, I can’t, please, Phil, pleas-”

“Shhhh, okay, I won’t leave,” Phil gently and soothingly interrupts Dream as he pulls him into a hug, frowning at how badly the boy’s shaking.

“Thank you,” Dream breathes out with a relieved sigh as he hugs Phil back tightly, burying his face against the crook of Phil’s neck, and, if the older man feels wetness seeping into his shirt from Dream’s tears, he doesn’t mention it, instead just holding him closely.

After a few more moments, Dream pulls back from Phil’s embrace, feeling confident enough to face Techno again.

As he turns toward the piglin-hybrid, he’s met with blood-red eyes filled with fury and murderous intent, the sight causing Dream to flinch, but he still maintains eye contact. 

Finally, as Techno battles with the furious voices roaring and screaming inside his mind, Techno demands through gritted teeth, “Dream, who did that to you?”

“Oh, now you care?” Dream asks with a bitter chuckle as he continues staring down the man he once called his friend, refusing to let Techno tell him that he was too busy to help him then suddenly act like he cares.

“The voices demand the blood of whoever hurt you, and I’m very inclined to agree with them,” Techno says with a shrug, the slightest hint of a blood-thirsty smile gracing his lips.

“I’m not telling you who did it,” Dream firmly says as he crosses his arms over his chest, feeling even more confident when Phil places a reassuring hand on his left shoulder, the grounding touch helping to lessen the trembling that has started up in his limbs again. “You had your chance to care, but you weren’t there for me.”

“I wasn’t then, but I’m here now,” Techno earnestly says, realizing that he messed up, but both him and Chat really want the blood of whoever hurt his favorite rival. “I can help you get reveng-”

“I don’t want revenge,” Dream harshly interrupts Techno, his voice cold and unwavering, absolutely refusing to let Techno enact revenge on Quackity, especially since the man would be all too happy to comply due to his own experiences with Q. 

“What?” Techno slowly questions as he blinks in surprise, unable to believe that Dream just said that he didn’t want revenge on whoever tortured him.

“I won’t tell you who it is so you can take revenge on him,” Dream says in that same tone, wondering why Techno can’t just get it into his thick skull that he doesn’t want his help with anything, especially revenge, not after Techno abandoned him when he needed him so desperately. 

For a few moments, Techno just stares at Dream, waiting for the man to laugh at him and tell him that this is all just a joke.

But, Dream does no such thing, just continuing to glare at Techno, as if he’s the bad guy rather than the person that literally tortured him.

Why is Dream so keen on defending that person?

Doesn’t he hate them?

Wouldn’t he want them to suffer even worse than he had?

Unless…

Oh…

While raising an eyebrow in disbelief, Techno hesitantly questions, “Is this some kind of Stockholm Syndrome?”

“No!” Dream shouts in a loud, horrified tone without even a second of hesitation, feeling his stomach churn uncomfortably and nausea rise up in him at the thought of caring about the man who broke him in that cell. “I fucking hate him with all my heart! I never want to see him again!”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Techno questions as he steps closer to Dream, having gone through every possibility he can think of for why Dream wouldn’t want revenge, but nothing makes sense. “We can take him down together.”

With a heavy, weary sigh that makes Dream sound much older than he should, he lets his gaze slip to the cobblestone ground as he weakly whispers, “Tech, I’m so tired. I’m tired of all the violence and bloodshed. Revenge isn’t going to help anything.”

“But he hurt you,” Techno earnestly says as he moves a little closer to Dream again, leaving only a couple of blocks between them, hoping that their closer proximity will help sway Dream onto his side.

The moment Dream hears Techno’s words, his head snaps up to meet Techno’s gaze again, his emerald eyes blazing with fury as he bluntly says, “Yeah, but you hurt me too, maybe even worse than he did. I thought you cared about me, but I was wrong.”

“Of course I care about my favorite rival,” Techno says with a smirk, but his words are very much real, about as close to the truth as he’s willing to get.

Because, for all that he insists that Dream is just his rival and nothing more, he’s one of Techno’s closest friends.

Aside from Phil, he’d even go as far as considering Dream his best friend.

Not that he’d ever tell that to the green teletubby, he’s already got a big enough ego.

But, when Dream looks at Techno, all he sees is the man’s smirk, not the care in his eyes, the sight of that mocking not-quite smile causing Dream to weakly plead, “Tech, please, don’t lie to me. And I’m not your rival anymore. I can’t even look at an axe anymore without having a panic attack, let alone try to fight someone.”

“Dream-” Techno softly starts to say as he steps closer to Dream, his heart aching at Dream’s defeated tone, but he doesn’t get the chance to speak due to Dream interrupting him.

“I have somewhere to be,” Dream coldly says as he turns to leave, not wanting to spend another minute with Technoblade, not when he’s more focused on revenge than asking if he’s okay after all the awful shit he went through in that cell.

Before Dream can leave, Techno reaches out his hand and grabs Dream’s wrist, not wanting to let this conversation end before he can show Dream that he cares and how sorry he is for not helping him.

“Don’t you dare!” Dream screeches as he yanks his hand out of Techno’s grasp, cradling it tight to his chest, the heat of Techno’s larger hand feeling like a blistering burn, even more brutal than when he touched the ever-flowing lava in his cell. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

And instead of apologizing like he knows he should, Techno stupidly gestures to where Phil’s standing a little ways behind Dream and points out, “You let Phil touch you.”

“Yes, because he hasn’t hurt me,” Dream softly says as he turns to Phil, smiling ever-so-slightly at the kind man, the one who helped him when he was terrified of being hurt and, instead of turning him away, gave Dream a family, something that he hasn’t had in much-too-long. “He’s been nothing but good and kind to me ever since I’ve been here.”

Then, while angrily rounding on Techno, Dream jabs a finger against his chest and furiously grits out, “You, Technoblade, have done nothing but hurt me, belittle the trauma I experienced in the prison, and blatantly ignored what I want. So, you lost the right to touch me. Hell, I don’t even want to talk to you again.”

“Really, you’re just going to leave?” Techno questions as both his eyebrows raise in disbelief, shocked at how… different Dream is from the friend he remembers.

“You already left me long ago,” Dream says with a weak, bitter chuckle as he lets his finger drop away from Techno, as if the effort of holding his arm upright has become all too much for him. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Techno winces at the mention of the favor, a look of guilt flittering through his blood-red eyes before quickly being replaced with his usual mask of cold indifference.

“Yeah, you remember that now, Technoblade?” Dream sneers as he steps closer to the piglin-hybrid, face to face with the man as he angrily continues, “I saved your life, and you went on about how you were indebted to me and would do anything to help me. I wasn’t even going to use it, because I didn’t want to use and manipulate the one person I still cared about.”

Then, as his voice turns shaky from lingering fear rather than anger, Dream continues in a haunted tone, “I only called in the favor when I was backed into a corner and fucking terrified. Instead of letting you be executed, I saved you and your horse. And how do you repay me? By abandoning me to be locked up for so long, months of which I was tortured during.”

For a few seconds, Techno is entirely silent, just staring into Dream’s eyes, which hold a mixture of anger, sadness, and a haunted, defeated look that doesn’t sit well with him at all.

But what is he supposed to say?

After all, Dream’s right.

Dream saved him from being executed, even protected his beloved horse too.

And when Dream desperately reached out to him, Techno ignored him, simply telling him he was too busy to go to the cords the man had sent with shaky, trembling fingers. 

How long did Dream spend in the prison, wondering why he never visited or came to help that day?

As the guilt threatens to suffocate Techno, nearly drowning and choking and murdering the all-powerful Blood God, he does what he knows how to do best.

Deflect using humor and hope that it doesn’t make everything worse than it already is.

So, while plastering on his signature smirk, Techno lightly teases, “You’re such a drama queen, you Green Teletubby.”

But Dream doesn’t smile at his weak attempt at humor.

Instead, Dream’s blood runs cold, his heart absolutely shattering at the knowledge that Techno, one of oldest friends, thinks that he’s… exaggerating the hell he endured.

The second Dream has that thought, all he sees is red, becoming so livid that he feels a little lightheaded, demanding in a pained, betrayed, and furious shout, “Excuse me?! You think I’m being over-dramatic?! That I’m just lying or exaggerating this shit?! What part of torture for months don’t you understand?! You could have saved me from months of pain, but you didn’t even try! And now, instead of apologizing and owning up to your mistake, you’re accusing a trauma victim of lying?! You disgust me, Technoblade.”

While wincing at Dream’s tone and angry words, realizing with dread that he made things so much worse, Techno weakly tries, “Come on, man, we can talk about this.”

“I’m done talking to you,” Dream angrily says with a tone of finality as he turns away from Techno, not wanting to see him ever again, feeling so hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and utterly disgusted by how Techno’s treated him, especially since he opened up to the man about the torture he experienced. “Goodbye.”

“Dream-” Techno softly starts to say, hoping there’s some way to salvage this, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish yet again.

While speaking in a loud, clipped tone to be heard over Techno, Dream says as sincerely as he can manage through his hurt and anger, “Phil, thank you for helping me. I’ll message you again later.”

“Looking forward to it, Mate,” Phil whispers as he sadly nods his head at Dream, both their eyes glossy as they try to hold back tears, Phil hating to see Dream in so much pain, especially when Techno, his best friend in the whole world, is the root of his pain.

“Dream-” Techno tries again as he reaches his hand out to Dream, but Dream quickly steps out of his reach, the fiery glare the man sends his way causing Techno’s words to die in his throat.

Never in his life has he been even remotely scared of Dream but, right now, he thinks he might have a reason to be.

For the many years he’s known Dream, they’ve always been a mix between rivals and friends.

But, as Dream stares at Techno like he’d love nothing more than to tear the piglin-hybrid’s head from his shoulders and watch him bleed out, Techno knows that they aren’t rivals anymore, and they certainly aren’t anything close to friends.

Then, as if to confirm Techno’s sad, bitter thoughts, Dream raises his middle finger high into the air as he begins stomping away from them, and, even though neither of the men can see Dream’s face, they both know who Dream’s flipping off, and it certainly isn’t Phil.

Feeling something uncomfortably close to desperation crawl into his chest, Techno moves to follow Dream, but stops when Phil grabs his arm and firmly says, “Tech, let him go. He’s already been through enough.”

“But-” Techno weakly tries to protest, both his heart and the voices demanding that he goes and makes things right with Dream, but Phil’s grip is firm and unyielding, the touch telling him that, if he wants to speak to Dream right now, he’ll have to hurt Phil and forcefully make the older man release him.

And he really doesn’t want to hurt another friend today.

While giving Techno’s arm a small, reassuring squeeze, Phil continues in a slightly softer, more gentle tone, “Come on, Mate, I’ll make you some food for your journey back home.”

Techno allows himself to be led to Phil’s house, all the while staring at Dream’s retreating form until he’s hidden from view when the front door clicks shut, wanting more than anything else to mend their now-broken relationship, but he just doesn’t know how.

Meanwhile, Dream continues quickly and angrily walking away from Phil’s house, muttering to himself the whole time about how stupid and insensitive Techno is.

He doesn’t even care!

After everything they’ve been through, all the ways they've helped each other, Techno just discarded him as if he was worthless. 

Maybe he really is worthless, and that’s why Techno didn’t even seem bothered by the fact that he was tortured for months.

Prime, he really is useless...

He’s so stupid...

Stupid for ever trusting Techno...

Stupid for ever thinking that the man was his friend...

He doesn’t have friends…

Monsters don’t deserve friends.

That’s something that Quackity taught him very well.

He doesn’t deserve anything nice.

No friends, no nice things, and certainly no love.

Love…

Wil still loves him though, right?

Even after everything he’s done, Wil cares about him.

Or does he?

No no, he does, he definitely does.

Just this morning he told Dream he loved him more than anything else in this world.

That’s right.

Wil loves him.

He might be a monster, he might be undeserving of love, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t loved.

Despite his numerous flaws and wrongdoings, Wil loves him.

And that’s really all he needs.

So, fuck Technoblade.

Dream doesn’t need him.

As long as he has Wil, he’ll be fine.

Encouraged by his thoughts of Wil, Dream releases a heavy sigh, his body relaxing slightly as some of the crushing weight slips off his shoulders.

Speaking of Wil…

Dream glances up at the sky, seeing that the sun is getting closer to being directly overhead.

It’s about an hour until midday.

Even though it might be a little early to contact Wil, he’s sure that the man he loves is already worried sick, fretting and waiting for him to message.

While rolling his eyes fondly at the thought of Wil being so concerned about his safety, Dream pulls out his communicator and locates Eret’s name.

As he begins typing out a message for both Wil and Eret, his tongue pokes through his lips, his face slightly scrunched in concentration as he struggles to find the right words to say.

Dream becomes so focused on the task at hand that he unintentionally tunes out the world around him, something that is highly dangerous while directly inside enemy territory. 

But, as light, feather-soft footsteps sneak up behind the un-masked man, he is entirely oblivious to the new threat, unable to see the way they hold their axe in a tight, well-practiced grip, one that screams of hours upon hours of inflicting agony on a helpless victim while using a similar weapon. 

As Dream finishes typing out the last few words, a small smile on his face as he writes how much he loves Wil, a man positions himself behind Dream, his axe raised high in the air, ready to strike.

And just before Dream can send the message assuring both Eret and Wil that he’s fine and will be seeing Tubbo in a few minutes, a sharp, splitting pain enters his skull, the agonizing blow causing Dream to cry out as he crumples to the ground, his world darkening before fading out completely from the harsh blow of an axe’s handle against the back of his head.

With a wicked grin, he kicks Dream’s communicator away from the now-unconscious man, knowing that Dream certainly won’t be needing that where they’ll be going. 

While still smiling a too-wide smile, one that’s filled with promises of pain and agony, the man begins dragging Dream’s form toward the dungeons, refusing to let any orders, even from the president himself, stop him from getting what he wants.

And right now, he wants more than anything for Dreamie to suffer.

Chapter Text

As the time creeps closer and closer to midday, Wilbur feels his panic skyrocketing, resisting the urge to start biting and gnawing at his nails in distress and overwhelming fear for Dream’s safety. 

From where they sit at the kitchen table, Eret can’t help but frown when they glance up at Wil, seeing that, yet again, the man has begun pacing, practically wearing a hole into the lavender rug in the dining room.

“Has he messaged you yet?” Wilbur asks--pleads--as he continues pacing, not even glancing at Eret, already knowing what the king’s answer will be. 

“Not yet,” Eret mutters in the most comforting tone they can manage, doing their best not to snap at Wil in irritation, even though this is at least the tenth time he’s asked that. 

A minute passes in tense, uncomfortable silence, the only sounds in the room Wil’s steady, frantic footsteps shuffling against the floor and his occasional frustrated huffs and sighs.

“Now?” Wil asks after another minute passes, his shaky voice taking on a desperate edge, knowing that it’ll be midday so soon and Dream promised, he promised, that he would message before then.

“No, Wil, I still haven’t gotten anything.”

Another minute passes in that same heavy silence, both desperately hoping for a message to finally come through.

“How about-” Wil worriedly starts to ask again, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish before Eret interrupts him.

“Wil, please, stop asking,” Eret firmly but kindly says, doing their best to be patient with Wil, but they just can’t answer that question anymore. “I promise I’ll tell you the second he messages me.”

“He should have sent something already!” Wil shouts in an angry and panic-laced tone, throwing his hands up in the air before they fall back to his sides in defeat.

“It’s not midday yet,” Eret gently reminds Wil, knowing that it’s still a few minutes away from midday.

“We said I’d come find him if he hadn’t messaged by midday,” Wil mutters as he begins pacing even faster, his hands twisting together nervously as he continues, “It’s already almost midday. What if he’s in trouble?! What if someone hurt him?!”

As their frown deepens, Eret slowly stands up and approaches Wilbur, unable to let this continue in good conscience.

Once they reach Wil, Eret stands in front of the distressed man and gently places their hands on Wil’s shoulders, finally putting an end to his fearful pacing.

With a heavy sigh that screams of bone-deep weariness, all the fight leaves Wilbur in a rush, causing him to lean forward and rest his forehead on Eret’s shoulder, doing his best to fight back tears as fear and hopelessness threaten to bury him alive.

Instantly, Eret moves their hands off of Wil’s shoulders, instead wrapping their arms around the man’s back in a much-needed hug.

“It’s gonna be okay, Wil,” Eret whispers in a reassuring tone as they continue holding Wil close, their heart aching for the man as he begins trembling violently in their embrace. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“You don’t understand,” Wil whines as he buries his face in the crook of Eret’s neck, wishing that the arms around him belonged to Dream instead, but the embrace is still nice and soothing, and comfort is something he desperately needs the longer Dream doesn’t contact them.

“Then help me understand,” Eret earnestly says as they hold Wil a little tighter, truly wanting to help Wilbur get through this emotionally taxing situation. “What’s going through your mind right now? Talking about it might help you.”

“Okay…” Wil mumbles with a heavy sigh, trailing off for a few moments before weakly continuing, “Well, the person who hurt him lives in L'Manburg, and that’s where Dream is right now.”

“You think they’ll try to hurt Dream again if they see him?” Eret hesitantly questions, slowly starting to realize why Wil’s worrying so much, but they refuse to let anything show, certain that even the slightest sign of fear will make Wil spiral into even more intense panic.

“Without a doubt in my mind,” Wil continues in that same, weak tone, a bitter, hollow chuckle escaping him as he remembers his time in Dream’s cell. “Eret, the things he threatened to do to me for trying to stop him from torturing Dream…”

“What happened?” Eret gently prods when Wil trails off, not really wanting to know, but, since talking is seeming to help Wilbur calm down, they’re willing to listen to whatever the man wants to share.

“He wanted me to chain Dream to the ceiling and then leave his cell and never come back,” Wil says in a low, horrified tone, shivering as he remembers the look of absolute madness and cruelty in Quackity’s eyes as he threatened him. “And he told me that, if I didn’t do that, he’d cut off my arms and kill me. That way, even if Dream revived me, I’d never have arms again.”

“Seriously?” Eret asks in an appalled whisper as they hold Wilbur a little tighter, absolutely horrified at the thought of someone wanting to do that to Wil.

“Yeah…” Wil mutters as he shivers yet again, terrified by the thought that Quackity might be hurting Dream all over again while he’s doing nothing to help the man he loves. “If he was willing to do that to me then, I can’t even imagine what he’d do now that it’s been nearly two months since he lost the privilege to continue torturing Dream.”

For a few moments, Eret just opens and closes their mouth uselessly, entirely at a loss for words on how to respond to the… atrocities that Wilbur’s sharing with them.

When the silence drags on for too long, Wilbur pulls back from their hug, beginning to pace once again as he angrily shouts, “Prime, I’m so fucking stupid! Why did I let him go alone?!”

“Wil, you can’t stay by his side all the time,” Eret gently reminds the man, understanding why he’d want to stay with Dream so he could keep him safe, but it’s just not possible. 

“Yeah, but I can’t let him be hurt again either!” Wil exclaims in that same, frustrated tone, knowing that Eret’s right, but he just can’t watch Dream suffer through so much pain ever again. “How am I supposed to protect him when I don’t know where he is and he won’t send me a damn message telling me that he’s fine?!”

After Wil finishes speaking, a loud, distressed whine tears through his throat against his wishes, his breath hitching in absolute terror as he begins pacing even more frantically. 

While growing increasingly more concerned about Wilbur, Eret reaches out a hand to the man, placing it on Wil’s left arm as they gently say, “Hey, take a deep breath.”

Through his panic, Wil takes in a large, shuddering breath, his exhale weak and shaky, but, thanks to Eret’s gentle coaxing, Wilbur is able to get his breathing back to normal before his panic attack could fully take control.

Once Wilbur seems a little calmer, Eret nervously encourages, “I think you should go to L'Manburg to make sure he’s okay. You can take the armor I let you borrow yesterday.”

“Thanks, Eret,” Wil whispers with a heavy sigh as his shoulders slump in relief, feeling grateful to finally have some direction on how he can help Dream.

“You’re welcome,” Eret says with a small, sad smile, hoping that both Wil and Dream are gonna be okay. “Be careful, Wil. And bring him back safely.”

“I will,” Wilbur promises as he eagerly nods his head, already walking toward the bedroom to retrieve his borrowed armor.

Then, once he’s all suited up, he returns to the dining room with Eret, giving his friend a shaky smile as he says, “Me and Dream will be back soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” Eret says with their most convincing smile, hoping that no flicker of doubt or disbelief flits across their face.

With a final nod at Eret, Wil rushes to the entrance of the castle.

Once he closes the large door behind him, Wil begins sprinting down the cobblestone walkways.

And as he starts running down the uneven wood of the Prime Path, Wil doesn’t care if people are staring at him, wondering why he’s running like his whole life depends on it.

Wilbur doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of him right now, the only thought in his mind being an endless stream of save him save him save him save him save him.

Finally, Wilbur reaches L'Manburg soil, his loud, exhausted breaths thundering in his chest, but he doesn’t pause to catch his breath, instead quickly walking toward the White House.

After traveling a little distance, he passes by Phil’s house, the fleeting thought of enlisting in Phil’s help crossing his mind, but he doesn’t approach the front door, knowing that explaining Dream’s disappearance will take precious moments that they don’t have.

When he’s about twenty blocks away from Phil’s house, he sees something shiny glint in the corner of his eyes.

And while normally he wouldn’t let himself get distracted so easily, he’s instantly drawn to whatever it is, desperate for any clue toward Dream’s whereabouts.

As he draws nearer, he realizes with a growing sense of dread that, sitting discarded on the cobblestone pathway, is a communicator.

No…

Please…

When he picks up the little communicator, he has to choke back a sob, his eyes glossing over from the effort of holding back tears as he starts to read the unsent message.

Hey Wil and Eret! Im finally gonna speak to tubbo, im only a few minutes away. The craziest thing just happened. I ran into Techno and hes like us. That conversation definitely didnt go well but Phil was there to help me get through it. So yeah just wanted to let you both know that im safe. And Wil I love you so fucking much. Cant wait to see you again soon

As silent tears race down Wil’s cheeks, feeling like his entire heart is shattering, especially when he reads how much Dream loves him, he quickly sends a message to Phil saying: Dad this is Wil. I need your help. Dreams gone. I found his communicator on the ground by your house and i think someone hurt him and im freaking the fuck out

As Phil and Techno sit conversing at the table, smiling and laughing as Tech shares stories of all their times together in the future, Phil’s communicator pings, the sound causing him to frown in surprise. 

The second Phil reads the message, he jumps out of his seat and rushes to the door, uncaring of how his chair topples to the ground with a loud clatter.

“What are you doing?” Techno hesitantly questions as he stands up too, unsure what’s going on, but recognizing that something urgent is happening from Phil’s stiff posture.

“Follow me, now,” Phil firmly says as he throws open his front door, stepping outside without elaborating further, his thoughts too jumbled and panicked to even attempt to explain the situation to Techno.

Quickly, Phil and Techno begin walking away from his house, the older man slightly in the lead since Techno has absolutely no idea where they’re going or what’s even happening.

But, when they start going the same way that he saw Dream leave, dread slowly fills the pit of Techno’s stomach, beginning to understand what has Phil so worried. 

Something must have happened to Dream...

Instantly, Chat starts going wild, screaming and yelling how they’ll make whoever’s hurting Dream pay, despite the fact that they’re all just disembodied voices.

And when Techno and Phil come across Wilbur, who’s clutching tightly to a communicator while frantically pacing, Techno can’t help but agree with the voices.

He doesn’t know who it is that’s hurt Dream but, once he finds out, the Blood God will get his revenge.

Before Techno can spend any more time creating plans filled with bloodlust, he’s pulled from his thoughts when Phil hugs Wilbur tightly while softly asking, “What happened, Mate?”

“He was supposed to message me before midday but when I came to find him his communicator was on the ground here with an unsent message he typed out,” Wil mutters in a scared, jumbled rush, his words nearly melting together as he clutches Phil tightly, his breaths shallow and panicked. 

“Okay, okay, take a deep breath,” Phil gently encourages as he rubs soothing circles into Wil’s lower back, purposely taking in large, slow breaths with the hope that Wilbur will mimic him and calm down before he starts hyperventilating. “We’ll help you find him.”

When Wil’s panic finally recedes enough for him to speak normally again, Wil shakily says, “Thank you. I can’t let him be hurt like that again.”

“Of course,” Phil easily promises without hesitation, refusing to let his sons suffer through any more pain, especially when they both clearly love and need each other so badly. “We won’t let that happen ever again.”

And ever-so-excellent at social interactions, Techno makes his presence known to Wil by blurting out, “So he really was tortured?”

“He was,” Wil brokenly mutters with a violent shudder, wishing that he could just forget the awful memories of Dream’s cell and brutal treatment. “For over four months, he was hurt every single day.”

“How long was he in the prison?” Techno slowly and hesitantly asks, not really wanting to know how long Dream suffered for, especially since he could have done at least something to help the guy, but in order to truly help Dream now, he has to understand things better.

And what better person to ask than the guy who, according to Phil, is ‘madly in love with Dream’? 

“Almost a year,” Wil mutters in a hollow, emotionless tone, a haunted, faraway look in his eyes at the thought of His Love being trapped in that prime-forsaken cell for so long.

“Prime…” Techno mumbles in a horrified tone, trailing off for a few moments as he does his best to ignore Chat’s outraged cries over how long Dream spent suffering. “I’m such an awful person.”

“It’s okay, Mate, you didn’t know,” Phil murmurs in a reassuring and comforting tone, his words helping to absolve some of Techno’s guilt, even though he knows he deserves every bit of guilt weighing him down. “You can apologize once we save him.”

“Wait, why does he need to apologize?” Wilbur asks as he pulls back from Phil’s embrace, a hard edge entering his tone as he turns toward Technoblade.

Even though they once fought side-by-side during Pogtopia, Wil sizes up Techno’s tall, broad form, not above tearing the piglin-hybrid limb from limb if he dared hurt Dream.

“I made him upset,” Techno says in an uncharacteristically soft tone, knowing that Chat will call him ‘Technosoft’ for hours after this, but he tells the truth regardless, knowing that his deflections with Dream earlier just made everything so much worse. “I didn’t mean to though.”

“What did you do to him?” Wil growls as he stalks toward Techno, his hands at his sides balling into fists, ready to beat the man to a bloody pulp if he even looked at Dream wrong.

But before Wil can start swinging, Phil says in a firm, no-nonsense tone, “Wil, calm down, Tech didn’t mean any harm. He thought Dream was in the prison for around a month only, so he didn’t realize how harmful some of the things he said were. And if he knew about the torture, he would’ve stopped it without hesitation.”

For a few more moments, Wil just stares at Techno, only a block in between them, easily putting him within punching range.

But while Wil’s hands are clenched into fists, Techno’s are raised in a placating gesture, a troubled frown on his face, as though he genuinely feels bad about what he said.

And maybe he really does.

After all, he’s here with Dad right now.

Does that mean he wants to help save Dream too?

Even though Wil is hesitant to trust Techno, he could use all the help he could get in saving Dream.

So, while finally unclenching his hands, Wil softly says, “Okay, I believe you.”

Then, a little sheepishly, Wil continues, “Sorry about that, I’m just really on edge right now.”

“It’s all good,” Techno says with his signature smirk as he lowers his hands, already hearing Chat teasing him for being ‘soft’, but he just forcefully tunes them out for the thousandth time today. “Now let’s go save him.”

Together, the three of them walk through L'Manburg, heading toward the White House.

And even though Techno and Phil are confused about why they’re headed there, neither of them question Wil, the determined set of his shoulders telling them both that he has a plan to help Dream.

Once they’re only a few blocks away from the White House entrance, Phil turns to Techno and gently teases, “Tech, I think you should wait out here. Don’t want them to think you’re trying to storm the White House to take down the government.”

With a heavy, over-exaggerated sigh, Techno plops down onto a nearby flower planter, not wanting to admit it, but he knows that Phil is right.

And when Wil seems genuinely terrified over Dream’s wellbeing, Techno isn’t willing to do anything stupid that might make the green teletubby get hurt.

Quickly, Wilbur and Phil enter the White House, Wil navigating them through the corridors without even the briefest moment of hesitation.

The second they reach the President’s Quarters, which used to be where Wil had his office when he was president, he loudly knocks on the door, hoping that Tubbo will be willing to help them find Dream.

“Come in!” Tubbo cheerfully calls out, not expecting any visitors right now, but he lets them in regardless, assuming that it’s probably just Quackity coming to share another idea with him on how they can ‘better their nation’.

What Tubbo certainly doesn’t expect is to see Phil and Wilbur step inside his office.

“Hey, Phil,” Tubbo says with a wide smile, but that slips off his lips when he sees the tired, worried look in Phil’s eyes and the weak smile on his face, like he’s trying his best to keep everything together, but is barely managing it.

“Hi, Wil,” Tubbo says in a soft, gentle tone, his concern building when he sees the glossiness in his deep brown eyes and the trembling in his hands, the sight of both the men telling Tubbo that something is very wrong. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Mate, we need your help,” Phil says after a few moments of hesitation, expecting Wil to take the lead on this one, but just a single glance at his son is enough to tell him that he needs to step in and speak before Wil works himself into even more of a panic.

“Oh, what can I help with?” Tubbo hesitantly questions, unsure what’s going on or why they’ve come to him for help, but he’s willing to try to help him as best as he possibly can.

“Have you spoken to Dream at all today?” Phil slowly questions, unsure why it is that Dream wanted to talk to Tubbo but, from when Wil showed him the message Dream wasn’t able to send, he knows that his son-in-law wanted to speak to the boy for some reason.

“Dream wants to talk to me?” Tubbo asks in shock as he sits up a little straighter, wondering why Dream would want to speak to him. “I haven’t seen him since we helped after the whole... egg thing yesterday.” 

Before Phil can even begin to wonder what this egg is that Tubbo’s talking about, Wil exclaims in a loud, panicked voice, “Fuck, this is so bad!”

“What’s wrong?” Tubbo nervously questions as he slowly stands up from his desk, still not fully understanding what’s happening, but Wil’s panic is undeniable, the sound of it making him feel uneasy. “Did something happen to Dream?” 

“I don’t know!” Wil says in a loud, hopeless tone as he raises his hands in frustration, gesturing animatedly with them as he continues, “He was supposed to message me by midday, but it’s past that and he hasn’t even talked to you yet! I-I think he’s hurt.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Dream can take care of himself,” Tubbo says in an encouraging tone, trying his best to help ease some of Wil’s fear, but he hears a little voice of doubt in the back of his mind, remembering that yesterday when Dream nearly died from smoke inhalation, he certainly wasn’t fine. 

“No, Tubbo, you don’t understand,” Wil pleads in a weak, frustrated tone, wishing that someone would just fucking listen to him instead of lying to him that Dream is fine. “Something bad happened to Dream recently. Like, seriously bad. That’s why he’s so different than he was a week ago. He was…”

When Wil trails off, Tubbo nervously clears his throat, his gaze darting between the two men before he softly questions, “Tortured?”

Upon hearing that, Wil’s eyes widen drastically in shock and disbelief, having thought that Phil and Eret were the only ones who knew the truth, but, somehow, Tubbo knows too.

Nervously, Phil glances at his son and, after seeing the absolutely distraught look on his face, Phil gently asks Tubbo, “How did you know?”

“Tommy told me,” Tubbo shares with a sad smile, remembering the joy he felt at Tommy’s return, and how that was soon overshadowed by the dark knowledge of his best friend’s treatment in exile and the torture that Dream faced.

“I see,” Phil mutters as he nods his head in understanding, unsure how Tommy learned the truth, but making a mental note to check on the kid to make sure he’s coping okay with some seriously heavy knowledge. “I take it you know about the time-traveling too?” 

“I do,” Tubbo says with a disbelieving chuckle, still unable to believe that Dream is an actual time traveler and, based on how he acted with Wil yesterday, Tubbo assumes that the newly-revived man must also be a time traveler. 

Then, as his smile fades completely, Tubbo continues in an honest, somber tone, “And I’m sorry that happened to him. Even after everything he’s done, he didn’t deserve that.”

“Damn right he didn’t deserve to be tortured!” Wil adamantly says when he finally finds his voice again, glaring daggers at Tubbo, as if daring the kid to try to say otherwise. “They hurt him so fucking badly, and I can’t watch it all happen again!”

“You care about him, don’t you?” Tubbo hesitantly questions after a few moments of hesitation, the kiss Wil gave Dream’s forehead yesterday already telling the kid that he cares a lot about Dream, but he still can hardly even believe it.

“I love him, Tubbo,” Wil says in a soft, sincere whisper as the first few tears make it past his defenses.  

“What?” Tubbo asks in a low, shocked tone, certain that he misheard, that Wil didn’t just say that he loves Dream. “You love Dream?” 

“I do,” Wil says without hesitation as he shuts his eyes tightly, causing the tears to slip down his cheeks even more rapidly now. “He’s my best friend. I really care about him, and it hurts me to watch him suffer. Please, Tubbo, I’m begging you, help us find him.” 

For a few moments, Tubbo just stares at Wil, watching the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, like he’s trying his hardest not to burst into sobs as tears rapidly cascade down his cheeks.

And for the first time, Tubbo thinks that he might understand.

While he’d never, ever feel anything fond toward Dream, let alone love, he does know what it’s like to love someone.

Even though some people think Tommy is loud and annoying, Tubbo loves him more than anything else in the world.

And if he thought that Tommy was hurt, he would do anything to help him. 

So, even though he still hates Dream, Tubbo walks toward Wilbur and Phil and says in a determined tone, “Okay, I’ll help you two. Where should we start looking?” 

As Wil’s eyes snap open in surprise, his teary gaze meets Tubbo’s, the sight of the raw, unconcealed hope on his face causing Tubbo to smile kindly at him.

Too thrilled to speak, Wil doesn’t say anything to Tubbo’s question, causing Phil to take the lead again and thoughtfully ask, “Does L'Manburg have any dungeons or prison cells, especially hidden ones?”

“Well, yeah, but no one uses them so I doubt Drea-” Tubbo starts to say nonchalantly, not understanding why Phil’s is asking about their unused dungeons, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish.

“Who knows about them?” Wil demands as he cuts Tubbo off, knowing that, if Quackity knows about the dungeons, that must be where Dream is.

“Well, people in the cabinet,” Tubbo hesitantly shares, wondering if he should be telling Wilbur and Phil what would traditionally be classified information but, after one look after each of their worried faces, Tubbo knows that neither of them are going to take advantage of this information, they simply want to ensure that Dream’s safe. “So me, Quackity, Fundy, Jack, Ranboo-” 

“That’s where Dream is,” Wil hastily interrupts in a confident tone, knowing from the moment he mentioned Quackity that Dream must be locked up in a cell yet again; when they find him, he’s going to enjoy murdering Quackity for ever trying to hurt Dream again. “Please, Tubbo, you have to take us there.”

“You really think one of the people in my cabinet is hurting Dream right now?” Tubbo slowly and hesitantly asks, wary of the confidence in Wil’s tone but, deep down, he already knows exactly who it is that tortured Dream.

“Yes, they’ve already done it once, so nothing is stopping them from doing it again,” Wil bitterly says, his mouth twisting into a snarl as he remembers the malevolent glee in Quackity’s eyes as he made Dream cry, beg, and plead not to be punished again.

And even though it absolutely kills Tubbo to say this, he asks just above a whisper, “It’s… Q, isn’t it?”

“What makes you think that?” Phil slowly asks after he and Wil share a quick, shocked look, not expecting Tubbo to already know about what Quackity did.

“Earlier, he talked about wanting to kill Dream, but he wanted to do more than just that,” Tubbo softly says as he suppresses a shiver, still horrified over the fact that Q wanted to torture Dream, and that uncomfortable feeling only grew when he realized that torture was nothing new to the person that used to be one of his closest friends. “He said we should lock him in the dungeons and ‘rough him up a bit’. I accused him of wanting to torture Dream, but he pretended like he didn’t actually want to hurt him, that he would only do it to protect people.”

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Wil screams as his hands ball into fists, his entire body beginning to tremble from rage that threatens to consume him, especially since he has no outlet to release it on yet, not wanting Phil or Tubbo to experience the wrath he wants to unleash on Quackity.

“So it’s true?” Tubbo questions as tears rush to his eyes, feeling so utterly hurt and betrayed that Q, someone he loved and trusted, could be capable of something so awful. “He’s the one who tortured Dream in the future, and now he’s trying to do it all over again?”

“Dream’s finally starting to heal from what Quackity did to him, and now that prick is trying to do it again,” Wil angrily bites out as he begins pacing around Tubbo’s office, needing some way to release all this pent up anger and fear before he explodes. 

Then, as his voice softens and takes on a pleading edge, Wil continues, “I can’t let it happen again. Please, Tubbo, I’m begging you, don’t let Dream suffer like that again. I know he’s done horrible, awful things, especially to Tommy, but he really is trying to be a better person now. Please.”

After only a few seconds of hesitation, Tubbo firmly says, “Okay, I’ll show you two where the dungeons are.” 

“Yes, thank you, Tubbo, thank you so much!” Wil happily exclaims as he abruptly stops pacing, shooting Tubbo a wide, blinding smile, so fucking ecstatic to hear that Tubbo’s going to help them save Dream.

“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t even done anything,” Tubbo mutters with a soft chuckle as he exits his office, the other two following close behind him as they make their way back to the White House entrance.

While still smiling widely, Wil earnestly and honestly replies, “You’re willing to help me save the man I love, which means the world to me.”

“Since when did you get so sappy?” Tubbo gently teases, not expecting Wil to say something so romantic and heartfelt.

“Being dead for a long time makes you appreciate life a lot more, especially the lives of the people you care about.” Wil says as his smile takes on a sad edge, knowing that, no matter how pathetic it is, it took dying and spending years in the hell that was Limbo to realize how truly valuable life is, especially the wonderful people he gets to spend each day with.

“That…” Tubbo slowly starts to say, but he trails off for a few moments, unsure what to say in the face of the uncomfortable reminder that, less than a week ago, Wil was still dead. “That makes sense.”

Before anything more can be said, the trio exits the White House, the sight of his companions--and Tubbo’s there too, he supposes--causes Techno to smile as he stands up and approaches the group, excitedly saying with a smirk, “I see you all finally made it. I was beginning to think you might’ve left me behind to have all the fun yourselves.”

Before Phil can make a witty remark in return, Tubbo sucks in a sharp, terrified gasp, his eyes wide from debilitating fear as his hands begin trembling violently, the sound of booming fireworks and agonizing screams--so many screams, most of which suspiciously sound like his--echo within his ears, making it impossible for him to focus on anything but those awful sounds and Techno’s looming form. 

Before Tubbo can panic too badly, Phil places his hands on the kid’s shoulders and says in a soft, encouraging tone, “Just breathe, Mate, you’re okay. He isn’t gonna hurt you, I promise.”

And slowly, reassured by Phil’s kind touch, Tubbo gets his breathing under control, allowing him to meet Techno’s blood-red eyes.

Even though the sight of Techno, who executed him so brutally without even the slightest hint of remorse, terrifies Tubbo, he glares at the larger man and firmly says, “Technoblade, you were banished from my country. I’m going to ask you to leave, or else you’ll be escorted out.”

With an amused, raised eyebrow at Tubbo’s attempts at threatening him, Techno says in a calm, collected tone, “Relax, I’m not here to cause any harm.”

“Why are you here?” Tubbo harshly demands, not wanting to speak to Techno any longer, let alone inside L'Manburg’s borders, where the anarchy-enthusiast could easily insist that his country shouldn’t exist anymore and try to blow it up. 

“I’m with Phil and Wilbur,” Techno simply says as he shrugs his shoulders, thinking that that’ll be enough of an explanation.

But, when Tubbo raises his eyebrows in a mix of suspicion and disbelief, Techno knows that he needs to say more, causing him to continue with a small, shy smile, “Look, I just wanna help save… my friend. I haven’t been a very good one lately, but I’m trying to be better now.”

Then, as his signature smirk appears, Techno finishes in a joking tone, “You don’t have to like me, but at least let me come along. And you might need my help taking them down so we can save Dream.”

For a few moments, Tubbo just stares at Techno, waiting for the piglin-hybrid to laugh all that off as a joke, shocked that he would admit that Dream is his friend.

But when he finds no trace of lying or deception, Tubbo softens at Techno’s admission and says with a weak, shaky smile, “Alright, come on then. Let’s go save Dream.”

And so, decked out in full netherite armor, the four of them make their way to the L'Manburg dungeons, all of them determined to save Dream, even if they have different reasons behind their motivations.

A father who wants to save his son.

A friend who wants to be there for him this time around.

A man who wants to protect the person he loves most.

A kid who’s trying to be a good president to all his people, even the ones who’ve done him wrong.

Together, the four of them are going to kick Quackity’s ass and save Dream. 

Chapter Text

“Ohhh, Dreamie,” Quackity coos as he approaches Dream, who’s slowly starting to wake again, his temple pounding from the harsh blow of the man’s axe against the back of his skull. “It’s time to wake up.”

While biting back a groan, Dream slowly opens his eyes, unable to see anything but the blur of orange torchlight dancing around the dark room.

With a smirk, Quackity takes a loud, threatening step toward Dream, leaving only two blocks between them as he revels in the way Dream flinches harshly as his head snaps toward the sound of his footsteps.

As fear steadily starts to creep into his veins, Dream blinks hard, trying his best to make everything come into focus again, but the world is all so blurry, telling him that he probably has a concussion.

But… why?

Did something happen? 

Why can’t he remember what happened?

“Hello, Dreamie,” Quackity purrs as he stares intently at Dream’s trembling form, and suddenly, the sound of that dreadful, all too familiar voice causes memories to rush back to Dream as his fear tenfolds. “Did you miss me?”

Quackity is here...

The man must have found him in L’Manburg and brought him someplace after smacking his head to knock him out…

Wait, where is he?! 

Oh prime, he’s alone with Quackity, his head pounding so badly that he can’t even fucking see and he has absolutely no idea where he is or how to get out before he’s tortured all over again. 

Fuck, he has to get out!

Now !

Frantically, Dream tries to get his limbs to cooperate, tries to find some way to escape, but all his movements feel sluggish, a tell-tale sign that he’s been given a weakness potion. 

How is he supposed to escape when he can barely even move?!

Oh prime, oh prime, he’s trapped, he’s trapped here with Quackity and he’s going to hurt him all over again and it was so nice not being hurt but now he’s going to be in so much pain and he doesn’t want it he doesn’t wan-

“You better calm down, Dreamie,” Quackity warns in a sing-song tone, his words causing Dream to suck in a loud, harsh gasp of air, absolutely terrified of what will happen if he doesn’t obey. “I promise you that you do not want to pass out.”

With the type of ease that only comes from countless times of having to choke back his panic, Dream quickly gets his breathing under control. He’s still scared out of his fucking mind, his entire body trembling violently, the harsh movements causing the chains around his wrists to rattle loudly and obnoxiously as they slice into his skin, yet he still manages to stave off his panic attack enough that he won’t hyperventilate, certainly not wanting to make Quackity angry with him already. 

“Good boy,” Quackity sneers as he leans closer to Dream, the feeling of the man’s vile, hot breath ghosting his ear causing Dream to shiver, but he doesn’t react otherwise, still trying his best to slow down his breathing and not think about how fucking dead he is now that he’s trapped with Quackity all over again.

Then, as Quackity places his hand on Dream’s throat, not yet cutting off his air but making the threat clear, the man whispers in a low, threatening tone, “In case you couldn’t tell, it’s just you and me here. So, unless you want to make things even harder for yourself, you’ll do exactly what I say. Got it?”

Instantly, Dream opens his mouth to reply, willing to agree to anything Quackity asks if it’ll help lessen the pain that’s sure to come, but no words escape him. 

“I said, ‘got it?’” Quackity growls as he tightens his grip, Dream’s eyes widening in unadulterated panic and terror as he forgets how to breathe, a hitched inhale getting caught in his throat as Quackity cuts off his oxygen.

While trying in vain to breathe, the chains rattling as his weakness-infected body tries to escape Quackity’s unforgiving grasp, Dream frantically nods his head, unsure exactly what he’s agreeing to, but willing to do anything now that his chest is screaming because he can’t fucking breathe. 

After a few more moments of watching Dream’s pitiful struggling, feeling a familiar rush of euphoria over the complete power and control that he has over the monster who’s ruined this server, Quackity finally releases Dream’s throat. 

Immediately, Dream sucks in a large, shuddering breath, his chest heaving as he tries to regain control over his breathing, tears rapidly slipping down his cheeks from an all too familiar combination of fear, pain, and gut-wrenching helplessness. 

When Dream finally gets his breathing back under control, Quackity moves his hand off of Dream’s throat, instead placing it on top of his head as he says in a deceptively gentle tone, “Since we’ve been apart for so long, I’ll give you a chance to prove to me that you’ll be good and listen to what I say. Would you like that?”

Without even the slightest moment of hesitation, Dream eagerly nods his head, ready to do anything and everything Quackity asks of him, especially if it’ll help lessen the punishment that he knows he deserves from how poorly he’s behaved so far. 

“Good boy,” Quackity praises as he begins carding his hand through Dream’s hair, a sick, twisted sort of fondness in his voice as he watches his prisoner desperately lean into the hand in his hair. 

And, even though Dream knows that he should hate those words, his shoulders sag with relief as much as the chains will allow, a small, barely-there smile gracing his lips at the thought of doing something right.

As Quackity continues playing with his hair, Dream’s eyes slip shut, a blissful expression on his face as he basks in this moment, unsure why Sir is being so kind today, but very, very thankful for it. 

His temporary peace leaves much too quickly though, being replaced by absolute dread as Quackity says with a wicked grin, "Don't think I didn't notice the way you never answered me earlier."

Dream opens his mouth to apologize profusely, but not even a single sound comes out, his chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly as panic laces through his veins, his limbs once again beginning to rattle the chains as he trembles.

As his smile stretches even wider, Quackity eagerly explains to his prisoner, “Before you woke up, I gave you a muteness potion. As much as I love hearing you scream, we don’t want anyone to know you’re here, that would ruin our fun.”

While trying his best to stay calm, Dream slowly nods his head, certain that Quackity will want some type of agreement and, since he can't fucking talk, nodding is the best he can do.

“So,” Quackity says in a cheery tone, his voice quickly bringing Dream back to his current nightmare, knowing that he can't afford to get distracted and piss Quackity off. "I think it's time you and I have a little fun, just like old times!"

While feeling more hopeless and defeated than ever before, Dream slowly nods his head, a violent sob tearing through his throat, his cries eerily silent from the muteness potion Quackity gave to him while he was unconscious, but the force of it rattles his chains loudly within the otherwise silent dungeon. 

“Oh, Dreamie, don’t cry,” Quackity says in a low, soothing whisper as he cups the side of Dream’s jaw, ignoring the way the prisoner flinches harshly as he begins wiping away the tears trailing down his cheeks; it’s a pathetic shadow of comfort compared to the way Wil touches him so lovingly, yet Dream desperately leans into Quackity’s kind hand all the same. “I’m just doing this to help you. You know this is for your own good, right? I’m doing this so you don’t hurt anyone else.”

And Dream knows, he really does.

He knows he’s an absolute monster who deserves everything that Quackity’s doing to him, but fuck, it really hurts.

He’s trying to be better, he really is, and he thought he was doing good, Wil said that he was doing great, but that must be a lie because Quackity’s here again to teach him how to not hurt people anymore.

He just wants to be good.

He doesn’t want to be a monster anymore, doesn’t want to cause any more pain, doesn’t want to be hurt anymore.

Is that too much to ask for? 

But, instead of voicing any of those thoughts, especially since the muteness potion has his tongue held captive, Dream simply nods his head in understanding. 

“Good boy, I’m glad you know why I’m doing this,” Quackity says in that same faux-caring tone, but the man is grinning wickedly, pleasantly surprised at just how easy it has been to break Dream all over again. 

Now that Quackity is certain that Dream believes that he deserves everything that’s about to happen, he steps away from the prisoner, chuckling cruelly as Dream tries to chase the hand that left his face.

As giddy anticipation thrums through his veins, Quackity begins to think about what he should do.

There's just so many options, so many things he could do to Dream now that they're all alone, especially since that fucking warden isn't here to tell him what he can and can't do.

They've got all the time in the world together, so he might as well start simple.

So that leaves shears or a lava bucket?

Shears are a classic, one of Quackity’s favorites, but they are messy.

Whenever he used shears in the past, he was absolutely drenched in the most vibrant color of red from Dream’s blood.

And while he doesn’t mind things getting a little messy, he knows that, if he were to walk through L’Manburg with a bloody trail everywhere he goes, people will have some questions.

If people ask questions, they might find Dream.

They’ll take him away.

He’s already lost his favorite plaything once, he just can’t go through that again.

They wouldn’t understand. 

He needs this. 

Teaching Dream how to behave and not be a fucking monster is the only thing that gives his life meaning.

This is his purpose in life.

Before Quackity came along, the server was a terrible place.

If it weren’t for him, there would’ve been a democratic election with only one candidate!

He saved everyone!

He and Schlatt saved everyone from Wilbur, the horrible dictator who wouldn’t let so many good people join his country.

Quackity saved everyone then, and now he has to do it all over again.

No one else here has the guts to be what Dream needs.

The prisoner needs control, discipline, and pain in order to learn.

And, without that, he’ll go back to blowing up nations and murdering children.

There’s no way Quackity is allowing that to happen ever again. 

So, for as long as it takes, they’ll stay in this dungeon and he’ll teach the tyrant how people should be treated. 

No matter how many cuts, burns, bruises, and broken bones it takes, Dream will learn to not hurt anyone ever again.

Lava bucket it is then. 

Except, just as he goes to take the blistering lava out of his inventory, he hears the soft but steady shuffling of approaching footsteps.

Fuck, someone’s here!

How did they find him?!

What if… they’re here to take Dream away?

No, no, he can’t let that happen!

Knowing that he has to do whatever he can to salvage this now awful situation, Quackity swiftly blows out the torch inside the cell, engulfing them in complete darkness. 

Then, as he grabs Dream’s hair in a harsh grip and yanks his head upwards sharply, Quackity growls with venom in his tone, “If you make even a single noise, I’ll cut off your fucking arm and beat you to death with it.”

Frantically, Dream nods his head, uncaring of the way his fast movements cause Quackity’s hand in his hair to rip some strands from the roots, simply focused on not letting that horrible threat become reality, especially since he’s sure that the man would be ecstatic to take one of his lives in such a brutal way. 

Satisfied with Dream’s nonverbal response, Quackity releases him before quickly strolling out of the cell.

As Quackity walks through the dungeon hallway, heading toward the direction of the footsteps, which are now much louder and closer, he recognizes the person as Tubbo from the torch held loosely in his left hand, the sight causing him to groan internally, not wanting to deal with the fucking president right now.

But, despite his true feelings, Quackity puts on his most charming smile and calls out, “Hey, Tubbo, how’s it going man?”

“What’s up, Q!” Tubbo says in a false cheery tone, hoping that his smile doesn’t look as forced as it feels, especially since, by finding Quackity here, he knows that there’s no denying the truth or pretending like his once-friend is innocent. “What are you doing down here?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” Quackity cheerily exclaims as he wraps an arm around Tubbo’s shoulders, pulling the boy close to him, refusing to let him move any closer to the cell where Dream is. “Since when do you come down to the dungeons?”

“I always have,” Tubbo says in a clipped tone as he resists the urge to shrug off Quackity’s touch, unhelpfully wondering how many times the skin touching him has been coated in Dream’s blood. “I perform inspections on them each week, that way everything will be ready in case someone is locked up down here.”

Meanwhile, as Quackity and Tubbo continue talking, three invisible people begin to search the cells, Tubbo saying the word ‘inspection’ telling them that the president thinks Dream is here and that they should start searching for him. 

Finally, after what feels like years of checking cell after cell, all of which were terribly empty, Wil finds Dream, his heart shattering when he sees the man he loves’ slumped, defeated posture as he’s suspended by chains.

While trying his best not to cry, Wil quickly approaches Dream, desperate to take those chains off of him and show him that he’s safe, that nothing bad is going to happen to him ever again. 

Suddenly, Dream feels hands cup his cheeks, the touch causing him to flinch violently, terrified of what Quackity’s planning next, especially since his vivid threat keeps echoing in Dream’s mind over and over again.

But, when a warm, comforting forehead presses against his own, Dream desperately leans into the touch, knowing that this is much too kind and intimate to be Quackity.

That means…

Wil found him…

He’s come to save him.

Chapter Text

He’s safe now…

Quackity can’t hurt him anymore…

Then, as if to confirm his thoughts, Dream hears Wil softly whisper, “I’ve got you, My Love. I promise you’re safe now. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

Upon hearing those words, a violent sob tears through Dream’s chest, entirely silent from the muteness potion, but it still causes his entire form to shake and tremble, rattling the chains noisily.

Meanwhile, Tubbo hears the sound of chains clinking together, causing him to duck out from underneath Quackity’s arm on his shoulders and ask with growing dread, “What’s that noise?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Quackity quickly starts to say, knowing that he has to do something, and fast, but Tubbo is already walking in the direction of the cell.

Once Tubbo reaches the cell, he sucks in a loud, shocked gasp of air, terrified of the sight in front of him.

Dream, who has always been such a powerful, dangerous force to be reckoned with, is slumped against the wall, his trembling limbs held upright simply because of the chains connecting his arms to the ceiling, angry red lines seeping blood around his wrists from trying to escape. Tears flow freely down his red, splotchy cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut tightly against the salty beads slipping from them. 

After a few more moments of just staring at Dream in shock and horror, feeling sickened but how small and fragile the ex-tyrant looks right now, Tubbo rounds on Quackity and angrily demands, “Big Q?! What’s going on?!” 

As Quackity quickly steps into the cell, putting himself in between Tubbo and his prisoner, he frantically says, “This isn’t what it looks like!” 

Before Quackity can try to defend himself, something slams against his back hard enough to shatter, a few pieces of glass piercing into his skin as a shimmering liquid starts to seep through his beige shirt. 

Dumbly, Quackity stares at the pool of violet liquid that is gathering at his feet, a few blood-red splotches minging with the potion excess from the pieces of glass embedded in his skin.

And, logically, he knows he should feel pain, especially since he’s bleeding, but he can hardly process the fact that he’s injured when he sees the person who gave him the weakness potion.

While absolutely fuming, Wilbur, who’s slowly flickering in and out of view due to the invisibility potion wearing off, stalks toward Quackity, ready to fucking murder him for hurting His Love again. 

With a harsh grip, Wilbur grabs Quackity’s shoulders and slams his back against the wall of the cell, drawing a sick, twisted sort of satisfaction at the whimper that leaves the torturer’s lips as the glass in his back presses even deeper into his skin. 

“Any last words?” Wil growls as he yanks Quackity’s axe out of his hands, the weakness potion making it so he has no hope of getting back his weapon.

Even though Quackity knows how bleak things look, especially when Wilbur presses his own axe against his throat, Q refuses to go down without a fight, causing him to snarkily say with a smirk, “Fuck you, Wilbur. You’re really gonna give me a weakness potion and fucking kill me? Too scared to let me fight back?”

Before Wilbur can shout and scream about how Quackity has done much, much worse than that to Dream, a new voice joins a conversation.

With a smirk, Techno calmly stares down at Quackity and says, “Bruh, you couldn’t even beat me when I only had a pickaxe, we aren’t scared of you.”

The second Quackity hears the sound of Technoblade’s much too familiar monotone voice, his head snaps up in alarm, the axe on his throat creating a small cut, but he can’t bring himself to care because Technoblade is here he’s here he’s going to kill him all over again and make him blind again and he doesn’t wanna be blind again please pleas-

“Clearly you haven’t forgotten our fight,” Techno muses with his smirk still in place as he steps closer to Quackity, the voices cheering happily over the fear in Quackity’s eyes, all of them wanting Q to suffer, especially after they saw Dream chained up and shaking like a leaf. “Well, that’s if we can even call it a fight since, y’know, you lost to a pickaxe.”

“Fuck off, Technoblade,” Quackity harshly says, but all of them hear the slight shakiness in his tone, telling everyone that, while he didn’t feel afraid of Wilbur, he’s terrified of Techno. “You fucking ruin everything!”

“I feel like you’re the one who ruined things, ‘specially since you’re torturing a dude,” Techno says as he glances behind him, a slight frown gracing his features as he sees Dream sobbing uncontrollably in Phil’s embrace, the older man’s wings wrapped around him as he tries to console the still-terrified man.

“Fuck, Dream,” Wil breathes out in a horrified whisper as he moves his axe off of Quackity’s throat, Techno’s words distracting him from his desire to make Quackity pay and causing him to remember that Dream, His Love, has been hurt again and is in need of comfort.

“Don’t let him get away, I’m not done with him yet,” Wil demands in a low, angry tone as he turns his back on Quackity, quickly approaching Dream instead.

“Oh, he’s certainly not leaving,” Techno says without hesitation as he glares at Quackity, noticing the way the smaller man shrinks under his gaze from fear. “Well, at least he won’t be leaving alive.” 

“Q, why are you doing this?” Tubbo asks in a low, hurt tone from where he stands blocking the entrance of the cell, silent up until this point because he’s just shocked that Q, one of his oldest friends, could be capable of something so horrible.

As Wil pulls Dream into a tight hug, stroking his back and cradling the man’s head to his chest as Phil wraps his arms and wings around both his boys, Quackity scowls deeply, loathing the sight of people comforting a monster like Dream.

So, in a confident tone without a single trace of fear, truly believing that this is right, Quackity answers Tubbo’s question with a simple, “This is what he deserves.”

“No one deserves this!” Tubbo angrily shouts, appalled by how Q could condone literal torture. “And we just talked about this! I gave presidential orders to not imprison or hurt him, and less than an hour later you do exactly that! What is wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with me?!” Quackity yells in return, a loud, deranged, and unhinged laugh escaping him at how absurd this all is. “What’s wrong with you, Tubbo?! You’re the one defending that monster!”

“Q, I’m starting to think that you might be the monster here, not Dream,” Tubbo whispers as tears rush to his eyes, having never thought that he’d side with Dream of all people, but he can’t deny that what Quackity’s doing is wrong and utterly disgusting. 

“Haha, hilarious,” Quackity sarcastically says as he glares at Tubbo, not believing the boy for a single second, knowing that only psychopaths like Wilbur and Technoblade would ever defend Dream. 

“No, I’m serious,” Tubbo says in a steely, unwavering tone, knowing that, as president, it is his duty to show his citizens what they’ve done wrong, even though it’s so fucking hard to face Q, his once-friend, like this. “I know what you’ve done. Not only do you want to torture Dream, but you already did that. He was a defenseless prisoner, and you took advantage of that and hurt him.”

“Tubbo, what in the world are you talking about?” Quackity asks in a low, disbelieving whisper, trying his best to pretend like he has no idea what Tubbo’s talking about, especially since, on the inside, he’s freaking out, wondering who told the boy the truth. 

“Quackity, shut the fuck up!” Wilbur angrily shouts from where he’s sitting with Phil and Dream in the corner of the cell farthest from Quackity, refusing to let this monster manipulate anyone else. “He knows the truth, so quit being a coward and admit that you enjoyed making Dream’s life a living hell.”

“Are you seriously going to believe Wilbur over me, Tubbo?” Quackity asks a little desperately as he continues watching the younger boy, not even wanting to look in Wilbur’s direction, hating the absolute filth that are all hugging a tyrant, an absolute monster. “You’re really gonna side with Techno and Phil after they blew up our nation.”

“What?” Tubbo asks as his gaze darts from Quackity to Techno to Phil, not understanding what Q is talking about, but growing increasingly concerned when he sees the wide smirk on the man’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, your little friends here told you about my torture but didn’t share their wrongs?” Quackity sneers as he glares at Technoblade, finding it so fucking typical that he’d tell the boy everything he’s done wrong, yet neglect to share how he blew up the president’s entire nation.

“Phil?” Tubbo asks in a small, weak tone, not wanting to believe Q, but a little part of him can’t help but whisper that he’s on the wrong side, that Q’s his friend, one who would never lie to him. “Is this true?”

“I don’t know, Mate, I’m not from the future,” Phil softly says as he continues to hold Dream and Wil close, doing his best to stay out of the conversation, instead focusing his attention on Dream, who’s still trembling violently from lingering fear and adrenaline.

With a heavy sigh, hoping that this doesn’t backfire, Techno honestly says, “It’s true. Me, Dream, and Phil all worked together to blow up L’Manburg. But we’re never doing that again.”

“Tubbo, you can’t trust him!” Quackity says without hesitation, latching onto this like a lifeline, knowing that convincing Tubbo that he’s in the right is the only way for him to make it out alive. “If Technoblade blew up our nation once, he’ll do it again.”

“Well, by that logic, Wilbur is gonna blow up L’Manburg again too,” Tubbo thoughtfully says after a few moments of thinking, then, as he turns toward the three sitting in the corner, he questions, “Are you, Wil?”

“No, I promise I won’t,” Wil says without hesitation, knowing that he was in a dark, dark place when he pressed that button, but he’s never going back there, especially since he has Dream now. “I regret ever blowing it up.”

“I second that,” Techno continues in that same sincere tone as he meets Tubbo’s gaze, hoping that Tubbo won’t side with Quackity, especially since, believe it or not, he actually doesn’t want to kill the kid again, never wanted to in the first place. “We all got caught up in the hurt and betrayal and destroyed everything. But I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that L’Manburg won’t be blown up by any of us ever again.”

“Tubbo, you can’t trust a single thing they say!” Quackity angrily demands as he tries to step away from the wall he’s leaning against, to move toward Tubbo and shake some sense into the naive boy, but the weakness potion doesn’t allow him to do any of that, causing him to continue in an extremely desperate tone, “You know me! We’ve known each other for so long, and I haven’t hurt you like all of them have. Are you really going to believe them over me? Let them lie to you and tell them that I’ve done these awful things?”

“Honestly, I don’t trust any of you,” Tubbo says with a bitter laugh, wishing that Tommy was here, knowing that all this was easier if his best friend was here to help him navigate this horrible situation.

Then, with growing confidence, Tubbo continues in a strong, firm tone, “So, I’m going to believe Tommy. In exile, he watched Dream have a panic attack where he begged ‘Sir’ not to hurt him. I’m guessing that’s you.”

From where he sits in the corner, Dream flinches violently, still too out of it to understand much of the conversation around him, but he knows the word ‘Sir’ all too well, the sound of it making him even more terrified. 

But, thankfully, a set of warm, gentle hands begin carding fingers through his hair, the kind touch reminding him that, even though Sir is still here, Wil’s here too, and he won’t let anyone hurt him. 

While absolutely fuming, Quackity shouts in a disbelieving tone, “You’re really going to listen to what Tommy says?! Exile fucked up his head, you can’t trust-”

One moment, Tubbo was standing by the cell exit, axe held loosely in his right hand, torch in the other.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Quackity finds himself with an axe pressing dangerously against his throat and a very angry Tubbo muttering through gritted teeth, “If you say one more bad thing about Tommy, I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

“Really?” Quackity asks with a scoff, knowing that Tubbo doesn’t have the guts to kill his friend; he’s always been such a weak president, allowing so many others to make all the decisions, so he can’t imagine the boy so much as harming him, let alone ending one of his lives.

“Do not try me,” Tubbo harshly demands in that same tone, so fucking sick of Quackity disrespecting his best friend, and he’s certain that, if he were to kill him right now, no one in this room would be upset. “I’m trying to be a fair and just president, but I’ve had it up to here with you, Quackity. You’ve disrespected Tommy multiple times today, you blatantly disobeyed my presidential orders, and now you’ve begun to imprison and torture someone without any jurisdiction.”

“Oh come on, I didn’t actually do anything to him,” Quackity says with another derisive scoff, but, rather than directing that sound at Tubbo, he’s furious with himself for not even leaving a single cut on Dream’s body, terribly missing all the marks of his ownership that used to litter Dream’s skin. 

And even though Tubbo didn’t see any blood on Dream’s body besides his scratched wrists from the chains, he can’t help but think that Quackity had to have done something else.

After all, why is Dream so quiet?

He hasn’t even said a single word…

Quackity must have done something to Dream, there’s no way his silence is normal.

While addressing Dream for the first time since entering the cell, Tubbo demands in a firm, yet gentle tone, “Dream, I need you to say something to me.”

Dream opens his mouth to speak, he really tries to say something, wanting so badly to thank everyone for coming to rescue him, but nothing comes out because of the muteness potion.

“Really, you didn’t do anything to him?” Tubbo asks with his own scoff, certain now that Quackity is lying to him about not hurting Dream.

“No, he’s just scared,” Quackity dismissively says, knowing that they’d try to stop him if they learned about his potion brewing, and he has a lot of different types he wants to test on his new specimen.

Slowly, Dream moves his head away from Wil’s chest and turns toward Tubbo, trying to convey with his eyes that he wants to speak so badly, but no sound is able to escape his open mouth.

“You’re lying, Q,” Tubbo firmly and confidently states after a few moments of just maintaining eye contact with Dream, clearly able to see the desperation and fear in the man’s eyes. 

“What the fuck did you do to him?!” Wil angrily demands as he glares daggers at Quackity, fear gripping his chest painfully because, for some reason, Dream, the love of his life, can’t say a single word. “Why can’t he talk?!”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Wilbur,” Quackity says with a low, cruel chuckle, basking in the terror in Wilbur’s voice, hoping that the man will drown and suffocate in the fear of losing his precious Dream. 

“I’ll fucking murder you!” Wilbur screams as he jumps to his feet, oblivious to the way Dream covers his ears as he cowers against Phil’s chest, deciding that he doesn’t like it at all when Wil yells, even if it’s on his behalf. “How dare you do this to him again?!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t do this to you,” Quackity says with a malicious, too-wide grin as Wilbur begins stomping toward him. 

“What?” Wilbur asks just above a whisper as he abruptly stops in his tracks, certain that he must’ve misheard, that Quackity didn’t just say that he wanted to torture him like he did to Dream. 

“Ever since you entered Dream’s cell, I’ve been looking forward to making you scream,” Quackity says in a wistful tone, oblivious to the matching looks of horror on everyone in the room, too busy remembering all the nights he dreamed of finding Wilbur and making him bleed, slowly and painfully. “If I had known that you’d been revived again, I would have done this to you instead.”

“You make me sick,” Wilbur says in a low, horrified tone as he takes a step back from Quackity, not wanting to be near the monster any longer, especially since he was almost tortured by him too. 

“The feeling is mutual, Darling,” Quackity says with a smirk as he winks at Wilbur, the sight causing Wil to back up even more, bile rising in his throat as he realizes just how fucked up Quackity is. 

“Q…” Tubbo softly starts to say, but he trails off, not even knowing what to say in the face of Quackity’s undeniable cruelty. 

It’s one thing to want to torture Dream. 

Sure, it’s still super fucked up, but Dream has done a lot of horrible things.

Tubbo doesn’t think that what Quackity’s done is at all justified, but he can almost understand the man’s reasoning.

When Tommy first told him what happened during exile, he wanted to find Dream and slaughter him, tear him from limb to limb for hurting his best friend so badly. 

Once he learned that the ex-tyrant had endured literal torture, those thoughts quickly vanished. 

But, in that brief moment, he thought of doing truly awful things to Dream. 

So, even though he thinks that what Quackity’s done is fucking disgusting, he can almost understand how he slipped toward those thoughts of inflicting pain and suffering on Dream.

Wilbur is an entirely different story though.

Sure, Wil blew up L’Manburg, but that’s about it.

Tubbo fought and died alongside Wilbur, helped form a nation and watched him burn it all to the ground, but, despite all that, he’d never, ever want to hurt the man. 

Wil fucked up and hurt a lot of people when he blew up L’Manburg, but haven’t they all hurt people? 

No one should be tortured for their mistakes, but especially not Wil. 

Before Pogtopia, Wil was good and kind. Rather than sending his people out to die during the war for L’Manburg’s independence, he fought alongside his men. And even though he elected himself as president without consulting the people, he was never an unfair ruler. 

So, for Quackity to want to torture someone like Wil, Tubbo knows that the friend he once had is long, long gone.

He doesn’t know where Q went, but he knows for certain that his friend is dead, replaced by a sick, twisted person who is willing to hurt and torture whoever tries to stand in his way.

As if to confirm Tubbo’s thoughts of Q being long gone, Quackity harshly says in reply to Tubbo softly saying his name, “What do you want, Tubbo? Can’t you see that the adults are talking?”

“What happened to you?” Tubbo weakly asks, unable to understand who the person in front of him is and where Q went. “Why are you like this?”

“Dream made me this way,” Quackity growls without hesitation as he glares heatedly at Dream, unable to see the pathetic monster cowering behind Phil’s wings, but he knows that he’s hiding there. “He hurt people too many times, and I knew that someone had to put him in his place so he wouldn’t keep doing it. I didn’t want to, but he made me-.”

“Just fucking stop, Quackity!” Wilbur yells in a frustrated tone, absolutely refusing to let Quackity blame Dream because he was tortured. “You can’t blame Dream for the way you tortured him! Sure, Dream hurt a lot of people, but he isn’t the only one.”

Then, as he approaches Quackity, Wilbur points an accusing finger at him and firmly says, “You hurt him because you enjoyed it, not because someone pressured you to. You forget that I was there. I watched as you made him beg and cry, the way you smiled at his terror. No one forced you to beat, whip, and maim him, that was all because you wanted to hurt him like that.”

“What can I say?” Quackity asks with a dismissive shrug, uncaring of the way the axe Tubbo’s holding against his throat pinches his skin, drawing a few beads of blood that drip down his neck. “It was fun.”

“You’re fucking despicable,” Wilbur growls as his hands clench into fists at his sides, trying his absolute best to not cross the distance between them and beat the shit out of Quackity.

“Oh yeah?” Quackity taunts as he juts out his chin defiantly, refusing to let Wilbur’s words bother him. “As if you’re an angel.”

Then, with a bitter, humorless laugh, Quackity harshly accuses everyone in the cell, “You’re just as bad as me. All of you are! You’re trying to act like some hero, paint me as this villain, when each and every one of you have done horrible things! You’re all much worse than me.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Wil says without hesitation, knowing that Quackity is delusional, that none of them are anything like him. “We would never hurt anyone the way you’ve hurt Dream.”

“Really, not even me?” Quackity challenges with a smirk, knowing that this could definitely get him killed, but he can’t really bring himself to care.

After all, if he’s going to die today, he might as well die being right and show them all how pathetic and hypocritical they’re acting by pretending like they’re better than him.

“What?” Wilbur questions as his anger starts to fade slightly, instead being replaced by pure confusion, unable to understand how Quackity thinks that they’d hurt anyone the way he hurt Dream, especially since Wil refuses to inflict that kind of pain on even the tormentor himself. 

“Come on, Wilbur, I’m not stupid,” Quackity says in a condescending tone with a mocking laugh, reveling in the way everyone in the cell is silent as he speaks, hanging on his every word, as if he’s the center of all their worlds. “You want to kill me, but you don’t want it to be quick and painless. You want to drag it out, chop off my fingers like I did to Dream. You’re no better than me.”

“I wouldn’t wish torture on anyone, even you,” Wil firmly says without hesitation, and, even though he would love to watch Quackity writhe in agony for all the ways he’s hurt Dream, he knows Dream would never forgive him if he watched the horrors he faced in the prison only to inflict that on another person. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t take part in it.”

“We all know you’re lying, Wilbur,” Quackity says with a scowl, disappointed that Wilbur didn’t rise to the bait, that he won’t just show everyone here that he’s a disgusting, horrible monster, just like Dream. “That seems to be all you and Dream are good for.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Wilbur angrily demands as he steps closer to Quackity, leaving only a few blocks in between them, wanting nothing more than to punch him relentlessly until the light leaves his wicked eyes, especially after the way he just insulted Dream. 

“Why don’t you make me?” Quackity taunts with his signature too-wide smile, a part of him wanting Wilbur to attack him, knowing that that would show everyone here that they shouldn’t side with Wilbur, someone who’s so clearly unhinged and craves the suffering of others. “Why don’t you beat me until I’m too bloody to speak? Go ahead, prove that I’m right.”

Before Wil and Quackity can continue arguing, Tubbo tightens his grip on the axe pressed against Quackity’s neck and firmly says, “Seriously, Big Q, just stop. No one here is on your side, not after everything you’ve done.”

“Tubbo, you’re seriously siding with the people who destroyed our nation over your friend ?” Quackity asks in a low, disbelieving tone as he looks into Tubbo’s eyes, feeling shocked and betrayed by the cold indifference in the boy’s baby blue eyes.

“You are not my friend,” Tubbo harshly says, knowing that Q, his friend, is dead, replaced by this cruel, unrecognizable person standing in front of him. “You lost the right to that when you fucking tortured someone.”

“Okay,” Quackity simply says, realizing for the first time that he’s fighting a losing battle, especially since not even Tubbo, the complete yes-man, is on his side, but, instead of showing his growing fear and hopelessness, Quackity keeps that all locked inside, pretending like he doesn’t care about the loss of one of the last few people who were on his side.

“Seriously, that’s all you have to say for yourself?” Tubbo asks in a low, disbelieving tone, unable to fathom how Quackity can just brush him aside like that, as if their friendship meant absolutely nothing to him. 

“Yeah,” Quackity says with another dismissive shrug, a small part of him feeling a twinge of guilt at the hurt that flashes in Tubbo’s eyes, but he pushes that aside immediately, instead biting out, “What, you want me to beg to keep a friendship that I never even cared about to begin with? Is that what you want? Would that help rebuild your fragile little ego?”

“Prime, you’re so fucked in the head,” Wil mutters with a disbelieving chuckle, shocked at what Q has become; he knew that Quackity was fucked up, after all, no sane person would want to torture someone, but talking to him for so long is really showing Wil just how deep the damage has spread, leaving Quackity a cruel, fucked up monster who doesn’t care who he hurts. 

“And you aren’t, Wilbur?” Quackity practically purrs with a wicked glint in his eyes, imagining that he’s holding his beloved netherite sword, driving it into the monster’s chest as he speaks his next sharp, cutting words, “I’m sure spending 13 and a half years all alone did wonders for your mental health.”

“Don’t you dare talk about Limbo!” Wilbur snarls as his hands clench into even tighter fists, blood starting to drip down his wrists from crescent-shaped cuts in his palms, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s clenching his hands to resist the urge to beat Quackity so badly that he’ll never be able to say such hateful things again. 

“Awww, what’s wrong, did I hurt your poor widdle feelings?” Quackity questions in a mocking, high-pitched whine, chuckling cruelly afterward at the way Wilbur flinches, as if those words physically pained him to hear.

Then, as his voice turns hard and unforgiving, Quackity points out, “You’re a grown-ass man, Wilbur, it’s about time you start acting like it.”

“Why are you so mean, Q?” Tubbo softly questions after glancing at Wil, his heart aching when he sees how badly the man shakes as hot, angry tears begin to slip down his cheeks. 

“It’s not my fault that Wilbur can’t handle the truth,” Quackity dismissively says, smirking wildly when he notices the tears rapidly trailing down Wilbur’s cheeks. 

Good, he deserves to cry.

He deserves to suffer for trying to protect a monster like Dream.

With a heavy sigh, Technoblade pushes himself off of the wall that he had been leaning against, no longer content to silently watch this conversation take place, especially since the voices have started to demand blood even more eagerly now that Wilbur's crying.

As he approaches the trio, Techno notices how Quackity’s eyes widen with fear as his gaze snaps to the piglin-hybrid, as though he forgot that the towering figure was also in the cell, too busy picking on the others to remember that there is a very big threat who’d love to rip the smaller man to shreds. 

While placing a large, comforting hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, reminding the man that he isn’t alone, Techno calls out to Quackity in a deceptively calm tone, “Y’know, I’d really appreciate it if you stopped being rude to my friends. You wouldn’t want another pickaxe through your teeth, would you?”

“Are you threatening me?” Quackity demands through gritted teeth, absolutely disgusted at the way Technoblade stands beside Wilbur, touching and comforting that monster. 

“No, I’m promising you that, if you keep this up, I’ll give you a fresh, new scar,” Techno says in a firm, unwavering tone, swapping his axe for his netherite pickaxe and smirking at the way Quackity’s breath hitches at the sight of him holding a pickaxe, the man remembering all too well what happened the last time Technoblade had one. “I couldn’t help but notice that your old one’s missing.”

Before the fighting and violence can continue any longer, Dream finally finds his voice as the muteness potion wears off, causing him to demand in a weak, raspy tone, “E-Enough. No-o m-more.”

“Dre, oh prime, are you okay?” Wil quickly asks as he rushes toward Dream, the sound of His Love’s voice causing all other thoughts to leave his mind, so thankful to hear Dream’s lovely voice once again.

As Wil kneels in front of him, Dream flings himself at Wil’s chest and softly murmurs, “Y-Yeah, just-t… sh-shaken up-p.”

“What did he do to you, Mate?” Phil softly questions as he wraps his wings around both Dream and Wil, also incredibly relieved to hear Dream speak again. “Why couldn’t you talk to us?”

Before Dream can speak, Quackity draws everyone’s attention back to him by saying in a loud, smug tone, “Since coming to the past, I’ve been dabbling with potion brewing. Thought that Dreamie here might like to try something new.”

Then, with a smirk that causes everyone to feel a mix of anger and dread, Quackity happily continues, “Potions of muteness are my starter ones, but I think I’ll try branching out too. Potions of harming, potions of burning, potions of blinding, and even more. Who knows what else I could make!”

And upon hearing what Quackity did to Dream, that he made the love of his life a fucking test subject, Wilbur just can’t hold back anymore.

He knows that Dream doesn’t want violence or revenge, remembering when, one night in their cabin, Dream made him promise that he would never hurt Quackity on his behalf, but Wil just can’t stop himself anymore.

He’s tried so, so hard to keep his promise to Dream, but this is fucking despicable. 

Quackity made potions to take away Dream’s voice and wants to test even more on him. 

This is not okay.

He can’t let Quackity get away with this.

Gently, Wilbur maneuvers Dream away from him, being mindful not to touch His Love with his hands, which are still sluggishly oozing blood from the cuts his nails made. 

When Dream releases a confused whine at the loss of Wilbur’s touch, Wil just gives him a sad smile, begging with his eyes for Dream to forgive him for what he’s about to do. 

Then, as his face hardens, his eyes blazing with absolute murderous intent, Wilbur stomps toward Quackity and demands, “Move the axe.”

Without hesitation, Tubbo steps away, not wanting to question Wilbur when the man looks more furious than anyone he’s ever seen.

“Wil, w-what are you d-doing?” Dream hesitantly questions from where he’s sitting in Phil’s embrace, the man’s wings blocking his view of everyone else in the room, but he hears the unmistakable anger in Wil’s voice, one that promises a slow, painful death. 

With a smirk, Quackity watches as Wilbur approaches, feeling satisfied because, even though he knows that this is going to hurt, it means that he was right.

Wilbur thinks that he’s so high and mighty, that he’s better than him, but they aren’t so different after all.

If Wilbur gets angry enough, he’s willing to hurt someone else.

And isn’t that what Quackity did too?

He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

In fact, he would never hurt anyone like he has Dream.

But Dream just made him so angry, hurt everyone so badly, that he just couldn’t hold back, resulting in him finally putting the monster in his rightful place, which is laying on the floor of a cell, a boot pressed against his chest to keep him from standing up and hurting anyone else ever again.

“You are never coming near him again,” Wilbur says through gritted teeth as he stops in front of Quackity, his breaths loud and erratic as he fights the urge to wrap his bloody hands around the man’s throat until he’s nothing but a corpse.

But even through all his anger, he knows that Dream would never forgive him if he killed Quackity, even though the prick definitely deserves it.

So, he does the next best thing and slaps the absolute fuck out of Quackity. 

Chapter Text

With a smirk of his own, Wil reels his hand back, then smacks Quackity’s left cheek, the force behind it sending the man onto the ground below, a deafening smack echoing throughout the compact cell, followed by the loud thud of Quackity’s right hip and head smacking the ground, a low groan escaping the man as the bloody handprint on his cheek makes his entire face ache. 

“I second that,” Techno agrees as he steps closer to Wil and Quackity, his pickaxe in hand as he towers over the man lying on the floor of the cell, refusing to let Quackity hurt Dream ever again. “Who’s stabbin’ first? Because the Blood God is very eager to spill some blood.”

As Quackity lays on the cold, dirty floor, unable to stand up again because of the weakness potion, his cheek throbs as it starts turning an ugly shade of red. And even though it’s been a long time, that harsh pain is all too familiar and causes him to shiver violently as he curls in on himself, suddenly overcome with memories of another pair of hands that used to strike his skin with such glee.

With trembling fingers, Quackity knocks on the door to the Presidential Suite, wishing that he were anywhere else, but knowing that avoiding Schlatt will only make the drunkard even angrier.  

When Schlatt grumbles for him to enter, Quackity takes a deep breath to steel himself, then slowly turns the knob of the oak-wood door and steps inside. 

The President’s bedroom is dark--it always is, even the faint glow of a torch being enough to cause the intoxicated man a wicked headache--so Quackity can only see the silhouette of a man standing by the foot of the bed, swaying violently to the side and nearly falling over as Schlatt rounds on him.

And, even though he wants nothing more than to run away and hide from Schlatt, Quackity closes the door behind him, leaving him alone in the bedroom of the man who terrifies him more than anyone else in the whole world. 

“Hello, President Schlatt,” Quackity whispers as he stares at the ground beneath his feet, not wanting to watch as Schlatt comes closer, especially since looking into the drunk man’s eyes always seem to make him angrier.

“You’re late,” Schlatt growls as he staggers toward Quackity, only stopping when he’s towering over the shorter man, reveling in the way his body shakes and trembles from terror. 

Quackity knows that he isn’t late, he’s here a whole ten minutes early even, but he doesn’t try to argue, instead just instinctually tensing his body as he weakly whispers, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“You know how much I hate it when you’re late,” Schlatt says in a low, threatening tone, his words slightly slurred together, but that just makes him even scarier to Quackity, knowing very well how, the drunker he gets, the harder Schlatt hits, becoming increasingly less concerned about damaging his precious Vice President, his Flatty Patty. 

Smack!

Before Quackity can apologize again, a large hand strikes his left cheek, the force of it sending him sprawling onto the ground below, a weak, pained cry escaping his lips as right hip and head collide with the quartz floor, stars dancing behind his eyes as the darkened world around him sways in and out of focus.

“You’re pathetic,” Schlatt harshly says through gritted teeth, each of his words punctuated by a swift, powerful kick to Quackity’s stomach, the collision of the sturdy boots with his fragile skin stealing his breath away, causing him to gasp and struggle for air as he curls in on himself. “The only thing you’re good for is a quick fuck. You’re worthless, can’t even come here on time.”

As Schlatt keeps hurling insults at him, some mingled in with harsh blows, tears slip freely from Quackity’s eyes, making him wish more than anything that the pain would stop, but it never does.

No matter how many times he’s begged and pleaded not to be hurt, how many times he’s apologized or tried to just be good enough for Schlatt, the pain never ends. 

So, as the onslaught continues, Quackity just lays there and takes it, hoping that, maybe one day, he’ll have the power to stand up to Schlatt and finally put an end to this agony.

With a frown on his face, Dream stares at Quackity’s violently trembling form, unsure why the man suddenly looks so terrified, especially since he seemed so calm and collected during the entire conversation beforehand, but his fear is undeniable.

It’s… off-putting to say the least...

Because, when Dream looks at Quackity, really looks at him, all he can see is a man lying on the floor of a dirty cell, too weak to move as people who want to hurt him tower over him with deadly axes.

When he looks at Quackity right now, he doesn’t see his tormentor; the pure, genuine terror on his face as he stares unseeingly at invisible threats is nothing like the wicked man he knows so well.

Quackity had all the power, and now he has nothing, leaving him helpless and entirely at the mercy of those who want to cause him agony.

And if Dream didn’t know what it was like to feel that exact same way, to be too weak and scared to escape the people who want to cause great pain, he probably wouldn’t have minded letting Techno enact his revenge.

But, as Quackity trembles on the floor, terrified beyond belief because there’s no escape in sight, Dream can’t condone that.

Because when he looks at Quackity right now, all he sees is himself when he was trapped in his cell, terrified that even breathing wrong would send his tormentor into an angry frenzy of pain and suffering.

And, even though Quackity was the person who brought him to such a pitiful state, he doesn’t want him to suffer like he has.

Torturer or not, Quackity is still a person, and he shouldn’t have to feel absolutely terrified and helpless while his entire life is in someone else’s hands.

So, after taking a deep breath to steel himself, Dream sits up straight, no longer hiding in Phil’s embrace as he firmly demands, “Wil, Tubbo, Techno, back up. Give him some space to breathe.”

“What?” Tubbo questions as he glances over at Dream, shocked to hear the man telling them to back away from the person who tortured him so he can breathe easier. 

“He can’t move because of the weakness potion, so there’s no reason to tower over him like that,” Dream continues in that same, commanding tone, refusing to back down in the face of all their confused and concerned looks.

“Dre, what are you doing?” Wilbur hesitantly questions as he tears his gaze away from Quackity’s trembling form, instead looking at Dream, allowing him to see the fiery determination blazing in Dream’s eyes, so much like the look he gave the egg right before igniting the TNT that destroyed it once and for all. 

“He’s terrified,” Dream bluntly points out, feeling increasingly worried when Quackity doesn’t react, certain that the man would’ve told him off for saying that about him. 

“And?” Techno asks as he waves around his hand with the pickaxe, not understanding Dream one bit; he thought that his rival would be happy to see Quackity laying on the ground, unable to hurt him ever again, but Dream almost sounds… angry.

“I know what it’s like,” Dream says with a shrug, trying his best to keep his voice firm and emotionless, not wanting everyone to realize how, every time he looks at Quackity, all he can see is himself and the many times he was terrified and in pain, too scared and weak to even rise off the floor of a dirty cell. “Even he doesn’t deserve that shit.”

“He deserves to pay,” Techno firmly says, his words echoing those of the voices, each and every one of them demanding that he takes the pickaxe in his hand and begins chopping and hacking at Quackity. 

As Dream is suddenly overcome with pure, all-encompassing anger, much like earlier when he and Techno fought, he says in a harsh sneer, “With all due respect, Technoblade, this isn’t your fight. I know you two have a bad history together, but this is about what he did to me in the prison and what he tried to do again today. So, either you follow my lead, or you get the fuck out of here.”

For a few moments, the two just stare at each other, neither head-strong rival wanting to back down.

But, finally, Techno lowers his gaze and nods at Dream, then takes a few steps back from Quackity.

Now that Wil, Techno, and Tubbo aren’t as close, Dream watches as a stray tear slips from Quackity’s left eye before sliding onto the blackstone ground below. 

And the longer he looks at Quackity, the harder it is to just keep sitting in Phil’s comforting embrace.

This is wrong …

Why can’t anyone else see it?

Everyone here worked together to save him, but now they’re treating Quackity the exact same way. 

They didn’t want him to be scared and helpless, but that’s exactly how Quackity must feel right now.

And unlike when Dream was in that position, absolutely no one is going to save Quackity. 

Quackity is entirely at their mercy, and absolutely no one is going to protect him. 

Why does this feel so… disgusting?

Quackity likes this feeling?

He enjoys knowing that someone’s life is entirely in his hands and no one will try to prevent even the greatest of atrocities?

This is horrible.

And yet, no one else seems even remotely bothered by the man lying on the floor, trembling violently as tears rapidly slip down his cheeks.

This is wrong...

He can’t let this continue any longer.

And so, with a plan in mind, Dream finally tears his gaze away from Quackity and softly asks, “Did anyone bring milk?”

After a few moments of hesitation, surprised by Dream’s question, Tubbo nods, having brought milk in case the others needed to take away the effects of the invisibility potions.

“Can I have some?” Dream hesitantly questions, a part of him scared of trying to take away the effect of Quackity’s weakness potion, knowing that that’ll make it much easier for the man to hurt him again, but Dream knows that it has to be done, because this is just wrong. 

“Are there still potions affecting you?” Tubbo questions in a concerned tone, having thought that everything already wore off, but maybe Quackity forced him to drink even more than they originally thought.

“I don’t know,” Dream says the lie with a shaky smile, hating the feeling of lying and trying to manipulate Tubbo, but he’s certain that no one will let him go through with this if they knew what he was planning. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

With a sad smile, Tubbo comes over and gives Dream the bucket of milk.

Except, instead of drinking it, Dream slowly stands up on trembling legs, then starts approaching Quackity.

But before he can reach the man, Techno blocks his path and questions in a warning tone, “Dream, what are you doing?”

“This isn’t right,” Dream firmly says as he uses his hand not holding the milk to gesture toward Quackity’s trembling form, feeling his heart ache at the sight of the clearly-hurting man. “Just look at how scared he is.”

“Good,” Techno says without hesitation, both him and the voices satisfied to know that Quackity is experiencing even a fraction of the pain that Dream must’ve endured here today. “He deserves it after everything he’s done.”

“No, he doesn’t!” Dream exclaims in a loud, frustrated tone, wishing that everyone here would just fucking listen to him and stop pretending like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. “No one deserves this! You all came here to save me, but you’re doing the same shit as him! When I was in my cell, I looked exactly like that.”

“Then this is the best kind of revenge,” Techno says with a dismissive shrug, not understanding why Dream’s getting so upset over the fact that Quackity, his torturer, is a little scared. “Give 'em a glimpse at what he did to you.”

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,” Dream bitterly says as he glares at Techno, absolutely refusing to back down, especially since everyone else here seems to be perfectly fine with how terrified Quackity is. “This is why I didn’t want revenge. He hurt me, now you all hurt him, and it makes him want to hurt me even more and the cycle never ends.”

“We won’t let him hurt you again,” Wil pipes up from where he’s standing a little ways away, wanting Dream to know that, no matter how badly Quackity might want revenge now, that monster will never touch the man he loves again.

“That isn’t the point!” Dream continues in that same, angry tone as he rounds on Wilbur, some of the milk getting dangerously close to sloshing over the edge of the bucket, but he can’t bring himself to care. “The point is that you all are doing the same shit that he did to me!”

“We’d never do tha-” Wil firmly starts to say as he moves toward Dream, but he is swiftly interrupted by a livid Dream. 

“But you are!” Dream screams at the top of his lungs, just wishing that they would fucking listen to what he wants instead of trying to protect him or enact revenge on his behalf. “Why can’t you see it?! He’s lying in a cell, too weak to move. That was me every damn day! He’s crying and trembling, terrified that, any moment now, the person holding an axe above him will make him bleed. I know that all too well too. And you all say he deserves this, but maybe I deserved what he did to me too! Have you ever thought of that?!”

“No one deserves what you’ve been through, Mate,” Phil softly says from where he’s still sitting in the corner of the cell, hoping that his words will help Dream calm down, especially since the boy’s chest is starting to heave from his harsh, angry breaths.

“Exactly!” Dream shouts as he throws his empty hand into the air, beyond frustrated by how Phil says that no one deserves what he went through, yet they’re putting Quackity through the exact same shit. “That’s my fucking point! So why are you all treating him the exact same way he treated me?!”

“Dream, it isn’t the same thing at al-” Techno starts to say from where he still stands unmoving in front of Dream, blocking his path toward Quackity, but Dream refuses to listen to the piglin-hybrid, especially since none of them are listening to him. 

“Out of my way,” Dream growls as he reaches out his empty hand and places it on Techno’s chest, trying to push the larger man away, but he doesn’t budge, the sight of Techno still being in his way just making him even more frustrated. “I’m done trying to reason with you all. You’re treating him the way he did to me, and I can’t let this continue.”

Then, as his voice takes on a slightly accusing edge, Dream meets everyone’s eyes and firmly says, “I don’t need you all to act like these righteous heroes, because none of us are anything like that. Each and every one of us have done awful things and betrayed the people we cared about in some way. We’ve all fucked up, but we’re more than willing to push all the blame onto someone else and ignore our own faults. It already happened to me with the prison, and I refuse to let it happen again.”

“Dre-” Wil tries to say as he steps toward Dream again, but he doesn’t get the chance to even properly start before an icy glare from Dream causes him to shut his jaw with an audible click. 

“No, I’m done listening,” Dream hotly says as he continues glaring at Wil, hating that, when he needs Wil most, the man he loves is refusing to stand by his side and support his decision.

Then, as he spreads his glare to all the other occupants in the cell, he harshly accuses, “You all need to quit acting like fucking heroes trying to save some helpless princess. Because I am not helpless, and I can make my own fucking decisions. So, you’re all gonna back up and let me speak to him on equal terms for once in my fucking life. This is my battle, not yours.”

Then, as Dream releases a shuddering sigh, trying his best to let go of some of his anger, he says in a slightly softer tone, “I appreciate you all wanting to help me, but this isn’t helping anyone. All you’ve done is help me to hurt someone else, and that’s not okay.”

For a few moments, everyone is speechless, all of them watching Dream with wide eyes, absolutely none of them expecting Dream’s outburst, nor the validity behind his words. 

Finally, even though he doesn’t like this one bit, Techno moves out of Dream’s way, instead sitting by Phil, Wil and Tubbo soon following too.

With a heavy sigh, feeling drained after all his shouting, Dream kneels beside Quackity and gently places a hand on the man’s shaking shoulder, wincing when he flinches violently, knowing all too well what that feels like.

When Dream gives Quackity’s shoulder a gentle squeeze to get his attention, he expects the man to glare up at him, to snarl and say how much he hates him.

Instead, Quackity flinches yet again, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and pleading in a weak whisper, “Please, S-Schlatt, d-don’t. I’m-m s-sorry. I’ll b-be better, p-promise.”

For a few moments, Dream just stares down at Quackity in shock, his heart aching at the sound of the man begging not to be hurt, especially since such similar pleas have fallen from his own lips so many times.

And, even though Dream never, ever would have wanted to do this before today, he wants to help Quackity.

Because, even though the man has done terrible, awful things, it seems like terrible things have happened to him too.

Dream doesn’t know much of what happened during Schlatt’s presidency, but he saw that the man was almost always drunk, and an angry one at that.

Quackity was his vice president, working closely alongside Schlatt… 

And based on what the man just said, nothing good came from that relationship.

How many times did Quackity beg and cry not to be hurt, only for the pain to come regardless?

And how many times has that exact same thing happened to him?

Unable to stomach the sound of Quackity’s broken pleas any longer, Dream keeps one hand on Quackity’s shoulder, then places his other hand in Q’s hair.

Instantly, Quackity stiffens in terror, knowing that, any moment now, Schlatt’s hand in his hair is going to tug painfully and use that tight grip to slam him against the wall as he pounds his fists against his skin relentlessly, all while he’s helpless to stop him.

But, instead of hurting him, the hand in Quackity’s hair begins gently carding through his jet-black, tangled strands, occasionally rubbing soothing circles into his scalp that causes low, needy whines to escape the trembling man.

While blinking back tears, Dream continues playing with Quackity’s hair, being painfully reminded of when Wil first visited his cell and offered him the first kind touch that he had experienced in so long.

How long has it been since someone hugged Quackity, or even touched him?

After a few moments of hesitation, Dream takes his hand off of Quackity’s shoulder and out of his hair, wincing at the loud, pained whimper that Quackity releases from the lack of contact.

And as the first few tears start to slip down Dream’s cheeks, he carefully maneuvers the man into a sitting position on his lap.

Even though part of Dream screams at him to get away from Quackity, the man who tormented him for months, he doesn’t see a torturer or feel like a victim right now.

Right now, it just feels like they’re both two broken people who have been hurt by others so many times, making each of them terrified of being touched, yet craving kind embraces all the same.

The only difference between them right now is that Dream has Wil, who will cuddle, touch, and hug him without hesitation, all while never hurting him.

Quackity doesn’t have anyone like that.

In fact, Dream’s pretty sure that Quackity has no one at all.

So, after releasing a shaky sigh, Dream pulls Quackity into a hug, trying to forget about everything the man’s done to him and instead focusing on the person before him, who’s so clearly hurting and desperate for comfort.

For a few moments, Quackity is confused, his brain sluggish and processing much slower due to his panic attack and the weakness potion.

All he knows is that, one moment, everything was so hard and cold, except for the nice, warm touch in his hair, the soothing sensations reminding him of back when his fiances used to hold him close as they promised they loved him.

Now though, he doesn’t feel any coldness, just warm, warm, warm, warm warm warm warm. 

And then, when a hand starts rubbing soothing circles onto his lower back, all while another arm rests across his upper back, Quackity finally realizes why he feels so warm.

He has no idea where he is or who he’s with, but he’s being hugged right now, and that’s all that matters.

He’s being hugged…

It’s been so long since someone hugged him.

And the moment Quackity has that thought, a loud, ugly sob tears from his throat as he buries his face against this person’s warm, safe chest and cries for the first time in so long. 

As Dream’s own tears slip down his cheeks even more rapidly, he holds Quackity close as his body trembles from violent sobs, not knowing why the man is crying, but willing to hold him all the same, certain that no one else is going to give the man the comfort that he so clearly needs. 

Meanwhile, the other four occupants inside the cell share shocked, wide-eyed glances, unable to believe that not only is Quackity sobbing, but that Dream is hugging and comforting his torturer. 

And even though Techno and Tubbo look horrified by what they’re seeing, Wilbur and Phil both smile ever-so-slightly, fondness in their eyes over Dream’s selfless nature and willingness to help someone in need, even after all the ways he’s been hurt by them.

After a while of simply holding Quackity as he cries, the man’s sobs come to an end, causing him to feel increasingly more aware, and mortified, as the weakness potion starts to wear off.

The second the fog of the weakness potion clears from his mind, Quackity sucks in a loud, terrified breath, suddenly remembering the angry, murderous look on Techno’s face as he talked about giving him a new scar.

No, please, not again…

He doesn’t know why his scar went away when he came to the past, but it’s been so nice being able to see out of both eyes.

He doesn’t want to be blind again…

Please…

Before Quackity can panic too badly, Dream hears his accelerated breathing, the sound of his obvious fear and distress causing him to begin rubbing soothing circles onto Quackity’s back again.

Abruptly, Quackity is pulled from his thoughts, flinching violently because someone’s touching him, someone’s touching his skin, he’s being touched he’s being touched he’s being touched and they only ever do that if they want to hurt him and he just doesn’t want that anymore because he already has so many scars from broken beer bottles slashing his skin and he doesn’t want anymore and doesn’t want to be hurt anymo-

“Shhhh, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Dream whispers in a low, soothing tone as Quackity’s breathing becomes even more erratic, knowing the beginning signs of a panic attack all too well. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

While feeling like he got punched in the gut, all the air seems to leave him in a rush when he hears Dream’s voice, especially since he’s speaking so kindly rather than begging, pleading, or screaming for Quackity not to hurt him. 

“D-D-Dream?” Quackity weakly questions, berating himself for stuttering, knowing that the prisoner is going to use that to his advantage now that he’s shown even the smallest sign of weakness that could be exploited.

After all, that’s exactly what Schlatt did to him, so why would things be any different now?

Except, instead of mocking him, Dream softly and nervously says, “H-Hey. D-Did the weakness potion w-wear off?”

After a few seconds of hesitation, Quackity nods, the movement causing the hand on his back to shift positions slightly.

Wait, there’s a hand on his back…

Is someone… hugging him?

Is that why Dream sounds so close?

But there’s no way…

Even though this might be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever thought of, Quackity incredulously asks, “Are you hugging me?”

“Yeah,” Dream softly says with a small, nervous smile, hoping that Quackity isn’t going to make him regret touching him without permission, remembering all too well the harsh punishment his tormentor inflicted on him for trying to grab Quackity’s wrist to fight back against the shears that had quickly neared his face. 

While shivering, trying his best to push that memory from his mind, Dream weakly continues, “You looked like you needed a hug.”

“You can let go of me now,” Quackity quickly says with a scoff, disgusted by the thought of a monster like Dream not only touching him, but giving him a fucking hug. “I don’t need a hug, let alone from you of all people.”

“You could let go of me too,” Dream points out as he does his best to ignore the hatred in Quackity’s tone, knowing all too well that, if the man really didn’t want to be touched, he would be lying on the floor, clutching a bloody wrist from his tormentor snapping his fragile bones as punishment for touching him. 

And even though Quackity hates to admit it, he knows that Dream’s right.

He could be the one to pull back from the hug…

It would be so easy to shove Dream away and make sure that the monster is never able to touch him, or anything else, ever again...

But… he doesn’t really want to do that…

Because, even though it’s so wrong, Quackity doesn’t want this hug to end, especially since it’s his first one after such a long time.

So, instead of letting go, he slowly leans his forehead against Dream’s chest, allowing him to hear his steady heartbeat, the sound something that normally would have bothered him, would’ve made him want to slash and tear at Dream’s flesh until his heart stops beating and finally rids the server of the monster he despises.

But, while wrapped up in Dream’s warm, soothing embrace, Quackity doesn’t really want to hurt the monst--no, the man--sitting with him.

Because even though inflicting agony on Dream helps relieve some of the pain in his own heart, Quackity thinks that this hug might be even better at helping to ease some of the anguish that torments him.

After a while of simply enjoying the kind touch of Dream’s warm embrace, Quackity hesitantly asks in a too-shaky voice that he absolutely despises, “W-What’s gonna h-happen to m-m-me?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not letting you get locked up in one of these cells,” Dream says without hesitation, knowing that, if his companions don’t want to outright murder Quackity, they’ll definitely want to lock him up as a twisted way for him to experience some of the pain he caused in the prison. “You need help, and being isolated isn’t gonna do any good.”

“I don’t need help,” Quackity angrily says with a scoff, knowing that he’s perfectly fine, and he certainly doesn’t need Dream of all people to tell him what to do. 

Ignoring Quackity’s harsh tone, Dream firmly says in a tone that doesn’t leave any room for arguing, “We both need help after the shit that happened in the prison.”

And even though Quackity has the mind to argue, to not let Dream get in the last word, he knows that the man is simply telling the truth.

Quackity likes to believe that he’s fine, and on some days, he really thinks that he is.

And then, on other days, he feels like he can’t move, can’t breathe, and the only thing that could get him out of bed on those mornings was the thought of seeing Dream and making the tyrant suffer after everything he’s done.

Okay, so maybe he does need a little bit of help... 

But he sure as hell isn’t going to admit that while Dream’s here.

So instead of commenting on the man’s words, Quackity can’t help but softly question in a disbelieving tone, “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” Dream asks with a raised eyebrow, not understanding what the man is getting at, but willing to hear him out, especially since he knows that everyone else in this cell wouldn’t be willing to give him that courtesy.

After a few seconds of hesitation, hoping that he doesn’t regret this moment of vulnerability, Quackity hesitantly questions, “Why aren’t you hurting me?”

Even though there are so many weird things about this situation, their hug definitely being one of them, the most shocking is that Dream hasn’t hurt him at all. 

For the first time in months, their roles were reversed.

Instead of being entirely powerless, Dream was the one who had all the control, especially since, because of the weakness potion, he couldn’t even move at all.

He thought that he was dead for sure.

Quackity thought that his first life would be taken by Wilbur murdering him slowly and painfully, claiming that it is revenge for Dream, but Quackity knows that, deep down, Wilbur has some darkness inside like him, one that screams for him to slash and cut and destroy anyone that threatens the things that he cares about.

He thought that his second life would be taken by Technoblade, the piglin-hybrid using that damn pickaxe to make him bleed, to shatter and fracture each and every bone until he’s left a disgusting, mangled mess, but he wouldn’t be able to see any of it, because, no doubt, the anarchist would first take away the sight in both his eyes.

And, of course, he thought that his final life would be taken by Dream. He thought that the tyrant would drag him to the prison, throw him in that cell, and hurt him the same way he had done to the prisoner. He expected Dream to whip him until he was bloody and delirious, willing to call the tyrant ‘sir’, anything to make the pain stop. He expected Dream to chop off his fingers, starting with the two that he took, then moving on to the other ones because, if he’s just going to die, why would he need those for anything? He expected Dream to be his only visitor for months, coming back each and every day just to torture someone who is already so broken, who is desperate for the release of death, yet never able to have it. 

He wouldn’t have been surprised by any of that. 

Instead, none of that happened.

Wil slapped him, he had a fucking panic attack because he remember how Schlatt used to hurt him, and then Dream took pity on him and gave him a fucking hug.

What the fuck. 

Why isn’t Dream hurting him?!

He should be hurting him!

He should be doing every awful thing back to him!

Why the fuck isn’t Dream hurting him?!

After spending a few moments trying to find the right words to answer Quackity’s question, Dream holds the trembling man a little closer and whispers only loud enough for him to hear, “I think we’ve both already been hurt enough. Don’t you?”

Yesterday, if someone had asked Quackity if Dream had suffered enough, he simply would have laughed and told them, no matter what Dream experiences, that monster would never suffer enough for what he’s done.

But now, he isn’t so sure.

He thought he knew Dream.

He thought that, if Dream ever were to be free again, he’d go on a rampage, destroying everything in sight, starting with Las Nevadas and leaving no building untouched until nothing but ashes are left of their homes.

But, as far as he knows, Dream hasn’t caused any damage since coming to the past. 

Tubbo and Tommy both said that Dream even ended the boy’s exile.

He thought that Dream would revel in every moment of torturing Tommy all over again, especially since he must’ve learned so many new techniques from Quackity, yet he ended his exile instead. 

It just doesn’t make sense... 

People don’t just change like that...

There’s no way Dream really is so different now...

This must be just an act.

Yeah, that’s it!

Dream’s pretending to be this heroic figure, acting like he doesn’t want to hurt anyone and then, once Quackity’s guard is down, he’ll use his axe to stab him in the back.

Except, if that’s the case, why are they still hugging?

Everyone here wanted to hurt Quackity, so why would Dream try to trick them into thinking he wasn’t going to hurt him?

No one here would've stopped Dream from trying to hurt him. 

And yet, instead of inflicting the pain on Quackity that he feels he deserves to experience, Dream protected him while he was too weak to move, then hugged him.

There’s absolutely no reason to do that…

Unless…

Dream isn’t trying to manipulate anyone and this is real. 

I’m not letting you get locked up in one of these cells.

But why…

You need help, and being isolated isn’t gonna do any good.

It doesn’t make any sense…

What does Dream gain from this?!

Before Quackity can continue drowning in his thoughts, Dream knows that the man has been silent for too long, causing him to worriedly question, “Did I say something wrong?”

After a few seconds of hesitation, Quackity presses his face even more firmly against Dream’s chest and weakly whispers, “I don’t understand you. You don’t make any sense.”

With a small, barely-there smile, Dream begins rubbing soothing circles against Quackity’s back and thoughtfully says, “Your idea of me and who I actually am don’t match, huh?”

Miserably, Quackity just nods his head, slumping against Dream’s chest as the man keeps rubbing his back, the touch so fucking nice that, for just a few moments, he pretends like his fiances are the ones touching him, not the man he hates more than anyone else. 

“That cell really changed me,” Dream softly says, looking away from Quackity to instead meet Wil’s gaze, needing to see the man he loves to help remind him that he isn’t back in his cell, that he’s safe and cared for.

When Wil gives him a reassuring smile and a goofy thumbs-up, the gesture so wonderfully out of place for such an intense moment, Dream finds the strength to look down at the top of Q’s head again as he continues in a shaky, yet harsh tone, “You changed me. You fucking destroyed me. You took who I was before and fucking shattered me to pieces until I couldn’t even recognize myself.”

Then, as Dream breathes heavily, trying his best not to be overcome with memories of Quackity’s torment, Dream does what he hasn’t been able to for months and says in a firm, angry tone, “You, Quackity, are the reason why I don’t make sense. For months, you fucking tortured me in order to make me regret what I had done. Fucking news flash, I already regretted everything. I spent months alone in that cell, spending all my time thinking about how badly I fucked up and just wanted another chance. And then you came along and made everything worse. So, Quackity, I’m sorry that, after the way you tortured me, you can’t figure me out.”

When Dream is silent for several moments, his words hanging heavy in the air, Quackity awkwardly and hesitantly says, “I’m sorry.”

With a bitter huff at Quackity’s pathetic excuse for an apology, Dream snarkily says, “Y'know, usually people say sorry when they regret what they've done." 

"I don't," Quackity replies without hesitation, not regretting anything he did to Dream, especially since their time together are some of his most cherished memories, some of the best moments of his entire life.

"I know,” Dream agrees with a heavy sigh, already knowing that Quackity doesn’t feel any remorse for the torture he inflicted, but damn, it still hurts to hear him so casually say that, especially since it means that Quackity really believes that, no matter how badly it hurt, Dream deserved everything that happened in that cell. “You enjoyed it."

"I did,” Quackity easily agrees, a wistful expression passing over his face and longing in his tone as he continues, “I cherished every moment of our time spent together in your cell. I miss it. I miss hearing you beg and scream for me to stop as your blood painted the walls. I mis-"

"Your head's so fucked," Dream interrupts in a horrified whisper, wanting desperately to shove away the man in his embrace, to deem him nothing but a cruel monster who deserves to suffer the way he has, but he can’t, still remembering the way Quackity thought Schlatt was here and begged not to be hurt more.

"I know,” Quackity hollowly says, dully realizing that he’s echoing exactly what Dream said moments ago, but he can hardly bring himself to care, feeling so fucking drained, especially since none of this makes any sense.

Unsure what else to do, Quackity hesitantly tries again, “I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that,” Dream harshly demands, not wanting to listen to Quackity’s apologies anymore, especially since he knows that each word is just a blatant lie. “Unless you actually mean it, I don’t want your apology.”

“What do you want from me then?” Quackity asks in a low, frustrated tone, his voice taking on a slightly whining quality, but he can hardly bring himself to care, feeling so confused and just wanting to understand what Dream is trying to gain from all this. 

“After this, I want you to stay the fuck away from me,” Dream bites out without hesitation, his voice nearing a growl as continues, “Never speak to me again, and don’t ever fucking touch me.”

And, as if he wasn’t already confused enough, Dream, the man hugging him, is demanding to never be touched by him again.

Why?

“Then why are you hugging me?” Quackity asks even quieter than before, sounding like a lost, scared child, his entire world feeling like it’s shattering the longer he talks to Dream, who’s just nothing like Dream, the monster, the tyrant he knows all too well.

“Because you were begging not to be hurt, and I know what that’s like,” Dream says with a shrug as his voice loses all of its heat, knowing that, when he tries to shut his eyes and fall asleep tonight, the image of Quackity laying on the floor of this cell, begging and pleading not to be hurt, is going to haunt him relentlessly. “So, just this once, I’m helping you. But I mean it when I tell you that you better stay the fuck away from me.”

“And if I don’t?” Quackity challenges as he pulls back from Dream’s embrace slightly to look into the man’s eyes, eyes so dark that they nearly look black meeting emerald-green. 

Before Dream can respond, Techno stands up from where he had been sitting beside the others and begins walking toward them, pulling out his pickaxe and letting it swing lazily in his hand as he firmly says, “Then you’ll have to deal with me. I’ll kill you with my pickaxe all over again, and this time I’ll make sure it’s very slow and painful.”

“O-Okay, I-I’ll stay away-y,” Quackity says without hesitation as he tears his gaze away from Dream’s eyes, which hold much more kindness than they ever should, instead looking into Techno’s blood-red ones, his squinted eyes filled with nothing but hatred and promises of pain and agony if he tries to hurt Dream again. 

And, even though a large part of him still wants to hear Dream scream as he writhes in agony, he certainly isn’t going to hurt the man now, not wanting to be on the wrong end of Technoblade’s pickaxe ever again.

“Good,” Techno simply says as he keeps swinging his pickaxe, then, as his gaze shifts from Quackity to Dream, he continues, “And I think this has gone on for long enough.” 

“Fuck off,” Dream says in reply, still royally pissed off at Techno from their earlier argument and the way the piglin-hybrid tried to stop him from helping Quackity, so he sure as hell isn’t about to listen to him right now.

“Seriously, Dre, I think we should go home now,” Wil softly says in a kind, worried tone as he slowly stands up too, hoping that Dream isn’t mad at him for slapping Quackity earlier. “I don’t want us to walk back in the dark.”

Even though part of Dream wants to protest, wants to yell and scream at everyone again for ordering him around, he knows that Wil’s right; today has already been long enough, so he really doesn’t want to have to add fighting off hordes of mobs to the list too.

So, with a heavy, somewhat reluctant sigh, Dream mutters, “Fine, let’s go home.” 

“What are we doing with him?” Tubbo asks as he rises to his feet as well, jabbing an angry finger in Quackity’s direction as he speaks. 

While Dream knows that this isn’t his call to make, he quickly speaks before anyone else can, hoping that the president will listen to him as he questions, “Can he be put on house arrest in the White House? That way he can’t come after me, but he won’t be isolated.”

Then, a little bitterly, Dream adds, “And get him a therapist for fuck’s sake. I’m gonna need one too after this shit.”

With an angry, indignant huff, Quackity firmly starts to say, “I don’t nee-”

“You do,” all five of them loudly interrupt in unison, several of them laughing as Quackity scowls. 

“That sounds good,” Tubbo says as he nods his head decisively, knowing that, after what happened today, most of them are gonna need therapists. 

Then, while turning his attention toward Quackity, Tubbo says in his firm, commanding president tone, “Quackity, from this day forward, you are placed under house arrest in the White House. You will not leave unaccompanied and will wear wrist and ankle bands to enforce this sentence. You have also been demoted from your position within the cabinet and are no longer leader of the Butcher Army, which I’m formally disbanding today. Any questions?”

With a heavy sigh, feeling like he’s about to be led to his execution, Quackity just shakes his head, then pulls back from Dream’s hug.

The second he’s standing, Tubbo tightly grabs one of Quackity’s arms and Phil stands up from the corner of the cell to grab his other arm, preventing him from trying to escape.

And as both Phil and Tubbo keep him firmly rooted in place, allowing him no chance to escape, Quackity begins to understand for the first time what it’s like to be a prisoner. 

Chapter Text

As Phil and Tubbo turn to leave with their new prisoner in tow, Dream softly and sincerely calls out from his seated position on the cell floor, “Thanks for coming to save me, Phil. And thank you so much for your help too, Tubbo. I-I was so scared.” 

“Of course, Mate,” Phil sincerely says with a soft, sad smile, inclining his head toward his son-in-law as he continues, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

“And sorry he scared you,” Tubbo honestly replies once Phil finishes speaking, certain that, for a long time now, he’ll remember how Dream looked while suspended by chains, his body violently trembling as his form was wracked by silent sobs. “I promise I won’t let him do anything like this to you again.” 

“Thanks, I really appreciate that,” Dream says with a relieved sigh and a shy little smile, unable to put into words just how much Tubbo’s promise means to him, especially since he’s the president of L’Manburg, one of the most powerful people on the server. 

Then, as his smile falls, being replaced by a heavy, suffocating feeling of guilt, Dream hesitantly says, “And… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Tubbo asks in a soft, confused tone as he glances at Phil, the older man nodding to him before grabbing Quackity’s other arm, allowing Tubbo to move away from the two without fearing that Quackity will try to escape. 

“Everything,” Dream says with a weak, bitter laugh as he slowly stands up, looking into Tubbo’s eyes as he continues as sincerely as he can, “I’ve been such a horrible person, but I promise I’m trying to be better. I know you and Tommy probably won’t ever forgive me, and that’s fine. I don’t deserve it. I just… thank you for helping me, even after everything I’ve done.”

“You’re welcome,” Tubbo says after a few moments of just staring at Dream in shock, not expecting the man to apologize, let alone in a way that sounded so honest. 

Then, as his voice hardens slightly, Tubbo continues, “And I don’t know much, but Tommy told me a bit about exile.”

Dream winces at the mention of exile, intense pain and grief flashing across Dream’s features, but Tubbo can’t bring himself to care.

While closing the distance between them, Tubbo stomps toward Dream, finally being able to express the anger he’s carried ever since Tommy told him what happened in exile, causing the younger boy to harshly say to Dream, “What you did to him was fucked up. You forced me to exile my best friend, who’s only sixteen, and you fucking abused him.”

On the other side of the cell where he stands next to Techno, Wil noticeably tenses, turning to glare at Tubbo as he demands, “Tubb-”

But before Wil can tell the kid to stop, Dream abruptly cuts him off by saying in a soft, sad tone, “No, Wil, let him talk. He’s right, after all.”

Feeling even more pissed off at being given the permission to talk, as if he’s a fucking child, not the president of an entire nation, Tubbo angrily grits out, “After hearing what you did to him, I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to track you down and fucking murder you.”

With a sad smile that doesn’t reach Dream’s eyes, he raises his hands level to his chest, showing off his bloodied and bruised wrists from the chains as he says, “I won’t stop you.”

“No, stop, you can’t kill him!” Wil frantically yells as he picks up Quackity’s axe that had been discarded on the ground, refusing to let anyone hurt Dream, let alone kill him. 

While still smiling sadly, Dream looks at Techno, then moves his head toward Wil’s direction, silently asking the piglin-hybrid to keep Wil from hurting Tubbo.

And even though Techno doesn’t want Dream to die, he does as the man asked, not wanting to make him angry for the third time today.

Before Wil can run at Tubbo, the axe is suddenly ripped from his grasp as his arms are wrenched harshly behind his back.

“Let me go,” Wil snarls as he flails wildly in Techno’s grasp, but Technoblade is a seasoned warrior, the Blood God himself, and Wil is a once-general who has been dead for a long time, leaving his weakened body no chance at escaping The Blade. 

As he purposely avoids Wil’s gaze and ignores his angry threats and frantic pleas, Dream softly says to Tubbo, “I have more lives. And if anyone deserves to kill me, it’s you and Tommy.”

“No, no, please, please don’t kill him,” Wil begs as he begins struggling with all his might, tears streaming down his cheeks at the thought of saving Dream from Quackity only for the man he loves to die still. 

“It’s okay, Wil,” Dream quietly says as his own tears start to slip down his cheeks, still resolutely looking away from Wil, knowing that, if he sees the man he loves, his resolve will crumble and he too will begin begging and pleading to be spared, even though Dream knows that he doesn’t deserve such mercy. “I’ll be fine. I’ll still have two lives.”

“Tubbo, Tubbo, please, don’t, you can’t, don’t, please,” Wil continues begging as he still tries to break free from Techno’s hold, the piglin-hybrid doing his best to ignore the voices screaming for him to let Wil go and protect Dream, not wanting to listen to them, especially since releasing Wil means almost certain death for Tubbo, who’s the only person in this cell on his last life.

While twisting the axe in his hand, the weight of it feeling much heavier than ever before, Tubbo looks into Dream’s glossy, tear-filled eyes and hesitantly asks, “Do you want to die?”

“No, I’m fucking terrified of dying,” Dream mutters with a watery chuckle, closing his eyes tightly against his still-falling tears. 

Then, while trying to steel himself for what comes next, Dream whispers brokenly, “I know I deserve to die after everything I’ve done. Please, j-just make it q-quick.”

“NO!” Wil screams as he lunges forward, still trying and failing to break free from Techno’s hold, vowing to himself that he’s going to murder Tubbo if he kills Dream, then he’ll slaughter Techno like the filthy pig he is because he’s letting the man he loves die. 

Fuck, Dream’s going to die.

It doesn’t matter if he has more lives, Dream is still going to have to feel the agonizing burn of metal slicing through his skin, followed by the all-encompassing pain of his entire body being stitched together again with agonizing slowness. 

And if their lives somehow carried over from the future, this’ll be it. 

Dream will be gone forever, trapped in his own personal hell in Limbo.

Unlike when he was dead, Wil has no way to revive people.

Dream, the man he loves more than anything else in this world, will be trapped forever, forced to endure endless pain and loneliness because no one will be able to save him.

Fuck, he has to save Dream!

With renewed vigor, Wil continues struggling, hoping that he can somehow slip away, but Techno just releases a heavy, long-suffering sigh as he continues holding him captive.

Just as Wil opens his mouth to start begging and screaming again, he’s stopped by Tubbo softly saying, “You don’t deserve to die.”

“What?” Dream hesitantly asks as he slowly opens his eyes, his face filled with unadulterated shock and confusion when he realizes that Tubbo isn’t holding an axe anymore.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cell, Wil slumps in Techno’s hold, no longer struggling to save Dream, so fucking thankful to hear Tubbo’s words and see that the president isn’t holding a weapon anymore. 

With a small, sad smile, Tubbo continues in that same gentle tone, “Even after all the people you’ve hurt, you don’t deserve to die. Not when you’ve already gone through so much pain.”

“I deserved everything that happened to me in that cell,” Dream replies without hesitation, his gaze briefly flicking over to Wil when the man he loves releases a pained whine after hearing Dream’s words. 

“No, you really didn’t,” Tubbo firmly says, truly believing that, if what Dream experienced today was anything like what happened in the prison cell, he didn’t deserve any of that. “What he did to you today was horrifying, and I’m assuming he’s done worse.”

“This was nothing,” Dream says with a hollow, humorless laugh, knowing that, even though this was terrifying, he got so fucking lucky today with how Quackity treated him. “He didn’t even leave a single mark. Before coming to the past, I was covered in scars. Even my face had so many.”

Then, while glaring at where Quackity stands by the entrance of the cell, still being held firmly in place by Phil, Dream meets the eyes of his tormentor and growls, “Every time I looked in the mirror, I was reminded of how he cut me with axes and swords, how he’d drip lava onto my skin to burn me, how he cut off two of my fucking fingers. So, no, this was heaven compared to what he’d do to me every damn day.”

With tears in his eyes over how badly Dream has suffered, Tubbo steps forward, trying his best to ignore the way the man flinches in fear.

While pulling Dream into a much-needed hug, Tubbo sincerely whispers, “He won’t do any of that to you ever again.”

“Thank you, Tubbo,” Dream murmurs as he practically melts in Tubbo’s embrace, not knowing why the kid is willing to be nice to him, or even touch him at all, but he’s really thankful for it. “That means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Tubbo easily replies as he pulls back from the hug quickly, not wanting to touch the man for very long, especially since he knows that those hands have hurt Tommy countless times, but after seeing Dream cry and say that he thought he deserved to die, hugging him felt like the right thing to do.

Then, as he steps away from Dream and starts moving toward where Phil and Quackity stand, Tubbo calls out to Dream, “I really gotta get him back to the White House now, but maybe we can speak tomorrow? Wil mentioned that you wanted to talk to me?” 

“Yeah, tomorrow sounds great,” Dream says with a relieved sigh and a small smile, thankful that Tubbo didn’t ask to know why he wanted to talk today, knowing that he definitely doesn’t have any energy left to talk about the apology speech he wants to give. 

With his smile still in place, Dream softly says, “Thanks, Mr. President.” 

“Mr. President…” Tubbo tests out the name before trailing off for a few moments, then he excitedly says, “I like that!” 

“I’m glad,” Dream replies as his smile takes on a fond edge, happy to see Tubbo so excited, even if it’s about something so small. “Bye, Tubbo.” 

Tubbo just waves at Dream in reply, then he grabs Quackity’s arm. After Phil gives Dream a wave goodbye as well, the two of them begin to lead Quackity out of the L’Manburg dungeons.

Once Techno thinks they’re a safe enough distance away for Wil to not chase after them and try to murder all three of them, Techno reluctantly releases Wil’s arms. 

Instantly, Wil quickly backs away from Techno while threatening through gritted teeth, “Don’t ever do that shit to me again, or I’ll fucking murder you.” 

“Sure you will,” Techno mutters with a scoff, knowing that, since Wil couldn’t even free his arms, he definitely doesn’t have to worry about whether or not he can beat the newly-revived man in a fight.

Before Wil can lunge at Techno to tear out his fucking throat, a calming hand lands on his shoulder, the grounding touch immediately causing his anger to leave in a rush.

Instantly, Wilbur turns toward Dream and buries his head in the crook of his neck, tightly hugging the man he loves as a loud, ugly sob tears through his throat. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Wil,” Dream whispers in a low, soothing tone as he clings to Wil just as fiercely, so thankful to be held by the man he loves after these awful past couple of hours. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine. We’re okay.”

“I-I th-thought you-u were g’nna d-die,” Wil chokes out in between his harsh, violent sobs, his body trembling so hard that, if it weren’t for Dream holding him close, he would’ve sunk to his knees, unable to stand upright as he's overcome with the grief of almost losing Dream twice in the same day.

“I’m still here, Wil,” Dream promises as silent tears slip down his cheeks, feeling absolutely awful for putting Wil through so much pain. “I’m okay. You saved me, Wil. I’m fine now, promise.”

Slowly, Wilbur starts to calm down, feeling reassured by Dream’s words and steady breaths against his front, the constant, rhythmic sound telling him that Dream really is still alive. 

Finally, once he’s calmed down again, Wil angrily demands, “Don’t you ever do that again. You’re not allowed to do any self-sacrificing bullshit again.”

Instead of commenting on the genuine terror lingering in Wil’s voice as he speaks, Dream instead cheekily says, “Oh come on, you gotta admit that it was pretty epic.”

“Fuck you,” Wil bites out without hesitation, but his words don’t hold any anger, the sound causing Dream to devolve into a fit of wheezing laughter.

And even though Wil is still terribly shaken up after everything, he can’t help but smile at the sound of Dream’s laughter, one of the sweetest, most beautiful sounds in the whole world. 

As Dream continues wheezing, Wil moves his head from the crook of Dream’s neck, instead placing a kiss on top of Dream’s head as he sincerely murmurs, “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Dream replies in between his giggles, smiling widely at the feeling of Wil tenderly kissing the top of his head, the gentle touch making him feel so cherished and truly cared for. 

Oblivious to the other two in the cell, Techno stands a few blocks away, staring intently at the wall as heat rises to his cheeks, knowing that he definitely shouldn't be witnessing this moment between Dream and Wilbur, yet here he is, standing awkwardly off to the side, having so much to say, but not wanting to interrupt.

Awkward

Omg did Wil just kiss Dre??? So fucking cute

Y we watching this

Techno plz my eyes are burning this is gross

U obviously dont know what love is

As if u know

Ill have u know that-

Rather than continuing to listen to Chat’s bickering, Techno forcefully tunes out the voices, then, very awkwardly, he loudly clears his throat.

Instantly, Dream’s gaze snaps to him, his expression darkening as he angrily demands, "What do you want?"

While slowly rubbing his hand up and down the back of his neck nervously, Techno clears his throat again and slowly starts to say, "I'm, uh, sorry. For what I said earlier."

With a scoff, Dream pulls back from Wilbur’s embrace, instead approaching Techno as he harshly points out "You were a real asshole."

While grimacing at Dream’s words, especially since he knows that they’re nothing but the truth, Techno agrees "I know. I didn't mean it like that though."

Instead of responding, Dream just scoffs again, not believing Techno for a single second, knowing that you can’t just accidentally be a complete dick to someone over and over again.

While hoping that he can somehow get Dream to believe him, Techno says as honestly as he can manage, “Seriously, I had no idea what was happening to you. I thought you had been in the prison for like a month.”

Wait, what?

Is that true?

But how could Techno not have known?!

Literally everyone on the SMP worked together to lock him up, and then they probably celebrated his imprisonment for months after.

Well no, not everyone was there.

Techno and Phil weren’t there during the confrontation.

Because his friend was too busy.

Still, he must’ve known what happened that day, right?

Even though the tundra where they live is far, they must get at least some news…

Right?

Even though Dream finds it hard to believe that Techno didn’t know the truth, he decides to give the man a chance to explain, causing Dream to reluctantly say with a heavy sigh, “Fine, I’m listening.”

As Chat begins to excitedly whisper about what they should say to Dream, Techno doesn’t pay them any mind, already knowing exactly what he wants to say to make things right.

“Dream, I promise you that I had no idea you were in the prison for so long,” Techno earnestly says as he steps closer to Dream, knowing that his next words will bring on an onslaught of Technosoft from Chat, but he continues all the same, “We’ve both done awful things, but that’s part of what makes each other so great together.”

While forcefully ignoring Chat’s awwws at his words, Techno moves even closer to Dream, putting only about a block in between them as Techno looks into Dream’s eyes and softly says, “We’ve been rivals for a long time. You’re one of the only people I’ve found who can match my skill with a blade.”

Then, with the ghost of a smirk, Techno cheekily says, “Hence why they call me The Blade.”

And even though Dream is still upset with Techno, he can’t help but roll his eyes and release a small huff of laughter at the man’s familiar dry humor. 

As his tone becomes more serious again, Techno takes a deep breath to steel himself, finding it absolutely terrifying to be so vulnerable, and that’s coming from the incredibly brave and fearsome Blood God, but he continues regardless, knowing that, unless he wants to lose Dream for good, he has to tell the man how he feels: “A lot of people see me as nothing more than The Blade. To them, I’m just a weapon, one that they can use and then discard once they’re finished. But you’ve never treated me that way, and I really am sorry if I did this to you.”

“Wow, I never thought that I’d see the day when The Great Technoblade actually apologized to someone,” Dream says with a wide smile as he stares up at Techno, his emerald-green eyes glinting with a mix of surprise, mischief, and genuine joy.

“Shut up, you’re just a homeless teletubby, I don’t need to apologize to you,” Techno grumbles as he crosses his arms over his chest, already hating the fact that he’s apologizing, let alone that Dream’s making fun of him for it.

With a fond chuckle at Techno’s insult, Dream opens his arms and happily says, “Get over here.”

“What are you doing?” Techno warily asks as he raises an eyebrow at Dream, still keeping his arms firmly crossed over his chest, as though to shield his heart from experiencing any more pain.

“Come on, let's hug it out,” Dream cheekily says as he closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Techno’s larger form, feeling satisfied at the annoyed huff that Techno releases. 

“Bruhhhh, this is too many feelings, I can’t handle it,” Techno mutters with a fake long-suffering sigh, but despite his words, he hugs Dream in return, smiling slightly at the feeling of Dream’s warm, comforting embrace.

“You're such an idiot,” Dream replies in return, smiling and rolling his eyes fondly as they continue hugging, not sure how he got Techno to actually hug him, but knowing that he’ll remember this moment for a long time, and he’ll make sure that his rival doesn’t ever forget it either. 

“Says the homeless teletubby,” Techno bites back without hesitation, smiling at the way Dream giggles at his words, his shoulders shaking from mirth as they continue holding each other close.

After a few moments of silence, just when Techno is about to pull away, Dream softly and sincerely murmurs, “Thanks for coming to rescue me, Tech. You’re a good friend.”

While smiling a little wider, Techno honestly replies, “Any time. Glad you’re safe.”

Then, as he pulls back from their embrace, Techno continues with a smirk, “After all, I can’t let anything bad happen to my favorite rival. Well, unless I’m the one who caused it.”

And even though Dream knows that he and Techno won’t be sparring together again for a very, very long time, Dream challenges without hesitation, “I’d like to see you try.”

“We’ll see,” Techno says with his smirk still in place, and much to Chat’s amusement, he’s really enjoying this conversation, unaware of how much he actually missed Dream during their months apart. 

And maybe Chat’s right about him being soft, but before leaving the cell, Techno sincerely calls out to Dream, “Next time you need a sparring partner, you know where to find me. And if you just wanna talk instead, I think that could be arranged.” 

“Thanks, Tech,” Dream adamantly replies as he smiles widely, feeling much, much lighter and happier now that he’s made up with one of his oldest and closest friends.

Without another word, Techno leaves the L’Manburg dungeons, more than eager to return home to Steve and tell him about the wild day that he just had.

When Techno’s footsteps fade, Dream feels a soothing hand rest on his shoulder, the kind touch causing him to smile widely at Wil. 

While smiling in return, Wil moves his hand off of Dream’s shoulder, instead grabbing Dream’s left hand and interlocking their fingers together as he softly says, “Come on, let’s go home.” 

Still feeling happy and giddy from making up with Techno, Dream cheekily teases, “I’m only coming if you promise to cuddle with me when we get back.” 

“Oh, I promise,” Wil replies without hesitation as they begin walking toward the exit hand-in-hand, both of them eager to leave this cell, and all other ones, behind for good. “Get ready for the best cuddling you've ever experienced.” 

“Can’t wait,” Dream adamantly replies as he leans against Wilbur’s side, causing the man he loves to pull him closer as they continue walking back to Eret’s castle, both of them greatly looking forward to spending some time cuddling together, especially now that they know that Quackity won’t be able to hurt them ever again.

So, with a gigantic grin, Dream gives Wil’s hand a small squeeze, smiling even wider when he squeezes back in return, neither of them needing to speak, just their actions alone conveying that they love each other and would be willing to do anything and everything to keep the man they love safe. 

Chapter Text

Well into the night, Wil snuggles up against Dream, pulling the man he loves close to his chest, breathing in the sweet, calming scent of the lavender shampoo in Dream’s hair as he reminds himself that Dream’s safe.

Dream’s safe…

They rescued him in time, before any lasting physical damage could be done, and thank prime for that. Wil doesn’t know how Dream would have coped with all his scars disappearing once they came to the past, only for Quackity to carve new ones into his skin.

But, thankfully, that didn’t happen.

Because Dream is safe now.

Dream’s safe.

Even though Wil doesn’t want to be a pessimist, he really doesn’t, he can’t help but think the same dreaded question over and over again.

How long will it last?

Even if Dream is safe right now, how much longer will that be true?

Every time Wilbur shuts his eyes to fall asleep, they snap back open again, terrified that Quackity is going to escape house arrest any moment now and come after them.

Because Wilbur knows now that Dream isn’t the only one in danger. 

You’re lucky I didn’t do this to you.

Quackity wants to hurt him…

Ever since you entered Dream’s cell, I’ve been looking forward to making you scream.

Not only is Dream in danger, but he is too.

Because, unless he does something, next time Quackity comes after Dream, the man he loves won’t be that monster’s only target.

How is he supposed to fall asleep knowing that Quackity, the monster who broke the man he loves, not only wants to do that all over again, but that he wants Wil to suffer that same fate?

There’s just no way.

Even with Dream sleeping peacefully in his arms, a constant, grounding weight that tells him the man he loves is safe, Wilbur doesn’t feel safe.

Honestly, he’s fucking terrified. 

He’s so scared of not only losing Dream, but suffering that same fate.

Because he was there, and he witnessed the effects of months of torture firsthand.

Every night when Dream woke up screaming from nightmares of daily torment, he was there.

Every time Dream flinched away from being touched, then leaned in so desperately because he was starved of all comfort, he was there.

Every panic attack Dream had where he begged invisible threats not to hurt him, he was there. 

Every sob that tore through Dream’s chest, when he was hurting so badly he just couldn’t contain his pain any longer, Wil was there to witness. 

Wilbur has already suffered enough watching Dream go through all that, and he just can’t let it happen again, let alone experience that torment himself.

And when a sick, twisted part of him isn’t overshadowed by terror, Wil’s mind screams and pleads for him to make Quackity suffer the way that Dream has.

Because house arrest is nothing.

That’s just to make sure he doesn’t try to torture Dream again, and it’s a shitty attempt anyways, nowhere near as effective as locking him in a cell.

Maybe it’s fucked up, maybe he’s no better than Quackity, but Wilbur feels like he can’t rest until he knows that Dream truly is safe, and the only way that’ll happen is if Quackity is dead and gone forever.

And if he wants Quackity’s death to be slow and very, very painful after everything he did to Dream, can anyone really blame him?

Well, Dream would certainly blame him, which is the only reason why he isn’t standing over Quackity’s corpse right now.

Although… 

Would Dream ever really know?

He has no intention of seeing Quackity again, and other than when they speak to Tubbo later today, there would be no reason for him to even visit the White House.

If he paid Quackity a visit, would Dream find out?

It’s… a tempting thought. 

And the longer he looks at Dream, who’s sleeping peacefully in his arms, the thought grows even more appealing.

Dream endured months of isolation and torture for his crimes against the server.

And what is Quackity’s punishment?

Fucking house arrest.

And that just isn’t fair.

Dream deserves better than this.

He deserves to feel safe, and the only way that can really happen is if Quackity is dead.

With unshakable resolve, Wilbur carefully sneaks out of bed, gently shushing Dream when he whines in his sleep because Wil stopped holding him close.

Once Quackity is taken care of, he’ll be able to hold Dream forever and ever, all without worrying that the man he loves might be taken away from him and harmed all over again. 

Quietly, Wilbur picks up Dream’s communicator off the bedside table and scrolls through the player list, smirking as he pulls up a certain name, knowing that this person will definitely be willing to help him murder Quackity.

After asking them to meet near the Community House, one of the most neutral places he could think of, Wil sets down the communicator again, then stealthily begins putting on the netherite armor Eret let him borrow, knowing that the sturdy, enchanted gear will definitely give him an edge during his confrontation with Quackity.

Once he has his armor on, he gives Dream one final glance, smiling widely at his peaceful face and the soft little snores that escape him as he sleeps.

“I’ll see you soon, My Love,” Wil whispers as he presses a light, tender kiss to the top of Dream’s head, his heart swelling with fondness when the man smiles slightly in his sleep from the kind touch. “When I come back, you’ll truly be safe and free.”

Without any further hesitation, Wil exits the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind him to not wake Dream, then he begins quickly and purposefully strutting through the hallways of Eret’s castle, ready to make Quackity pay.

On his walk to the Community House, Wilbur spends his time silently brooding and plotting, thinking of all the ways he could ruin Quackity and which ones his partner in crime might be the fondest of. 

When he reaches the Community House, Wilbur sits on the pathway farthest from the building, his feet dangling just above the lake as he stares up at the stars, knowing that his accomplice will take a while to arrive still, but he’s more than content to wait, knowing that the end result will definitely be worth it.

After close to an hour of alternating between planning and stargazing, Wilbur hears loud, heavy footsteps approaching him, the sound causing him to smile.

“You’re not Dream,” the new person points out, his tone filled with a mix of surprise and slight disdain, having thought that he’d be meeting with Dream, not Wilbur.

“No, I’m not,” Wilbur says with a shrug, not feeling the slightest bit guilty for pretending to be Dream, knowing that this person wouldn’t have come if he knew who really wanted to talk. “Hello, Technoblade.”

“What do you want?” Techno all-but-growls as he pulls out his netherite axe, holding it dangerously close to Wilbur’s head, but the newly-revived man remains entirely unphased, simply continuing to look up at the stars. “And where’s Dream?”

“He’s asleep,” Wil continues in that same, nonchalant tone, trying his best not to let his guilt seep into his tone as he continues, “He has no idea I’m here.”

“You took his communicator to message me,” Techno accuses as he moves his axe a little closer, the deadly weapon not yet touching Wil, but ready to slice his head off at the slightest sign of aggression, the many times he’s been betrayed telling Techno that he has to be cautious, even when Wilbur is acting so casual and unthreatening. 

“I did,” Wilbur says after a few moments of hesitation, shifting his gaze to look out at the lake instead of up at the stars.

“He’ll be angry when he finds out,” Techno points out in that same, accusing tone, not liking the idea of Wilbur doing… whatever this is behind Dream’s back.

“Well, good thing he’s never going to find out about our little meeting then,” Wilbur says as he slowly rises to his feet, finally facing Techno and raising an eyebrow at the axe that the piglin-hybrid is holding. 

“What if I tell him?” Techno challenges as he stubbornly refuses to put away his weapon, pushing Wilbur’s boundaries to see if he’ll snap and show the real reason for dragging him out here.

As Wilbur meets Techno’s gaze for the first time since the man’s arrival, he smirks deeply and smugly says, “I don't think you’ll want to tell him what I’ve got planned for Quackity.”

While lowering his axe, suddenly much more interested in this conversation, Techno honestly says, “I’m listening.”

“I want Quackity to suffer,” Wilbur says in a calm, confident tone without hesitation, his words causing a wide smile to slowly spread across Techno’s face. “He deserves to die a slow, painful death for everything he did to Dream.”

But, even though Technoblade would love to jump on board with the murdering Quackity train, he vividly remembers what Dream said yesterday in that cell in the dungeons, causing him to hesitantly ask, “Is that what Dream wants too?”

“No, it isn’t…” Wil mutters with a heavy sigh, afterward trailing off for a few moments as he tries his best not to drown in his steadily increasing guilt. “He made me promise that I wouldn’t hurt Quackity, but I just can’t do that.” 

Then, with a sad, bitter smile, Wilbur continues, “I’m not a good person like Dream. I was there in that cell, and I saw first-hand the fucked up things that Quackity already did and was willing to do.”

As his tone becomes hard and filled with anger, Wil finishes through gritted teeth, “He wanted me to chain Dream to the ceiling and then leave so that prick could whip him forty fucking times. He added on an extra ten lashes because Dream begged not to be hurt. I just can’t let someone like that go unpunished.”

And even though Techno is finding himself more and more inclined to agree the longer Wilbur talks, he can’t help but question, “You don’t think house arrest is enough?”

“No, that’s fucking nothing,” Wilbur spits in that same angry tone, beginning to pace back and forth from barely-restrained rage. “Dream spent half a year in loneliness, and then was tortured for fucking months. And now Quackity just gets house arrest? It’s fucking pathetic.”

“What’s the plan then?” Techno asks with a smirk, both him and the voices beyond ready to make Quackity pay, especially after hearing Wilbur’s reasoning. 

“Wait, you’ll help me?!” Wilbur asks in shock as he stops pacing, instead meeting techno’s gaze with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Sure, sounds like fun, especially if I can use my pickaxe on him again,” Techno says with a shrug, his smirk deepening at the thought of putting another pickaxe through Quackity’s teeth.

“I think that could be arranged,” Wil eagerly says as a large, maniacal grin slowly spreads onto his face, not actually expecting Techno to agree but, now that he has The Blade on his side, Quackity will surely suffer.

Then, in a more shy, genuine tone, Wil softly says, “Thank you, Techno, I appreciate it. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I’m the Blood God after all,” Techno dismissively says, not sure how to respond to Wilbur’s unexpected gratitude, so instead he says with an even wider smirk, “I gotta say, I was very disappointed in the lack of blood spilled yesterday.”

“Well, I think it’s time we change that,” Wilbur eagerly says as he pulls out his borrowed netherite axe, a wicked, malicious glint in his deep brown eyes as he asks, “Got any invis pots?”

With a smirk, Techno pulls out two potions, handing one to Wil, who takes it from the piglin-hybrid with an excited, deranged smile, ready to finally make Quackity suffer for hurting the man he loves time and time again.

Meanwhile, back in Eret’s castle, Dream slowly wakes up, his sleepy mind telling him to reach out toward Wilbur’s warmth.

But, instead of finding the man he loves, his hand is met with cold bedsheets, the frigid touch causing him to bolt upright in alarm.

For a few seconds, Dream’s terrified that something happened to Wil, that Quackitry somehow managed to escape house arrest and is now hurting Wilbur. 

Thankfully, his panic dies down as quickly as it came when he notices that Wilbur’s borrowed armor is no longer in the corner of the room, the sight telling him that he probably just had trouble sleeping and went out for a midnight stroll, something that was very common when they were still living in their cabin together. 

While biting his bottom lip in concentration, Dream debates about going back to sleep, still feeling exhausted from the terrifying shit that happened yesterday, but, after the scare of thinking that something happened to Wil, he doesn’t think he’d be able to fall back asleep.

Usually when he can’t sleep, he and Wil spend hours talking to each other, laughing and joking around as their shared insomnia and nightmares prevent them from sleeping. 

But, since Wilbur isn’t here, there goes that option.

Although…

Maybe he could talk to Eret?

The king probably wouldn’t mind, right?

While hoping that this doesn’t backfire horribly, Dream slowly stands up, shivering at the loss of warmth from leaving their cozy bed. 

After a few moments of hesitation, Dream grabs the magenta blanket off the bed and drapes it around his shoulders, feeling much warmer, and safer, now that he’s encased in the cocoon of soft fabric. 

Tiredly, Dream begins shuffling toward Eret’s room, getting lost in the vast hallways a few times but, eventually, he reaches his destination.

After taking a deep breath to steel himself, Dream quietly knocks on the door to Eret’s chambers and softly calls out to the king, “Hey, Eret, can we talk?”

For a few seconds, Eret just blearily blinks into the darkness of their bedroom, knowing that something woke them up, but unsure what it was.

But, when the king's sleepy brain registers the sound of knocking on his door, he tiredly calls out, “Come in!”

As torchlight from the hallway spills into their room, Eret sees Dream standing in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around him and large, dark purple bags under his eyes, making it seem like the man hasn’t slept at all.

“You okay, Dream?” Eret hesitantly questions, knowing that the man looks anything but okay, yet they ask that all the same.

Sure enough, Dream slowly shakes his head, staring down at the quartz flooring of Eret’s bedroom, not wanting to see the anger in the king’s eyes from being woken up so rudely.

Except, instead of the anger he was expecting, Dream is surprised by Eret softly saying, “Come here, let’s talk.”

After a few moments of hesitation, Dream quietly shuts the door to Eret’s bedroom, his breath getting caught in his throat when the room is suddenly engulfed in pure, intense darkness. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Eret murmurs reassuringly as they quickly stand up, walking over to the nearest window and pulling the curtain aside to allow the soft glow of the moonlight to spill into the room. 

Now that Dream is able to see at least the faint outline of the bedroom from the light of the full moon, he releases a soft, relieved sigh, still deathly terrified of the dark, the sight of it reminding him of his cell when the only light he had was the harsh glow of lava.

“Here, come sit next to me,” Eret gently says as they sit back on their bed, patting the pink comforter next to them as they glance worriedly at Dream, who’s trembling as he stands by the door.

Without needing to be told twice, Dream quickly rushes to Eret’s side, practically throwing himself at the king as he wraps his arms around them, burying his face in Eret’s soft, silk nightgown. 

“Whoa, easy there,” Eret mutters in surprise as Dream plows into them, simply expecting the man to sit next to them, not cling to them for dear-life. 

But despite their shock, Eret wraps their arms around Dream in return, knowing that they made the right choice when Dream releases a relieved, shuddering sigh and holds them tighter. 

After a few moments of just holding Dream close as he trembles, Eret asks in a low, concerned tone, “Dream, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

It takes a few moments, but Dream finds the courage to speak, causing him to softly murmur with a self-deprecating laugh, “I think I fucked up.”

“What happened?” Eret asks without hesitation, trying to sound calm and reassuring, but if those words didn’t ring alarm bells in their mind, they don’t know what would. 

While trying his best to fight back tears, Dream bitterly chokes out, “I saved the life of my torturer yesterday.”

“Oh…” Eret softly says in a low, surprised tone before trailing off, unsure what they expected Dream to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Yeah…” Dream mutters before also trailing off, entirely at a loss for words over the insane thing he did in that cell. 

After a few moments of hesitation that Eret spent waiting for Dream to say more, they softly question in a judgment-free tone, “Can I ask why?”

“He just looked so scared, and it reminded me of how I felt back in my cell,” Dream murmurs with a heavy sigh, shivering violently and clutching tighter to Eret as he remembers those dark days inside his old prison cell. “No one deserves to suffer like that, even him.”

“It sounds like you were the bigger person,” Eret says in an encouraging tone with a large smile, surprised by the man’s reasoning, but the king would be lying if they said that they weren’t proud to hear Dream say that.

“I guess,” Dream dismissively says with a shrug, still not feeling even the slightest bit confident in his decision to save Quackity’s life. 

Then, in a smaller, more vulnerable tone, Dream continues just above a whisper, “I just… I don’t want him dead, but… I’m scared.”

And finally, Eret realizes why, in the middle of the night, Dream is inside their bedroom, clinging to them with all his might.

Dream’s scared and, for some reason, he’s seeking out Eret for security instead of Wilbur. 

So even though Eret already knows what Dream’s answer will be, they still want to better understand the situation so they can help Dream, causing them to gently ask, “You think he might hurt you again?”

“I do,” Dream confidently replies without a moment of hesitation, knowing that, if there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that Quackity will try to hurt him again the second he escapes house arrest. “He’s on house arrest in the White House, but what if he somehow leaves and comes after me?”

“Then I’ll protect you,” Eret promises as they pull back from Dream’s embrace slightly, meeting a pair of frightened and surprised emerald-green eyes as they earnestly continue, “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

“Really?” Dream questions in a low, awe-filled tone, certainly not expecting their conversation to go in this direction, but he’d be lying if he said that Eret’s words didn’t make him feel warm, fuzzy, and safe.

“Of course,” Eret replies with a smile, determined to not let Dream be hurt again, especially after learning that the man has changed so much from the tyrant he once was that he’s willing to protect even his torturer. “I have a lot of resources as king, and I’m more than willing to use them to help keep you safe.”

“Thank you,” Dream whispers, his voice laced with gratitude and sincerity, truly grateful that, if anything bad does happen, he’ll have both Wil and Eret to help keep him safe. 

“You’re welcome,” Eret says with their smile still in place, knowing that, just a week ago, they never would’ve pictured themself helping Dream, but they’re certain that this is the right thing to do. “And for what it’s worth, I think you did a good thing. You really have changed, and I’m sure everyone there saw that.”

“Thanks, Eret,” Dream breathes out with a heavy sigh, a huge weight that he didn’t even realize existed being lifted off his chest after hearing someone confirm that he really has changed and no longer is the awful person that he once was. “I’ve missed you.”

For a few moments, Eret is shocked into silence, not expecting such a vulnerable, honest admission from Dream.

But once they find their words again, the king holds Dream a little closer and sincerely says, “It’s good to have you back, Dream.”

In response, Dream just grins widely and nuzzles his face against Eret’s chest, sleep beginning to tug at him now that he feels protected and safe while resting in the king’s arms. 

And if Dream falls asleep in their arms and Eret simply lays down again, tucking them both under the covers so they’ll sleep peacefully, no one else is around to judge their decision or the sudden softness they feel toward the ex-tyrant, who’s now starting to become one of their friends again. 

Chapter Text

Oblivious to the two people sleeping in Eret’s castle, another group of two sneak into the White House, their armor and weapons currently hidden in their inventories, allowing them to slip into Quackity’s bedroom undetected. 

After hearing the soft, but jarring sound of his bedroom door slipping shut, even though he’s sure he already shut it before going to sleep, Quackity bolts upright in bed, the covers falling off his pajama-clad body as he shakily questions into the empty air. “Hello? Someone there?”

While biting back the urge to curse, wishing that they could’ve spent longer undetected, Wilbur makes his presence known by stepping toward Quackity’s bed and saying in a deceptively calm tone, “You were right, Quackity.”

“Huh?” Quackity asks in a confused tone as he quickly blinks away the lingering tiredness he feels, knowing that, while someone invisible is inside his fucking bedroom, he can’t afford to let his sleepy mind distract him from the fact that he’s definitely in danger. “Wilbur, is that you?”

“Yep, it’s me,” Wil purrs as he moves closer to the bed, now standing only a block away from the foot of the bed, yet Quackity has absolutely no idea where the man is, and that thought fucking terrifies him.

“What are you d-doing here?” Quackity demands, trying to seem brave and unphased, but all three of the occupants in the bedroom hear the tremble in his voice and the way it cracks partway through, the sound telling them that he is very, very scared.

And rightfully so.

Because, by the time Wilbur’s finished with Quackity, that monster will definitely have something to be scared about.

Wil’s going to make sure that he suffers for harming the man he loves time and time again. 

So, with a steadily growing and cruel smirk, Wilbur eagerly says, “Well, as I was laying in bed, I realized something. I do want to hurt you. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted to make you scream, just like you did to Dream.”

“W-Wait, wh-what are y-you doing?” Quackity asks in a weak, terrified voice as he backs up against the headboard, trying to make himself a smaller target as his limbs start to tremble from all-encompassing terror. 

Instead of answering Quackity’s question, Wilbur pulls out his netherite axe, the deadly weapon the only part of the still-invisible man that Quackity can see, the sight making him even more terrified, especially since it’s accompanied by Wilbur demanding in a loud, harsh tone, “Get in the bathroom, now!”

As Quackity’s breaths come in shallow, shuddering gasps, he quickly throws the covers off his legs and rushes toward the bathroom, terrified of what’s going to happen to him, but, if Schlatt’s bouts of anger taught him anything, it’s that refusing to do as asked always makes everything worse.

As power thrums through his veins, the same kind of adrenaline rush he gets right before lighting tnt and destroying the world around him, Wilbur follows behind Quackity, his axe still firmly held in his hand.

When the bathroom door shuts without Wilbur touching it, he can’t help but chuckle cruelly, having almost forgotten that Techno was here to help him in the fun. 

As Quackity presses himself into the corner of the room against the wall and sink, he can’t help but shiver violently at Wilbur’s laugh, knowing that a very similar sound has come from his own mouth many times, but it’s much different when he’s on the receiving end of a terrifying sound like that. 

Then, just when Quackity thought that he couldn’t be any more afraid, Wilbur commands in an excited, gleeful tone, “Tie him to the doorknob.”

For a few seconds, Wilbur’s words don’t make sense, because why would he tell Quackity to tie himself to the doorknob?

But, as his fear clears enough for him to think logically, Quackity realizes that Wilbur must not be the only one here, that thought causing him to question in a terrified, stuttering squeak, “S-Someone e-else is h-h-here?”

“Surprise,” Techno deadpans as he grabs onto Quackity’s trembling shoulders, manhandling him so that he’s sitting on the ground with his back pressed against the door.

As Techno roughly grabs Quackity wrists and begins securing them to the doorknob with the heavy iron chains they grabbed from the dungeons before coming here, Quackity struggles with all his might, but he’s no match for the Blood God himself, especially since he has absolutely no armor on or weapons in sight.

When his left wrist is secure, making escape even more impossible, Quackity turns his teary eyes toward the direction of the floating axe, unable to see Wilbur still due to the invisibility potion, but he can’t help but plead desperately, “N-No, no, W-Wilbur, please, n-not him.”

“Wow, look at you, begging not to be hurt,” Wilbur replies with a scoff, absolutely disgusted by Quackity begging not to be hurt, especially since he never listened to Dream’s pleas when he begged his torturer to stop hurting him. “Does this sound familiar? Sound like something Dream did?”

“I-I’m s-sorry,” Quackity chokes out as he resists the urge to sob, not wanting to cry in front of Wilbur and Techno, knowing that they’ll just laugh at him for it, but he’s so fucking scared. 

“No, you’re really not,” Wil harshly says without hesitation, knowing that Quackity isn’t sorry, that he doesn’t regret hurting Dream; no, there’s no way he could have any regrets since he tried to torture Dream just yesterday, and it’s fucking despicable that he’s just throwing out worthless apologies to try to save his pathetic ass. “But I’ll make sure you’re sorry.”

“N-No, pl-please,” Quackity begs as he shuts his eyes tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks even more rapidly now, feeling so hopeless and helpless as Techno secures the second part of the chain around his other wrist, making him entirely trapped and unable to move away when they start hurting him.

“Do you remember what happened whenever Dream begged?” Wilbur questions in a dark, dangerous tone as he steps closer to Quackity, the axe in his hands glinting and shimmering in a beautiful, deadly way. “Because I sure do. An extra ten lashes for begging not to be hurt. You were going to give him forty fucking lashes.”

“S-S-Sorry-” Quackity frantically apologizes yet again, so fucking terrified that he barely even knows what he’s saying anymore, but he hardly gets the chance to speak before he’s interrupted.

“Shut up!” Wilbur roars, his loud, booming voice causing Quackity to whimper and flinch back so hard that his head slams against the door with a sickening smack, but he can hardly bring himself to care, unable to feel the pain through all his overwhelming terror.

With a relieved sigh now that Quackity has finally stopped his pathetic begging, Wilbur asks in a cold, cruel tone as he moves even closer to Quackity’s terrified and trembling form, “Now, Quackity, have you ever been whipped, or did you just like doing that to Dream? Maybe I’ll create some scars on your back like you did to him.”

At the thought of being whipped, the thing that he remembers very vividly being what broke Dream and caused the prisoner to call him ‘sir’, Quackity’s fear tenfolds, causing him to begin struggling futilely and pleading in a terrified, shaky tone, “Pl-Please, pl-please, I d-don’t, I c-can’t, please, pl-please, I-I’m s-s-sorr-”

“You’re pathetic,” Wilbur interrupts with a scoff, knowing that Dream begged the monster in front of him to be spared so many times, yet Quackity never did, so why should he grant that prick any mercy? “You spent months torturing a helpless prisoner, and now you’re begging before I’ve even done anything.”

Quackity just continues babbling uncontrollably, terrified out of his mind, knowing that, unlike yesterday in the dungeons, absolutely no one is going to save him. 

And even though he really doesn’t want to, Wil releases a heavy sigh before backing up a few steps, noticing Quackity’s accelerated breathing and recognizing that he's on the brink of a panic attack. 

It takes a while but, finally, Quackity is not only able to get his breathing under control enough to not pass out, but he also chokes down most of his fear in the kind of way that can only be done with lots of practice, something that both he and Dream know all too well.

Now that Quackity is calm enough to speak without stuttering, he shakily questions, “Are you going to torture me?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Wil nonchalantly replies with a shrug, reveling in the fear that flashes across Quackity’s face after hearing that response.

After swallowing hard in an attempt to not let his fear build to the dangerous level it was at earlier, Quackity bitterly mutters with a shrug of his own that noisily rattles the chains connected to his wrists, "Well, I guess it's only fitting. The torturer dying at the hands of torture."

"Or maybe I'll just kill you,” Wilbur thoughtfully says as he twirls the axe in his hand, enjoying thinking about all the things he could do with such a powerful weapon. “Which do you prefer?"

For a few moments, Quackity just blinks in surprise, unsure if this is just a sick, twisted joke on Wilbur’s part, but he can’t help but ask in a terribly hopeful tone, "Do I actually get a choice?"

"Sure, I'm feeling generous tonight," Wilbur replies with a smirk, feeling anything but generous, but Quackity doesn’t need to know that detail.

While closing his eyes tightly, feeling like he’s admitting that he lost, something that he absolutely despises, Quackity mutters in a low, defeated tone, "Just kill me then."

"Hmmm, you think you deserve the mercy of a quick, painless death after everything you've done?" Wilbur taunts as he steps closer, his axe shimmering dangerously in the torchlight inside the bathroom, which Techno is so kindly holding so they don’t have this conversation in the dark.

"No," Quackity replies without hesitation because, even though he doesn’t regret what he did to Dream, he knows that people are very angry with him, and a quick death won’t satisfy them in any way.

And Quackity knows that feeling better than most; he could've simply killed Dream, especially since he never got that fucking revive book, but he instead chose to make Dream’s life a living hell.

While it was fun, and the time spent in Dream’s cell listening to the prisoner scream was the highlight of each of his days, Quackity knows that now is the time for him to pay the price for his actions.

Because nothing good can ever last and, even though he finally found relief in the form of visiting Dream, everyone just had to take that away from him.

Not only that, but now fucking Technoblade and Wilbur want him to suffer the same way Dream had.

Before Quackity can spend any more time lost in his thoughts, Wilbur, who’s now no longer invisible, stands just a block in front of Quackity, towering over the smaller figure as he says in a condescending tone, "Good answer. But I'll grant you that mercy anyways, because I'm a much better person than you'll ever be."

"Sure you are," Quackity mutters with a scoff, knowing that, even if Wilbur is too blind to realize it, they aren’t as different as he might think.

After all, the fact that he’s chained up as someone holds a deadly axe above him, just like he did to Dream, shows that he and Wilbur are very much alike.

While smiling widely, eager to take the first life of the absolute monster, the menace, in front of him, Wilbur closes the distance between them and raises his axe toward Quackity’s throat.

And despite knowing that this is so much better than the alternative, Quackity can’t help but swallow hard and close his eyes tightly, tears slipping down his cheeks once again as the cold metal kisses his pale, delicate throat, moments away from killing him.

As Wilbur stares down at Quackity, the monster he’s dreamed of murdering for months, Wil tries to smile, tries to feel eager to slice Quackity’s head off and watch his blood spurt everywhere, but he can’t find it in himself to feel that way.

Wil, can you promise me something?

Of course, anything for you, My Love.

Promise me that you won’t hurt or kill… him because of what he did to me. 

Dre-

Please, promise me you won’t no matter what else he might do.

Okay. I promise I won’t hurt or kill him, Dre.

And, even though that conversation happened so long ago, back when they were still living together in their cabin, well before coming to the past, Wil still vividly remembers that night.

He promised Dream that he wouldn’t hurt or kill Quackity…

Yet here he is, holding an axe to his throat as he trembles from fear, tears rapidly slipping down his cheeks.

Wilbur wants him dead.

He wants Quackity dead so fucking badly.

But, if he has to break a promise to Dream to do it, that’s not worth it.

So, with an extremely heavy sigh, and an even heavier heart, Wilbur takes a step back and sends his axe into his inventory, causing it to disappear from sight.

Slowly, Quackity cracks open his eyes, shocked to no longer feel the cold press of the deadly axe against his throat.

When he doesn’t see the axe in Wilbur’s hand, hope soars in his chest, hoping with all his heart that he isn’t going to die today.

But, as quickly as it came, his hope disappears, becoming replaced by cold, gut-wrenching dread as he questions in a false nonchalant tone, "Decided to drag it out after all?"

"I'm not going to kill you," Wil says with another sigh, the words tasting gross and bitter on his tongue, but he says them all the same, knowing that, if he doesn’t want to lose Dream, he can’t give in to his selfish desire to murder Quackity. 

"Don't have the guts?" Quackity can’t help but taunt, knowing that he probably shouldn’t since he’s still chained up and entirely defenseless, but, if he’s going to die, he might as well do it fighting until the very last moment.

"If it weren't for Dream, I would literally rip the guts out of your body," Wilbur growls in a low, hate-filled tone, his eyes blazing with fury as he stares down Quackity, thinking of how much he’d enjoy painting the walls with the blood of the monster who hurt Dream. 

From where he stands off to the side, content to silently observe this interaction for now, Techno can’t help but release a huff of laughter at Wilbur’s threat, the voices very fond of Wilbur’s idea of how to murder Quackity

And even though, logically, Quackity knows that he should be scared, especially since Wilbur’s words are a clear sign of how Limbo fucked him up, Quackity can’t help but sit up straighter and say in an excited tone, "Oh, I like that."

"You're so fucked up," Wilbur mutters with a bitter chuckle, unable to believe that Quackity enjoys the thought of his own guts being torn from his body and smeared across the wall, like a fucked up art piece that no one should ever have to see, yet that psychopath wants to be a part of creating it. 

"You're the one who said you'd tear out my insides," Quackity points out with a smirk, knowing that, if he’s so fucked up, Wilbur must be too, especially since he’s the one who came up with that wonderful idea all by himself.

"Well…” Wilbur says in a loud, angry tone, ready to refute Quackity’s words, to point out that the prick is even more fucked up, but Q’s words do hold some truth.

Even though Quackity said he liked that twisted idea, Wilbur is the one who not only thought of tearing out Quackity’s insides slowly and painfully, but he also said aloud that he’d do such a thing if it weren’t for Dream.

And, even though he wishes that it was just an empty threat, Wil knows that, if Dream hadn’t made him promise not to hurt Quackity, he seriously would’ve done that.

Fuck, what does that say about him?

Even though Wilbur’s uncomfortable with his sudden disturbing epiphany, he can’t help but mutter with a wry smile, “Maybe we're both a little fucked up then."

"Understatement of the century," Quackity replies with a loud, disbelieving scoff, knowing that, yeah, he and Wilbur are definitely more than a little fucked up. 

After a few moments of tense silence, Wil releases a heavy sigh before saying in a firm, confident tone, "Look, I'm not going to kill you because Dream doesn't want me to, but that doesn't mean you can just get away with the shit you've done."

"You're going to torture me then?" Quackity softly asks in a resigned tone, really not wanting to go through anything that he put Dream through, but, with how fucked up Wilbur is, he knows that torture is a very, very likely possibility in his future.

As a smirk spreads onto his face, suddenly getting an idea, Wilbur mysteriously says, "That depends. Is my presence torture to you?"

"Huh?" Quackity asks in a confused tone, certain that he must’ve misheard, that Wilbur’s idea of torture isn’t… spending time with him?

"How would you feel about me visiting you every night?" Wilbur asks as his smirk deepens, knowing that this will be the perfect way for him to get his revenge, all without breaking his promise to Dream.

"Why?" Quackity questions as dread starts to fill the pit of his stomach, not liking the direction where this is headed one bit.

"Answer my question,” Wil harshly commands, refusing to answer Quackity when he’s chained up and entirely at their mercy, giving him no right to demand things of them. 

After a few moments of hesitation, Quackity decides to be honest, especially since everyone in the room probably already knows his feelings toward Wilbur, causing him to angrily bite out, "I'd fucking hate that."

"Hmmm,” Wilbur thoughtfully drawls, his reaction causing Quackity’s fear and dread to build even more, especially when Wil cheerily continues, “Well, you're stuck with me now!"

"What do you mean?" Quackity questions even though he thinks he already knows the answer, expecting that, any moment now, Wilbur’s going to say that’ll he’ll make nightly visits to torture him, just like how he visited Dream in the prison every day.

But, instead of doing as Quackity expected, Wilbur suddenly asks with a growing smile, "Ever heard of an apology book?"

When Quackity simply nods his head, Wilbur happily and eagerly says, "Well, I want you to write one."

While blinking in surprise, certain that he misheard, that Wilbur doesn’t want him to write a fucking book, Quackity can’t help but question in a disbelieving tone, "What?" 

"I want you to write an apology book to Dream where you say everything you ever did wrong to him, then apologize for each and everyone," Wilbur continues in that same eager tone, remembering when he helped Dream write an apology book to Tommy back when he was still locked inside the prison.

And while he hates the fact that Dream suffered from writing that apology book, often having to stop because he started crying too hard to speak, Wil hopes that Quackity will experience agony writing this book, especially since he won’t have anyone to help him write it.

"And if I don't?" Quackity challenges, refusing to write a fucking apology book, especially to Dream of all people. 

With a smirk, Wilbur turns his attention away from Quackity, instead nodding his head toward the other occupant in the room and excitedly asking, "Well, Techno, wanna tell him what'll happen if he doesn't do this?"

While smiling wickedly, his blood-red eyes shining with bloodlust as thousands of voices scream within his mind Blood for the Blood God, Techno pulls out his shimmering netherite pickaxe and threatens in a steely tone, "I never made a promise to Dream not to hurt you. So, if you don't listen to exactly what he says, I'll have to use this fancy pickaxe on you."

With wide, disbelieving eyes that dart between Wilbur and Technoblade, Quackity dumbly states, "You're blackmailing me."

"Don't act so surprised,” Wilbur says with a scoff, knowing that Quackity of all people shouldn’t be surprised about someone being manipulative and cunning as a way to get what they want. “You're a businessman, aren't you? In order to get what I want, you need to do this for me. And in return, Techno won't fucking murder you. Got it?"

And even though Quackity really doesn’t want to give in and write that fucking book, he knows that he has no other choice, certain that Technoblade would gladly murder him with that pickaxe.

So, with a heavy sigh, Quackity reluctantly agrees, "Yeah, I understand. So I need to write an apology book for Dream?”

"Yep,” Wilbur eagerly agrees, smiling a too-wide smile as he continues his threat, “I need you to write three pages every day. At night, I'll come visit you, and if you haven't written them, I'll stay here and keep you company until you do. And if you still refuse, then Techno will spend some nice, quality time with you."

"What about when I finish the book?” Quackity softly asks in a resigned tone, realizing that there really is no way of avoiding writing this book, not without spending hours with Wilbur or dying an agonizing death from Technoblade. “Will you leave me alone then?"

"Sure, but you'll have to read it all out loud after you write it," Wilbur says with a large, wicked grin, ignoring Techno’s confused glance over his words, knowing that his partner in crime will understand where he’s going with this soon enough.

"You want me to read to you?” Quackity asks with a loud, disbelieving scoff, unable to resist the jab at Wilbur as he insults, “You really are a fucking child."

While crouching down in front of Quackity, wanting to look into the monster’s eyes as he destroys his soul, Wilbur says in an excited, merciless tone, "Nope, I want you to read it to two very special individuals. People that, once upon a time, you'd do anything for."

For a few seconds, Quackity doesn’t understand what Wilbur’s getting at, too busy trying to come up with another way to insult the absolute madman in front of him.

But, when the weight of what Wilbur’s implying finally catches up to him, Quackity breathes out in a horrified whisper, "No…"

With an absolutely ruthless glint in his eyes and a cruel smirk, Wilbur firmly says, "When you finish that book, you're going to read every single word to your fiances and show them exactly what you've done."

"No, I won’t tell them," Quackity stubbornly says without hesitation, knowing that Karl and Sapnap, his wonderful fiances, don’t deserve the pain that will come with learning what he’s done.

With a shrug as he rises to his full height again, Wilbur says in an uncaring, nonchalant tone, "You can either do that or let Techno slowly tear you apart with his pickaxe. It's your choice."

Stupidly, Quackity glances over at Technoblade, hoping that the piglin-hybrid will deny Wilbur’s words, but all he’s met with is a wicked grin as Technoblade swings his pickaxe from side to side, his relaxed grip on the tool only further serving to mock him. 

Finally, while hoping with all his heart that he can convince Wilbur to change his mind, Quackity pleads, "They don’t deserve the pain that’ll come from learning what I did."

“Oh really?” Wilbur asks with a sneer as he looks down on Quackity, feeling disgusted by how pathetic Quackity’s acting now that he’s finally facing some consequences for hurting Dream. “What, did you just think that you’d be able to keep torturing Dream forever without them finding out?”

And, after hearing it said aloud like that, Quackity realizes how stupid and unlikely such a thing sounds, but he can’t help but nod because he truly hoped that he would be able to just continue his play sessions with Dream without Karl or Sapnap discovering what he’s done.

Without feeling even the slightest shred of sympathy for Quackity, especially since he brought this upon himself by hurting Dream, Wilbur harshly points out, “Well, if you didn’t want them to find out, maybe you shouldn’t have fucking tortured someone.”

And even though Quackity hates the thought of begging, especially to Wilbur or Technoblade, he can’t help but meet Wilbur’s cold, uncaring gaze as he desperately pleads, “Please, don’t make me tell them. I can’t hurt them like that. They don’t deserve it.”

“You wanna know what I think?” Wilbur thoughtfully asks in a loud, firm tone, ignoring the way Quackity shakes his head in favor of continuing, “I think they deserve to know the truth. They deserve to know that their fiance is a twisted fuck that spent months torturing their friend.”

“Wh-What?” Quackity breathes out in a horrified whisper, absolutely appalled at the thought of Karl or Sapnap being friends with a monster like Dream.

With a smirk, taking great pleasure in being the one to reveal this information, Wilbur asks in a mock-sympathetic tone, “Oh, I’m sorry, I had no idea... You didn’t know they were friends with Dream?”

In numb, all-encompassing shock, Quackity just nods his head in agreement, his entire world feeling like it’s shattering at the thought of his fiances, the last two people he actually cares about, befriending Dream, the monster he hates more than anyone else in this world.

“Oh yeah, things are different here in the past,” Wilbur purrs as he moves closer to Quackity, towering over him as he eagerly continues, “Dream and Karl message each other for hours every single night. They’ve become very close friends. I’ve never met Karl, but Dream speaks very highly of him. And that’s why he doesn’t deserve someone as fucked up as you in his life.”

“And Sap?” Quackity miserably asks, doing his best to fight back tears at the horrifying thought that Karl might actually leave him, his fucking fiance, to instead spend his time with Dream.

“He and Dream are back to being best friends,” Wilbur replies with a wicked grin, resisting the urge to laugh at the flash of hurt that flitters across Quackity’s features, knowing that he definitely deserves this, and he’s more than happy to share what’s happened in Sapnap and Karl’s lives while Quackity was busy brewing potions and fucking torturing someone. “Remember when you held an axe to Dream’s throat outside this very building? Well, Sapnap found Dream and helped him recover. That’s how he became friends with Karl and reconciled with Sapnap. So, really, you’re the reason why they’re friends. Just like how you’re the reason why they deserve to know the terrible things you’ve done.”

As the first few tears begin cascading down his cheeks, Quackity swallows his pride and says in a soft, pleading tone, “Look, Wilbur, I’ll do anything. What do you want? I’ll get you it, no questions asked. Please, just don’t make me tell them. They’re all I have left.”

With a smirk, Wilbur can’t help but bend down in front of Quackity, putting their faces close, yet Wilbur still towers over him, showing who’s in power here as he asks, “What do I want?”

“Yes, whatever it is, I’ll do it,” Quackity earnestly says as he rapidly nods his head, hope soaring in his chest at the thought of Wilbur letting him do something other than this.

“What do I want?” Wilbur echoes as he continues staring down at Quackity, his smirk growing wider and wider the longer this conversation continues. 

“Just tell me and I’ll get it for you,” Quackity continues in that same tone as he keeps nodding, desperate to avoid telling Karl and Sapnap what he’s done; even if the alternative is downright awful, there’s no way it could be worse than making him lose the last two people that actually still care about him.

“Well, first and foremost, I want Dream to be safe,” Wilbur honestly replies, reveling in the way Quackity’s stops nodding as hopelessness slowly begins spreading across his face, definitely not liking where this is going. “And you are the biggest threat to his safety.”

“But, secondly,” Wilbur continues as he reaches toward Quackity’s face, the smaller man flinching violently as a hand wraps around his throat, not yet ripping the air from his lungs, but the threat of that happening at any moment is very clear, “I want you to suffer. I would love to see you laying in a filthy, blood-coated cell, sweating and shaking from the lava trapping you inside, too hurt to move because, every damn day, someone came to beat and cut you.”

As the tears fall down his cheeks even more rapidly, Quackity closes his eyes tightly, trying to brace himself for when Wilbur starts choking him as he softly murmurs, “Oh…”

With a heavy, reluctant sigh, Wilbur moves his hand off of Quackity's throat, wishing that he could strangle that prick until the light leaves his eyes, but Dream would be extremely unhappy with him if he did that, and he never wants to upset the man he loves most.

When Quackity stares at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, shocked that Wilbur didn’t hurt him, Wil sits on the bathroom floor in front of Q and softly says, “That’s what I want, but that isn’t going to happen because Dream would never forgive me for making you experience the same shit he did.”

And, even though it might make him the biggest idiot alive, Quackity can’t help the angry jab: “Never thought Dream’s moral compass would be holding you back.”

“Oh yeah, he’s literally the only thing holding me back,” Wilbur says without hesitation as he chuckles bitterly, wishing that Dream wasn’t so fucking good so he could just annihilate Quackity. “I’ll admit without hesitation that he’s a much better person than I will ever be.”

“Really?” Quackity asks in a disbelieving tone, shocked that anyone would admit that Dream is a better person than them.

“Definitely,” Wilbur confidently says, believing his words whole-heartedly.

Then, as he gets a faraway look in his eyes, Wilbur continues, “You were right about Limbo. It really did fuck me up. The things I think about doing to you…”

After trailing off for a few seconds, Wilbur can’t help but finish with a twisted little smirk, “Let’s just say that, if it weren’t for Dream, your corpse wouldn’t even be recognizable by the time I finished with you.”

With a scoff, once again being reminded of just how fucked Wilbur is, Quackity mutters, “Charming.” 

“I’m sure you’ve imagined the exact same things with me,” Wil says without hesitation as he grins knowingly, finding a weird, twisted satisfaction in the thought that Quackity can’t really judge him for those desires because he has done the same thing, if not even worse.

“Of course I have,” Quackity adamantly says without a moment of hesitation, a blissful, longing expression passing over his face as he continues, “I even wrote a list of all the things I’d do to you after you took Dream away from me.”

“Wonderful, glad you understand,” Wilbur sarcastically says with a wry smile, definitely not wanting to know any of the horrible things on that list. 

Then, as another cold, cruel smirk tugs his lips, Wilbur leans toward Quackity and says in a firm, merciless tone that leaves no room for arguing, “Since I can’t leave you a bloody mess, I have to find a different way to make you suffer. And what better way to do that than make you relive every atrocity you commited, apologize for each one, and then share that with the only two people who still care about you, causing them to leave you forever?”

“This is fucked up,” Quackity mutters as hopelessness painfully squeezes his chest, knowing that there is no way to get out of this, yet he desperately doesn’t want to have to tell Karl and Sapnap, the only things that are good in his life, what he did in the prison. 

With a bitter laugh over the way Quackity, a fucking torturer, thinks what he’s doing is fucked up, Wilbur says in an unwavering tone, “This is justice. Every action has consequences. And if you weren’t ready to face them, maybe you shouldn’t have tortured a helpless prisoner.”

Rather than acknowledging that there might be some truth behind Wilbur’s words, Quackity instead challenges with a smirk, “And are you ready to face the consequences of doing this to me?”

“Oh yeah,” Wilbur says with a wide grin without a moment of hesitation, reveling in the way Quackity’s eyes widen from shock and alarm at his response. “No matter what comes from this, I’ll know that you’re finally getting even a fraction of what you deserve.”

Then, as his voice takes on a cruel, angry edge, Wilbur harshly continues, “Before me and Techno came here, you weren’t facing any consequences, and I won’t stand for that. House arrest is just a preventative measure so you don’t hurt Dream again. Staying in a cell would be punishment. Death would be punishment. And torture would be the best punishment.”

As Wilbur rises to his feet, he sweeps his arm around the bathroom, which is way bigger than the entire cell that Dream spent almost a year in, angrily sneering as he looks around the room, “But look at you, you have this spacious bathroom and a nice, cozy bedroom all to yourself. And, as long as someone’s with you, you can even go outside. All of those are more than Dream was ever given in the prison.” 

While glaring down at Quackity, Wilbur firmly and angrily finishes in a confident, unwavering tone, “So, yes, I’m more than ready to face whatever comes my way from this, because you are finally getting a piece of what you deserve. You were so fond of punishing Dream, and now it’s your turn. So, you either write the book and share it with your fiances, or Techno gets to murder you slowly and painfully. Do we have a deal?"

And even though he really doesn’t want to, feeling like this will be what signifies his death warrant, Quackity nods his head and softly whispers, "Yeah, we do."

With a triumphant smirk, Wilbur begins unwrapping the chains from Quackity’s wrists and curtly says, "Good, pleasure doing business with you."

Even though it might be stupid and misplaced, especially since these fucking chains are finally being taken off, Quackity can’t help but angrily say, "Fuck off."

Instead of being upset by Quackity’s response, Wilbur just smiles widely as he finishes releasing Quackity, feeling very, very accomplished, knowing that this apology book is going to help Dream so much.

Slowly, on shaky legs from the cramped position he had been in, Quackity rises to his feet, casting a wary glance between Wilbur and Techno as he rubs his aching wrists, certain that this can’t be it, that they must be planning some way to physically hurt him.

When Wilbur steps toward him, Quackity can’t help but flinch back against the wall next to the door, immediately berating himself afterward for letting his fear show, but he just couldn’t help it because, even though he thinks he’s done a damn good job at acting calm, he’s fucking terrified of what they’ll do to him.

“You better protect this book with your life,” Wilbur commands as he hands Quackity a blank book and quill from his inventory, smirking as he continues, “And if you don’t, that’ll be the end of your life.”

With trembling fingers, Quackity takes the book and clutches it much tighter than necessary, not wanting to touch the stupid book, but, since his life literally depends on it, he’ll do as Wilbur asked.

As his smirk deepens, Wilbur turns to Technoblade and excitedly says, “Well, my work here is done. Want me to leave you two alone for a bit?”

Surprised by the sudden attention on him, Techno hesitates for a few seconds, unsure what he should do.

On one hand, he’s already hurt Dream once, and he really doesn’t want the homeless teletubby to start shouting at him again.

But, on the other hand, Quackity is here, entirely defenseless and at their mercy.

Can he really just pass up an offer like that?

Besides, he doesn’t have to kill the guy…

No, he could just spill a little blood, that’s all.

After all, he is the Blood God, and both he and the voices crave the sweet sight of bright, blood-red pools covering the ground like a nice, warm blanket. 

Having made up his mind, with a too-wide smile, Techno steps toward Quackity and says, “You go on ahead, Wilbur. Quackity and I have some… catching up to do. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Frantically, Quackity shakes his head, wanting to beg and plead with Wilbur not to leave him alone with Technoblade, but the man is already heading toward the door.

In an offhand, uncaring tone, Wilbur calls out, “Just make sure he can still use his hands when you’re done. I need that book, after all.”

“That’s what potions are for,” Techno says with a smirk as he advances on Quackity, his pickaxe held firmly in one hand, beyond ready to start slashing and cutting, just like he did on the day Quackity tried to execute him. 

“Alright,” Wilbur easily agrees as he opens the bathroom door, glaring at Quackity when it looks like the smaller man is going to try to bolt out of the room. “Have fun, Techno. And I’ll see you again tomorrow night, Quackity; I expect you to have at least three pages written.”

Too terrified to speak, Quackity just nods his head repeatedly, pressing himself in between the wall and bathroom sink as he tries to make himself smaller, hoping that Wilbur will stop this before that maniac Technoblade can hurt him.

“Thanks for joining me, Techno, it’s been fun,” Wilbur says with a cruel, twisted chuckle, a part of him wanting to stay and watch Quackity get a taste of his own cruelty, but, if Dream ever does find out about this visit, it would be better to say that he told Quackity to write the book, then left, all without hurting the man.

And, well, if Techno hurt Quackity while he was gone, how is Wilbur supposed to know that?

“And the fun is only just beginning,” Technoblade eagerly says as he towers over Quackity, his blood-red eyes shining even brighter than usual, the blaring cacophony of voices all screaming for violence causing the piglin-hybrid to give in to his bloodlust, the rest of the world fading away except for his pickaxe and the one he’s going to use it on.

With a loud chuckle at Techno’s words, Wilbur lets the bathroom door slide shut behind him, separating him from Quackity and Techno and all the fun they’ll have together.

And if a little voice in the back of his mind that suspiciously sounds like Dream tells him that he’s doing the wrong thing, he’ll remind himself that he isn’t the one who hurt Quackity, simply asking him to write an apology book to Dream.

Wilbur’s just one man, and not even the greatest fighter after so long spent in Limbo, so how could anyone expect him to stop the mighty Blood God, The Blade, from getting his revenge on Quackity?

After drinking an invisibility potion, Wilbur begins brushing invisible specs of dust off his shoulders as he exits Quackity’s room, smiling to himself at a job well done.

And if Wilbur smiles a little wider when he hears the faint sound of Quackity’s screams echoing throughout the hallway in this desolate area of the White House, no one is around to criticize him for enjoying the moment.

After all, karma’s a bitch, and by hurting the man he loves most, Quackity brought this upon himself.

Ah, yes, revenge is very sweet.

Chapter Text

In the later hours of the morning, long after both Wilbur and Technoblade have left Quackity alone, Tubbo sits in the office connected to his Presidential Suite, sorting through mountains of paperwork of potential laws for him to pass or veto.

After a while of drudging through the mind-numbing process, Tubbo is startled from his work by a loud, persistent knocking on his door.

And even though Tubbo wasn’t expecting any visitors, he quickly tears his attention from his boring paperwork, rubbing his tired eyes as he calls out, “Come in!”

Slowly, the door opens, a wide, excited smile crossing over Tubbo’s features when he sees a familiar white and red shirt paired with a mop of blonde hair.

With his own smile, Tommy stands in the doorway and greets Tubbo with a boisterous, “Hey, Pres! Got any free time?” 

“Of course, I’ve always got time to talk to you,” Tubbo replies without hesitation, quickly clearing off some of his papers and gesturing to the seat across from him as he says, “Come on, take a seat.” 

“Thanks, Big Man,” Tommy happily says with a wide, lopsided grin as he plops into the seat across from Tubbo, thankful that his friend is willing to talk to him even with how busy he must be as president. 

“How are you?” Tubbo asks with a kind smile, thinking that he probably already knows Tommy’s answer based on the large, dark bags clinging to the skin underneath his tired eyes, but he asks that all the same, not knowing how else to get this conversation started. 

Sure enough, Tommy smiles wryly and says in a false cheery tone, “Fucking fantastic.” 

“What’s wrong?” Tubbo gently questions as his smile turns into a slight frown, instantly feeling concerned that something’s wrong with Tommy, his best friend who he really doesn’t want to lose again. 

“Dream’s got me thinking 'bout shit,” Tommy angrily mutters, wishing that he could just stop thinking about that green son of a bitch, especially since he doesn’t even like the guy, but it’s really fucking hard to do when Dream’s so… weird now. 

“Yeah…” Tubbo agrees with a heavy sigh, afterward trailing off for a few moments as he vividly remembers everything that happened with Dream in the L’Manburg dungeons yesterday. “It’s been crazy lately.” 

“These past few days have been fucking insane,” Tommy says with a groan as he buries his head in his hands, terribly overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and that’s coming from a very big man like himself. “I went from being in exile to finding out that Dream’s from the future where he was tortured and now wants to ‘be a better person’ or some bullshit. And then I end up fucking saving his life. Twice! I don’t even fucking like him, but I still helped him and I don’t know why! And then I found out who his fucking torturer is and I can’t even believe it! It’s all so fucked!” 

After a few moments of just blinking in surprise at Tommy’s angry outburst, Tubbo’s mind gets caught on a particular set of words, causing him to hesitantly question, “Wait… You saved him twice?” 

With a heavy sigh, still hardly able to believe that not only did he save Dream’s life, but twice, Tommy reluctantly says, “Yeah, my first morning here I couldn’t sleep and went for a walk. I found Dream with a fucking axe against his throat and his torturer enjoying every second of it.” 

Wait…

That means…

Tommy knows about Quackity…

And if he really found out on his first morning here, that means he’s spent days without anyone to support him through such a horrible discovery. 

While feeling, yet again, like a terrible friend, Tubbo softly and sincerely says, “I’m sorry you found out who did that to him.” 

“Wait, you know?!” Tommy exclaims in a loud, alarmed tone, shocked that not only Tubbo knows about what Quackity did, but that he didn’t mention it until now.

“Yeah, Wil and a few others came to me for help yesterday because Dream was missing,” Tubbo replies with a bitter chuckle, certain that he’s never going to forget what happened yesterday. “We found him in the dungeons with… Q.” 

As a sick feeling of dread settles in his stomach, knowing that nothing good could come from Quackity taking Dream to the dungeons, Tommy hesitantly questions, “What did he do?” 

While suppressing the urge to shiver, Tubbo quietly recounts what happened yesterday in the dungeons: “It looked like he was just getting started, but he made muteness potions that he used on Dream.” 

“What the fuck…” Tommy mutters in a horrified whisper, afterward trailing off, entirely at a loss for words over hearing what Quackity did.

He didn’t even know that it was possible to make muteness potions, but Quackity actually used one on someone?

Fuck, Tommy can’t even imagine how terrifying it would be to not be able to speak.

That’s… horrifying.

Quackity seriously did that to Dream...

Even after everything the green bastard did to him, Tommy will admit that what Q did was beyond fucked.

That’s just not okay to do to anyone, even a bastard like Dream. 

With a bitter chuckle at the appalled expression on Tommy’s face, feeling very similar to his friend, Tubbo continues in that same soft tone, “Yeah… I’ve never seen anyone so scared in my life.” 

“Prime…” Tommy starts to say, but he trails off there, not understanding what he should say in the face of all this, but he finally settles on a reluctant, “All this shit almost makes me want to feel bad for him.” 

“I know what you mean,” Tubbo replies with a heavy sigh, really not wanting to feel bad for the person who fucking abused his best friend, but he also can’t seem to get rid of the image of Dream trembling violently from fear while chained up in the dungeon. “I hate what he did to you, but man, seeing him shaking and sobbing like that… it’s hard to say he deserves that shit, y’know?” 

And even though Tommy wants to deny it to his dying breath, doesn’t even want to think about sympathizing with fucking Dream, he instead just softly agrees, “Yeah, I know…”  

After a few moments of just sitting in tense, heavy silence, Tubbo hesitantly questions, “Are you okay?” 

“Not at all,” Tommy bluntly says without hesitation, a choked, bitter laugh escaping him as soon as those words leave his lips, not wanting anyone to know how badly he’s struggling, but fuck man, this shit is hard to get through alone, especially since it feels like Dream took everything he knew and shattered it to pieces in less than a week.  

With a sad, understanding smile, Tubbo gently prods, “Wanna talk about it?” 

And even though doesn’t really want to open up and be vulnerable, before he can talk himself out of it, he blurts out, “I just don’t understand why Q would do this. What happened to him?” 

With a weary sigh, having asked himself that same question so many times since yesterday, Tubbo mutters while fighting back tears, “I don’t know, but prime, he’s so mean now. I couldn’t believe the things he said to me and Wil.” 

While feeling worried, definitely not liking the sound of that, Tommy hesitantly asks, “What did he say?” 

“Just…” Tubbo shakily starts to say, but he has to pause there to take a deep breath so he can find the strength to softly continue, “He said so many things. He blamed Dream for the way he tortured him in the prison. And then he said that he would’ve tortured Wil instead if he’d known that he’d been revived.” 

“What?!” Tommy shouts in a loud, disbelieving tone, absolutely disgusted by what he just heard. “He was going to fucking torture Wil?! Why?!”  

Because, even though he thinks that Dream is a real bastard, one that Tommy hates more than anyone else, he’s never felt that way about Wil.

Sure, he was angry when Wil blew up L’Manburg, the nation they built and fought and died for together, but he never wanted anything bad to happen to Wilbur.

Wil’s always been like a brother to him…

And the thought that Quackity, Big Q, the person who used to be his friend, would fucking torture Wil makes Tommy horrified beyond anything he could ever put into words.

“He’s so fucked up now,” Tubbo mutters with another heavy sigh, knowing that, if he hadn’t witnessed what happened yesterday with his own eyes, he never would’ve believed how much Q changed. “I just… I don’t even know how to explain it. He’s nothing like… our friend.” 

With a deep frown, stubbornly trying to deny the pricking heat of tears he feels rushing behind his eyelids, Tommy sadly whispers, “He used to be one of my best friends.” 

“Me too…” Tubbo murmurs before trailing off, doing his best not to think of all the fun he, Tommy, and Q used to have before the elections came to be. 

Then, as his sadness turns into furious, blinding anger, Tommy balls his hands into fists and shouts, “Why?! Why did he do this?!” 

While wishing that he knew the answer, especially since he’s asked himself this so many times, Tubbo honestly replies, “I don’t know…” 

As his frustration becomes even more powerful, hot, angry tears slip down Tommy’s cheeks as he furiously screams, “I fucking hate him! I hate him, and I hate Dream, and I hate fucking everything!” 

When the first sob tears through Tommy’s chest, Tubbo quickly stands up and closes the distance between them, pulling his best friend into a much-needed hug as he finally gets the opportunity to release all the pain and hurt he’s been carrying around for far too long.

For a long time, the two best friends simply hold each other close, Tommy’s snot and tears making a mess of the front of Tubbo’s Presidential Suit, but he doesn’t care, knowing that his friend is much, much more important than some stuffy suit getting dirty.

The two finally pull apart a long time later when there’s a hesitant knock on the door, the sound causing Tommy to quickly move away from Tubbo as he angrily scrubs a hand down his tear-stained face.

After giving Tommy a small, reassuring smile, Tubbo hesitantly calls out, “Who is it?”

“It’s uh, me, Dream,” Dream nervously says through the door as he wrings his hands together out in front of him in a futile attempt to lessen the way they shake, wondering for the millionth time if he should’ve come here. “And Wil’s here with me too.”

For a few seconds, Tubbo just stares at the door in shock, wondering why Dream would be outside the door to his office, but then he remembers that Wil said Dream wanted to speak to him.

While turning away from the door, Tubbo raises an eyebrow at Tommy, silently asking him if he’s okay with them coming inside. 

Even though he doesn’t really want to be anywhere near Dream, the thought of seeing Wil again is enough to make him agree, causing Tommy to firmly nod his head at Tubbo in response.

“Sure, come on in,” Tubbo casually says as he sits at his desk again, Tommy sitting down on a chair in the corner of the room, which Tubbo notices makes it so Tommy’s back won’t be facing Dream.

Slowly, the door opens and in walks Dream and Wilbur, Dream with a nervous smile on his face and Wil with bags under his eyes so dark that they almost look like bruises, the sight of them a painful reminder of what happened yesterday in the L’Manburg dungeons.

“Hey, Tubbo,” Dream softly says with his nervous smile still in place.

Then, as he glances around the room and notices Tommy sitting in the corner, Dream does a double-take before sheepishly continuing, “Oh, hi, Tommy. Didn’t think you’d be here.” 

“Sup, Bitch,” Tommy says as a way of greeting, smiling widely when his words cause Wilbur to snort in amusement. 

“Good to see ya, Toms,” Wilbur says with a genuine smile as he waves to Tommy, then he sits in the seat across from Tubbo, Dream taking the spot right beside the man he loves.

“So, what can I do for you two?” Tubbo asks in a formal, business-like tone, unsure what they’re doing in his office, but assuming that, unlike Tommy, they aren’t just here for a friendly chat. 

“Well, it’s okay if you say no, but I was hoping I could use the L’Manburg stage to give an apology speech,” Dream softly and earnestly says after a few moments of nervous hesitation, knowing that this could go terribly wrong, but he hopes that Tubbo will agree.

“Fucking what?!” Tommy exclaims in shock from where he’s sitting, certain that he must’ve misheard, that Dream doesn’t wanna fucking apologize, let alone in front of everyone so publicly.

With a nervous chuckle, Dream partially turns toward Tommy so he can look into the boy’s baby blue eyes and sheepishly says, “Uh, yeah, I wanna give a big speech where I apologize to the people I’ve hurt the most. I know I’ve fucked up a lot, but I hope that this can be the start of me showing everyone that I’m trying to be a better person.”

For a few moments, Tommy just stares at Dream, his mouth agape, waiting for the un-masked man to laugh in his face for even considering that his words aren’t just a joke.

But, instead of revealing that he’s messing with them, Dream turns away from Tommy and nervously asks Tubbo, “So, yeah, what do you think? Would you be willing to let me use the stage and help get people to come for my speech?”

In a similar state of shock as Tommy, Tubbo is silent for several agonizingly long and tense seconds, but then he slowly blinks away his surprise and begins considering Dream’s words which, no matter how unbelieve they seem, actually might be real.

After a few more moments of thinking, Tubbo hesitantly questions before trailing off, “Is the stage really the best place to do this? Like, a lot of bad things have happened there…” 

Feeling much more confident now that Tubbo hasn’t outright refused his request, Dream can’t help but smile slightly as he confidently says, “Let’s start a new era then. This can be the start of the stage being used for good.” 

Even though Tubbo is hesitant to let the stage ever be used again, especially since so many truly terrible things have happened there, including his own execution, he slowly finds himself warming up to Dream’s idea of an apology speech and a new era. 

Maybe he’s stupid for actually considering this, but, instead of telling Dream to find someplace else to do his speech, Tubbo settles on questioning, “You really want to use the stage?”

“I do,” Dream replies without hesitation, then he continues in a firm, passionate tone, “The way I see it, either we tear down the stage and build it somewhere else, or we make it into something new. We can make it something that helps bring people together, not tear them apart.”

After a few moments of mulling over Dream’s words, Tubbo nods his head in agreement, deciding that, yeah, he likes the idea of the stage being used to bring people together again.

Before Tubbo can verbally agree to let Dream use the L’Manburg stage for his speech, Tommy scoffs and asks in a disbelieving tone, “When did you get so poetic and shit?” 

While trying his best not to laugh at Tommy’s question, Dream shrugs his shoulders and replies with a simple, “I dunno.”

“You really go from saying shit like that to ‘I dunno’?” Tommy asks in that same disbelieving tone, finding it so hard to believe that he’s having a conversation like this with Dream right now when, this time last week, he was still being tormented by Past-Dream in exile.

With a little smirk, Dream turns toward Tommy and says in a teasing tone, “What can I say, inspiration comes and goes in waves.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Tommy bluntly says without a moment of hesitation, knowing that there’s so many things he doesn’t understand about this version of Dream from the future, but he’s certain that the man is so fucking weird.

Dream can’t help but release a hearty chuckle at Tommy’s words, his heart soaring at just being able to laugh and joke around with Tommy, just like they used to do for hours long before the disc war ever began.

After Dream’s laughter dies down, the four of them begin discussing the logistics of the speech. Eventually, they settle on Tubbo being the one to invite everyone to the stage for speech, but without actually mentioning that Dream will be there since very few people would come to listen to him talk, and they decide that the speech will happen tomorrow at midday. 

Now that that’s all decided, Dream and Wilbur say their goodbyes to the younger boys, then exit the office and begin walking through the halls of the White House.

Chapter Text

“So, what should we do now?” Wilbur casually asks as he takes Dream’s hand, holding it in his own as they continue walking toward the main entrance of the White House.

Before Dream can respond, a figure rounds the corner, the sight of him causing both of them to stop dead in their tracks. 

Much to Dream’s surprise, when Quackity notices them he freezes too, his eyes widening as he sucks in a sharp breath. 

And for a reason Dream doesn’t understand, Quackity doesn’t even look at him, instead warily watching Wilbur, undeniable fear in his gaze.

Why does Quackity look so… scared?

While a lot of yesterday in the dungeons was a blur, his mind too terrified to process much of what was going on, Dream’s almost positive that the only person Quackity seemed scared of was Techno.

So why is he looking at Wilbur like the newly-revived man will be the last person he sees before he dies?

Did Wil… do something to Quackity?

No, of course not, he wouldn’t do that!

Besides, if Wil had hurt Quackity, which he didn’t, there’d be some sign of that, yet Quackity looks entirely unharmed.

Wait… why does he look completely unhurt though? 

Dream vividly remembers when Wilbur slapped Quackity, the force of it sending the man to the dirty cell floor as his cheek turned a harsh shade of red.

From how painful the impact sounded, Dream expected Quackity’s cheek to have a large, ugly bruise, or maybe a reddened handprint temporarily etched into his skin as it heals.

There’s just… nothing though.

It’s as if… someone healed him.

But there would be no reason for someone to waste a health or regen potion because Quackity was slapped.

No, there would need to be some large, near-fatal injuries for someone to feel the need to heal Quackity.

Dream knows all too well exactly what kind of injuries a person can sustain without needing to be healed, and it’s a lot.

So the fact that Quackity seems to have been healed, paired with the obvious terror he looks at Wil with, does not sit right with Dream.

There’s no way though…

Wilbur wouldn’t hurt Quackity, especially not bad enough that the man would need potions to heal his wounds… 

And Wil promised that he would never hurt Quackity…

He wouldn’t break that promise…

Right?

Before Dream can spend any more time fretting over Quackity’s strange attitude and appearance, he’s pulled from his thoughts by Wilbur stepping protectively in front of him and growling at Quackity, “Don’t come any closer to him.”

With a scoff that he hopes masks most of his fear, Quackity asks in a low, hopeless tone, “What am I gonna do? You’re both in full neitherite and I’m completely unarmed.”

Then, as anger slips through the cracks of his terror, Quackity glares at Wilbur and demands, “Just move out of my fucking way so I don’t miss my session.”

And even though Dream is still reeling from his disturbing observations, he can’t help but be curious about Quackity’s words, causing him to poke his head out from behind Wilbur and nervously question, “H-Have you started therapy already?”

After a few seconds of hesitation, and a nervous glance at Wilbur, Quackity tears his gaze away from the taller man and looks at Dream as he replies, “Yeah, this will be my second one.”

Then, with a shy, barely-there smile, Quackity honestly says, “It’s actually been nice so far.”

Growing more and more interesting the longer Quackity talks about his experience with his new therapist, Dream steps out from behind the safety of Wilbur’s lanky frame and softly questions, “Really?”

“For sure,” Quackity says without hesitation, feeling less and less afraid of Wilbur now that he’s able to talk about his first therapy session. “I can just be honest with them and they don’t judge me or tell me how fucked up I am. It’s refreshing.”

“Sounds nice,” Dream says in that same soft tone, and he means every word, finding himself really looking forward to getting his own therapist soon too.

“Yeah…” Quackity says as he eagerly nods his head, but then he slowly trails off, finally remembering where he is and exactly who he’s talking to. 

With another nervous glance at Wilbur, checking to make sure the newly-revived man hasn’t moved any closer to him, Quackity hesitantly and awkwardly asks, “I, uh, probably won’t be seeing you again, huh?”

As his tone turns somewhat harsh, Dream meets Quackity’s gaze and firmly says, “No, you won’t. I have no reason to come to the White House again, especially since you’re here.”

“That makes sense…” Quackity reluctantly says, trailing off once again as he tries to find the right words, but he just settles on a simple, “Bye then.”

Dream can’t help but snort at Quackity’s response, then honestly say, “I didn’t expect this to be how we parted ways.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Quackity says with a bitter huff of laughter, having thought that the last time he’d ever see Dream would’ve been the man’s lifeless corpse staring up at him inside a small, obsidian and lava-encased cell. 

Then, because he has no fucking idea what self-preservation is, Quackity turns his attention back to Wilbur and asks in a voice that makes him sound much braver than he is, “Got anything you wanna say, Wilbur? You’re real quiet.”

Without missing a beat, Wilbur glares at Quackity while firmly and harshly gritting out, “I still fucking hate you and hope you die a slow, agonizing death.”

With a twisted--and definitely not fearful--chuckle, Quackity mutters, “Yeah, I figured.”

“What, no ‘feeling is mutual, Darling’ bullshit like yesterday?” Wilbur practically snarls as his lips curl in disgust, missing the way Dream’s eyes widen in shock and alarm at the absolute hatred he hears in the tone of the man he loves.

“Nah, not right now,” Quackity says in a false-casual tone as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. 

Then, while feeling like he’s about to put his opponent in checkmate, Quackity smirks cruelly and loudly says, “Maybe check back again tonight and we’ll see.”

Dream opens his mouth to ask what Quackity meant by that, especially since he very obviously stressed the word ‘tonight’, but he doesn’t get the chance to because Wilbur grabs his hand and begins storming down the hall as he sharply says, “Come on, Dre, let’s go.”

Too shocked to speak, feeling terribly confused and concerned over that… weird interaction between Quackity and Wilbur, Dream just lets himself be led out of the White House and far, far away from the man who once tormented him.

As they exit the White House, the fresh air and sunlight finally pull Dream out of his stupor, causing him to stop walking, their conjoined hands forcing Wilbur to do the same.

Knowing that they seriously need to talk about… whatever the fuck that was, Dream pulls them over to an empty flower planter and, once they’re sitting side by side, he hesitantly asks, "Wil, why did he look scared of you?"

While suppressing a wince, Wil hesitates for a few moments, not wanting to lie to Dream, but also knowing that the truth will upset the man he loves, causing him to settle on a simple, "I don't know."

"I woke up in the middle of the night and you weren't there,” Dream points out in that same quiet tone, trying not to sound accusing, even though he knows that Wilbur must’ve done something bad to make Q look so scared. “You visited him last night, didn't you?"

Unable to bring himself to lie to Dream, the person he loves more than anyone else in this world, Wil takes a deep breath to steel himself, then he admits, "I did."

"Did you…” Dream starts to ask, but he has to pause for a few moments, unsure if he wants to know the answer, if he wants to find out that Wilbur did cruel, awful things to Quackity on his behalf.

After finally working up the courage to continue, Dream presses on and demands to know, “Did you hurt him, Wil? Is that why he looked terrified of you?"

While hoping that Dream will believe him, Wilbur gently rests his hand on top of Dream’s as he honestly says, “No, I didn’t hurt him. I really, really wanted to, but my promise to you kept me from doing that."

The second he hears that Wilbur didn’t hurt Quackity, Dream releases a relieved sigh, thankful that no one else was hurt because of him.

But, even though Dream is thankful that Wil didn’t visit Quackity to hurt him, there must be a reason behind that trip to the White House in the dead of night, causing him to hesitantly question, "What did you do then?"

"I gave him a book and quill, and I told him to write me three pages every day,” Wilbur honestly replies, not expecting this to be how Dream found out about the apology book, but he refuses to hide something so significant from Dream. “And, each night, I'm gonna make sure that he wrote what he was supposed to."

"And what if he doesn't write what you want him to?" Dream softly questions as he stares down at the grass below them, not wanting to see Wilbur’s face when the man says that’ll hurt Quackity to make him write this book.

But, instead of saying that, Wil replies with a smirk, "Then I'll stay with him until he does. He hates me, so I think he'll do as I asked to avoid spending time with me."

And even though Dream is relieved that Wil really doesn’t have plans to hurt Quackity, he still doesn’t understand the point of all this, causing him to demand, "What do you want him to write so badly? I don’t get why you’d go through so much trouble to make him write a book."

"I want him to write an apology book," Wilbur says with a small smile as he gives Dream’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

As his head snaps up toward Wil in surprise, certainly not expecting that to be the man’s answer, Dream asks in shock, "What? To who?" 

"To you, Silly," Wilbur replies with a fond chuckle as he uses his free hand to boop Dream on the nose, grinning like an idiot at the way Dream’s face scrunches up from the unexpected contact. 

While shaking his head to erase the feeling of Wilbur gently poking his nose, Dream says in a firm, confident tone, "I don't need an apology book from him."

"You deserve one, Dre," Wil earnestly says as he gives Dream’s hand another reassuring squeeze; he’d hoped that Dream would just accept the idea of the apology book, but he should’ve known that the stubborn man would have at least some form of protest. 

Without hesitation, fully believing his next words, Dream harshly says, "I don’t need an apology. I deserved everything he did to me."

"No, Sweetheart, you really didn't,” Wil whispers as he shuts his eyes tightly, trying his best not to cry over how, even after how hard he’s tried to convince the man he loves otherwise, Dream still believes that he deserved to be fucking tortured. “You did a lot of bad things, but so have so many other people. Yet you were the only one punished for your actions."

"That's because I was the only one who really deserved to pay," Dream justifies without hesitation, unable to see that, while all the blame was placed on his shoulders, leaving him to suffer in agony for almost a year, no one else faced the consequences for their actions.

"Oh, Dre,” Wil continues in that same sad tone as he slowly opens his eyes, meeting Dream’s gaze as he softly questions, “When will you realize you deserve so much better than this?"

"What do you mean?" Dream asks in a confused tone, not understanding what Wil’s getting at, especially since he knows that he deserved to be put in the prison and everything else that came with it. 

While gently and tenderly cupping the left side of Dream’s face and stroking his thumb across Dream’s cheek in a soothing motion, Wilbur says with all the fondness and sincerity in the world, "You are the sweetest, most caring, and truly wonderful person I've ever met. You don't deserve to be hurt, you don't deserve to be tortured, and you sure as hell don't deserve to die. People have hurt you so badly, and you deserve an apology from them."

And, even though Wilbur’s words are kind and sweet, Dream can’t even begin to think that they might be true, causing him to instead question,"Are you trying to punish him? Is that why you're making him write this?"

"No, this isn't about punishment or revenge,” Wilbur says with a heavy sigh as he continues gently touching Dream’s face, doing his best to not become frustrated by how hard it is for Dream to believe that he truly matters and deserves nice things. “This is about doing the right thing. Dre, he wronged you over and over again."

"I deserv-" Dream starts to say again, but Wilbur just can’t take it anymore. 

"Stop saying that," Wilbur firmly demands, not wanting to hear Dream say that he deserved to be tortured ever again. 

"But it's tru-” Dream tries again, but he’s interrupted once again.

While moving his other hand off of Dream’s, instead placing it on Dream's other cheek, allowing him to gently cradle Dream’s face, Wilbur earnestly says, "No, it's not true. You deserved none of what he did. You fucked up, and I do think you should’ve been locked up, but not in that place. The way they treated you was so inhumane. You deserved to reflect on your crimes in an environment where you couldn't hurt anyone else, but you didn't deserve to be treated like a fucking animal."

As Dream pulls back from Wilbur’s kind touch, instead looking down at the grass again, Dream simply deflects by muttering, "Oh come on, it wasn't that bad."

While feeling like his heart is absolutely shattering at the way Dream is trying to dismiss his own trauma, Wilbur gently takes Dream’s hand again and sadly whispers, "My Love, who are you trying to fool? I was there, and I saw firsthand what they did to you.”

Then, while once again trying not to cry, Wilbur recounts the horrors he witnessed and will remember for forever and ever, “For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the bruises that covered your stomach, the way you grabbed your ribs with missing fingers. I'll never forget the way you coughed for so long, each sound so wet and painful because he gave you a fucking lung infection. I'll never forget the way you clung to me and cried, even though we were practically strangers, all because you were desperate for anyone or anything to treat you like you were human."

As his expression softens from the pain in Wilbur’s voice, Dream slowly meets his gaze and softly says, "Wil, I'm not that person anymore. Not since you came into my life."

With a sad smile, Wil honestly replies, "I know you aren't, Dre, and I'm so fucking proud of you for how far you've come. Even after everything he did to you, you're still so strong and brave.”

And even though Wilbur very is glad that Techno gave Quackity a taste of the pain he inflicted on Dream during all those months in the prison, Wil continues without a hint of deception or hesitation, “I am incredibly proud of you for what you did yesterday. You not only stood up for yourself, but you protected someone else too. Even after everything he did to hurt you, you didn't want him to be in pain, and that just shows how selfless and kind you are."

"Thanks, Wil,” Dream whispers as he ducks his head, embarrassed to feel heat rush to his cheeks over Wil’s praise. 

Then, in a confused tone, Dream softly continues, “I just don't understand though. If you know I'm not the same person, why do you want him to apologize so badly? I've already moved on…"

"Dre, you've changed so much, and you've grown into being this wonderful person, but others haven't,” Wilbur earnestly says, knowing that, no matter how much Dream insists that he’s moved on, neither of them will be able to truly heal from this until Dream gets the apology and closure he deserves. “And I'm so proud of you for trying to move on, but there's just no way to do that when Quackity hasn't changed at all."

"What do you mean?" Dream asks in that same confused tone, still feeling hopelessly lost. 

"It's so obvious that you're different now, that you're a better person, but he still tried to hurt you again,” Wilbur says in a firm tone, a hard edge creeping into his words as he angrily continues, “You didn't ever deserve to be tortured, but you sure as hell don't now. He tried to hurt you all over again because, even though you've changed, he's still the same psychopath who hurt you in that prison cell."

"So, what, you want to make him change?” Dream bites out, feeling angry for the first time during this conversation; it’s one thing for Wilbur to step in to try to get Quackity to apologize, but there’s seriously no way Wil can possibly make Quackity a better person, not after everything he’s done. “You think you can make him change his ways? News flash, Wilbur, but people don't just change like that."

"Why not?" Wil thoughtfully questions, knowing that, if he and Dream could change so much, there’s a chance, no matter how slim, for Quackity to do the same.

"Huh?" Dream asks as a bewildered expression passes over his face, feeling more and more lost and confused with each new thing Wil says. 

"Why do you think that people can't change that much?” Wilbur questions in that same thoughtful tone, smiling slightly as he continues, “Aren't we proof enough? You and I hurt a lot of people, yet we don't want to do that ever again. If we could have such a big change of heart, why couldn't he?"

"I…” Dream starts to argue, but he trails off, realizing that Wilbur does have a point.

He and Wil both got a second chance to change their ways, and they both did…

Isn't it only fair to give Quackity the benefit of the doubt, even after all the pain he caused them?

In fact, isn’t that exactly what Tommy and Tubbo did?

Even though he hurt them so badly, even abused Tommy during exile, they still stepped in and saved his life on multiple occasions. 

Finally understanding what Wilbur means, Dream softly says with a heavy sigh, “You're right. So you're trying to make him a better person?"

"No, I'm trying to get you the closure you deserve,” Wilbur replies without hesitation as he gives Dream’s hand another reassuring squeeze; he doesn’t give a fuck about making Quackity a better person, but Dream deserves an apology, and Wilbur is definitely gonna get one for him. “You deserve to move on and be free from him, but that's hard to do when, right now, he doesn't regret a single awful thing he did. You deserve a real, genuine apology, so I'm gonna make sure you get one. And if he becomes a better person in the process, I won't complain."

For a few moments, Dream is entirely speechless, completely at a loss for words over how kind and selfless Wilbur is.

Finally, when Dream remembers how to talk again, he settles on quietly murmuring, "You shouldn't go through this much trouble, not for me."

"Oh, Dre,” Wil whispers in a heartbroken tone as tears once again rush to his eyes, the sad acceptance and disbelief in Dream’s voice making him feel like his heart was ripped out of his chest and stepped on, crushing it to tiny, fragmented pieces. “When will you learn that nothing is too much when it comes to you?"

While blinking in surprise and disbelief at Wil’s words, Dream hesitantly questions, "What? What do you mean?"

As Wil hopes with all his heart that, maybe this time, Dream will believe him, he softly and earnestly promises, "I would do anything and everything for you. If you were in danger, I would slaughter entire armies to protect you. If you were lost, I'd search for you, no matter how long it took. If you were hurt, I wouldn’t rest until you were safe again. If you were sad, I'd find whatever it took to make you smile again. Nothing is too big or small, because I would do anything in the world for you."

Without hesitation, knowing that Wil must just be saying nice, sweet words that he doesn’t actually mean, Dream accuses, "You can't possibly mean that."

And damn, if his heart wasn’t already on the floor, a broken and shattered mess, Wilbur thinks that those words would’ve destroyed it for sure.

It’s awful and just downright heartbreaking to put himself on the line, to bear his soul so openly and honestly to the man he loves most, only to be shut down immediately.

Wilbur would do anything and everything to protect Dream…

Hasn’t he already proved that time and time again?

He freed Dream from the prison, built an entire house for them to live together, rescued him from a psychopathic torturer multiple times, and so much more. 

What more can he do to make Dream believe him?

Suddenly, Wilbur remembers something, the weight of a little box inside his pocket suddenly feeling much, much heavier than it did moments ago.

This isn’t how he thought this would go…

But, if this will show Dream how much he truly cares and loves him, Wilbur’s willing to push past his nervousness and finally give Dream the ring. 

So, with a heavy sigh, knowing that he needs to show Dream how he really feels, Wilbur partially turns away from the man he loves, instead facing the numerous flowers inside the flower planter they’re both sitting on.

With one hand, Wilbur grabs the stem of a pink tulip and carefully pulls it out of the ground, the sight of it taking up Dream’s attention while Wil’s other hand slips unnoticed into the pocket of his brown trousers. 

“Wil?” Dream softly questions, unsure why Wilbur suddenly grabbed a flower, but he can’t help but notice that it’s a pink tulip, both of their favorite flowers. 

With shaky, trembling fingers, Wilbur holds both the flower and the box behind his back, carefully taking out the ring and sliding it onto the lush, green flower stem.

Then, while slipping the box back into his pocket, Wilbur smiles nervously and whispers while extending the flower out to Dream, “Here, My Love, this is for you.”

While smiling widely at Wil’s silly, yet sweet gesture, Dream takes the delicate, lovely pink tulip by the stem.

When Wilbur lets go of the flower, something slides down the stem before falling onto Dream’s finger, the strange feeling causing Dream to snap his gaze away from Wil, instead looking down at the flower in surprise. 

It takes a few moments but, once Dream notices what’s pressed against the side of his index finger while loosely wrapped around the flower stem, he sucks in a sharp, shocked breath, unable to breathe as he stares at what Wilbur gave him alongside the flower.

There’s a ring on the flower stem…

Shining in the glow of the morning sun, a shimmering sterling silver ring with emerald-green gems rests on the stem of the pink tulip, the pieces of emerald embedded in the ring matching the color in Dream’s wide, tear-filled eyes almost perfectly.

With a nervous chuckle at Dream’s reaction, hoping that Dream is shocked in a good way, Wilbur gently cups the side of Dream’s face, allowing their gazes to meet as Wil murmurs while smiling widely, "This is a promise ring, and I want you to have it. Because I promise you that, for as long as we both live, I will be by your side. I will love you. I will protect you. I will cherish you. I will hold you close and never let anyone hurt you again. Because you deserve to feel safe and loved, and I promise that I will do everything in my power to make you feel that way."

"Wil," Dream chokes out in a breathless whisper as the first tear starts to slip down his cheeks, absolutely shocked and in awe over not only the beautiful ring in his hand, but also Wilbur’s kind, thoughtful words.

"Can I put it on you?" Wil asks with a wide smile, his nervousness fading away as he basks in the sight of Dream’s pure, unadulterated joy over the flower and ring in his hands.

Knowing that, if he tries to speak, nothing more than a sob will escape, Dream simply nods his head eagerly. 

While smiling so much that his jaw is starting to ache in the best of ways, Wil slowly reaches out his hand, their fingers brushing against each other as he gently slips the ring off of the stem, afterward handing the beautiful flower back to the beautiful man in front of him.

“Which finger do you want it on?” Wil softly questions as he stares lovingly at Dream, who’s smiling widely too as tears rapidly slip down his cheeks.

Dream just shrugs, his throat too choked with emotion for him to speak.

As Wil’s smile turns into a smirk, he gently slides the ring onto Dream’s pinky finger of his right hand as he cheekily says, “Let’s do this finger so, when we do pinky promises, it’ll be extra special.”

In response, Dream just huffs out a fond, watery chuckle, the ‘you’re such an idiot,’ going unsaid, but Wil can picture it perfectly.

And if, once upon a time in a different life, that was one of the fingers that were so brutally taken from Dream, neither of the men mention it, instead replacing that memory with new, sweet ones, like the many pinkie promises they’ll do now, their rings clinking together with each and every one.

"How does it feel?" Wil questions as he slowly retracts his hand, wanting to hold onto Dream’s hand more than ever now that he’s wearing the ring, but he somehow manages to refrain, not wanting to overwhelm Dream by trying to do too many things at once.

But Wil’s worry that touch would make Dream feel overwhelmed was entirely unfounded because, instead of responding verbally, Dream launches himself at Wilbur’s chest, the force of it causing them both to go sprawling onto the grass below, Wil releasing a surprised, fond chuckle when he suddenly finds all of Dream’s body weight pressing down on him. 

While smiling widely and wrapping his arms around Dream in return, Wil gently teases, "I'm guessing you like it?"

Dream nods vigorously, still too shocked and enamored to speak, unsure what he did to deserve all this, but so fucking happy that he’s now wearing a gorgeous ring, given to him by the man he loves.

When Dream finally finds his words, he softly asks in a shaky, watery tone, "How long have you had that ring?"

"Since the night we defeated the egg,” Wil replies without hesitation, smiling fondly and rolling his eyes as he continues, “While you were sleeping, I snuck out and visited Niki. Wow, was she pissed off to see me. But, eventually, she came around and helped show me how to make the rings."

And, even though Dream wants to ask so many questions about how that interaction went, knowing that it must’ve been awkward as all hell, his mind gets caught on one word in particular. 

She came around and helped show me how to make the rings.

The rings.

Why did Wil say rings and not just your ring?

Did he just hear that wrong?

Even though Dream thinks that he’s probably mistaken, he can’t help but softly question in an excited tone, "Wait, rings? There's more than one?"

"Well, yeah, usually both people wear a promise ring,” Wil explains as his smile takes on a slightly nervous edge, hoping that he didn’t go overboard or cross any boundaries by doing this. “It’s a sign of love and commitment. And I know we aren't romantic or anything, but I thought maybe this could be a nice reminder that we care about each other since sometimes we get lost in our heads and forget that. But if you don't want that, that's totally fine, I won't be upse-"

"Just give me the fucking ring so I can put it on you," Dream firmly yet kindly interrupts Wil’s nervous rambling, not wanting the man he loves to overthink himself over such a wonderful gift.

While chuckling fondly at Dream’s command, Wil pulls the second box out of his pocket, this one a jet-black rather than the navy blue that Dream’s came in. 

Even though Dream has had his ring only for a few minutes, he recognizes the same silver and green in Wil’s ring, the sight of it causing him to point out, “They look the same.”

“Yeah, they’re the same, except yours has more emeralds in it,” Wil happily replies, his smile widening to a grin when Dream rolls his eyes at the fact that Wil’s trying to spoil him with more emeralds in his ring.

Then, as Wil becomes a little nervous again, he continues in a shy but honest tone, “I made yours first because it matches your eyes. But since your eyes are the most beautiful thing in the whole world, I wanted mine to be the same color too.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Dream mutters with a wide, fond smile, still amazed by how sweet and sappy Wil can get sometimes, the man never ceasing to make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“But I’m your idiot,” Wil cheekily replies in return, being perfectly content to be an absolute idiot, as long as Dream is the one he’s being the idiot for. 

“You are,” Dream agrees with his smile still in place.

Then, as his grin turns into a smirk, Dream teases, “Now quit stalling and give me your fucking finger.” 

"Oh, uh, yeah, okay," Wil mumbles as he moves his hand from where it rested on the grass at his side from when he took out the ring, instead lifting it into the air so Dream can reach it easier from where he’s still laying partially on top of Wil, and, if either of them notices how badly he’s trembling from nervous anticipation, neither comment on it. 

As Dream carefully pulls the ring out of the box, he can’t help but giggle at Wil's flustered response, finding it incredibly endearing how Wilbur can go from being so calm and collected one moment, then a nervous blushing and stuttering mess only a second later.

While carefully slipping the ring onto Wil's pinkie finger on his left hand, Dream meets Wilbur’s gaze and whispers with all the love, care, and honesty he can, "I promise you that I will never, ever leave you. Nothing and no one can take you away from me. I'll even defy the laws of death itself to keep you by my side. I promise you that you'll never be alone like you were in Limbo ever again."

"I love you so fucking much," Wilbur mutters with a choked, watery laugh as he pulls Dream close to his chest, wanting to hold Dream forever and ever and never let him go.

"I love you too, Wil,” Dream replies without hesitation as he sinks into Wil’s embrace even more than he already had been, resting one of his hands on Wilbur’s chest, directly over the kind man’s heart. “And thank you. This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Wil just holds him tighter, too choked up to speak as he does his best to fight back sobs, Dream’s promise to never leave him alone again making him feel so fucking loved and safe, two feelings that he never, ever wants to lose.

As silent tears slip down both of their cheeks, Dream shifts slightly so he’s laying in the grass beside Wil, rather than crushing the man, his head resting on top of Wil’s shoulder and hand on his heart, Wilbur’s own arm resting across Dream’s back, holding the man he loves close to him.

With a smile, Dream grabs Wil’s left hand and places it on top of the man’s chest, right where his own hand had previously been.

And other than raising an eyebrow in surprise, Wil doesn’t protest, curious what Dream will do.

Now that he has Wil’s hand situated in the right place, Dream rests his own hand on top of Wilbur's, then begins gently twisting and turning the man’s ring, knowing that he’s definitely going to enjoy hours spent laying together and playing with their new rings.

When Wil realizes that Dream is playing with the ring on his finger, he can’t help but smile widely, feeling extremely happy that he made these rings.

Even though he was scared of how Dream would react, he is so, so glad that he gave Dream the ring and that Dream placed the other ring on his finger in return.

And during the times when each of them gets lost in their own heads, making them forget how loved they are, they’ll have the rings on their fingers as a constant reminder that neither of them will have to be alone ever again.

After a while of just laying in the grass together, Wil smiling softly as Dream continues playing with the ring on his finger, the two finally sit up again, growing too hot laying underneath the sun bearing down on them.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Wil mumbles tiredly as he stretches out his stiff limbs from so long laying in the grass, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing, soreness be damned. “I'm tired.”

“It’s only midday, we can't sleep yet,” Dream teases with a fond chuckle as he takes Wilbur’s left hand, their rings clinking together as their fingers intertwine with each other, the new feeling causing both of them to smile widely. 

While still smiling at the feeling of their rings touching each other as they hold hands, Wil grumbles good-naturedly, “I fucking hate midday. And yes we can. So, let’s go take a nap so I can pretend this time of the day doesn’t exist.”

“You just want an excuse to cuddle with me,” Dream cheekily points out, knowing Wil all too well by now. 

As Wilbur’s smile turns into a smirk, he peers down at Dream and questions with a raised eyebrow, “Do I really need an excuse to get you to cuddle with me?”

While fighting against the heat rising into his cheeks, Dream mutters in an embarrassed tone, “No, you don’t. Just ask, or even just pull me into bed with you, that works too.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to try that,” Wil replies in a mock-thoughtful tone, but he’s definitely gonna pull Dream into bed when they get back and demand lots of cuddles. 

With a devious smile, Dream releases Wilbur’s hand and starts sprinting away as he calls out behind him, “You’ll have to catch me first!”

As Dream runs away from the White House, whooping and laughing as the nearby buildings pass by him in a blur, Wil shouts, “Hey! That’s not fair!” before he runs after Dream too.

And as they run through L’Manburg, their laughter echoing off the nearby houses, both of them feel so happy and carefree, ecstatic to be able to just mess around and laugh with each other without fear, the ring on each of their fingers promising each other that, throughout the rest of time, they’ll be there to hold each other close and offer support during whatever life throws their way. 

Chapter Text

“So, I guess this is it?” George softly asks as he looks around the Community House, his eyes lingering on several barren walls where, just yesterday, chests with Sapnap’s belongings sat. “You got all your things?” 

“Yep, that’s everything,” Sapnap says as he carries another chest toward the front door, his eyes lingering for a few moments on the staircase where, once upon a time, another occupant lived down below because the masked man insisted that he should have his own bedroom, despite living in the Community House. 

With a small, bittersweet smile, Sapnap places down the last chest with the others, feeling absolutely ecstatic to go live with Karl, but he also knows that he’ll miss George, especially since his friend will be living all alone now. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually moving out…” George whispers before trailing off as he stares at the chests piled outside the front door, having so many things that he wants to say, yet he can't seem to get any of them out; if things were different, he’d ask Sapnap to stay, ask Dream to come back, that way the Dream Team could be together again.

But, instead of living with the two people he used to love more than anyone else, he’s going to be all alone in a massive house that holds too many memories, most of which he doesn’t want to relive. 

“I know…” Sapnap says with a heavy sigh, then, while fully turning toward George, he continues in a firm tone, “Karl really needs me though.”

As a feeling of dread starts to settle in his stomach, George hesitantly asks, “Did something happen?”

“Yeah…” Sapnap mutters before trailing off for a few seconds, debating on whether or not he should continue before finally settling on, “It’s really bad, so I need to be close by to support him. If not, you know I’d stay with you, right?”

“I know,” George replies with a heavy sigh, and he really does know that, under different circumstances, Sapnap would stay here with him, but it still hurts to know that he's leaving.

Then, as his slight frown turns into a smirk, George can't help but tease, “You just can’t get enough of me.”

While smiling in return, Sapnap scoffs good-naturedly and teases right back, “Definitely not, but keep telling yourself that.”

With his smile still in place, George cheekily says without hesitation, “I think I will.”

In response, Sapnap just smiles at their familiar banter, causing the two to descend into companionable silence, and if there’s a hint of melancholy in the air, neither of them mentions it.

After awkwardly clearing his throat to break the silence, Sapnap rubs the back of his neck nervously and softly says, “Y’know, you could come with me…”

As George’s eyebrows raise in surprise behind his goggles, he turns toward Sapnap and sarcastically says, “Sure, because I definitely wouldn’t be a third-wheel living with you and your fiance.”

While lightly punching George’s shoulder, Sapnap cheekily replies, “Well, duh, you’d be a total third wheel if you lived in the same house.”

Then, while turning much more serious, Sapnap earnestly says, “Why don’t you come live near us though? I know your mushroom house didn’t work out because of stupid Tommy, but Karl’s house is pretty far away. You could build whatever you want and no one would mess with you. It’d be just you, me, and Karl, kinda like our El Rapids days.”

"I miss those days," George softly murmurs after a few moments of silence, a bittersweet smile gracing his lips when he thinks of everything that he, Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity got into. "I miss how much time we'd spend together… I miss Q."

"Me too, man, me too," Sapnap honestly replies as he places a comforting hand on George's shoulder, terribly missing the days when his fiances and George spent hours talking and laughing together in El Rapids.

As he gives George's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Sapnap softly says, "I know it wouldn't be the same without Q, but we could make our own nation again, you, me, and Karl. After all, there's nothing here for us. At least not anymore."

For a few moments, both of them just stare at the Community House, reminiscing over a time when that place, and Dream, brought them so much joy.

And even though Sapnap still has hope of becoming friends with Dream again, especially since the time-traveler seems so different now, George has long since given up on their once-friend.

After all, when Dream abandoned them both in favor of some fucking discs, how is George meant to not do the same?

How is he supposed to cling to the hope that someone who completely discarded him still loves him like he does them?

That would just be desperately latching onto false hope and, when George's hopes and dreams have already been destroyed so many times, he just can't go through that pain again.

But, maybe just this once, it'd be okay to hope that Sapnap means what he says, that he can go join him and Karl rather than living here all alone.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, George hesitantly questions, "You sure you'd want me there?"

"Of course, man, we'd love to have you around!" Sapnap eagerly says with a massive grin, ecstatic that George is considering coming with him. "We can build our own country together, and we can even make it mushroom-themed like that house you built! But this time it would be a whole entire kingdom, and we'd be so cool that no one would even think about fucking with us! Come on, Gogy Wogy, it would be awesome!"

With a disbelieving chuckle at Sapnap's excitement, George fondly rolls his eyes and says with a smile, "Alright, let's pack up my shit too."

"Yesssss, Mushroom Gogy is back!" Sapnap exclaims as he pumps his fists in the air, afterward running back inside the Community House to start shoving George's shit into chests too.

"You're such an idiot," George mutters under his breath as he follows Sapnap, but his words don't hold any heat, especially since he's smiling so widely that his jaw is starting to hurt. 

Together, the two of them begin putting George's belongings into chests, much like they had done earlier with Sapnap's, happily chatting about what their new kingdom might look like.

"Oh, and we'd definitely need a massive library for Karl!" Sapnap says with a wide smile, thinking that they should also add a bed to the library, having found Karl asleep on the floor surrounded by books too many times now.

After nodding his head in agreement with Sapnap's words, George suddenly remembers something, causing him to curiously ask, "Speaking of Karl, isn't your anniversary with him and Q soon?"

With a gigantic smile, Sapnap turns his focus away from the chest he was sorting through, giving his full attention to George as he excitedly explains, "Yep, tomorrow is our two-month anniversary!"

"Wow, that's awesome!” George happily replies, finding that Sapnap's excitement is extremely contagious, unable to hold back a smile whenever his friend gets so passionate about something. “Got any plans?"

"Yep, later today I'm gonna see Puffy, then we'll make her restaurant super fancy and shit,” Sapnap explains with his smile still in place, greatly looking forward to helping out Puffy later today so he, Q, and Karl can enjoy their anniversary together. “And then tomorrow we're all gonna eat there together and have a super nice dinner."

"Oh, you definitely shouldn't have told me where you'll be,” George teases with a mischievous glint in his eyes, smirking as he continues, “Now I can crash your anniversary."

While glaring at George, Sapnap jabs his finger at his friend's chest and firmly demands, "You better not."

With that same look that says he's up to no good, George proposes with his smirk still in place, "Fine, I won't, but only if you bring me back some food."

"Deal," Sapnap says after a few moments of contemplation, not really wanting to bring back food for George, but knowing that his friend will complain for literal hours if he doesn't, and he definitely doesn't want to deal with a cranky Gogy.

"Pleasure doing business with you," George cheekily says as he scoots away from the chest he was looking in, reaching out his hand toward Sapnap for the man to shake. 

With a mischievous smirk, Sapnap grabs George's hand but, before they can begin to shake, he taps into the blaze hybrid part of himself, making his hand much hotter than normal.

"Ow, what the fuck, Sapnap?!" George shouts as he yanks back his hand, holding it close to his chest as he glares daggers at Sapnap.

Instantly, Sapnap bursts into loud, uncontrollable laughter, choking out through his mirth, "That's… what you… get."

"Fuck you," George angrily mutters as he turns away from Sapnap, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that definitely does not resemble pouting. "You're such a dick."

"You know you love me, Gogy Wogy," Sapnap says with a giggle, coming up behind George and wrapping his arms around his neck in a hug.

And, even though part of George wants to pretend to keep being mad, he can't help but smile as he leans back against Sapnap. 

"You better not fall asleep on me," Sapnap playfully teases when George slumps back into his embrace, knowing that there's no way in hell that he's gonna carry their stuff and George all the way to Karl's house. 

"I might," George mumbles as his eyes slip shut behind his goggles, the back of his head resting against Sapnap's chest. "You're so soft, like a nice pillow."

"How dare you?!" Sapnap exclaims in mock offense, flexing his arms that are wrapped around George as he jokingly continues, "I'll have you know that I'm very strong and muscular."

"So soft, just like a marshmallow," George says with a smirk, smiling widely when his words cause Sapnap to release an indignant squawk. "Just let me sleep for a lil' while."

Even though part of Sapnap wants to refuse, wants to insist that they get to Karl's place soon, he knows how much George likes his rest.

And if George really thinks that he makes a nice pillow, it would be rude to disturb him, right?

Reluctantly, Sapnap lays down on his back on the crafting table floor of the Community House, pulling George with him so the man can keep using his chest as a pillow.

With a content sigh, George drapes his arm across Sapnap's chest, thankful that his friend isn't leaving him, that he won't have to spend his days alone in this house without anything but memories of better times to keep him company.

"I'm waking you up again in an hour," Sapnap firmly says, rolling his eyes fondly when his words cause George to scowl. "Knowing you, you'd try to sleep the whole day and we'd never get to Karl's place."

Rather than giving Sapnap a verbal response, feeling much too tired for that after all the shit they moved, George simply moves his arm off Sapnap's chest, raising his middle finger before letting his hand flop back down again.

When Sapnap chuckles at his rude gesture, George can't help but smile widely, enjoying the way his friend's chest rumbles and vibrates soothingly as he laughs. 

As sleep steadily overtakes him, George tiredly murmurs, "Don' leave m' too," promptly slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep the second those words leave his lips. 

While pulling George a little closer to his chest, Sapnap honestly whispers, "I'd never leave you, Gogs. I promise."

And even though he and George don't always get along, finding themselves arguing more often than not ever since Dream left them, it's moments like these that show Sapnap why they're best friends.

While it isn't always easy, George is his best friend, and he wouldn't ever want to change that.

Even though they fight, even though he's still upset that George refused to help Dream the day he found the man wounded and unresponsive outside the L'Manberg White House, Sapnap vows to himself that he will never, ever leave George the way that Dream, Q, and so many others have left them behind. 

And Sapnap always keeps his promises.

Chapter Text

With wide, gigantic smiles on each of their faces, Dream and Wilbur double over with laughter as they breathe heavily from running away from the L’Manburg White House, Wil grumbling good-naturedly about how, if they’re going to race, it better be fair next time. 

Once they’ve both caught their breath, they begin walking hand in hand back to Eret’s castle, their rings clinking together as their hands shift positions, the sound causing them to each grin widely.

After a few moments of walking in silence, Dream hesitantly asks, “Can we walk by the Community House? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it…”

“Of course, My Love,” Wilbur replies without hesitation, giving Dream’s hand a reassuring squeeze as he continues, “Anything for you.”

“You’re so sappy,” Dream gently teases as he gives Wil’s hand a little squeeze, hoping that the man he loves will never stop saying such kind, sweet, and thoughtful things to him.

While smiling even wider, Wilbur squeezes Dream’s hand in return and teases right back, “You know you love it.”

“Sure I do,” Dream sarcastically says with a fond eye roll, but they both know how much the man loves Wilbur's sappy moments, each new sentiment never ceasing to put a smile on Dream’s face and leaving him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

Wilbur simply chuckles softly in reply, the sound making Dream smile fondly, hoping that he’ll get to hear Wil’s laughter for as long as he lives. 

After a few moments of walking in companionable silence, the Community House comes into view, the sight of the familiar brick and oak wood building sending a stab of pain and longing through Dream’s heart, unable to forget when he played a part in blowing up the place that once meant so much to him.

Before he can dwell on those memories, Dream notices a stack of chests outside the front door, the sight of it leaving him terribly confused, wondering who’s taking things out of the Community House. 

Determined to learn what’s going on, Dream releases Wil’s hand, instead approaching the door to the Community House and knocking firmly, terribly curious, and nervous, about who’ll answer. 

Much to Dream’s surprise, a few seconds later, the front door swings open, a sweaty and disheveled-looking Sapnap standing on the other side, his dark eyes widening from shock when he sees Dream. 

Once he recovers from his surprise, Sapnap closes the distance between them, throwing his arms around Dream in a tight hug as he exclaims, “Hey, man, what’s up! You look way better than when I last saw you!”

While burying his face in the crook of Sapnap’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of ash and soot that clings to his friend, Dream softly says, “Yeah, I’m doing much better than that day you found me in L’Manburg. Thanks again for that.”

“No problem, I’m glad I could help you out,” Sapnap easily says as he pulls back from their hug, the loss of contact causing Dream to bite his tongue to suppress a whine, wishing that Sapnap would keep holding him forever so he could forget the ways he hurt his friend so badly.

Then, as Sapnap’s smile turns into a smirk, he lightly punches Dream’s arm and teases, “You better remember how I saved your ass in case I ever get into trouble.”

With a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Dream vigorously nods his head, playing it up to make Sapnap laugh, but he knows that he’ll never forget the way Sapnap helped him the day Quackity nearly killed him outside the White House.

Before they can say anymore, someone else inside the Community House loudly clears their throat, the sound of it causing Dream’s gaze to snap toward the staircase, his breath hitching when he sees who’s there.

Even though it’s been almost a year since Dream’s seen him, he’d recognize George anywhere. That familiar mop of light brown hair that always seems to fall into his face, covering the top half of those stupid white goggles he always wears. His baby blue shirt with a red and white rectangle, something that Dream remembers with startling clarity that he got for his friend for his twentieth birthday. Even after everything he did to hurt George, he still wears that shirt… Damn, doesn’t that thought hurt… 

While looking at the man’s goggles, part of him wishing that he could see George's eyes instead but simply happy to be in the same room as his best friend after all this time, Dream rushes toward him while breathing out in an awe-filled whisper, “George.”

When George inevitably saw Dream again, he didn’t know exactly what to expect, but he figured that he’d be met with more cruel words or cold indifference.

Never in a million years did he think that Dream would say his name so reverently before throwing his arms around him, sobbing desperate apologies against his chest. 

As Dream continues crying and apologizing as he clings to him, George gives Sapnap a wide-eyed and questioning look, but Sapnap just smiles sadly, guessing that, in the future, Dream and George never made up, resulting in it being a long time since Dream’s been able to hug him.

After a few moments, George finally recovers from his shock and shoves Dream away from him, causing the man to fall onto his ass and stare up at George with wide, tear-filled eyes, his lower lip quivering from the effort of trying to choke back sobs, the sight causing George to realize that, for some reason, Dream isn’t wearing his mask.

It’s been so long since George has seen him without his mask that he almost forgot what Dream looked like…

How could he not remember what his best friend looks like?

Well, Dream’s not his best friend anymore, nor has he been for a long time.

So why the hell did Dream just waltz back into his life, crying and apologizing like that’ll do a damn thing?!

What about what he pleaded not to be dethroned, when he begged his once-best friend to not take away the one thing that gave his life meaning?

Dream didn’t care about his feelings, telling the whole server that he didn’t give a fuck about anything but those stupid discs, so why should he care that the man is looking at him with such wounded, teary eyes?

If Dream doesn’t give a fuck about him anymore, he’ll do the same. 

Fuck Dream!

George doesn’t need him!

He has Sapnap, his real friend, he doesn’t need Dream anymore!

He doesn’t even want to see Dream anymore, hates the way his face clearly conveys the pain and sadness that he doesn’t want to see, those emotions reminding him so much of the friend he once had. 

But that friend is dead, replaced by a cold, twisted monster that doesn’t care who he hurts in order to get what he wants.

And George has already been hurt too much to even consider letting that monster back into his heart. 

While glaring down at Dream, George demands through gritted teeth, “Stay away from me, Dream.”

“W-What?” Dream shakily asks with a loud sniffle, hoping that he misheard, that George doesn’t actually want him to stay away. 

“I want you to get out of my fucking house,” George hisses as he moves a step closer to Dream, his hands curling into fists as he stares down at the person who has hurt him so fucking badly. 

Wilbur, who had been standing off to the side with Sapnap as he watched Dream and George, quickly begins approaching the two, a deep scowl on his face as he steps protectively in front of Dream and demands, “I think you should back up, George. You wouldn’t want me to have to make you, right?"

With a disbelieving scoff, George steps back, glaring daggers at Dream as he harshly accuses, “What, now you’ve got Wilbur wrapped around your finger?! You lost me and Sapnap and had to find someone new to manipulate instead?!”

“No, no, no, it’s not like that at all,” Dream quickly tries to explain as he jumps to his feet, approaching George with the intent to make his friend understand that he’s different now and he’s so fucking sorry for the person he once was, but he doesn’t get the chance to. 

In one swift movement, George takes out his netherite sword, pointing it threateningly at Dream’s throat as he grits out, “I said to stay the fuck away from me. I’m done with you, Dream, can’t you see that?”

Before Dream can say anything in response to that, Sapnap angrily demands, “George, put the sword away.”

As heat builds behind his eyes, the beginnings of tears hidden by his goggles, George turns his head to look at Sapnap and harshly exclaims, “What the fuck, Sapnap! Why should I put away my sword?! I’m just trying to protect myself!”

“Are you sure about that?” Sapnap challenges with a raised eyebrow, his eyes darting from George, sword raised threateningly toward Dream’s neck, to Dream, who’s trembling violently, one hand raised in surrender and the other clutching tightly to Wilbur’s hand in a white-knuckled grip. “To me, it looks like you’re trying to hurt him.”

“So what if I am?!” George flippantly says, lowering his sword in favor of rounding on Sapnap, releasing his full fury on his friend. “He hurt us, Sapnap! He left us! He doesn’t even care anymo-”

“I care about you so fucking much that it hurts, George,” Dream firmly says as he releases Wilbur’s hand in favor of approaching George, hoping that he can convince his friend that he’s telling the truth.

George opens his mouth to scream and shout at Dream for trying to manipulate him all over again, but he doesn’t get the chance to speak, Sapnap’s next words causing all those thoughts to leave George’s mind: “Just give him a chance, man. You’re being so unreasonable right now.”

“I’m being unreasonable?!” George screams at Sapnap, his chest heaving from anger, disbelief, and betrayal, nothing but hurt driving his words. “How am I being unreasonable?! He hurt us, Sapnap, how am I supposed to just forget that?! How am I supposed to let that monster back into my life now that I’ve seen who he really is?!”

For a few seconds, the room is dead silent, the only noise the sound of George’s heavy breaths. 

Finally, in a weak, shaky whisper, Dream hesitantly questions, “Wh-What did you just call me?”

With a mean, twisted smile, wanting to make Dream hurt the same way the man hurt him, George turns toward Dream, looking him in the eyes as he says in a cold, steely tone, “I called you a monster. You’re an absolute monster, Dream. All you ever do is hurt people, and I hate yo-”

Before George can finish his angry rant, Dream sprints from the room, the door slamming loudly behind him, but not before they hear a loud, violent sob come from the man as he runs away. 

“You fucking suck, George,” Sapnap angrily mutters as he runs to the door, unable to believe the awful things that George just said to Dream.

“Sapnap, where are you going?!” George shouts in alarm, not understanding why Sapnap is rushing toward the door.

“To go find my friend!” Sapnap shouts as he throws open the door, the tips of his hair starting to glow an orange-reddish color, the fiery anger in his heart matching with the flames that are beginning to lick and lap at his hair, his blaze-hybrid nature much harder to control when he’s angry. 

And right now, he’s fucking pissed. 

As the door slams shut behind Sapnap, George can’t help but dejectedly mutter, “I thought I was your friend…”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be friends with a prick like you,” Wilbur harshly says, the sound of his voice causing George to flinch, having forgotten that the other man was even here through all his anger.

“Get out of my house,” George angrily demands as he glares at Wilbur, not wanting to talk to anyone else right now, but especially not someone who sides with Dream.

“Oh, you want me to just leave you alone and walk away after you hurt Dream?” Wilbur sneers as he steps toward George, towering over the shorter man, and if George said that he didn’t feel a bit intimidated, he’d be lying. 

“He hurt me first,” George simply says with a shrug, not feeling the slightest bit guilty for what he said, still remembering so clearly when Dream said that he didn’t give a fuck about anything but Tommy’s discs.

“He hurt me first,” Wilbur mocks in a loud, high-pitched tone, scoffing before continuing in a voice dripping with disdain, “You sound like a fucking five-year-old. You think that, just because he hurt you, you have the right to hurt him?”

“He deserved it,” George dismissively says, not understanding why Wilbur is making such a big deal out of this.

So what if he called Dream a monster?

After all, it’s nothing by the truth, so why does Wilbur seem so upset?

With a bitter, humorless chuckle, Wilbur steps closer to George again, leaving only a block between them as he challenges, “What if I think that you deserve to be hurt too?”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” George confidently says, knowing that Wilbur, who should be dead, couldn’t possibly get away with hurting him.

“Poor little naive George,” Wilbur says in a low, condescending tone as he looks down at George. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Get out of my house,” George angrily demands through gritted teeth, hating being called naive, especially since he’s literally fought in war before.

“Why don’t you make me?” Wilbur taunts as he moves away from George, instead standing close to the front door, making it clear to George that he won’t be getting out that way. “Clearly you like to pick on the weaker man. Does it make you feel big and strong to know that you’ve hurt someone who’s already so broken?”

“What are you talking about?” George hesitantly questions as some of his anger fades, instead being replaced by pure confusion, not understanding how Wilbur could use the word broken to describe Dream.

“You don’t have a fucking clue, do you?” Wilbur asks with a harsh, bitter, and humorless chuckle, realizing that George seriously has no idea what’s happened to Dream. 

He thought that, since Sapnap spent time with Dream, the man might’ve told George how different Dream is now, but clearly that conversation never happened. 

“Of course I do,” George says without hesitation, truly believing his next words: “I know that Dream is a monster who only ever hurts and manipulates people, and you’re an idiot for falling for it.”

“Dream always speaks so highly of you,” Wilbur says with a faraway look in his eyes, his tone much softer than it has been throughout this entire conversation, remembering the nights in Dream’s cell when the man he loved cried for hours because of how badly he missed George and Sapnap. “It’s a shame that you’re so much better in his mind than you really are.”

“What?” George asks in a breathless whisper, his heart leaping into his throat and stomach churning at the thought of Dream talking about him, especially in such a positive way.

In that same tone, Wilbur reluctantly continues, “He’s spent hours telling me about how amazing you are, how he’s so looking forward to seeing you again. You didn’t see the way his face lit up when he saw you? That’s one of the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

Then, as his gaze turns cold and harsh, Wilbur glares at George as he finishes through gritted teeth, “And instead of letting him apologize, you called him a monster. Who’s the real monster here?”

“You’re lying,” George accuses without hesitation, knowing that there’s no possible way that Dream would be happy to see him, not after the way the man dethroned and discarded him like he was worthless. 

“What reason do I have to lie?” Wil thoughtfully questions, then, as a wicked smirk creeps onto his lips, Wilbur begins approaching George as he points out, “It’s just you and me here… Just you and me, George.”

“St-Stay back,” George commands when Wilbur is only a few blocks away, trying to act calm and brave, but they both hear the way he stutters, that sound giving away the fact that he’s scared of Wilbur, especially since the man absolutely towers over him.

“Relax, George, I’m not gonna hurt a single hair on your pretty little head,” Wilbur airily says as he pats the top of George’s head, that contact causing George to flinch and take a step back, pulling out his sword again as he does so. “I just wanna sit and have a nice, long conversation with you. After all, you’ve missed a lot in Dream’s life.”

“I don’t care,” George grits out as he clutches his sword in a white-knuckled grip. “I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“Well, either we can have a nice, friendly conversation about how badly you fucked up, or I’ll beat the shit out of you for hurting Dream,” Wilbur threatens in a casual tone, as if he’s simply talking about the weather, not about beating George if he doesn’t cooperate. “The choice is yours.”

“You’re insane,” George mutters as he takes a step back from Wilbur, feeling like cornered prey despite being the only one with a weapon in his hand, certain that the ex-general and once-president of L’Manburg doesn’t need a weapon to hurt him.

“Yep,” Wilbur agrees without hesitation, a twisted little smile on his face as he continues, “So, are we gonna talk? Because I promise that you really won’t like the other option.”

Unsure what else to do, especially since he knows that he’s fighting a losing battle, George blurts out the last thing he can think of: “You won’t hurt me!”

“Is that so?” Wilbur asks with a smirk, afterward lunging for George, sending his sword clattering to the ground out of reach as they tumble to the crafting table floor below. 

After a few moments of wrestling to get the upper hand, Wilbur uses his height to pin George beneath him, pulling out his own sword and pressing it against George’s throat as he taunts, “Still sure about that?”

“Get off me,” George growls, trying his best to get away from the sharp blade at his neck, but there’s nowhere to go, Wilbur above him and the floor beneath him, leaving him entirely trapped.

“I don’t think so, Little Georgie,” Wilbur taunts as he presses the sword a little closer, causing the blade to touch his throat as George swallows hard from fear. “You still have three lives, don’t you?”

As intense dread starts to grow in his stomach, George quickly begs, “Wait, wait, wait, don’t kill me!”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your fucking throat right now,” Wilbur harshly questions, wanting nothing more than to watch George’s blood pool on the floor around him, perfect vengeance for the prick who dares hurt the man he loves, who dares call Dream, the most wonderful person he’s ever met, a monster. 

“D-Dream will hate you!” George shouts the first thing he thinks of, hoping that he’s right about this and Wilbur won’t actually kill him. “You said he talks about me, he’d hate you if you killed me!”

Instead of letting George know that he’s right, Wilbur simply challenges, “And what if I don’t care about that?”

As tears slip past his goggles and begin to slide down his cheeks, George tries his best to hold back sobs while begging, “Pl-Please, d-don’t kill m-m-me.”

Even though Wilbur is still pissed at George, still wants the man to suffer for hurting Dream, the sight of his tears causes Wil’s resolve to break, slowly pulling away the sword as he questions, “Are we gonna have a nice conversation then?”

“Y-Yeah,” George shakily says with a loud sniffle, shutting his eyes tightly against the still-falling tears.

Slowly, Wilbur climbs off of George, putting his sword in his inventory as he does so, the weapon out of sight now, but still close by in case he needs it.

Hesitantly, George opens his eyes, a small whimper escaping him when he sees Wilbur’s hand right in front of him, expecting the man to hurt him in some awful way.

“Here, let me help you sit up,” Wilbur softly says as he keeps his hand in front of George, trying his best to ignore the stab of guilt he feels at the scared sound the man makes.

Ever so slowly, George takes Wilbur’s hand, feeling surprised when the man actually helps him sit up before scooting back a few blocks. 

For a few seconds, George just warily stares at Wilbur, feeling confused and concerned by the man’s abrupt change in manner.

Finally, with a heavy, reluctant sigh, Wil mutters, “Look, I’m sorry.”

“Wh-What?” George hesitantly questions as his eyes widen in shock, certain that he must’ve misheard, that Wilbur didn’t just apologize to him.

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur reiterates a little louder, hesitantly meeting George’s eyes through the goggles as he continues, “You hurt Dream, so I really wanted to hurt you too. I’m still fucking pissed at what you said, but I went too far. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Even though Wilbur’s apology sounds sincere, George can’t bring himself to even think about forgiving the man after the way he nearly killed him, causing him to angrily shout instead, “You should be sorry, you almost killed me! Why’d you even have to come back?! “Everything was so much better when you were dead!”

For a few seconds, Wilbur just stares at George, his expression morphing into hurt for a few moments before slipping back into cold indifference, trying his best to choke down the pain those words bring, especially since he thought much better of George, someone that Dream loves so much it hurts. 

While standing up and glaring down at George, Wil bitterly says, “I don’t know why the hell Dream even wants to be friends with you. He’s way too good for someone like you.”

“Sure he is,” George says with a scoff, knowing that Wilbur is wrong, that Dream doesn’t deserve to be friends with him, not after the way he abandoned him after they had been friends for years.

“I was gonna try to talk to you, try to make you understand Dream and all the pain he went through, but you don’t even deserve to know,” Wilbur says with a tone of finality, deciding that he’s no longer going to tell the man about the prison or that they’re from the future, realizing that, even if George knew the truth, that wouldn’t change a damn thing. “You don’t deserve to know how badly he’s suffered. Hell, if you knew, you’d probably just use it to hurt him even more.”

“What are you talking about?” George hesitantly asks, wondering for the first time if maybe he’s got it all wrong, if maybe Wilbur isn’t as insane as he thinks and is actually telling the truth. 

“None of your fucking business,” Wilbur sharply says as he begins walking toward the front door, not wanting to spend another minute here with this asshole. “Enjoy your empty house all to yourself, you prick, because I doubt Sapnap is ever coming back after the shit you pulled. And if you so much as look at Dream wrong again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’m not scared of you!” George shouts as he jumps to his feet, his hands clenched into fists as he glares at Wilbur’s retreating back. 

With a bitter, somewhat unhinged laugh, Wilbur stops in the doorway, turning toward George while threatening through gritted teeth, “You should be. I’ve leveled an entire nation for things that I cared about far less than Dream. So, if you hurt him again, I swear to prime that I will make your life a living hell.” 

“Whatever,” George dismissively says with a scoff, knowing that that won’t happen because he never, ever wants to see Dream again. “Just get out of my house.”

While flipping his middle finger high in the air, Wilbur exits the Community House, following the trail of ash and charred wood on the ground to see where Sapnap went, hoping that the man found Dream and is comforting him, knowing that those words from George would’ve hurt him so badly.

Speaking of words with George…

Fuck, Dream’s gonna kill him...

When Dream finds out what he said to George, that he nearly killed the man, he’s gonna be so fucking pissed. 

Well, might as well start practicing his apology as he tries to find them, because he’s really gonna need to apologize after Dream figures out what he did…

But, if Wilbur's being honest, George definitely deserved it.

Chapter Text

As Wilbur and George are engaged in a heated discussion inside the Community House, Dream runs as fast as he can, unable to tell where he's going due to the tears blurring his vision into nothing but a smear of color, but he has to get away from George before the man says anything else like that.

He just can't take listening to another cruel, painfully harsh word from one of the people that he loves more than anyone else.

He can't!

It hurts!

It hurts so fucking badly...

As he continues sprinting away, Dream can't forget the look of pure fury and hatred on George's face as he looked into his eyes and called him a monster, how he said he hated him when all Dream's ever done is love George so much that he'd do anything to keep his friend safe, even if protecting him meant making the man hate him for taking away his throne. 

He knew deep down that George hated him, especially since his friend never visited him in the prison like Sapnap did, but fuck, to hear it said straight to his face like that...

It hurts...

It really fucking hurts...

It hurts so fucking badly, the pain threatening to make him collapse onto the ground below, but he barely manages to press on, driven by the sheer desire to get away from George, before his friend can hurt him again. 

After a while of running, Dream is left panting and out of breath, his chest heaving as he struggles to breathe through the violent sobs wracking his body, the force of each so powerful that it threatens to send him to his knees. 

While angrily wiping away his tears, feeling absolutely pathetic for crying all the damn time, Dream shakily looks around, unsure what part of the SMP he’s in, but he takes note of a cave off to his left, the sight of it making him feel the slightest bit relieved. 

That cave will be the perfect place for a monster like him to hide in, surrounded by nothing but darkness, the sound of his own sobs, and the ever-present pain he feels.

As he sits down in the dark depths of the cave, shivering violently when he leans against the cold, damp wall, Dream brings his knees to his chest, hugging himself tightly as he continues sobbing violently, unable to stop the onslaught of tears, especially since one word keeps coursing through his mind over and over again.

Monster. 

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

George called him a monster…

George, one of his best friends in the world, someone he loves dearly, and the first person by his side when he created the SMP, called him a monster.

He said Dream’s a monster.

The word is nothing new to Dream, having been called that countless times before, especially by people like Quackity, but it hurts so fucking badly coming from George, one of the people he loves more than anyone else.

He loves George with all his heart…

But George hates him…

He thinks Dream’s a monster …

And the worst part is that he's right.

No matter how hard he tries, no matter how badly he wants to be good, Dream will always be a monster.

There’s no way to erase what he’s done, no way to make up for the pain he’s caused, no matter how hard he tries. 

He is and always will be a monster.

And fuck, that thought shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does, he’s always known that he was a monster, but maybe for a short while he forgot, Wilbur’s kind words and even gentler touches making him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could actually be worth something.

But a monster like him doesn’t deserve that.

He deserves to be locked up someplace where he won't be able to hurt anyone again, where he's unable to see the sun, unable to feel anything but the blistering heat of the lava, the sharp agony of netherite slicing into his skin mercilessly, blood incessantly dripping onto the obsidian trapping him inside, trapping a monster in his cage where he belongs, never to leave agai-

Before Dream can spiral any farther, he hears the sound of pebbles crunching underneath someone’s foot, a small part of him wondering if it’s a zombie or creeper, and an even smaller part of him deciding to not put up a fight if it is, to just let them kill him, certain that that would hurt less than the words George shouted at him.

"Hey, Dream," a familiar voice calls out as a torch-lit silhouette stands a few blocks away from him, the sight of Sapnap causing him to tense noticeably, a choked sob escaping him against his will, hating the thought of his friend seeing him so weak.

“Oh, Smiles, come here,” Sapnap sadly murmurs as he moves to sit next to Dream, opening his arms out toward the man for a hug the moment he’s sitting.

Back before the prison, Dream would've turned away with a mocking laugh or scoff, would've shut Sapnap out due to the fear of his momentary weakness being used against him later, but those thoughts don't even cross Dream's mind, the sound of his childhood nickname filling him with a wonderful warmth and deep longing that he hasn’t felt in so long.

So, without any further hesitation, Dream throws himself into Sapnap’s waiting arms, sobbing even harder when he’s wrapped in a familiar hug that he’s missed so dearly.

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Sapnap softly encourages as he begins rubbing soothing circles against Dream’s back with one hand, the other carding through his dirty-blonde locks of hair. “You’re safe with me, I promise.”

And even though, just yesterday, he would’ve believed that he was safe with George too, he finds himself trusting Sapnap wholeheartedly, allowing himself to cry without restraint until he finally has no more tears to shed, his cheeks red and blotchy as he trembles in Sapnap’s hold, selfishly hoping that his friend will never let him go.

After a while of sitting in companionable silence, the only sounds being the soft squeaks of a nearby bat and Dream’s occasional sniffles, Dream moves to pull away, feeling terribly embarrassed for acting so weak.

But before he can retreat, Sapnap holds him a little tighter and earnestly says, “I’m here for you. Please, don’t go. Don’t leave.”

Ever so slowly, Dream moves his hands from where they rested at his sides, hesitantly reaching out and clutching the fabric of Sapnap’s shirt, holding tightly to him like a lifeline, knowing that, if the blaze-hybrid lets go now that he’s reaching out, he’ll sink so deep that even Wil might never be able to help him breach the surface of the waters threatening to drown him. 

“I’ve got you, Smiles,” Sapnap breathes out with a relieved sigh, holding Dream even more firmly against his chest, silently vowing to himself to protect his friend the way he should’ve done all along. 

Even though Dream still feels like he’s been ripped open and torn to shreds, George’s words still playing in his mind in an endless loop, he can’t help but smile ever so slightly at Sapnap’s words as he rests his head against his friend’s fiery, kind heart, feeling safe and cared for in the arms of his best friend.

Chapter Text

Sometime soon after first entering the cave where he found Dream, Sapnap shifts positions slightly, his legs starting to tingle with pins and needles from sitting still and hugging Dream for so long.

As he moves into a more comfortable position, leaning his back against the wall of the cave and wrapping an arm around Dream to pull him close, Sapnap uses his free hand to take one of Dream's, holding it tenderly in his own. 

When Sapnap rubs his thumb across the back of Dream’s knuckles, he’s surprised to feel the cold touch of a ring on Dream’s pinkie finger, unable to remember a single time when his friend has worn jewelry, even during all the years they’ve known each other.

Feeling terribly curious, Sapnap breaches the silence they’ve fallen into by softly saying, “That's a nice ring you got there.”

With a small, tender smile, Dream replies, "Thanks. Wil gave it to me today."

"He was wearing one too, right?" Sapnap questions with furrowed eyebrows, unable to see what Dream’s ring looks like in the dim lighting of the cave, but he remembers seeing a ring on Wilbur’s pinkie finger when the newly-revived man held Dream’s hand inside the Community House. 

"Yep!” Dream happily says with his smile still in place, George’s words finally leaving his mind now that he’s able to tell his best friend about the man he loves. “They're promise rings."

"Oh wow,” Sapnap mutters after a few moments of silence, very surprised to learn that Dream has a promise ring, let alone with Wilbur of all people.

Damn, some serious shit must’ve happened in the future to make Dream feel that way about Wilbur, the man who tried to form his own nation on Dream’s server and declare war against him…

Even though Sapnap can’t even begin to understand why or how this happened, the fondness in Dream’s voice is unmistakable, causing him to honestly say, “Congrats, I’m happy for you. Does that mean you two are together?"

"Thanks, Pandas,” Dream murmurs with a grin as he gives Sapnap’s hand a gentle squeeze, his best friend’s congratulations making his heart absolutely soar with happiness. “We are. I wanna spend the rest of my life with him by my side."

Unable to help himself, Sapnap whistles loudly, then teases in a sing-song tone, "Someone's in loveeee."

"Shut up," Dream playfully grumbles as heat rushes to his cheeks, but despite his embarrassment, he can’t help but smile still, ecstatic that, instead of questioning him, Sapnap is being supportive in his usual idiotic way.

"Have you kissed yet?" Sapnap continues in that same teasing tone, chuckling loudly when Dream ducks his head away.

After clearing his throat in an attempt to fight down some of the embarrassment he feels, Dream honestly says, "No, we haven’t. We're not in love in that kind of way."

"Lame," Sapnap mutters good-naturedly, his reply causing Dream to scoff as he lightly smacks his friend’s arm. 

"Have you and Karl ever kissed?" Dream fires back with a smirk of his own, already knowing what the blaze-hybrid’s answer will be.

"Well no-" Sapnap starts to say, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish before he’s interrupted. 

"Lame," Dream cheekily echoes without hesitation, practically able to feel the eyeroll that Sapnap gives him. 

"You're such an idiot," Sapnap fondly mutters, grinning like an idiot when his words cause Dream to devolve into his familiar wheezing laughter.

"Said… the biggest idiot… ever,” Dream retaliates in between gasps for air as he giggles and wheezes uncontrollably.

"Wow, good one,” Sapnap sarcastically says as he rolls his eyes at Dream’s response, feeling wonderfully relaxed and at ease right now, this familiar banter with Dream helping to heal and mend a wound that he didn’t even realize he’s had for so long.

"I thought so," Dream replies once his laughter dies down, smiling widely as he pushes as much smugness into his tone as possible, his grin turning triumphant when Sapnap releases a huff of laughter.

In response, Sapnap simply rolls his eyes again with a smile, causing the two to descend into comfortable silence.

After a while of simply sitting next to Dream, their hands still interlocked, Sapnap breaks the silence by honestly saying in a soft tone, "It's nice to have you back."

"It is,” Dream sincerely replies without hesitation, feeling so, so glad to have Sapnap back in his life, especially since he had been so convinced that he fucked up too many times for the blaze-hybrid to ever love him again. 

Then, while trying his best to fight back a new wave of tears, Dream leans more firmly against Sapnap and sadly murmurs, “I’ve missed you. So much."

“Me too, Smiles. Me too,” Sapnap whispers with a heavy sigh, having missed his best friend so badly that it’s felt like a constant, throbbing ache in his chest, and he can’t even imagine how much worse it must be for Dream, who’s from a terribly dark future.

Now that Sapnap has thought of Dream’s time traveling and how it’s probably been ages since Dream’s seen him, he can’t help but curiously ask, "How long has it been since you've seen me?"

Instantly, Dream’s entire body tenses, all-encompassing fear beginning to course through his veins as he shakily asks, "Wh-What do you m-mean?"

"Karl told me a bit about you,” Sapnap softly says as he gives Dream’s hand a reassuring squeeze, his voice laced with sadness as he continues, “You're from the future."

"Yeah, I am," Dream breathes out with a heavy sigh, a small part of him feeling scared now that Sapnap knows the truth, worried that his friend will turn away in disgust after he learns more about the future, but he answers Sapnap’s earlier question with a truthful, “I last saw you many, many months ago. When you visited me in the prison."

"Oh,” Sapnap mutters under his breath, those words leaving him with a sinking feeling of dread, not wanting to even think about it, but he knows that it must be true: “I knew you were there?"

"Yeah, almost everyone did," Dream answers with a faraway look in his eyes, remembering the hatred in everyone’s gaze as they glared at him, the way everyone cheered as Tommy’s axe came rushing down to end his life.

"I let you get locked up?" Sapnap questions in a horrified tone, unable to imagine a world where he would let Dream be locked in prison and tortured, no matter what the man had done.

"Even if you wanted to stop it, I don't think there's anything you could’ve done,” Dream mutters with a bitter laugh, knowing that Sapnap sure as hell didn’t want to keep him from being locked up, unable to forget the dead seriousness in his once-friend’s eyes as he swore that, if he ever escaped that hell, the blaze-hybrid would take his last life. “Everyone wanted me in the prison. And I get it. I fucked up a lot."

Hesitantly, feeling like he really doesn’t wanna know the answer, Sapnap asks, "Did something bad happen when I visited you?"

When he feels Dream nod his head from where his friend is leaning against his shoulder, Sapnap weakly questions, “It was something I did, wasn’t it? I hurt you?"

After he feels Dream nod again, Sapnap tries his hardest to keep from bursting into sobs, horrified by the thought of hurting his best friend, especially now that he knows that the man was literally tortured in that prison, the one that he willingly allowed Dream to be trapped in.

As something finally clicks in Sapnap’s mind, he mutters with dawning understanding, “That must’ve been why Wilbur looked like he wanted to fucking murder me when you guys were outside the Community House. I thought it was because of the shit with L’Manberg, but it was probably whatever I did in the prison.”

Despite the bitter topic at hand, Dream can’t help but chuckle softly as he says, “Yeah, that’s why. Wil’s the one who got me out of the prison, and he’s very protective of me because of everything that happened in there.” 

Even though Sapnap still feels uneasy, still feels like a failure of a friend for having Wilbur, someone who’s always been at odds with Dream, be the one to save him from that hell, Sapnap means it wholeheartedly when he says, “I’m glad you have him. And I don’t know why everyone thought you deserved to be put in the prison, but they were wrong. I was wrong. I promise I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Thanks, Sap, but you’re wrong,” Dream mutters with a rueful smile, knowing that, if Sapnap knew what he’s done, knew about the attachment room that even had a fucking cage for Skeppy, he’d drag him down to the prison right now. “I deserved everything that happened in the prison.”

“No, you didn’t,” Sapnap replies through gritted teeth without a moment of hesitation, unable to listen to Dream’s bullshit. “You didn’t deserve to be fucking tortured, Dream. Nothing you could ever do would make me think you deserve that shit. I was fucking horrified when Karl told me what your future was like. You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that.”

Then, as his voice takes on a slightly softer edge, Sapnap honestly says, “You're my best friend, even after everything you've done. Even though I don’t know what happened to make everyone lock you up, I don’t give a fuck. You didn’t deserve it. All of us have done some fucked up shit, but I doubt anyone else got locked up and tortured.”

Finally, as his voice takes on a slightly teasing edge, trying to lighten the mood the slightest bit, Sapnap finishes by saying, “Smiles, none of us are perfect, and that’s okay. Some people, like a certain one wearing green, are just extremely not perfect."

"Wow, so funny," Dream mutters in a low, choked tone, latching onto Sapnap’s attempt at humor, knowing that, if he thinks too much about everything Sapnap said, he’ll start crying and might never be able to stop again, unable to even fathom the thought of experiencing so much pain in the prison if he didn’t deserve it. 

While pulling Dream even closer to his chest, Sapnap earnestly says, "Seriously though, I'm so sorry for everything that's happened to you. You didn't deserve to be hurt like that. And I promise I’ll protect you if anyone tries to hurt you again."

"Thanks, Pandas,” Dream sincerely murmurs as he buries his face in Sapnap’s chest, tears rapidly slipping down his cheeks over Sapnap’s terribly kind words. “Love you."

"Love you too, Smiles,” Sapnap happily replies without hesitation, smiling sadly at Dream’s words, part of him ecstatic to know that Dream really does love him still, but that joy is overshadowed by the heartbreak in his friend’s voice.

Certain that he knows where some of Dream’s pain must be coming from, Sapnap says with a heavy sigh, “And I'm sorry George was such an asshole to you.”

"It's okay, I deserved it," Dream instantly says, knowing that, even though it hurts so fucking badly, everything George said to him was more than deserved. 

"No, you really didn't,” Sapnap says a little harshly, wondering how many times he’ll have to say it before Dream believes that he doesn’t fucking deserve to be hurt by everyone. “Stop saying that shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Dream weakly says as he starts to pull away from Sapnap, but his friend doesn’t let him, simply pulling Dream onto his lap and hugging him close.

“Please, don’t apologize for that,” Sapnap sadly says as he begins rubbing soothing circles onto Dream’s lower back, wondering how badly the prison must’ve fucked up his friend for stubborn, headstrong Dream to apologize like that, especially when he’s done nothing wrong.

When Dream simply nods his head in acknowledgment, Sapnap hesitantly continues, “What George did was seriously fucked up, but you know he’s always been shit with feelings. He really does miss you, Dream.”

“Sure he does,” Dream mutters with a bitter laugh, knowing that, if George actually missed him, he wouldn't have called him a fucking monster or said he hated him.

“No, I’m serious,” Sapnap earnestly says, feeling like he has to try to salvage this somehow, especially since he’s the only one who seems to realize how much Dream and George still care about each other. “Look, we all say shit we don’t mean sometimes. You didn’t mean it when you said you only cared about Tommy’s discs, right?”

Hesitantly, Dream nods, then softly says, “I said it to protect you and George. I didn’t want anyone to come after you guys as a way to hurt me.”

With a triumphant smile, Sapnap confidently continues, “Exactly. You said some awful shit you didn’t mean to protect us, and George did the same thing to protect himself.”

Then, with a heavy sigh, Sapnap reluctantly shares, “He’ll never admit it, but you really hurt him, Dream. He misses you, but he isn’t going to let you back in unless you prove to him that you aren’t going to abandon him again.”

“What makes you think he still cares?” Dream brokenly questions, desperately wanting to believe Sapnap’s words, but he can’t afford to get his hopes up of ever being friends with George again if Sapnap’s wrong, especially since his friend’s harsh words in the Community House are still so fresh in his mind.

“Do you remember how, right before Tommy burnt down his mushroom house, you spent the night there?” Sapnap softly questions, feeling terribly guilty for what he’s about to do, but he knows that, if this gets Dream and George to be friends again, it’ll be worth it.

Once Dream nods, Sapnap continues, “You left one of your hoodies there. When George and I were looking for anything salvageable, he found your hoodie. One of the sleeves is all charred and ruined, but he still sleeps holding it close every night. If he didn’t miss you, why the hell would he sleep with your hoodie every day?”

"I had no idea…” Dream replies in a breathless whisper before trailing off, entirely at a loss for what to say, especially when his chest feels so tight, his heart hammering wildly as he tries to remember how to breathe, one thought repeating in his mind over and over again like a broken record: he cares, he cares, he actually still cares.

"That's the point,” Sapnap mutters with a good-natured scoff. “He'd be so pissed if he realized that I know he sleeps hugging your hoodie. And he’d fucking murder me if he found out I told you that.” 

“Then why are you telling me?” Dream can’t help but ask in a confused tone, unsure why Sapnap would go through this much… effort, especially for him. 

“Because he’s fucking miserable without you, and you obviously feel the same,” Sapnap bluntly says without hesitation, smiling slightly when Dream releases a huff of laughter. “So what are you gonna do about that?”

“I’m gonna get my friend back, no matter what it takes,” Dream says in a firm, unwavering tone, his words causing Sapnap to smile widely, that familiar spark reminding him so much of the Dream he knew before all the shit with Tommy’s discs and L’Manberg ever happened. 

“Fuck yeah!” Sapnap cheers, grinning widely when his exclamation causes Dream to giggle softly. 

“Thanks, Pandas,” Dream sincerely murmurs as he smiles against Sapnap’s chest, feeling so fucking thankful that, even after all the awful shit he’s done, Sapnap hasn’t given up on him.

“Of course,” Sapnap instantly replies without hesitation, hugging Dream a little tighter as he honestly continues, “I’d do anything for you, Smiles.”

In reply, Dream simply clutches to Sapnap tightly, never wanting this moment, and their wonderful embrace, to end.

Dream knows that, soon, he’ll have to leave this cave and face reality again.

But for now, he’s content with it being nothing but him and Sapnap here, it being nothing but both of them against the world, just like when they were two bright-eyed kids, always smiling and laughing everywhere they went, the nicknames Smiles and Pandas never far from their lips, just like how they’d always be by each other’s sides.

And even though they’re both so different from the kids they once were, sitting here wrapped up in each other’s embraces, Dream realizes that some things never change.

Chapter Text

After a while longer of sitting in each other’s embrace inside the cave, Dream and Sapnap hear another set of footsteps approaching, the sound causing Dream to tense fearfully as his breath catches in his throat.

“Who’s there?” Sapnap demands as he summons a brightly burning fireball in one of his hands, ready to hurtle it at the intruder at any moment. 

“It’s me, Wilbur,” Wil calls out from where he stands at the entrance of the cave, raising his hands in surrender when he sees the flame in Sapnap’s hand, preferring not to get burnt to a crisp today. 

“Wil,” Dream breathes out with a relieved smile as he quickly scrambles out of Sapnap’s hold, rushing toward the cave entrance.

The second he reaches Wilbur, Dream throws his arms around him in a tight hug, releasing a content sigh when Wil hugs him back just as firmly. 

“You okay, Dre?” Wilbur whispers in Dream’s ear as he keeps holding the man he loves close. “Sapnap’s been good to you?”

While fondly rolling his eyes at Wilbur’s overprotectiveness, Dream honestly says, “Yeah, yeah, he’s been great. I’m glad he’s here.”

After awkwardly clearing his throat, Sapnap stands up and approaches the two while questioning, “Did you talk to George?”

“I tried to, and then he told me that everything was better when I was dead,” Wilbur mutters with a bitter laugh, unable to hide the hurt he feels over that because, even though he’s never been friends with George, it fucking sucks to hear anyone say they wish you were dead.

“What?” Dream breathes out in a horrified whisper as he pulls back from Wilbur’s embrace, not wanting to believe that George would say something so cruel, but the hurt in Wilbur’s deep brown eyes is undeniable.

It’s one thing to call him a monster, especially since it’s nothing but the truth, but it’s different with Wilbur. Wil’s so kind, thoughtful, loving, and good, he doesn’t deserve that shit.

With a sudden spark of anger, Dream adamantly says in a fierce tone, “He’s wrong. He doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s talking about. My life was absolute hell before you came back. I’m so glad you’re alive, so don’t even think about believing him.” 

“Thanks, Dre,” Wilbur murmurs with a fond smile, feeling so fucking thankful that he has Dream in his life. “I’m glad you’re alive too.”

“You guys are disgustingly in love,” Sapnap says with a good-natured groan, his words causing Dream to devolve into a fit of wheezes, the sound making Wilbur smile widely, feeling much lighter than he had after his conversation with George.

“Is someone jealous?” Dream questions in a sing-song tone once his laughter dies down, smirking wildly when Sapnap rapidly shakes his head without a moment of hesitation. 

With a smirk of his own, Sapnap says in a loud, teasing tone, “Yes, yes, I’m so jealous! Wilbur, oh Wilbur, I’ve always been so madly in love with you, will you please marry me?”

As Wilbur simply smiles widely at Dream and Sapnap’s banter, Dream closes the distance between him and the blaze-hybrid, allowing him to playfully smack his friend’s arm while fondly saying, “You’re such an idiot.”

“Says you,” Sapnap fires back as he smacks Dream’s arm too, smiling widely when Dream begins giggling softly.

Even though Wilbur hates to interrupt this moment, especially since he knows how badly Dream has wanted to become friends with Sapnap again, he can’t help but notice the rapidly darkening sky outside the mouth of the cave, the sight causing him to reluctantly say, “I hate to be that guy, but it’s starting to get dark out. This day has already been so fucking long, I really don’t wanna have to add fighting mobs to the list.”

With a heavy sigh, Dream mutters, “Yeah, you’re right, we should leave.”

But despite his words, Dream doesn’t make any move to approach Wilbur and the cave entrance. 

Seeing Dream’s hesitation, Sapnap pulls his friend into a fierce hug as he promises, “I’ll see you again soon, okay? I’m moving in with Karl now, and you’re welcome to come visit anytime, alright? Wilbur can come too, I’m sure Karl will love meeting him.”

“Thanks, Pandas,” Dream sincerely murmurs as he holds Sapnap even tighter, his friend’s invitation filling him with so much warmth and happiness, ecstatic over the idea of being able to visit Sapnap and Karl whenever he wants to, especially since Wil can come too.

“You’re welcome. Love you, Smiles,” Sapnap fondly says as he pulls back from their hug, grinning happily at the wide smile on Dream’s face.

“Love you too,” Dream honestly replies without hesitation, afterward giving Sapnap a little wave before walking back over to Wil.

As they start walking out of the cave, Wilbur calls over his shoulder, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon, Sapnap. And thanks for keeping him safe.”

“Of course. I’ll see you both later!” Sapnap replies with his smile still in place, not expecting Wilbur to say that, but he can’t deny the happiness those words bring him, glad that Wilbur, who Dream so clearly loves, appreciates how he took care of Dream after his fight with George.

Once they’re a little ways away from the cave, Wilbur can’t help but tease with a smirk, “I have to say, that was rather adorable. You two even have little nicknames for each other!”

“Shut up, Wil,” Dream mutters as heat rushes to his cheeks, feeling terribly embarrassed by Wilbur’s words, especially since not even George has heard their nicknames for each other. 

But instead of listening to Dream, Wilbur simply digs in deeper and whines, “Why don’t I get a cool nickname? I thought you loved me…”

“You’re such an idiot,” Dream replies with a smile as he playfully shoves Wilbur away from him, smirking when the man nearly trips over a tree root.

“And you’re such a meanie,” Wilbur says with a mock-frustrated huff as he crosses his arms over his chest, biting his lip to keep from smiling when Dream scoffs at his words.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had the insult skills of a five-year-old,” Dream sarcastically says, his words causing Wilbur to do his best to fight back a laugh, finding it hard to pretend to be mad when being around Dream just makes him want to smile.

“Fuck off,” Wilbur grumbles as he keeps his arms firmly crossed over his chest, pouting like a petulant child who didn’t get his way.

While chuckling fondly, Dream grabs Wilbur’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he earnestly says, “I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you too, Dre,” Wilbur instantly replies with a tender smile as he squeezes Dream’s hand in return, finding that, no matter how many times Dream says those three words, his heart always flutters and sings with happiness. “More than you could ever know.” 

“Sapnap was right, we are disgustingly in love,” Dream cheekily says as he walks even closer to Wilbur, the rings on their interlocked hands firmly pressed together.

Wilbur releases a loud, surprised bark of laughter at that, finding that, okay, yeah, maybe they are disgustingly in love, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing.

For a few moments, both of them simply laugh in tandem, the sound of their mirth echoing in the otherwise desolate area of the SMP, their joy like a beautiful, tinkling melody soaring through the air, telling everyone who hears it how much the two care about each other. 

After a while of walking hand-in-hand, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind, Eret’s shimmering castle comes into view, the rainbows scattered about seeming to positively glow in the oranges and pinks of the fading sunlight.

The second they open the double doors of the castle entrance, Eret springs to their feet from where they were sitting stiffly on the couch, rushing toward the two as they exclaim with a relieved smile and outstretched arms, “You’re back! You guys were gone for so long, I started to worry something bad might’ve happened.”

“Hey, Eret, it’s good to see you again,” Dream murmurs as Eret wraps him in a tight hug, slowly encircling his arms around the king in return, certainly not expecting Eret to be so happy to see him again, but it’s… nice. “Sorry we were gone for so long, we ended up running into George and Sapnap, and things got kinda complicated.”

“It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re back. I was worried that someone might have hurt you again,” Eret whispers softly enough for only Dream to hear, the king’s words causing his breath to hitch, unable to remember a time when anyone but Wilbur worried about his safety. 

“I’m okay, I promise. And it’s good to be back,” Dream replies in a low, choked tone when Eret pulls back from the hug, stubbornly trying his best to fight the heat he feels building behind his eyes, not wanting to cry for the billionth time today.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted, so I’ll leave you two alone for tonight,” Eret says with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach their tired eyes, also feeling absolutely drained after so many hours spent pacing and worrying about whether or not Dream and Wilbur would return and how injured they might be upon doing so. “Good night.”

“Night!” Both Dream and Wilbur echo with a small smile, afterward retreating to their shared room.

With a loud groan, Wilbur plops down on the bed face-first, not even bothering to take off his armor or get under the blankets, the sight causing Dream to chuckle and roll his eyes fondly.

While smiling softly, Dream slowly coaxes a sleepy Wilbur to slide out of his armor, allowing Dream to set it in a pile in the corner, followed by stripping off his own Nightmare armor set. 

Instead of just slipping under the covers and going to sleep, as Dream approaches the bed, he notices the tense set of Wilbur’s shoulders, the way every muscle looks coiled and ready to spring into action despite his seemingly relaxed position.

With a small frown, Dream sits down on the bed next to Wil, placing his hands lightly against the spot where Wilbur’s back meets his shoulders and softly questions, “Can I?”

Even though Wilbur doesn’t really understand what Dream’s asking, his mind feeling hazy and so, so exhausted, he instantly nods his head, trusting Dream with whatever it is that he wants to do.

When Wilbur feels calloused hands begin to gently rub and soothe away the tense knots in his shoulder muscles, Wil’s eyes fly open in shock, a confused, weak-sounding, “Dream?” leaving his lips.

“You always take such good care of me, let me do the same for you,” Dream softly says as he continues massaging Wilbur’s tense shoulder muscles, wanting more than anything to help Wil relax, especially since the tension in the exhausted man’s body is so palpable. 

And damn, how is Wil supposed to argue with something like that, especially when Dream’s hands feel so fucking amazing?

With a small smile, Wilbur nods his head, then relaxes as much as he possibly can, letting Dream do whatever he pleases. 

As Dream continues massaging Wilbur’s tense shoulder muscles, he begins humming a little tune, unable to hide his smiles or little giggles whenever Wil whimpers and groans as he releases a particularly tight muscle. 

After a while of massaging Wilbur’s shoulders, Dream moves onto the back of the man’s neck.

Instantly, Wilbur releases a loud, panicked whine, the sound causing Dream to gently shush him with a soft, “Shhhh, you’re alright, I’ve got you. Just let me take care of you. I promise I won’t hurt you, Wil.”

Even though there’s hands so close to his delicate throat, so close to being able to easily squeeze the life out of him, Wilbur slowly finds himself relaxing into Dream’s touch, his gentle ministrations telling him that it’s okay to just let go and trust that he’s safe.

By the time Dream is ready to move onto Wilbur’s back, his hands are terribly sore, but there’s a smile on his face, especially when he realizes that Wil fell asleep to the feeling of his kind touch. 

Deciding to stop now that Wil’s asleep, Dream slowly lays down next to him, being careful not to jostle the man enough to wake him up as he moves Wilbur onto his side and wraps his arms around him. 

“Night, Wil,” Dream tiredly murmurs as he scoots closer to the man he loves so Wil’s back is pressed flush against his chest, his fingers idly playing with Wilbur’s bright yellow sweater as his eyes start to slip shut of their own accord. 

Sometime later, as Eret goes off to their own room for the night, they pass by Wilbur and Dream’s open bedroom door, smiling widely when they see the two wrapped in each other’s embrace while asleep.

Instead of just closing the door softly like they have a couple of other nights, Eret heads to their bedroom, grabbing one of the many blankets off of their bed before returning to the boys’ room.

With their smile still in place, Eret carefully drapes the light gray blanket over the two, not wanting them to get cold since they fell asleep on top of the covers.

Satisfied that they’re taken care of now, Eret slowly and soundlessly closes the bedroom door, then retires to their own room to get some much-needed rest after a long day. 

Chapter Text

“Stop, no, pl-please, it hurts,” A low, pained voice pleads desperately, their tone laced with agony, the kind that only appears after hours and hours of being tormented.

And there’s certainly signs that this person has been hurt for hours, a once pristine quartz bathroom becoming splattered with the harsh reds and coppery browns of a poor victim's blood.

“Please!” That same voice screams, begging for the pain to just end, but it doesn’t stop, the pickaxe slicing into his skin again and again without mercy or relent. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” 

The wielder of that weapon just blankly stares down at the trembling and bloodied man, his face a picture of apathy as he raises his pickaxe again, that movement guided by the cacophony of thousands of voices within his mind rather than his own willpower.

“Stop, stop, I-I’m sorry, I w-won’t hurt anyone ag-gain!” Desperate shouts pierce the air, those stuttering words mixed with harsh, painful sobs.

But those words fall on deaf ears, not even a single word making it past the harsh, roaring chants of Blood for the Blood God, Blood for the Blood God, Blood Blood Blood Bloo-

As a sob tears through his chest from the pain, the bleeding man begs, “Sto-”

“Stop!” Dream shouts as he bolts upright in bed, his chest heaving violently, sweat dripping down his skin as his body shakes and trembles, lingering terror clinging to him from his nightmare.

“Dre?” Wilbur tiredly slurs with his face absolutely smushed against his pillow, unsure what woke him up as the haze of sleep heavily clings to his mind.

After releasing a shuddering sigh, Dream chokes back his fear enough to whisper, “I'm alright, Wil. You can go back to sleep.”

With a small hum, Wilbur listens to Dream's words and drifts off to sleep once again, the sight of the person he loves most sleeping soundly beside him helping to ease some of the tightness in Dream's chest.

Slowly, Dream stands on still-trembling legs and makes his way over to the window, carefully drawing back the curtains and staring outside, smiling shakily at the bright moon shining down on Eret’s castle, giving the place an ethereal glow. 

As he continues looking outside, Dream’s mind drifts back to his nightmare, unable to stop thinking about the painfully familiar begging and pleading. While he can hardly remember the details of his nightmare, unable to picture any features of the torturer he saw, he knows that he may never forget the sounds of those pained screams and pleas. 

He’s had hundreds of nightmares like this before, ones where he’s begging, pleading, screaming for the torture to just stop.

He’s no stranger to that, all too familiar with waking to the sound of a scream fleeing past his lips, his body covered in a thick layer of sweat and limbs trembling as Wilbur carefully pulls him into a hug to chase away lingering feelings of terror.

But this nightmare was different.

In this nightmare, he wasn’t the one in pain, wasn’t the one apologizing and screaming in vain to make the agony end.

No, it wasn’t him at all…

"It was Quackity," Dream murmurs to himself in a tone laced with disbelief, saying those words out loud not doing anything to make this situation feel more real. 

But Dream knows what he saw, and instead of being the horrifying figure in his nightmares towering over him with an axe in hand, Quackity was in the same position that he’s been in so many times, desperately trying to stop the torture to no avail, a weapon still coming down upon him despite him begging for it not to. 

In Dream’s nightmare, it wasn’t him being tortured, it was Quackity, this sudden turn of events leaving him feeling terribly uneasy.

Perhaps if Dream was someone else, he’d be able to brush it off without much thought.

He could’ve said that it was only his mind trying to take back some control by inflicting pain on Quackity, or perhaps just some part of him thinking that Quackity deserves to be tortured and thus turning it into reality.

But Dream knows that neither of those things are true.

And maybe if he was someone else, he’d say it’s just his mind trying to torment him further by drawing similarities between him and his torturer.

All of those are logical enough to explain away what he just saw.

But there’s nothing that explains what happened yesterday.

When he and Wil went to the White House to talk to Tubbo yesterday, they saw Quackity.

Dream saw the way his cheek was completely healed. Even though there should have been at least some kind of mark from when Wilbur slapped him in the dungeons, there wasn’t a single trace of a bruise or even redness, and that just doesn’t make sense.

Because there’s no reason to use a healing potion on Quackity, not if his only injury was from getting slapped by Wil the day before.

Which can only mean one thing…

Someone hurt Quackity.

And Dream knows that Wilbur went there last night…

But no, Wilbur couldn’t have hurt Quackity, not when he promised that he just made Q agree to write an apology book during his visit.

So if Wilbur didn’t hurt him, that would mean he wasn’t alone, right?

Would someone have come with Wilbur just to hurt Quackity?

How would they even know that Wilbur was going there though?

Did Wil contact someone to come with him?

Knowing that Wilbur doesn’t have his own communicator, Dream quickly checks his own for any messages he never sent.

There should only be a handful of people in his recent contacts, the number of people he’s talked to via communicator since coming to the past being able to fit on one hand, so he instantly notices the name that wasn’t there before.

Technoblade.

After opening up the messages, Dream can’t deny that yes, Wilbur really did invite Techno to join him in visiting Quackity. 

But Techno wouldn't do that, right?

Especially not after Dream made it so clear in the dungeons that he didn’t want anyone to get revenge on his behalf. 

There’s no way Techno would torture someone, no way Wilbur would invite him to come along so the piglin-hybrid could hurt Quackity, right?

“Right?” Dream weakly mutters as he turns away from the window, reluctantly looking over at Wilbur, watching the rise and fall of his chest as the man he loves sleeps peacefully.

After a few moments, Dream forcefully tears his gaze away from Wilbur, sickened by the thought of Quackity’s blood painting Techno’s hands or, even worse, Wil’s hands, both of them laughing cruelly over Q’s bloodied form as they proclaim that it’s justice.

Fuck, he can’t stay here anymore.

He needs answers.

Even if that means confronting Quackity to get them.

Chapter Text

As his eyes nervously dart in every direction, Dream makes his way through the entrance to the White House, a fearful, irrational part of his brain being terrified that Quackity might jump out from the shadows and hurt him all over again.

While wishing that Wilbur was here right now rather than sleeping soundly back in Eret's castle, Dream begins making his way through the White House.

It's only after he's traveled a few hallways that he realizes that he has absolutely no idea where he's going.

Fuck, maybe he should've put more thought into this…

But he's here now, so that means he's going to find Quackity and figure out what's going on, even if it takes all night.

Luckily, it seems like trying to locate Q won't take all night, a small smile gracing his lips when he sees someone else walking through the hallways.

"Hey, Ranboo!" Dream cheerily calls out to the enderman, wincing when Ranboo releases a startled screech, that sound accompanied by the vwoop of him teleporting a few blocks away.

Once Ranboo lays eyes on the person who spoke to him, his fear doesn't lessen, his heart still beating rapidly from his scare as he questions, "Dream? What are you doing here?" 

"Could you show me where Quackity is?" Dream asks with a small smile, but he can't keep his nerves from showing in that expression. "I need to talk to him about something important."

For a few moments, Ranboo just stares at Dream in absolute disbelief, certain that the man didn't just say he wanted to speak to Quackity, not after what Tubbo said the ex-cabinet member did in the dungeons.

But when Dream continues to have that earnest look on his face, Ranboo hesitantly says, "I, uh, don't know if that's a good idea. Pretty sure the whole point of him not being able to leave here is to keep him away from you."

"Well that's why you'll be there the whole time, to make sure he doesn't try to hurt me," Dream explains with a smirk, his words causing Ranboo to release a nervous trill, certain that he wouldn't be any good at protecting Dream if it came down to that.

After hearing Ranboo's worried little noise, Dream's smirk disappears, instead being replaced by a serious expression as he pleads, "Come on, Ranboo, please take me there. I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't important."

With a heavy, reluctant sigh, hoping that he doesn't regret this, Ranboo jerkily nods his head in agreement, then begins walking in the direction of Quackity's room.

While smiling, Dream quickly follows after Ranboo, murmuring a soft, "Thank you," as they walk. 

It takes a few minutes, but the two of them reach Quackity's room, Ranboo knocking on the door as Dream nervously stands beside the enderman.

"Wh-Who's there?" Quackity weakly questions, the sound of his shaky voice barely even reaching out into the hallway, the man sounding like he's afraid of the answer.

And damn if that doesn't sit right with Dream, the sound of Q's fear reaffirming in the unmasked-man's mind that he was right in thinking something's wrong. 

"It's Ranboo and Dream," Ranboo calls out from where he stands in the hallway. "Can we come in?"

In reply, they hear a soft, bewildered mutter of, "What the fuck?" coming from inside the room.

After he recovers from his shock though, Quackity tells them that they can both come inside.

The second he sees Dream, Quackity feels a familiar spark of rage, wanting to tear the man to shreds, especially after what happened last night when Wilbur and Techno came to his room.

But since he can't physically take his anger out on the man, at least not with Ranboo here, Quackity just snarkily questions, "Did your fucking boyfriend send you to do his dirty work tonight?"

"No, I'm not here because of Wil," Dream admits as he hesitantly walks into the room, still keeping ample distance between him and Quackity. "Not exactly at least."

"Then hurry up and tell me so I can get some sleep before he shows up," Quackity gripes in an irritated tone, hating the thought of his sleep being interrupted so many times.

"You know you could at least try to be less of a dick to me, especially since I'm here to help you," Dream says through gritted teeth, feeling frustrated with how standoffish Quackity's being right now, especially since he took time out of his night to visit the man. 

"There isn't a damn thing you can do to help me," Quackity mutters with a bitter laugh, knowing that helping him is the last thing Dream would ever do.

After taking a deep breath to steel himself, Dream closes the distance between himself and Quackity, his skin crawling due to the proximity to his torturer, but he wants to make sure that Q understands his next words loud and clear.

In the most confident tone he can manage while being this close to the man who's hurt him so badly, Dream firmly says, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but someone hurt you last night, didn't they?"

Ranboo releases a confused noise at that, but Dream doesn't pay him any mind, his entire gaze focused on Quackity, allowing him to notice the way the man's jaw clenches as fear briefly flashes across his features.

"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about," Quackity claims, but his voice isn't anywhere near as strong as it would normally be. 

"Alright, fine then," Dream dismissively replies with a shrug, walking toward the door as he continues, "I was gonna figure out who hurt you so we could stop it since no one else seems to give a fuck about you getting tortured, but I guess you've got it all under control."

For a few moments, Quackity just watches Dream walk away with eyes so wide that they might fall out of his skull, never in a million years expecting to hear Dream say that, let alone in a tone that sounds like he actually means it.

When the man reaches the doorway though, Quackity comes back to his senses, blurting out a panicked, "Wait!"

Dream doesn't turn around, but he does stop walking, a small, triumphant smile tugging at his lips over this victory.

But that grin fades the second Quackity weakly says, "Don't let him come back again."

"Who?" Dream asks as he turns around to look at Quackity, doing a double-take when he sees that the man's eyes are now glossy with the effort of holding back tears. 

As he waits for Quackity to respond, one thought repeats over and over again in his mind: Please don't be Wil. Please don't be Wil. Please don't tell me that Will has made you so scared you're fighting not to cry.

Finally, after releasing a shaky sigh, Quackity admits to his weakness and whispers, "Technoblade. After Wilbur left last night, Techno stayed and hurt me."

"Fuck," Dream mutters under his breath, unable to hide the horror in his tone, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of his rival actually torturing someone. "Techno hurt you so badly you needed a regen potion?"

"Four regen potions," Quackity replies with a faraway look in his eyes, still remembering the feeling of the pickaxe slicing into his skin, the screams tearing relentlessly through his throat as blood drip-drip-dripped from the numerous wounds on his skin.

"What the fuck," Dream chokes out as he reaches up a hand to cover his mouth, knowing firsthand how badly someone has to be hurt in order to need that many potions. "He must've hurt you for hours then…"

"He did," Quackity agrees as a violent shiver wracks his body, sounding weaker than he ever has before as he continues, "He just kept hitting me with his pickaxe over and over again. I thought I was gonna die. And then he'd throw a regen potion and start all over. I-It hurt."

"He tortured you," Dream numbly states as he closes his eyes tightly, his hand still covering his mouth as he does his best to fight off waves of neausia. "He actually fucking tortured you."

Quackity just nods his head at that, knowing that there's nothing more to be said, not when the damage has already been done, not when his skin still burns with the phantom pains of newly healed wounds and his hands still tremble violently whenever he even thinks of seeing another weapon.

When Dream is silent for a long, long time, the only sound being the man's ragged breathing, Quackity hesitantly asks, "What if Technoblade comes back again to hurt me?"

"There's no way in hell he's doing that," Dream growls as his eyes fly open, the intense rage in his gaze causing Quackity to instinctively take a step back, seeing a flash of the tyrant that he remembers all too well. "I'm messaging him right now. If he ever wants to talk to me again, he'll stay the fuck away from you."

For a few moments, Quackity can't find his voice, his mouth opening and closing uselessly in the face of Dream promising to protect him and even threatening to cut off one of his relationships for him. 

But when he does finally remember how to speak, Quackity says in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "Thank you. I-I really didn't expect anyone to care, let alone you of all people."

As his expression immediately softens at such a sincere confession, Dream honestly replies, "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you like that again. Torture is so fucked up, no one deserves it."

"Not even me?" Quackity hesitantly asks, knowing that, if someone had done even a fraction of the things he has to Dream, he'd want them to suffer unlike anyone ever has before. 

"Not even you," Dream adamantly says without even a second of hesitation, his response causing Quackity's lips to quirk up the slightest bit, that movement hardly even classifying as a smile, but it means the world to Dream, especially since it could mean that maybe he and Quackity won’t always be destined to hurt each other.

When Quackity doesn't say anything more, Dream pulls out his communicator and starts off his message with Techno by demanding: Tech stay the fuck away from Q

On the other side of the SMP in the snowy tundra, Techno, who's struggling to fall asleep under the weight of his actions, sees his communicator light up with a new message.

After reading that message from Dream, Chat turns into an uproar of panicked voices, many of them shouting the ever-so-helpful scatter! as he tries to think of what to do.

A few of the voices are actually useful though, especially the ones that tell him to just play dumb.

And that's exactly what he does, typing out a simple: What are you talking about?

U fucking tortured him last night. If u ever want me to talk 2 u again, you'll stay the fuck away from him

"I don't think playin' dumb worked, Chat," Techno mutters with a wry smile, the voices growing even louder now that they've been caught.

Even though they've done unsavory things before, torturing a guy for hours is definitely close to the top of that list.

And while he doesn't feel the same, Techno can see why Dream would be mad about the whole torturing thing, especially since he was also tortured. In Techno's opinion, that fact should make Dream want Quackity to be tortured and get a taste of his own medicine more, but he's never claimed to understand the homeless teletubby.

So instead of trying to defend his actions, Techno just agrees: I'll stay away

For a while, there's no new message, the pause stretching on for so long that Techno begins to think that the conversation is over now.

Just when he sets down his communicator though, he gets a ping of a new message, the screen displaying the question of, Why did u do it?

It takes a while to find the right words to describe what happened last night when he hurt Quackity, especially since he has a feeling this is the one and only chance Dream is giving him to explain himself, but Techno finally settles on typing out: I was only gonna hurt him a little. Just wanted to spill some blood because he hurt you. I just couldn't stop though. The voices kept screaming for me to hurt him more and it was so loud I couldn't even think. They've never been so powerful before, I couldn't stop even when I tried. I promise I wasn't going to hurt him that badly

Dream reads that message over once, twice, three times before he finally understands it, those words filling him with relief.

Even though he's still fucking pissed at Techno for hurting Quackity when he said he didn't want anyone to get revenge, he's glad to hear that the voices are the reason why he continued to hurt Q for so long. 

It doesn't make what he did right, but at least it shows that Techno doesn't enjoy the thought of torturing someone for hours. 

It's with that thought in mind that Dream finishes by typing out: Fine. Just promise to never ever touch him again. Don't even come to the white house again

With a relieved sigh at being listened to, Techno easily agrees: I promise I won't

And that's all Dream needs to see before he puts away his communicator, turning his attention back to Quackity as he explains, "That's settled. He promised me he'll never touch you again or even come back to the White House."

"Thank you," Quackity whispers as tears rush to his eyes, so fucking grateful that Techno won't be back to hurt him like that again. 

"You're welcome," Dream says with a sad smile, speaking from experience as he continues, "No one deserves to feel unsafe and scared of being hurt."

And speaking of feeling unsafe, Quackity can't help but nervously ask, "Are you going to keep Wilbur away too?"

"No, he really wants you to write that book," Dream bluntly states while shrugging his shoulders, not seeing the harm in Wilbur coming as long as he keeps his promise not to hurt Q. 

"And I gotta be honest, I kinda want it too,” Dream admits after a few moments of hesitation, not fully believing his next words, but hoping that maybe they're true: “It might let me finally move on and put the prison behind me." 

"Fucking unbelievable," Quackity mutters in a bitter tone, his voice laced with hatred and venom as he continues, "Just when I was thinking you might've actually changed, you fucking do that shit again."

"What are you talking about?" Dream asks in confusion, having no idea what he did to make Quackity so angry all of the sudden. 

While addressing Ranboo for the first time, the poor enderman standing off in the corner of the room while looking so confused, Quackity angrily asks him in a raised voice, "Come on, Ranboo, don't you see the shit he's trying to pull?!"

While feeling terribly startled from being pulled into the conversation so unexpectedly, Ranboo can’t help but flinch back from the man’s anger before hesitantly saying in a small voice, "I, um, really have no clue what's happening right now. I've been lost basically this whole time."

With a frustrated snarl now that Ranboo's refusing to back him up, Quackity turns back to Dream and accuses through gritted teeth, "You're doing that attachment shit again where you use the things people love against them! You just want that book because you know that I'll have to show it to my fiances!"

"That's not why I want it," Dream starts to say in a calm tone, ignoring Quackity's huff of bitter laughter in favor of continuing, "I want it so I can finally move on. If you want to live in that prison forever, go right ahead, I don't give a fuck. But I'm done with that place."

"Bullshit," Quackity harshly states the second Dream finishes, knowing that, if Ranboo wasn't around, Dream wouldn't be lying about his true motives for getting this book.

“Fine, go ahead and say that's bullshit all you want," Dream says as he stares intently at Quackity in order to carefully note the man’s every move, glaring at Q when he rolls his eyes over-exaggeratedly. 

Then, in a confident tone, Dream asks, "You wanna know what I think?"

“Not reall-” Quackity mutters under his breath, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish his complaint before he’s interrupted.

“I think it's bullshit that you're keeping such a big secret from the people that you're supposed to love,” Dream says in a firm, unwavering tone, knowing that, even though it’s going to hurt the two to learn how cruel Quackity has become, it’s better they find out the painful truth. “I think that Sapnap and Karl deserve to know the truth. They're literally your fiances, they deserve to know what you’ve done.”

“Oh yeah, what about all the shit you’ve done, Dream?!” Quackity angrily demands, tired of just taking this bullshit, causing him to stomp toward Dream as he continues, “Since you’re such good friends with them, I’m sure you’ve told them all about the bunker, the way you killed Tommy in the prison, right?”

With wide eyes, Ranboo states at Dream's back and questions in a horrified tone, "You did what to Tommy?"

"Would you look at that, seems like Ranboo doesn't know what you've done!" Quackity exclaims in a giddy, triumphant tone. "Have you even told anyone the shit you've done to hurt people?"

“Well, no…” Dream reluctantly admits, afterward trailing off, guilt suddenly sitting heavily in his stomach when he realizes that Sapnap and Karl and literally everyone still has no idea how terrible he became. 

With a loud, unhinged laugh, Quackity steps closer to Dream, getting all up in the man’s personal space as he says in a low, threatening tone, “You know what, Dream? Fine, I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them every single thing I did to you in that prison. But if I’m going down, I’m sure as hell gonna take you with me.”

"I don't need to stay here and deal with this," Dream says as he backs away from Quackity, hating the way Q's threat makes his voice waver and his hands start shaking with fear. "I don't know why I even came here."

"Bye, Dreamie," Quackity coos, the use of that nickname causing Dream's limbs to freeze in place, his breath stuttering in his chest at the sound of that name.

As Dream remains frozen in terror, he hears Quackity's footsteps coming up behind him, making him want to run away, but the only thing that happens is his breathing becoming even more sporadic, his chest feeling terribly tight, as if someone is trying to squeeze the life out of him.

"What's the matter, Dreamie?" Quackity purrs as he comes up behind Dream, leaning so close that his hot breath ghosts over the back of Dream's neck, that heat causing him to shiver violently as he shies away from the phantom touch. "Not so confident now, are you?"

"Y-You can't-t hur-rt m-m-me," Dream manages to squeak out in a stuttering tone, his vision starting to blur from lack of oxygen, the room seeming to get smaller and smaller the longer Quackity stands so close behind him. 

"Is that so?" Quackity asks with a smirk, a hand coming up to wrap around Dream's throat, not yet stealing his air, but making the threat clear.

It's at that moment that Ranboo snaps out of the shock that he spiraled into ever since Quackity said that Dream killed Tommy.

While the thought of Dream killing Tommy is horrifying beyond anything he could express in words, Ranboo knows that this isn't true right now, not when he saw Tommy and Tubbo earlier, the two of them roaring with laughter as they ran through the White House hallways together so they could go off and do who knows what.

What's true right now is the fact that Quackity has his hand on Dream's throat, the unmasked-man far too terrified to remember that he's wearing armor and has access to weapons, both of which are things Quackity lost the right to once he was put on house arrest. 

So Ranboo takes a deep breath before pulling out an axe and demanding in a voice that sounds much too confident to belong to him, "Let him go."

The second Quackity sees the sharp, deadly weapon in Ranboo's hand, he releases Dream and hurriedly backs away with his hands raised in a placating gesture, unsure if Ranboo has the guts to actually use it, but he’s not willing to risk it when the painful feeling of Techno's pickaxe slicing into his skin is still so fresh in his mind.

Now that Quackity is far away from Dream, Ranboo quickly grabs the man's arm, ignoring the way he flinches in favor of pulling him out of the room before Q can do anything more, calling out to Quackity over his shoulder, "Tubbo will be hearing about this."

"Good," Is all Quackity says, certain that, if Ranboo talks about what happened, he'll also mention the fact that Dream kills Tommy in the future, which is certainly something that will make them hate Dream.

Like Quackity said, if he's going down, he'll make sure that Dream is right there with him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37

Ranboo messages Wilbur, worried about Dream who’s deep in a panic attack.

Wilbur comes rushing over to the white house, immediately pulling Dream into a hug and murmuring that he’s gonna be okay.

In between soft assurances, Wilbur tells Ranboo to get Tubbo, because he’s absolutely pissed that Quackity dared hurt his love yet again.

After Dream’s calm, Wilbur goes into Q’s room and demands he writes the whole apology book right now so they never have to come see him again. 

Instead, Quackity tries to convince Tubbo that Wilbur is there to hurt him as revenge and that he’s so glad the president is here to save him.

Wilbur: “You would just do anything to get out of this?! Lying to the fucking president, making me look bad, all so you don’t have to apologize to someone who deserves it?!” 

Tubbo: “Is that what he’s supposed to write? An apology book to Dream?”

Wilbur: “Yes, Dream deserves closure and to be able to move on, but he can’t do that without an apology from the person who literally tortured him.”

Tubbo: “Quackity, on presidential orders, you are going to write that book.”

“What?! You can’t do that to me!” Quackity shouts in outrage, because this is so fucking unfair.

Tubbo: “Yes, I can, because last time I checked, I’m President of L’Manberg, and you’re just a regular citizen who lost the right to even go outside by himself. So you have to write the whole book, and I’m going to stay here to make sure you do.” 

Quackity: “I fucking hate you all.” 

Wilbur: “Well, the faster you write the book, the sooner we leave. But you better not bullshit it, because you’ll have to write it all over again.” 

Quackity: “This is gonna take all night...” 

Tubbo: “Guess you should’ve thought of that before you tried to attack Dream again. Now write.”

Chapter 38

Once he’s certain that Tubbo has this under control, Wilbur goes back out into the hallway where Dream and Ranboo are softly talking to each other.

Wilbur says that they should go back home, and so Dream follows him.

But once they’re outside and a little ways away from the white house, Dream rounds on Wilbur, because he’s fucking pissed that Wil went behind his back and hurt Quackity, especially since he promised not to. Wilbur tries apologizing, but Dream storms off, too upset to even be near the man right now. 

“Dream, wait! Please, just tell me where you’re going so I know you’re safe!”

And it’s only because of the fear and desperation in Wil’s voice that Dream turns around and tells him, “I’m going to Phil’s, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow, I just need some space.”

“I love you,” Wilbur desperately blurts out, because he needs the man to know how much he cares about him, needs Dream to know that he did this for him.

Dream just smiles sadly at that, nodding in acknowledgment before turning around and walking away, and it feels like the man takes Wilbur’s heart with him as he goes.

Chapter 39

Thinking that Quackity is going to share all the awful things that he’s done, Dream wants to tell people first, so he goes to talk to Phil. Once he’s shared everything, Phil is pretty upset and sends him away, saying that he needs time to think about everything he just learned, especially since Dream hurt Tommy so badly. 

And so Dream leaves, even though he doesn’t know where else he can go. Normally he’d go to Eret’s castle, but that’s where Wil is, and he just can’t see Wilbur right now. Maybe Sapnap and Karl wouldn’t mind him being there for the night?

Chapter 40

Dream makes his way toward Kinoko, but he underestimated just how long it takes to walk there, and soon night falls.

He hates to admit just how on edge night makes him feel, how every growl of a zombie sends shivers down his spine or the twinge of an arrow leaving a bowstring makes his heart lurch in fear, because he’s already experienced so much pain in the prison, he doesn’t want to be hurt ever again.

It’s thoughts of the prison that distract him from his surroundings, and suddenly there’s an arrow embedded in the gaps in between his armor, the wound nowhere near fatal, but the sharp pain of it sends him spiraling.

He runs without knowing where he’s going, his heart thundering in his chest and his lungs burning with exertion, tears slipping down his face, because the last time he got hurt was in the prison, and that first spark of pain is always followed by a flood.

Before he knows it, he’s knocking on the door of the community house, and deep down he knows that George doesn’t want to see him, but he's too panicked to go anywhere else.

It’s only because of the true fear and panic on Dream’s face that George lets the man inside, that expression so strange on Dream’s face that it leaves him reeling. 

In the morning they talk, and while George doesn't fully believe the things he says, he can tell that Dream is different now, and that's at least a start.

Chapter 41

Dream goes home to Eret’s castle and makes up with Wil. He also finds Phil there, Wilbur having invited his dad over because he couldn’t stand being alone with how guilty and miserable he felt for upsetting Dream.

Phil tells Dream that, even though he’s still angry over the ways he hurt Tommy, he’s willing to forgive him since he makes his son happier than anyone else.

The three of them hug and Dream can’t help but feel so happy, but there is something still missing. 

So Dream shares how he wants to give his apology speech soon, especially before Quackity tells everyone what he did. There's a couple things he needs to do first though, like destroying the prison.

Chapter 42

When night falls, a group makes their way to the prison. Together, Dream, Wilbur, Eret, and Phil approach the looming building, pickaxes in hand. Except, when they get closer, they already see an armored figure chipping away at the obsidian walls.

Wilbur: “Hello? Who’s there?”

Sam: “Wil?”

Wilbur: “S-Sam? Is that… you?”

With a small, guilty smile, Sam softly says, “Yeah, it’s me.”

While stepping toward the creeper hybrid--and also strategically standing in between him and Dream--Wilbur commands, “Prove it.”

Because there’s a huge difference between the Sam of this world and the one who came from their own, a big difference between the man who’s just barely constructing the prison compared to the one who let Dream be tortured relentlessly.

Sam: “You have a pink tulip inside your cabin, and it’s your favorite flower because it makes you think of Dream sitting in a field with that in his hair.”

Wilbur nods his head in agreement at that, feeling terribly conflicted about how he should feel right now.

Because, on one hand, Sam did terrible, awful things.

But he also realized his wrongs and let Dream go, even sort of became like a friend to Wil during the few months he and Dream lived in their cabin.

He can’t figure out how to voice any of those feelings though, so instead he stays silent.

While looking at the crowd gathered around the prison, Sam chuckles and asks, “Are they all like us?”

Phil: “Nope, not me, I’m just a boring ally who can’t time travel.”

Dream: “Don’t say that, Phil, we’re happy to have you here.”

It’s then that Sam notices Dream for the first time, the man having been hidden behind Wilbur before.

Sam's voice is a small, guilty mess as he honestly says, “Dream… You look good. Really good.”

Dream: “Thanks… It’s nice being back here again.”

Sam: “Yeah, it is… I was just working on tearing down the prison. I’ve been coming here every night actually. I wasn’t sure if you were from the future, so I didn’t want you to see me destroying it and get mad.”

With eyebrows raised in surprise, Dream incredulously asks, “You were going to tear this all down by yourself?”

Sam: “Definitely. I don’t want you ever going back there again.”

Dream: “Thanks, Sam, I appreciate it. But we’re all here to help now, you don’t have to go through this alone.”

Sam simply nods his head with a smile on his face, knowing that Dream is talking about more than just destroying the prison, and he appreciates the kind offer, even if he still doesn’t feel like he deserves it after the many ways he hurt Dream. 

Together, the five of them begin tearing down the prison, completing their work silently, all of them driven by the motivation of keeping Dream from experiencing more pain.

And the thought of so many people working together to protect him makes the ex-tyrant feel happy and giddy, so grateful to have such amazing people in his life now.