Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam sighed heavily, he had left his station guarding the main entrance to the cell and decided to check on the rest of the prison. It was a lonely job - not counting his unpleasant interactions with his prisoner. Knowing how Quackity had been with Dream recently, Sam knew that he had about an hour to check on the prison's security and assign his guards their schedules for the next week or so.

He needed to be more careful with planning with his guards and needed to keep Q on a shorter leash when it came to how long he was with Dream - Bad and Ant’s questions had set him on edge recently after Bad asked about screams during his shift. Sam had just blown him off, using the excuse that of course Dream would try to get the demon's attention because in a past life they had been friends and Bad was the most empathic person on the server. Ant, however, was not as deterred and still suspected that something was going on - something malicious.

After doing his rounds and not finding anything particularly suspicious on the inside of the prison and after checking the redstone that would trigger the alarms in case of a break in, he began to make his way back to the control room. Once he got up the flight of stairs he heard Quackity yell.

Perfect timing.

Right as he reached for the lever to let down the lava Quackity yelled again, more frantic this time.

Something was wrong.

“Potions!” Quackity shouted, now Sam knew that something was seriously wrong. The Warden opened one of the storage chests and grabbed several health and regen pots before quickly pulling the lever. He didn’t even wait for the lava to fall more than a few blocks before he pearled over. Once the nausea from teleporting wore off after a second his focus sharpened on what was happening in the cell. Dream lay flat on his back, shirt unbuttoned and wide open, gasping and gagging for air as a pool of blood gathered around him. Quackity knelt next to him helplessly, fingers slipping on the blood that covered Dream’s stomach, or the gaping hole that it was, as he poured healing potion after healing potion on him and down his throat. Sam’s heart dropped to his stomach as he noticed what Quackity had done to him. A clean cut that went from the top of the admin’s sternum to his belly button and put the pieces together as to what had happened.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Sam snapped, looking down at the vivisection that Quackity had done. He quickly laid out the pots and lifted Dreams head up so he could get him to swallow the regen in his hand. Dream choked and tried to cough it up, Sam clamped a hand over his mouth to keep him from doing just that.

“Things were going fine Sam- I just needed more potions, didn’t think this fucker would squirm so much!” Sam just huffed and did his best to block out Q’s frantic rambling. Eventually the magic started to kick in and stitched some of the lesser wounds back together. Sam took out his first aid kit and moved to stitch up the cut on Dream’s front.

“Hold him down.” The Warden commanded, and the torturer complied. Sam quickly got to work. He’d gotten good at this in the past few months, though he didn’t know if that was something to be proud of. Dream lurched under him, his body trying to keep itself alive. He squirmed and writhed - cries of pain and pleas to make it stop echoing in the tense cell. Quackity held him still easily. There wasn’t much fight left in him to begin with. Sam wondered if Quackity felt proud about that.He glanced over at him but there was nothing but panic on his face.

Once Sam finished the stitches and tied them off he poured another health pot on it for good measure.

Sam sat back, needing to take a moment before Quackity would inevitably start running his mouth again and make his headache even worse. At least Dream had passed out during the ordeal - he didn’t need his sounds of anguish to haunt him more at night than they already did. Sam finally turned to Quackity.

“I'll escort you out.” Sam said coolly. Quackity nodded and stood, grabbing the netherite dagger that lay forgotten on the floor and flicking the drying blood off of it. If Sam saw him purposely flicking it onto Dreams jumpsuit he said nothing. The two pearled across the gap and Sam left the lava down. The walk to the front of the prison was silent and tense, Quackity had known he fucked up but Sam was always lenient with him so what did it matter?

“I need you to stay away from the prison for a little while, Quackity.” The warden spoke with collected authority. “At least for a week while the prisoner recovers, and I trust you won't make this mistake again, correct?”

Quackity sputtered, no doubt biting back several profanities and objections, surprised at Sam's request.

“He's fine Sam, you used healing on him and he springs back pretty quickly, I would know. Surely there's no need-” Sam cut him off by lifting his hand.

“I am the warden here and I expect you to treat me as such. I will not be disrespected and told what to do in my own prison. What you did was risky and idiotic and I will not put my prisoners on Lady Death's door just for you to get that book. Do I make myself clear?”

Quackity scoffed and just pushed the weapons that he had used back into Sam’s hands, glowering at him before walking to the portal.

“A week.” He begrudgingly muttered before disappearing in a flurry of purple particles.

Sam set the bloodied tools down, his hands feeling tainted by the cool metal and the sticky red that covered them. He went to one of the guard rooms where he knew there was a sink to clean the weapons and himself - while he scrubbed he thought about what to do with Dream - surely he would be thankful that Sam had suspended Quackity’s visits. Sam was his guardian after all and he saw him as the safer of the two. This also gave him time to talk to his prisoner.

He finished cleaning off the dagger and went back to the guard room where the rest of the tools were hanging up and put it in its place. From the chest below the wall of weapons he pulled out several rolls of bandages and a few regen potions and put them into a small bag. After thinking for a moment he also grabbed a few weakness potions and a strength potion for himself in case anything went wrong.

Once Sam pearled back over to the main cell he sneered in disgust at the state of it. The room reeked of decay and the smell of iron with an underlying scent of bile. Dream still hadn’t moved from where they had left him and a thin sheen of sweat covered his feverish skin. He was shivering slightly and Sam found it a bit incredulous seeing as he was so close to the lava. He crouched down and pulled off one of his gloves, pressing the back of his hand to the prisoner’s forehead and noting how clammy he felt. The warden sighed. Bacteria ran rampant in the cell and more often than not Dream’s wounds got infected.

Sam dragged him into a sitting position against the wall, the jagged obsidian snagging on his jumpsuit slightly. The prisoner squirmed and a quiet squeaky sound of pain wheezed from his cracked lips as he was jostled. The warden cringed at the sound. Those wretched cries were reserved for when Quackity was here, not for Sam’s ears and he would like to keep it that way.

Sam easily fished another regen pot from his satchel and uncorked it, holding it up to the prisoner’s lips and tilting his head back. Using his thumb to pry Dream’s jaw open just enough to pour the potion in - he noticed more injuries around Dream’s face that had been hard to see in the dark lighting of the cell. A blackening eye, crosshatched cuts on his left cheek - where Sam’s thumb was in Dream’s mouth he felt the lack of points on the prisoners canines. The way that the prisoner instinctively flinched at the touch told him that this was a recent development as there was still obvious sensitivity, though they didn't pose much of an issue in The Warden’s eyes as Quackity had been careful not to expose the dentin. While Sam was usually against permanent damage, he was okay with this. This solved his own troubles with the prisoners' habits.

The prisoner’s body immediately attempted to reject the potion by coughing it up once again, so Sam moved one hand to cover Dream’s mouth, just as he did with the initial potions that he’d administered. His other hand went to Dream’s throat, thumb rubbing at his esophagus prompting the potion to go down. Even when the prisoner’s body acted on instinct it was easier to treat him when he was unconscious or dissociating like this. Dream had always been painfully stubborn and it showed when Sam would try to help him. He thought about giving the prisoner the weakness potion he had with him as a painkiller, as well as a sedative, but he feared that it would do more harm than good with his current condition. He didn't need to weaken Dream’s internal systems more than they already had been by Quackity’s latest experiment.

Sam knew that the prisoner would survive this - while this was the worst it had gotten he knew his prisoner was resilient. He couldn’t leave him here though, not alone at least. Dream probably wouldn't be waking up for a while and even then he was in no position to try and hurt Sam - not when he had nothing and the warden was in full netherite. Sam still slept with the splash weakness next to him, just in case.

---

Netherite sucked to sleep in and Sam wondered if he even really needed it at all based on his prisoner’s physic at the moment. He woke up achy and stretched out, his joints making a few pops before he looked over at his prisoner - or down at his prisoner. In the night Dream had moved and had leaned against Sam. It obviously wasn't intentional as Dream had never made an attempt to even touch Sam in his time staying here - only when he reached out in an attempt to get Sam to stay when he was having an episode. Sam moved to push him away and to lay back down on the floor - careful not to wake him up as he didn't want a repeat of last. Even with his canines filed down like they were he could still bite hard.

Sam gently laid him down and moved to untangle Dream’s fingers from his cloak where they were tangled. As he did he examined them, on Dream’s right hand his middle finger was missing and both of them were covered in thick burn scars from putting them in the lava. Good. Sam felt wrong touching his hands even for a second. These had taken the life of many, had beaten the life from Tommy, that was Dream’s fault, not his.

After he finished untangling his prisoner’s hands he stood, using the staff of his trident to hoist him up. Just as he was about to pearl over he heard the sound of Dream’s rasping cough and internally kicked himself for not leaving sooner. He turned and looked at his prisoner.
“Sam?” Dream rasped out, lifting his head to look at The Warden, matted and oily hair falling in clumps around his face. He needed a bath again Sam noted. Dream probably just wanted more rations, he’d been getting greedy recently - asking for more than he deserved. Sam swallowed a snarl addressing him.

“Yes, Prisoner?”

Dream’s face contorted in pain and Sam’s hand twitched towards the weakness in his belt. The Warden watched him with a clinical eye, his injuries would be fine but he worried about his internal wounds reopening. Unlike Quackity he would not cut the prisoner open to fix him.

“Stay a little longer?” Dull milky eyes looked up at the warden, he had pushed himself up onto his elbows, thin atrophying arms struggling to hold him up. He’d asked this every time and over these past few months it had really begun to grate on Sam’s nerves. Reluctantly he agreed.

“I’ll be back in a bit Dream, be ready to get up when I get back.”

Chapter Text

Watching Sam’s figure vanish and reappear on the other side of the lava gap was disheartening to say the least. Who knows when The Warden would return? Likely after another visit from Quackity. Dream slowly urged his body to prop itself up against the obsidian wall, a hot white pain shot through him from his sternum down.

He sucked in a sharp breath and held where it hurt, memory hardly coming back to him of what had caused this new pain, perhaps Quackity had kept cutting him up after he went unconscious? Probably not, he likes a reaction. Dream just chalked it up to his mind blocking out the memory, it was always better that way - he wished he could forget more things.

He propped himself up against the wall and looked over at the chest on the other side of the cell, a half eaten potato sat on top that was slowly turning a rotten green as roots protruded from the sides, looking for soil that was ever so void in the prison
He couldn't remember the feeling of dirt.

This pulled a pained chuckle from him before he coughed and winced at how it grated at his dry sore throat and sent fire back through his body. Dream looked over to the cauldron and willed his body to move towards it. It was a pathetic display as he hauled himself over to the opposite side of the cell, pausing every few feet to regain his breath. When he got to the cauldron, he cupped the water in his shaky hands and drank.

The water was warm and tasted of iron but it soothed his throat just slightly. It was just slightly cooler than the air in the cell and felt good on the tips of his fingers which were red and hot to the touch because of the light infection that had occurred from having his nails removed. He wished he would’ve asked for fresh water as well, The Warden seemed forgiving today. Whatever Sam had seen and had to clean up after Quackity’s visit must have been bad enough to make him feel guilty, it made him smile. Sam should feel guilty. Guilt made Sam malleable and Dream could and would use that to his advantage when Sam eventually came back.

—

Dream didn’t have to wait long for The Warden to return, he eyed the brown burlap sack that Sam was holding with great interest. The bag looked heavier than it usually did and bulged at the sides more. More potatoes than usual, or Sam had brought him something else to add on to it, either way Dream would be grateful like he always was, like he always should be. Food is a privilege after all as Quackity had kindfully reminded him over and over again, why could he never learn? Dream quickly moved out of the way as a pearl was thrown, and a second later The Warden appeared, towering over the prisoner’s crouched form.

“Up.” Sam commanded before walking over to the chest in the corner and pouring the contents of the bag into it. Just potatoes Dream notes, pushing down the disappointment hunger pains curling in his gut. Dream heaved himself up by using the lip of the cauldron as support, wincing and letting out a pained sound as his bones and muscles protested against the movement and strain. Sam watched with vague interest like he always did. Dream hated when he watched, or he used to hate it. In the beginning, it had really bothered Dream, being watched while he was weakened and vulnerable - a feeling he wasn't very accustomed to. Now he was more indifferent to it, Sam never really seemed to see it as a triumph the same way that Quackity did when Dream couldn’t bring himself to move other than instinctively flinching, much less stand.

Dream was obedient though and managed to keep his feet under him, out of the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he saw Sam twitch in his direction, like he would catch him if he fell he wouldn’t. Sam came up and grabbed Dream’s shoulder, jostling him slightly and almost enough for him to lose his footing as he was guided towards where the bridge would be. Sam quickly pearled across the gap and sent the bridge over.

The mechanical whirring of the machine set off alarms in his head because that sound meant that pain would follow. Despite Dream knowing that he would be okay, that Quackity was clearly not on the bridge, his body still tensed in preparation. The bridge hit the obsidian with a dull thud and Dream hesitated to step onto it. He could barely support himself and keep his balance on solid ground. He was going to die if he stepped onto the bridge. He would lose his balance and fall into the lava. Sam seemed to notice this too and flipped the lever to bring the contraption back. What was Sam trying to do? Why did he want Dream to cross? Wouldn't that be breaking protocol or whatever?

Once the bridge was back in its original position Sam wasted yet another pearl to come back to the cell and firmly grabbed Dream again before throwing another one back to the control room. Dream felt the floor drop out from under him and his head spun from the effects of teleportation. As soon as he felt solid ground beneath him, the world tilted and he was on the ground again, puking up the meager watery contents of his stomach. Sam quickly stepped back and a grimace of disgust crossed his face, wrinkling his nose knowing that he would be the one cleaning it up later. At least he was experienced by now, one would think that he would be less sensitive to it by now as well.

Once Dream was done coughing up the last of his stomach contents, Sam grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back up to his feet, he kept an arm on him this time, keeping the prisoner steady. Dream couldn't help but notice the temperature difference just on this side of the lava, fresh air, or as fresh as the air could be in Pandora, graced his lungs. It beat the stifling, suffocating heat and air of the cell, which reeked of iron and mold from the potatoes. Sam began pulling Dream along with him and the prisoner could do nothing but comply, being dragged to wherever Sam was planning on bringing him.

Dream remembered some of the layout of the prison and tried to remember the blueprints as they walked, where were they going? The pair came to an open door of what Dream remembered to be a guard entrance, and Sam led them through it. They walked for a while, much further than Dream’s legs would currently allow, although Sam forced him on by dragging him.

They came upon a spacious room, Dream remembered it vaguely, as he didnt think it would be used, as the prisoner shouldn’t be allowed to leave the cell ever. Several shower heads lined the walls, two drains evenly spaced were in the middle of the room, Dream eyed them warily before looking to Sam for instructions. Sam leaves him to go to one of the shower heads and turns the handle, water came rushing out of it a second later, heated by the lava chamber and carried here. The Warden stepped away and moved back over to Dream. The admin remained silent as Sam moved in front of him and began undoing the buttons on Dream’s jumpsuit. In the beginning Dream wouldn't even think about letting Sam help him but now that the use of his hands had deteriorated so much that he could hardly even hold pieces of his meager meals, he needed the help of Sam.

Once Dream was under the spray of water, Sam left to go retrieve towels and a fresh jumpsuit that wasn’t tarnished with the evidence of Quackity’s methods of persuasion. When Sam came back, Dream hadn’t moved from where Sam had left him, not moving to start cleaning himself either. He stared at the floor with detached interest, watching the water turn a reddish brown as it ran off of him. Sam sighed at the lack of Dream’s self sufficiency and grabbed a bottle of shampoo. Dream didn’t look up when Sam began washing his hair, trying not to snag his fingers in the snarls of the admin’s hair. Sam had noticed more and more of Dream’s hair losing its color while in the prison, and while he could easily chalk it up to being the lack of sunlight and the results of neglect, he had his suspicions after seeing the white strand in Tommy’s hair. Sam really hadn’t gotten to get a good look at Dream other than the parts he had been actively repairing. He looked awful. If Sam was to compare Dream to any other person he would look like a monster, now not just in the metaphorical term. The prison had changed him, slowly eating away at the little humanity he had left.

Though Sam knew Dream looked like something undead and unfeeling now, with carved skin and a label cut into the span of his shoulder blades with Q’s careful butchery labeling him as such. Missing parts and broken bones morphed him into something so wrong and inhuman - Sam knew deep down that under all of that was a person. A boy he had grown up with, whose freckles that once got darker in the summer now had none from being barred from the light. A man who he had sparred with, had built with and spent countless hours with. A friend turned foe. Sam couldn’t afford to have these kinds of thoughts as the Warden, but maybe he could just be Sam for a little while.

Cleaning Dream’s hair was hard, well the cleaning part wasn’t hard, it was avoiding the countless healing head injuries. It made Sam wonder if Dream even remembered the book after having his skull broken open so many times. He scrubbed carefully around the admin’s filed down horns and then rinsed all the soap out of his hair. Sam still felt wrong touching him in any way, like his hands had been filthied just by being near the man.

When Dream was done being cleaned he had been standing as long as he physically could, the walk back to the cell felt like hell. He didn’t want to return there but at the same time it was what was familiar to him. It was cold and foreign outside of the obsidian, the blackstone didn’t have the same feeling to it. Dream did his best not to stumble or to fall but he kept tripping over his own feet. Sam’s heavy hand on his shoulder was the only thing steadying him, the prisoner looked up at The Warden - searching for any telling emotions, he found none.

The lurch of the bridge jostled him so much he feared that he would fall but Sam held him tightly. The admin did his best not to welcome the familiar cell, the warmth of it all soothing his senses just slightly. He sank down into his usual spot next to the lectern and chest and eyed the Warden warily.

“I’ll be back tomorrow Dream, alright? You have food- you’ll be fine. I’m taking you out again tomorrow.” The Warden says before turning and pearling back, flipping the lever for the bridge to retract once he appeared again on the other side.

So that's what it was. Now that Quackity was gone Sam was trying his own methods of persuasion wasn’t he? He’d gotten nowhere by letting Quackity cut him up and butcher him, does Sam really think that buttering him up and treating him like a person would be convincing enough?

The lava fell back down.