Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sci sat slumped in his chair with his feet propped up on the cluttered desk in front of him as he looked over various reports. So much data, so little time. Which was kinda ironic, considering his AU was known as TimeTale. Still, it was nothing three all-nighters and seven coffee pots (coffee mugs are for the weak) couldn’t fix. He paused his reading to chug down his eighth one despite the lukewarm temperature. Caffeine was caffeine. Setting down the empty pot, he sighed and started skimming through his notes again. But a sudden chill stopped him. He peered over the rim of his glasses at the darkest corner of the poorly lit room.

“Hello Nightmare. You’re early,” Sci said, nonchalantly throwing the papers onto a teetering stack.

He watched as the darkness suddenly swirled and funneled like one of Sans' self-sustaining trash tornados before taking on the shape of Sans himself. Only goopier. And with several tentacles protruding from his back. This strange but not unfamiliar visitor rolled his cyan eyelight at the unphased skeleton.

“Why do you feel the need to do that?” he said in a deep, throaty voice.

Sci shrugged, taking off his glasses and smudging the lens with the corner of his lab coat.

“Why do you feel the need to make a dramatic entrance all the time?”

Nightmare narrowed his eye as he marched across the room. “I’m not in the mood for pointless chit chat today, Sci. You know why I’m here, so let’s get straight to the point. Is it ready now or not?”

Sci met Nightmare’s annoyed glare with an indifferent look of his own. ”Alright, alright, don’t get your tentacles in a knot. It’s ready.”

He got up, leaving Nightmare to loom over his desk as he sauntered over to the fridge across the room. Reaching past the mist that hissed out at him, he carefully grabbed the vial out of it’s tray. He turned around, not even so much as flinching when he saw Nightmare standing directly behind him.

“Here ya go,” he drawled, holding out the corked beaker.

Nightmare kept his hands tucked inside his pockets, directing a tentacle to take the vial instead. He held the fizzy liquid a safe distance from his face as he studied it. It was an unassuming white color he found hard to take seriously. He turned his attention back to the scientist, only to see said skeleton had already returned back to his desk chair.

“Are you sure this will do the job? It doesn’t look like much,” Nightmare scoffed.

Sci shrugged again. “That’s because it won’t take much. A couple ounces should do the job.”

“You had better hope it does,” he said, frowning. “Dream’s magic is powerful- almost as powerful as mine. Just one miscalculation on your part could screw everything up.”

The other waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I was very precise. As soon as he drinks it, he’ll be as harmless and helpless as a baby bones.”

“Hmph. If you say so. Just remember, a potion like this is the only thing keeping your AU from being destroyed” Nightmare said casually.

Sci chuckled humorlessly. “Trust me, if anyone knows how useful I am, it’s myself.”

Nightmare continued to eye the skeleton warily. As the master of negative emotions, he could feel any ill intent radiating off a monster. But when it came to Sci, well, it was hard to judge someone who was pretty much an emotionless husk at this point. He didn’t exactly trust him, but even he could admit the neutral scientist was an invaluable resource. Unfortunately, this caused the majority of his threats to fall flat- just another reason why Nightmare couldn’t stand him.

But after taking another look at the vial, he felt his irritation subside a little. If Sci really did hold up his end of their little business arrangement, then one of Nightmare’s biggest problems was about to become so much smaller. He smirked, feeling his mood improve as he imagined the soon-to-be weak and helpless Dream begging him for MERCY. Oh yes, this was all going to be worth it in the end.

Gripping the vial, he glanced back at Sci. “I’ll see myself out then.”

Sci half-heartedly waved, not looking up from the papers he was flipping through. “Yeah, sure. Tell the boys I said ‘hi’.”

Nightmare huffed in response. Of all the monsters in the multiverse, Sci just had to be the only one outside of their gang who knew about Nightmare’s bond with the four of them. All thanks to that freak accident that required the scientist’s assistance and led him to finding out. Nightmare would’ve dusted him on the spot if he wasn’t more useful to him alive.

After all, he couldn’t have everyone finding out that the leader of the Dark Sanses was more than just a leader to them. How was he supposed to spread mayhem and despair if everyone thought he was a big ole’ softie underneath his tar-like goop? But Sci had proven himself valuable in more ways than one by keeping Nightmare’s little secret to himself.

Sure, he knew it was still a risk, but so far every risk that Nightmare had taken with the scientist had paid off. And if the potion worked like Sci said it would, then this would be his biggest pay off yet. So while Nightmare was naturally a bit skeptic, he couldn’t help feeling confident his plan would succeed, especially now that he had what he needed to accomplish his goal. He chuckled darkly to himself as he slipped through an inky portal into his office.

When Nightmare emerged on the other side, he found two other skeletons were already waiting for him. Killer was busy pacing the rut in the floor between Nightmare’s desk and the fireplace, while Cross hung limply over the back of the reading chair. That is, until he spotted Nightmare coming through the portal. Cross instantly scrambled over the chair and bounded over to him, his mismatched eyelight’s zeroed in on the vial.

Killer calmly walked over and joined him, crossing his arms. “You were quick," he said dryly.

“That’s the potion?” Cross asked, lifting a hand towards it.

“Yes. Don’t touch it,” he said firmly, retracting the tendril away and holding the vial above his grabby hands. He didn’t even want to think about the headache he’d have trying to bargain again with Sci for a replacement.

Cross let his arms fall but kept staring at it. “Why is there so little? That’s not even enough to suppress my magic!”

Killer snorted. “How would you know? You’re not a scientist.”

“Uh, because I have two working eyelights?” retorted Cross, tugging on his zygomatic bone.

“Sci said it will do the job,” Nightmare interjected quickly. “Since he’s the one who made it, I’m sure he knows how much Dream needs. Besides, he wouldn’t dare backstab us like that.”

Both skeletons hummed and nodded in agreement.

“So now what?” Killer asked.

Nightmare grinned sharply and grabbed the vial from his tentacle, eyeing the liquid as he swirled it around.

“Now it’s time for the final phase. Cross, go find Horror and Dust and tell them to get ready to go. I want to leave as soon as possible.”

“You got it!” Cross saluted, before running for the door.

“Oh, and Cross . . .” Nightmare called out, causing the monochrome skeleton to stop and face him.

“ . . .tell them Sci said ‘hi’.”

Chapter Text

“Dust, on your left,” Nightmare yelled, as if he was calling out the time of day.

The hooded skeleton pivoted. He narrowed his purple-flaring eyelights at the oncoming Greater Dog and fired several pointed bones at the monster. Realising his surprise attack had been spoiled, the armoured dog tried to retreat and dodge the attack, but it was too late. The bones collided and pierced through him effortlessly, leaving only a cloud of dust where the monster had been standing.

Dust glanced behind him at Nightmare and nodded ever so slightly. The black skeleton’s mouth quirked into a smile at the silent show of gratitude. Nightmare watched Dust walk with unnerving casualness over to Horror who was fending off doggo, before sweeping his cyan eyelight over the rest of the battle. Since his boys were handling the royal guard just fine, he stayed on the sideline and kept an eyesocket out for them.

Occasionally, he diverted his attention from the fray to peer into the empty forest surrounding them. Nightmare expected the glowing portal to arrive at any moment now. After all, it had been at least ten minutes since they had entered this classic AU. They had already dusted every monster in the ruin and now almost all the guard dogs. Just as he had meticulously planned. It was rather cunning, actually.

First, He picked a relatively normal AU without any tricky variables to worry about. Then they made their way through the ruins and into snowdin, keeping their carnage contained so that they wouldn’t alert the rest of the AU to their presence. Otherwise, they’d have to destroy the entire thing. And as satisfying as that would be, especially for Nightmare, that wasn’t their goal for today. But to the Star Sanses, this would just look like their usual chaos, keeping them blind to the gang’s true intentions.

There was just one, small hiccup that Nightmare had unfortunately accounted for.

Since their dusting spree was more under the radar than usual, the negative energy their destruction caused was subdued as well. So the spike of negativity that Dream usually felt by now was more like a throbbing headache to him. This meant his dimwitted twin was late to realising that this AU was falling apart monster by monster. And while Nightmare was a very patient skeleton, even his frustration grew the longer their absence dragged on.

He focused his attention back to the fight. Now that Doggo’s dust was mixed in with the snow, all of his boys teamed up to take down Dogamy and Dogaressa. Four against two was hardly a fair fight, but it was a quick one. After a final blow from Killer, the pair dusted and joined their companions. Nightmare glanced around for any sign of the starry skeletons as his boys walked over to him, a little scruffed up but uninjured. They followed his example, but saw nothing but the trees and snow surrounding them. It was eerily quiet, even for Snowdin.

“What’s taking them so long?” said Cross, throwing back his fur hood.

"They’ll come," Dust shrugged. "They always do."

“Stop being so impatient, Cross. You’ll get careless,” Killer scolded, wiping his dusty knife on his hoodie.

“I’m the careless one?” He shouted, pointing a finger at him. “You’re the one who got their coccyx beaten by Dogaressa!”

Killer swiped his blade at the accusing hand. “You could’ve helped me instead of just standing there like a useless idiot,” he growled.

Cross doged the knife, stumbling backwards and almost bumping into Horror. Fortunately, the red-eyed skeleton saw it coming and stepped out of the way. He didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire of their brawl moved to a safe distance.

Cross pulled out his hack knife, but before he could retaliate, Nightmare stepped in between them.

“Stop it, both of you. Now is not the time to get into useless fights."

They instantly lowered their weapons. Killer huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at the monochrome skeleton, while Cross hunched his shoulders and looked down at the snow.

“Sorry,” the latter mumbled, rubbing his arm.

Nightmare pinched his nasal ridge. “Just quit bickering with each other and stay sharp. We need to be prepared for when they arrive and-”

He stopped as the sound of a portal drew the attention of all five skeletons towards it.

“Ah, speak of the devils,” Nightmare smirked, his tendrils curling with anticipation.

His boys lined up on either side of him in a semicircle, facing the annoyingly-bright swirl of gold with their weapons raised. They all stood on edge (save for Dust) as the Star Sanses stepped out of their portal. The trio took their own battle stances as they noticed their opponents opposite them. Ink stood in the center, with Blue on his left and Dream on his right.

His mismatched eyelights narrowed at dark skeleton. “Really guys? This is the fifth AU you’ve invaded in the past two days! What's your deal?”

“Hello to you to Ink,” he replied coolly.

Right as Ink was about to respond, Blue leaned forward and whispered something to the soulless skeleton. Nightmare took advantage of this distraction to glance over at Dream. His brother was holding his bow loosely and his posture was much more relaxed compared to his companions. But before Nightmare could analyze his twin more, Ink turned his attention back to him.

“Okay, so here's what we're gonna do. Since you've only messed up this AU a little, we're going to let you off the hook- just this once! So if you leave this AU now, then we promise not to fight."

Nightmare raised a brow bone. “And if we don't?”

“THEN WE'LL MAKE YOU LEAVE,” Blue said, standing up taller.

How adorable.

“I’d like to see you try,” he chuckled.

"Please, Nightmare, we don’t need to fight this time,” Dream interjected, his brow furrowed.

The corrupted skeleton rolled his eyelight.

Of course Dream wouldn’t make this easy for him. His positive twin was willing enough to fight for a bunch of random AU’s, but he was still more of a pacifist than the other two. He had always been spineless when it came to confrontation and avoided it any chance he could. But Nightmare wouldn’t give him that chance today.

“Why? Are you babybones afraid of getting beat up again?” mocked Killer.

“NO, WE WERE TRYING TO SHOW YOU MERCY!” Blue shouted back.

Killer knew the degrading term would provoke the youngest Star Sans. Nightmare would have given him a proud smile if the Star Sanses weren’t watching.

Speaking of said Sanses, all three of them had taken their usual fighting positions. Even Dream had his weapon ready to fire now that his friends were determined to battle. As much as Dream hated fighting, he wouldn’t abandon them in their time of need. Oh no, that sort of cowardly betrayal was reserved only for his own bone and marrow.

Raising his sharpened tentacles, Nightmare grinned darkly.

“Well then, why don’t we show you three what our mercy looks like.”

Instantly, his boys attacked, kicking up snow and dust as they rushed forward. The Star Sanses reacted swiftly as well and deflected the bone attacks thrown at them. The gang split up, with Horror and Dust taking on Blue, while Killer and Cross traded blows with Ink and Dream. Nightmare frowned. No, this wouldn’t do. He needed his brother all to himself for his plan to succeed.

Nightmare waited until his boys were out of the line of fire to shoot a cloud of tarry projectiles at him. Dream ducked and rolled away, shooting a positive arrow at him in response. It embedded itself into Nightmare’s shoulder, burning him, but he ripped it out as if it was nothing more than a splinter. He was too pleased that he captured his brother’s attention to care about the pain.

As more arrows whizzed by him, he melted into shadow to avoid them and resurfaced a couple yards behind Dream.

"Looking a little slow today, aren't we Dream?" he taunted.

His brother turned around wordlessly and shot an arrow at him, which he missed effortlessly. This was much better, but they were still too close to the others. Before Dream could hurl another arrow at him, Nightmare teleported twenty feet away- farther into snowdin’s forest; farther from his brother's friends. He threw more projectiles as Dream fitted another arrow to his bow. This time, it was his twin who teleported to avoid the attack, reappearing just a few feet closer to him. Nightmare chuckled under his breath.

Dream had taken the bait.

Slowly but steadily, Nightmare led his brother into the dense trees, until they were alone at last. He wasn’t too worried about abandoning his boys to fight Ink and Blue, since he’d waited to execute this plan until he was confident they could. Now it was just him and Dream. And although his brother was powerful in his own way, Nightmare was stronger than normal from the negativity boost that destroying the AU had given him. Not to mention, the potion in his pocket was an excellent motivator.

Dream fought back with equal vigor, but it wasn’t easy.

He was still sore from the recent fights which had left him quite a few bruises, and his current confrontation was tiring him out fast. He was more nimble than Nightmare, but the other had a higher pain tolerance. And on top of that, so far none of Dream’s attacks had slowed Nightmare in the slightest. It frustrated and worried him. He knew his brother had the advantage here, but he was confused by how persistent he was being. Dream hadn’t seen him fight this hard since . . . well . . . . that fight.

But having repeated this song and dance a hundred times already, Dream knew something about Nightmare was off. Maybe it was the way he treated his arrows like they were bugs in the wind? Or his constant attempts to trip him up and grab him with his tendrils? Or perhaps it was the odd glint in his eyelight when he looked at Dream that he found so off putting?

Dream wasn’t exactly scared of his brother, but he did feel a bit . . . nervous about this subtle change in him.

Unfortunately, Dream was too occupied with the other’s relentless attacks to worry about it further. After barely missing a hit from his tentacles, Dream fired more arrows after them. They hit their mark, but Nightmare didn’t even flinch. Dream began to panic. While Nightmare showed no signs of fatigue, Dream felt very drained from expanding so much magic while having to constantly side-stepping his brother’s. He desperately needed a break. If not, he would soon slip up, resulting in another bruise or worse.

Switching out his bow for his golden staff, he took a defensive pose and faced Nightmare, quickly wiping away the sweat dripping down.

"Tired of fighting yet?” He shouted breathlessly.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” said Nightmare, throwing more shards at him as several tentacles followed behind.

Dream deflected the attacks without much struggle. However, one of the tentacles was bold enough to wrap itself around his weapon. He channeled his magic into the staff, causing the tendril's ooze to hiss and steam. It slithered back to its owner, who didn’t hide his grimace in time. Dream enhanced his positive aura around him, feeling relieved that Nightmare could still feel pain to some capacity.

“I don’t understand. Why did you attack this AU? You’ve already destroyed four this week,” Dream said, his countenance darkening at the thought of the lives they didn’t save.

“And I’ll destroy this one as soon as I’m finished with you,” his brother growled, disappearing into his shadow.

Dream whisked around right as another wave of tarry fragments was about to hit him and blocked them. This time, Nightmare didn’t risk trying to grab him or his staff. But although the shield of magic protected him, Dream couldn’t hold it for much longer if he kept fighting like this. So with no other choice, he resorted to the only tactic he knew would get Nightmare to talk to him.

Lowering his staff, Dream held out his hand. “Nightmare, please . . . we don’t have to keep fighting like this, brother.”

As he’d hoped, Nightmare relaxed a little and rolled his eyelight.

“Oh for the love of- Just give it up already, Dream,” he groaned.

Nightmare should have known Dream would pull the ’pwease stop being evil bwother’ card. He only tried that pointless old speech on him when he knew he was losing. And it was obvious from his panting and sweating that his brother was reaching his limits. Nightmare couldn’t let himself get distracted when he was this close to beating him.

“I won’t. I know you’re still in there Nightmare. You just have to fight it. I’m not giving up on you!” Dream continued stubbornly.

Nightmare inwardly sighed.

Ah yes, there was that self-righteous promise he always made, not knowing he’d already broken it. Along with his foolish idea that Nightmare, the weak, helpless version of himself, was trapped under the tarry corruption. Because good little Dream couldn’t accept the monster his brother had become. Well, Nightmare didn’t need his acceptance anymore- not when he had his boys.

“Well then, why don’t you come and get him,” he said, swiping with a tentacle at him.

Dream grunted and slammed it into the snow with surprising force. He breathed heavily, slouching his shoulders while more sweat beaded on his skull. Although Dream was getting weaker with each attack, Nightmare still couldn’t land a hit on him. He needed to lower his guard. And as much as he hated to admit it, playing along with his brother’s charade would do just that.

After a moment, Dream choked out, “if. . . if you would just stop fighting me . . . then I could help you! No more fighting, no more hurting innocent worlds, no more pain. Don’t you want that? Don’t . . . don’t you want to be happy again?”

Nightmare bristled. He was happy, thank you very much.

Alright, so maybe in the early days of his corrupted form, he was less than content. But after years of adjusting to his new life and putting together a rag-tag family that actually cared for him- he was now happier than he ever was prior to taking the apple. Not that Dream was capable of understanding that.

“Don’t pretend you care about what I want, Dream- you don’t even know what I want. You’re just saying this because it’s what you want,” Nightmare hissed, inching a few steps closer.

“That’s not true,” Dream said, hiding the wince at his brother’s bitterness. “All I want is for you to be happy! I’ve forgiven you for all the AU’s you’ve destroyed. I know you can’t help it- the corruption forces you to. This is all its fault! Please Night, just . . . just come home with me. We can figure this out together. We can go back to how things were before.”

Nightmare glowered. “No, we can’t. Monsters change, Dream- I’ve changed. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

Dream scowled back.

Him? Nightmare was the one who didn’t understand. Why couldn’t he see how much Dream still cared about him? How he lied awake every night missing him. How he was willing to do literally anything if it meant getting his brother back from this . . . this . . this soulless monstrosity. How even after having this conversation repeatedly and never reaching his brother in the end, he wouldn’t give it up. He couldn’t. And he was determined to keep trying.

“You’re right, monsters do change,” Dream nodded, tightening the grip on his staff. “So why don’t you change for the better? I know you can do it.”

“You don’t know anything,” his twin spat, taking another step.

“Then tell me! What don’t I know?” Dream yelled, throwing his arms wide open in exasperation.

Suddenly, Nightmare shot a tentacle at him and sent Dream careening into the snow, knocking the wind out of him. He started to stand, but the tentacle coiled around his shoulders and lifted him into the air. The negative magic sunk it’s icy fangs into his bones, making him shiver as he struggled to get free. He tried concentrating on his positive aura again, but the pain made it hard to focus.

“You don’t know when to shut up,” Nightmare said, carrying his squirming target over to him.

“Let me go, Nightmare!” He grunted, mentally cursing himself for making such a stupid mistake.

The goopy monster sighed. “Fine, fine if you insist.”

Dream blinked- was his exhaustion making him delerious?

He eyed the other warily. “Uh . . . r-really?”

“Sure,” Nightmare shrugged, before turning away.

While he got immense satisfaction out of watching Dream flail helplessly in his grasp, the scalding hot pain he felt holding him considerably diluted it. Fortunately for Nightmare, he had the solution to that pesky problem tucked safely in his jacket. He just needed to move Dream somewhere a little more convient first. Stretching out his hand, he activated his magic to summon a portal to his domain.

Dream stared anxiously at the dark, foreboding magic swirling in front of them

“What are you doing? I thought you said you were going to let me go?”

“Oh, don't worry, I am,” Nightmare grinned smugly. "See you soon."

Dream’s sockets widened.

“No, wait-” he yelped, but Nightmare didn’t let him finish.

He screamed as his brother's appendage threw him at the portal that led to only stars-knew-where. Dream braced himself in the precious few seconds he had before he sailed through to the otherside. Nightmare closed it, now satisfied that his prisoner was now safely secured. He was tempted to follow after him and get the job over with, but he couldn’t leave his boys behind.

Nightmare raced over the snow and zigzagged between the trees, following the battle noise of blasters and bone attacks until he found the clearing again. He stopped short and quickly surveyed the ongoing fight. Cross and Blue were a blur of swinging blows, while Dust and Killer had Ink cornered against a tree. As for Horror, he was a little ways from the others, lying curled up on the ground. Nightmare’s breath hitched.

He wasn’t moving.

In an instant, Nightmare was at the skeleton’s side and bending over him. He grabbed and turned him on his back, causing Horror to groan and weakly cough. He was still alive. Nightmare heaved a sigh, releasing the tension from his shoulders.

“Are you okay Horror? Are you wounded? Where does it hurt?” He asked, trying to stay calm as he checked for an injury. He then found it- a crack running entirely through his left tibia. Already the area around it was starting to flake dust. He would lose the bone if it wasn’t healed soon.

Horror’s fuzzy eyelight glanced at the wound, then back up at him.

“It’s . . . fine,” he wheezed.

Nightmare’s worried expression hardened. "No, it’s not."

He stood up and used his tentacles to lift the skeleton into his arms, being extra careful not to jostle the leg. Horror let out a shaky breath, his eyelight rolling into the back of his head as his sockets fluttered shut. It took every bit of Nightmare's self control to not portal back to the hideout right away. Instead, he turned to the five other skeletons still fighting each other.

“Cross, Killer, Dust- it’s time to leave. Now!” He shouted, masking his concern with the anger he felt at the Star Sans for hurting Horror.

Killer stopped and sprinted over to him while Dust blocked Ink’s attack. The black-eyed skeleton came up and held his arms out to take Horror. Nightmare gently shifted the unconscious skeleton into the other’s trust-worthy hold. Dust hurried over (now that he’d successfully knocked Ink’s brush into the forest) and joined the trio. Within seconds, another dark swirling portal formed beside them.

“Go,” said Nightmare.

The two nodded wordlessly and stepped through the gateway. Only then did Nightmare notice that Cross was missing. He swiveled to see the youngest Dark Sans still furiously engaged with Blue.

“Cross!”

The skeleton hesitated a moment. Then after knocking Blue onto his back, he dashed over to Nightmare. He didn’t slow when he reached the negative guardian and ran right through the portal. Nightmare started to follow, but stopped to glance behind him in time to see Ink rush over to Blue and help his teammate to his feet.

As much as Nightmare hated letting the Star Sanses win, they could have this AU for all he cared. He’ll come back to destroy it eventually. For now, he has more important business to attend to. He stepped through his portal, closing it behind him and walking briskly across the room.

“How is he?” He asked, his tendrils twitching back and forth.

“He’ll be alright,” said Dust.

Nightmare didn’t respond. He quickly scanned the rest of his boys and saw that they were unharmed aside from a few scratches. They huddled around the narrow medical table Horror was lying out on and were busily helping him. Killer and Dust had their hands hoovered over his leg, expending what little healing magic they had into it, while Cross inspected him for other injuries they might have missed.

Killer stopped and looked up to see their anxious leader still standing there.

“He’s fine, Nightmare, don’t worry. We got this,” he asserted.

Nightmare nodded. Although Horror’s injury was more extreme than usual, his boys were used to patching each other up after a fight. They could handle healing Horror without him.

“In that case, I’ll go pay our guest a visit,” he said, melting into shadow.

_______________________________________

Dream didn’t know what awaited him on the other side of the portal, but solid rock wasn’t something he expected to face plant into. He would have assumed he slammed head-first into a wall if his body wasn’t sprawled out. Although, the fact that he was on the floor didn’t make it hurt any less. And it hurt a lot. But he couldn’t think about the pain now. He had to get up- he had to fight!

It was easier said than done, though. His head was still spinning from the impact as he gingerly pushed himself to his knees. He groaned and cradled his head, blinking rapidly. The dizziness lessened, allowing him to see. Three walls made entirely from the same stone as the floor surrounded him. To his left was a door of rust-colored bars, and beyond it another cell identical to his. The flaming torches outside the door dimly lit up the cell. Dream scrambled to his feet, only to look and see that he was alone.

Where . . . where was Nightmare? Had he not followed after him? Why had he thrown him in here then? And where even was here? Dream not knowing the answers to his alarming questions let him feeling uneasy. Sure, he was used to Nightmare’s unpredictability at this point, but his behavior today had been so strange, even for him. The memory of his brother’s unusually wide grin flickered in his mind. Dream shuddered. If Nightmare’s cryptic last words meant anything, it was that he needed to leave and fast. Unwrapping his arms from around himself, he summoned his portal home.

Only he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Dream frowned and tried again, only to be met with the same resistance as before.

“Ugh, come on, work!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

There was something blocking his connection. Unlike coded-based portals which needed a certain code or ‘key’ to open, his portals latched onto the positive emotions of an AU, creating a ‘bridge’. But for whatever reason, something was emotionally overpowering his magic, cutting off his access to it. Something . . . like a barricade of sheer negativity surrounding this AU, locking him from the inside- courtesy of his brother.

Dream let his magic dissipate and glanced at the cell door.

“Alright, guess I’ll have to try plan B,” he gulped.

His footsteps echoed ominously as he walked. He gripped the iron bars and looked out, feeling slightly better from at the increase of light. The darkness was . . . unsettling. He hadn’t hated it very much when he was young- not with Nightmare there beside him. But now things were different. And one of those things being that he slept with a nightlight. However, the eerie glow of the torches lining the hallway weren’t nearly as comforting as the stars on his bedroom ceiling.

He tried pushing the door open. Like he anticipated, it didn’t budge. Still, Dream’s panic spiked as he realised he was trapped in this creator-forsaken AU and in this dingy cell. He breathed deeply, trying not to hyperventilate. His nerves calmed a little, at least enough to let him think clearly. He knew he needed to get out, but even if he did, he had no idea where the exit was or how he could leave the AU. Nightmare would be sure to find him if he didn’t.

Dream shook the thought from his head and focused on the door again. Summoning his staff, he swung at the lock. The ancient contraption was no match for his blows and once he had smashed it enough, he pushed the door again. This time it moved outward with a loud, creaky swing. Dream waited until the creepy noise stopped reverberating off the walls and looked out. There was no one here, not even guards or something. Just identical hallways on either side of him, each lined with more cells and torches.

The guardian hesitated, clutching his staff to his chest. What should he do now? And which way was the exit? Was there even an exit? What if he couldn’t-

“Leaving so soon?”

Dream jolted, spinning around with his staff outstretched to defend himself.

But Nightmare didn’t attack. He just stood there . . . menacingly. His eyelight glowed in the darkness, illuminating his wide grin and casting shadows on his towering tentacles. Somehow, he seemed even bigger and blacker than normal. Dream didn’t need his brother’s ability to feel a monster’s ill-intent to know he was in danger. Still, swallowing his apprehension, Dream countered the other's deranged smile with a forced glare of his own.

“What’s going on, Nightmare? Why did you bring me here? Where am I?”

“This is my home,” he said, his eyelight gleaming.

Nightmare chuckled darkly as Dream’s sockets widened with the fear he was trying so hard to conceal. He could easily force him to drink the potion now, but he was in no rush. There was nothing his brother could do now to stop him. What’s more, he wanted Dream to feel the same powerlessness and fear he’d once felt before he met his inevitable fate.

“What? Don’t like what I’ve done with the place?” Nightmare asked, a hand placed over his wounded soul.

His twin’s expression snapped back into a glare. “Stop playing with me and give me a straight answer! Why am I here?”

“You’re here because karma has finally caught up to you, Dream . . .” Nightmare said, taking a slow step forward, then another and another.

Dream’s staff began to shake. His instincts screamed at him to run, but he stayed rooted to the spot. Nightmare would have captured him anyway. His only option left was to fight, but he didn’t have the strength to win this unfair match. Dream couldn’t even get his voice to work anymore. He felt trapped within his own body again.

Nightmare stopped a foot from Dream, tilting his head up while he sneered down at him.

“. . . and it’s time. You. P A I D.”

Two tentacles circled around Dream's body from both sides, pinning his arms to his chest and rendering his staff useless. He hung limply in Nightmare's grasp as he was lifted off the ground. The negative magic chilled him to his core, but he ignored it. Now that Nightmare had made his move, his voice came back.

“Oh . . . oh yeah? What are you gonna do?” He asked, trying to sound angry and failing.

“I’m so glad you asked,” said Nightmare, pulling out the vial.

Dream’s cheekbones paled as he stared at it. “What . . . what is that?”

“Oh, it’s just a simple magic suppressor,” He said as he shook the liquid.

“Magic suppressor!? Nightmare, are you serious? I can’t drink that! Who knows what it could do to me! I can’t-”

“Tch’, stop being such a babybones, Dream. It won’t hurt you. Sci said there was only enough here to suppress that stupid magic of yours. Then we can spend some real quality time together. Didn’t you want that, brother?”

“U-um, I . . I changed my mind,” he said, starting to struggle a little. “Look, can’t we just talk this out and-”

Nightmare shook his head. “Sorry Dream, but you had your little “talk” already. Now, we’re going to do things my way.”

He uncorked the potion and wrapped a tentacle around it. Since Dream wouldn’t willingly drink it, he directed a fourth one to wrap around his skull, placing the tip in the corner of his mouth and pulling back the malyable bone. Nightmare slowly lifted the fizzing liquid toward the gap, keeping it in his twin's line of sight. Dream tried to jerk his head free, but the tentacle wouldn’t budge.

“N-no, no wait, wait Nightmare, stop please- please I! I- Don’t! S-stop!” He whimpered, his soul humming louder as the vial came closer and closer.

Nightmar tipped the tube. “Drink up, Dream~”

The chalky substance slipped past Dream’s teeth and his magic immediately absorbed it into his system. The ten seconds it took to empty the vial were pure agony, but it was nothing compared to the shockwave of pain that followed. It felt like something was squeezing him body and soul. He shut his eyes as the constricting sensation became unbearable. He gasped for air, but was unable to breathe it in. He was going to pass out!

Nightmare’s grin grew as he watched the potion take effect. He could already feel his brother’s burning aura lessening. His tentacles just felt . . . warm. Almost comfortably so. That sociopathic scientist’s potion had actually worked! Finally, he could make Dream pay for the pain he caused him all those years ago. He could have the catharsis he had been denied for so long. He could-

“Nightmare? Nightmare, are you- oh! Nightmare! There you are,” Cross shouted before suddenly running into the cell.

“What is it, Cross? Can’t you see I’m busy?” he snapped.

The skeleton nodded hastily, fidgeting nervously with his hands. “Yeah, I know, I know . . . but it’s Horror! They couldn’t finish healing his leg and we’re out of monster candy! It'll dust if we don't do something.”

“Alright, Cross, calm down. I’m coming,” Nightmare sighed, massaging his forehead.

Setting Dream on the ground, he walked over to Cross and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He glanced back at his motionless brother before teleporting in a spiral of shadow. A moment later the two of them were both once again in the treatment room. Horror was still passed out on the table, with Dust and Killer standing on either side of him.

“I thought I told you to leave Nightmare alone,” said Killer, giving Cross a dirty look.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Cross yelled back, following after Nightmare. “I had to do something before Horror became a pile of dust thanks to you.”

The older skeleton frowned. “Horror isn’t going to dust, you idiot. Besides, it’s not my fault you can’t heal.”

“That’s enough,” Nightmare said, giving them a warning glare.

Turning his back on the bickering pair, he looked down at Horror and carefully examined the partially healed wound. He found to his great relief that Killer was right- it would probably scar, but it wouldn’t dust the skeleton. Still, Nightmare didn’t blame Cross for being concerned about Horror, even if his paranoia was unfounded. Better to heal it now rather than later.

Nightmare hovered a glowing hand over the injury. Unlike his boy’s healing magic, his was unlimited, albeit a bit unpleasant for the recipient. But despite his healing abilities being tainted by his freezing negativity, it still did the job. After a few tense seconds, the crack sealed itself, leaving only a hairline fracture in its place. As Nightmare pulled his hand away, Horror stirred and gradually opened his sockets. His eyelight wavered unsteadily before focusing on the dark skeleton over him. Nightmare smiled and gently rubbed the back of his head.

“How do you feel?” he asked with a softness reserved only for his boys.

“Mm . . . okay . . . I think,” Horror mumbled hazily, his eye sockets closing again as he relaxed under Nightmare’s comforting touch.

“That’s good. Still, you need to rest,” he said, then looked over at Killer. “You’re in charge of dinner for tonight.”

“Ughhh,” Cross whined, slumping his shoulders.

“Cross, you’re in charge of watching Horror. See to it that he rests and don’t let him in the kitchen for anything.”

The monochrome skeleton stood up straight. “Got it.”

“And Dust, make a note to stock up on monster candy next time we run some errands.”

“Done,” Dust said, closing one eyesocket.

Nightmare nodded, satisfied he'd taken care of everything.

“Alright then. If you boys need me for anything else, you know where I am,” He said and teleported before any of the boys could reply.

Reappearing back in the cell doorway, Nightmare smirked and clenched his fists.

With no more foreseeable interruptions, it was time to take his revenge. What should he do first? Chain Dream up to a wall and isolate him for a day or two? Or should he take advantage of the potion by physically beating him up and then chaining him? But before he could do any of that, he needed Dream to be conscious. Nightmare looked down at his twin.

He . . .

. . . He was gone.

Nightmare gazed at the empty room, his tendrils writhing in the air behind him.

He had only left for a minute at the most. Dream couldn’t have gotten far in that time, especially since he couldn’t teleport now. Finding him would be child’s play. In fact, Nightmare would use this little hiccup to terrorize his twin even more. Oh yes . . . he would find Dream, and when he did, he would snuff out the torch lights one by one. Maybe even give the air a certain chill- the one that runs down your spine. Then, as soon as Dream had his back turned, he’d grab him by the ankles and then he’d-

“Hello."

Nightmare froze.

That . . . that voice. That soft, high pitched voice.

He knew that voice.

He heard it in every ̶d̶r̶e̶a̶m̶ nightmare and in every buried memory he wished he could forget. It sounded more real than he remembered. In fact, it sounded like it was right behind him. But that was . . . that was impossible. That voice was nothing more than a ghost of the past. Perhaps his stress was getting to him and he was hearing things again? Nightmare was sure he-

A small cough broke his train of thought.

"Hello? Can you hear me?”

Oh, Nightmare could hear him alright. His voice was the only thing he heard. And ghost or not, it made his magic ripple throughout him on instinct, sharpening the tips of his tentacles and readying them to attack. The owner of the voice quietly gasped. He felt their fear spike and before they had a chance to run, Nightmare spun around with his tendrils poised to catch them.

Only for all four of them to drop to the floor when he saw him.

The skeleton was small and short, just barely reaching Nightmare’s hip. His tiny yellow fists were clenched against his chest, contrasting with the bright blue shirt Nightmare thought he’d never see again. Under the blemish-free crown on is head, two big golden eyelights in wide sockets were staring up at him.

Nightmare’s razor thin eyelight stared back in disbelief.

“Dr . . . Dream?”

Chapter Text

Dream groaned and curled into a tight ball.

Everything hurt. He was so tired and sore, like he had played tag all day long. A funny, yucky taste in his mouth made him feel sick. And his head really, really hurt. The only time he could remember it hurting this badly was when he fell out of their tree once. But he couldn’t remember why it was hurting now. He couldn’t remember anything. He tried thinking really hard, but it only made his head feel worse. Dream reached his hands out to Nightmare to comfort him.

“Niiightyyyy . . .”

His twin didn’t answer. That was weird. And Dream couldn’t feel him beside him either- just the ground, which felt cold and hard for some reason. Dream slowly sat up and rubbed his sockets open.

“Nighty?”

He looked all around him, but he didn’t see his brother anywhere. He saw only rock. Lots and lots of rock. Dream thought that maybe he was in a villager’s house, but those were made of wood, not rock. This must be some new place. A place that was small, and dark, and really cold (but not the nice kind of cold). And the air . . . it felt all stuffy and wrong. Dream shivered. He hated this new place. He wanted to go back home to their tree. He wanted Nightmare.

Dream shakily stood up and stumbled a little. He felt really dizzy, but most of the bad pain was gone now. Only his head hurt a little. He closed his sockets and tried to remember what he was doing before he woke up and where Nightmare was, but he couldn’t. All he saw was a bright, white light. It made his head hurt so he stopped and looked outside.

All he could see was more walls made of rock. Even with the light, it still looked dark and scary. But Dream was brave! And he knew that if he was here, then Nightmare must be here too. His brother would never leave him. So holding his head high, he walked very bravely through the door and into the hall. He stood and looked both ways. More dark rooms and torches, but no brother.

“Nightmare? Nightmare, where are you?” he called out

Dream listened, but all he heard was the echo of his own voice.

He swallowed hard. Maybe . . . maybe Nightmare was asleep? Like he was a minute ago? That must be why his brother didn’t hear him. But that’s okay, because he will go and find him! In the scary darkness. Alone. B-but Dream wasn’t scared! He was just standing here still because he wasn’t sure which way to go- the right or the left? He himself was right handed, but Nightmare was left handed, so maybe he should-

WHOOSH

Dream jumped and twirled towards the sound. A monster he’d never seen before was standing in the small room. It sorta looked like a skeleton, but it was all black and slimy and had long, weird tail thingies on its back. Dream tilted his head to the side, but he couldn’t see it’s face. Did it know that he had been in there? Was it looking for him? Maybe if this monster knew where he was, then it knew where Nightmare was too!

“Hello,” He greeted it politely.

The monster didn’t say “hello” back. It just stood there. Even the wiggling tail things stopped moving. Dream’s smile faltered as the monster stayed silent. Did . . . did it not hear him? Dream was sure it had. Was it too shy to talk to him? Maybe he just needed to speak louder! Dream cleared his throat with a small cough.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

It didn’t answer him, but the slimy tails started moving again. The ends turned pointy and the air felt even colder all of a sudden. He felt a little chill go through him and shuddered. Dream had a very bad feeling about this monster. He needed to get away! Dream took a step backwards and gasped when he bumped into the metal bars behind him. His eyelights darted side to side frantically. Which way should he go!?

But right as Dream was about to run, the monster turned around. The angry face changed and looked shocked and all it’s tails fell to the ground. His sockets widened. It was a skeleton! Dream thought he and Nightmare were the only skeleton monsters. Where did this one come from? And why did it only have one eye socket? Dream wasn’t sure he could trust it, even if it was a skeleton, and shrunk back as the monster stretched a hand toward him.

“Dr . . . Dream?”

Dream stared at him, confused. “You . . . you know my name?” When the monster didn’t reply, he added, “do . . . do you know my brother too? Nightmare?”

The skeleton’s eyelight looked all fuzzy, just like Nightmare’s did when he was thinking too much.

“Your . . . brother . . .” he said.

Dream nodded and relaxed a little. “Yes, yes he’s my brother! Do you know where he is? Can you help me find him?”

Nightmare said nothing.

He couldn’t think of anything to say. And even if he could, his mouth felt so dry he doubted he’d be able to croak it out. Nightmare stared at the child before him, then squeezed his socket shut, hoping it would make the apparition disappear. But when he looked, Dream was still there, staring up at him with a stupid, small smile.

No, this . . . this wasn’t actually Dream.

That was impossible! He couldn’t . . . there was no way what he was seeing was real. It had to be a nightmare, or a hallucination, or something. Nothing in the entire multiverse could be as bizarre and as crazy as this. Nightmare had to be hallucinating. He had to be.

But then . . . how come this hallucination felt so real?

And not just in how Dream sounded and looked. No, what felt baffling real were the emotions Nightmare sensed in the young skeleton. His confusion, his fear of him, his concern for his brother, his naive hope despite his growing panic. Nightmare could feel these emotions radiating from Dream as clearly as he felt his own.

He never felt emotions from his hallucinations.

But if Dream wasn’t a hallucination, then . . . how? Of course, Nightmare knew it was the potion, obviously. But how had Sci concocted something capable of turning his immortal brother into a child? Nightmare pushed the question aside with the rest of his jumbled thoughts and focused instead on the small skeleton in front of him.

This Dream clearly didn’t recognize him. Which wasn’t surprising, since the apple incident hasn’t occurred yet for this younger version of his brother. That . . . complicated matters. What was he even supposed to tell him? Surely explaining what happened and who he was the simplest choice? Besides, he had no reason to keep the truth from him. So Nightmare steeled himself and looked straight into his brother’s innocent, hopeful eyelights.

“Dream, your brother is- . . . your . . . your brother is-”

Nightmare stopped, hanging his head and staring hard at the cobblestone floor.

He couldn’t do it.

He didn’t know why. It’s not like he cared how Dream would react. He didn’t care how finding out that his brother had failed to protect their tree, killed all the villagers, and then almost killed him would affect Dream. Nope. He didn’t care at all. He just couldn't. . . say the words. Like something buried in his blackened core was pulling on his soul and holding him back. Nightmare frowned and sighed deeply.

“Your brother is gone,” he said, looking up in time to see the hope die in the tiny skeleton’s eyelights.

“What . . What do you mean he's gone?” Dream asked hesitantly. “Where's Nightmare? He’s here, isn’t he?”

“No, he’s not!” he snapped. “Nightmare is gone.”

Dream’s fists shook as he shouted back, “you . . . you’re lying! I don’t believe you! Nightmare IS here! I know he is! He . . he wouldn’t leave me. I’m going to find him!”

Dream ran down the corridor as fast as he could, ignoring how much the hard rock hurt his feet. He didn’t care what this scary monster who knew his name told him- it wasn’t true! Nightmare wasn’t gone. He was here! He had to be. Dream would find him. It was just like playing hide-and-seek in the woods, but in a big stone house with creepy rooms.

Nightmare blinked and realised a second too late that his brother had bolted.

“Dream, stop! Get back here” he yelled f̶r̶a̶n̶t̶i̶c̶a̶l̶l̶y firmly.

But of course Dream didn’t stop. Grumbling under his breath, Nightmare shot a tentacle after the child and grabbed him securely around the rib cage.

“No, Let go! Put me down, put me down! I have to find him!” he shrieked, kicking the air and pounding his tiny fists on the tendril.

Dream’s new and noticeably solid form weighed practically nothing compared to when he was an adult, and he easily carried Dream over to him despite his brother’s protests. Nightmare kept his grip on his hysterical brother and held him out at arms length.

“If you don’t calm down right now Dream, I’ll make you,” he said sternly.

“No! Let me go!” Dream grunted, struggling to get the slimy black thing off, but it was no use.

Cupping his hands, he screamed, “Nightmare! Brother!? BROTHER WHERE ARE YOU!? NIGHTMAR-MMMPH!!!”

“I warned you,” Nightmare said, muffeling Dream’s insufferable screaming with a tentacle. “Now be quiet or else I’ll-”

A buzz of teleportation magic interrupted him and he turned to see Cross now standing a few feet in front of him. His hack knife was raised and ready to attack, while his red-and-white eyelights immediately fixated on Nightmare.

“I heard shouting. Is everything okay Ni-”

“What are you doing here?” Nightmare hissed, cutting him off before he could say his name. “Why aren’t you watching Horror? I told you to stay with him.”

“I was, I swear! But then I heard yelling and thought it might be a Star Sans attacking or something, so I came to help,” he said, lowering his weapon.

“Everything is fine. Go back to Horror and- GYAH!”

Nightmare jumped at the unexpected sting of pain, while his tentacle yanked itself out of Dream’s mouth and slithered itself safely behind him.

"You bit me!?" Nightmare shouted furiously.

Dream didn’t answer him. Instead, he wiped the nasty ooze off his teeth and glanced over at the new monster. He looked like the scary skeleton holding him, but he was black and white and had two eye sockets like Dream did. His super huge knife was kinda scary, but he didn’t sound as mean as the black skeleton. Dream stretched his hands out to him.

“N-no, please, don’t go! Help me, p-please! I need to find Nightmare, he’s m-my brother, I need to-”

“-You need to stop talking!” Nightmare growled, shaking a finger at him.

Dream cowered and stopped stammering, but kept his pleading eyelights fixed on Cross.

The monochrome skeleton eyed the child then turned to Nightmare. “Wait . . . what the hel- i mean- heck is going on Nigh-

“-Boss.” Nightmare corrected.

“Uh, Boss, right. What’s happening and who the heck is that!?” he asked, pointing his blade at Dream.

Nightmare sighed, running his hand over his socket and down his cheek. He had hoped none of his boys would find out about this little problem before he had a chance to fix it, but that wasn’t possible now. Cross was already too suspicious of Dream to buy any lie he could come up with.

“Cross, this is Dream. Dream, this is Cross,” said Nightmare, folding his arms.

Cross stared wide-eyed at Dream. Then at Nightmare. Then back at Dream.

“No way! You’re joking, right? This is Dream!? Why in the multiverse is he like that? I thought you said Sci-”

"I know what I said! Now would you two please calm down for two minutes and let me explain?” said Nightmare, his tendrils ready to punch a hole in the stone wall if one more word came out of either skeleton.

For the first time in five minutes, the corridor was completely silent.

With no one screaming his name or bombarding him with questions, Nightmare could finally think straight. He glanced at the confused Cross, then at his anxious brother. He stared at the latter’s quivering eyelights and felt that strange tug on his soul once again.

Why? Why couldn’t he just say what he wanted to say?

Nightmare inhaled slowly.

Hopefully he was still as good a story teller as Dream said he was back when they- well, he was a kid.

“Alright, here’s what happened. I was traveling, far, far away from here when I stopped at a village I found. I heard from the inhabitants that there was a special tree on a hill that grew magical apples. But when I arrived at the tree, I saw the villagers had attacked it. They cut it down, intending to take the fruit for themselves, but the apples were destroyed in the process and-”

“NO!” his brother blurted out defiantly. “That’s- that’s a lie! The villagers- they are nice people! They would never do that to our tree!”

“Well, you’re wrong, because that’s exactly what they did,” he snarled.

Dream flinched. “But- but, Nighty and I, we guarded it! We-”

“-You what? You would have stopped them? Fought back?” He spat, before remembering this Dream didn’t remember what really happened and forced himself to calm down.

“Well . . you tried,” he said after a pause, “but one of them hit you on the head and you fell unconscious. And it’s not like your brother could fight off a mob of villagers all by himself. They eventually destroyed everything. But when they saw the apples weren’t good anymore, they decided to take Nightmare instead and . . . just disappeared. They left you behind thinking you were dead, so I took you home with me.”

“But why- what about Nightmare? Where did he go? Can’t you find him? Can- Can’t you go get him?” asked Dream.

“No. I don’t know where the villagers took him or how to find them. Your brother is gone, and that’s final,” he said.

“Nighty . . . Nighty is g-gone?” Dream repeated, his voice breaking.

Nightmare didn’t respond.

He glanced over at Cross, his eye sockets brimming with tears. “He . . . h-he’s lying. Right? It’s . . it not t-true, is it?”

Cross averted his eyelights and studied the tip of his blade.

Dream sniffed and rubbed his tightly shut sockets.

“No . . no he’s n-not . . he can’t b-be gone-he c-can’t be. He’s not- he’s not- he’s n-not- he . . .” Dream trailed off, his blubbering devolving into all-out bawling.

As the golden tears poured from Dream’s sockets, a wave of negative emotions poured out from his soul and rushed into Nightmare. Grief, despair, fear- all common emotions he’d felt a hundred times before from the hundreds of AU’s he’s destroyed. His magic aura latched on to them and drew it’s dark, wispy energy into his core, giving him a taste of their power. And for the first time in Nightmare’s life, it tasted bitter.

He wasn’t sure why.

This is what he wanted, right? To wipe the grin off his stupid face. To break his brother, the “guardian” of positivity, down into choking, sniveling sobs. To inflict the same painful feelings that he had endured thanks to Dream. Nightmare should feel satisfied now he has achieved his goal. But as weak, vulnerable little Dream continued wailing pitifully over the supposed loss of his twin, the only thing he felt was . . . frustrated.

Cross let his blade fizzle out of existence and stepped forward. “Ni- um, Boss, shouldn’t we do something about this?”

“You’re right. Here, take him,” said Nightmare, pushing Dream into the skeleton’s chest.

“Wha- Why do I have to hold him!?” Cross cried, awkwardly supporting the trembling child in his arms. Dream clutched his white jacket and buried his wet face into the fur of his hood. Cross grimaced with disgust, but at least it muffled Dream’s crying a bit.

“Because I’m going to have a little chat with Sci so we can fix this,” said Nightmare.

“But- what about the plan?”

“Forget the plan! That plan is ruined now, so here’s the new one. You take Dream to your room and get him to calm down. I don’t want the others finding out about any of this yet. And don’t leave until I return. Understand?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Cross huffed.

Nightmare nodded back. He summoned his portal and left without another word, his magic collapsing behind him. Cross stood for a moment in the empty corridor and shuffled Dream more comfortably onto his shoulder (not that it made much of a difference). His sobbing sounded even louder now that he was right next to his ear canal. Cross sighed heavily.

“Guess I’m stuck babysitting again,” he mumbled.

Since carrying a sobbing child through the castle wasn’t currently an option, he teleported straight into his messy room. It’s the farthest from the other bedrooms, so hopefully the guys wouldn’t be able to hear Dream’s crying from here. Cross carefully stepped over piles of indiscernible trash and discarded towels and plopped down on his unmade bed. Dream didn’t react to his movement at all- he just kept sobbing and hiccuping into the now damp hoodie.

Cross didn’t know what to do. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around it all.

Just a minute ago he was relaxing and watching a movie with Horror in the living room, and now he’s in his bedroom with Dream- the positive guardian and one of the gang’s most powerful enemies- literally crying in his arms like a toddler. It was just too fast and too weird for him to process. And it didn’t help that Dream’s incessant noise was grating on his nerves. He wanted him to stop, but he didn’t know the first thing about consoling a child, much less this one.

Still, he should at least try. The guys would hear him eventually if Cross couldn’t get Dream to stop crying anyway. He hesitated for a second, then moved one of his hands to Dream’s back and started stiffly patting him in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“Hey, um, Dream . . .it’s . . it’s alright. Just, uh, calm down, okay? Everything is fine now.”

Dream turned his head to the side and sobbed, “I -hic- . . . I w-waaa-hic-aaant nigh-hic-ightyyyyy-hic- I want- I w-wannaaa go-hic-goo hoooomeee-hic-”

Cross winced. “You can’t go home, Dream. You have to stay here.”

Dream pressed his face against him again and cried even harder.

The skeleton sighed and stopped patting him. Of course talking only made him feel worse. Maybe he should wait for Dream to get it all out of his system? He’d been heavily sobbing for a couple of minutes now, so he would run out of energy and tears soon, right? But if he didn’t, then that would increase the risk of him getting discovered. Guess it was time for his back up plan. Cross scooted over to a pillow and started to pry him off.

“n-n-nooo-hic-ooo don’t -hic- d-don’t g-gooo,” Dream whined as he desperately clung to him.

“No, no, it’s okay, Dream. I’m not going anywhere,” Cross said hastily, gently pulling his hands away

Dream was no match for Cross’s strength and relented, latching instead to the pillow as soon as he felt it under him. Cross rubbed his sore neck and stretched it. His pillow would be soaked with Dream's tears, but better it than him. Reaching over and opening his nightstand drawer, he grabbed something that he was sure would help Dream feel better (or at least stop crying).

“Look Dream, I've got some chocolate. Do you want some?” Cross asked, holding the bar out to him.

“‘m not-n-not-hic hu- hungryy-y,” came Dream's muffled gasps.

Cross unwrapped it and snapped off a small piece. “Come on, Dream, just a little? You’ll feel better if you eat some. Please?”

Dream lifted his head and wiped his sockets before opening them slowly. He squinted at the bright light and looked around. This room looked a lot less scary than the other place, but it was still different from his home. He also realised that the mean, scary skeleton was gone too. That made Dream relax a little.

He gazed up at the nicer one beside him. The food in his hand looked strange and he didn’t feel like eating it at all. But the skeleton really wanted him to take it, and Dream didn’t want him to get upset at him if he said no. So he sat up on his knees, took the food, and started nibbling on it. It tasted . . . sweet! And kinda milky. Dream liked the taste, but he didn’t smile. He couldn’t.

“See? Don’t you feel better now?” said Cross, grinning at Dream as he broke off another chunk of chocolate.

Dream shook his head no and numbly reached for the second piece.

Cross frowned as he watched the child chew on it. Sure, Dream was much quieter now that he was eating, but he looked ready to burst into tears at any moment now. After he finished eating it, Cross shoved him the entire chocolate bar into his hands.

“Here, you can have the rest,” he said cheerfully.

Dream stared at it but his vision was getting blurry again. He didn’t want chocolate. He didn’t want any food. He just wanted his brother. He wanted to go back to their tree. But there was no tree or brother to go back to anymore. Dream had failed. He had failed to guard the tree. He had failed to protect brother. He’d failed Nightmare.

“It’s -sniff- it’s all- all my- m-my -sniff- fault,” he wailed, the tears now steadily streaming again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t blame yourself! It’s not your fault,” said Cross, placing a hand on his shoulder in the hopes of calming him.

Dream leaned into the contact and curled into his lap, dropping the candy bar to the floor. His hunched shoulders shook as he softly cried and whimpered into Cross’s leg. He sounded like he was trying to say something, but was too choked up to get the words out. Cross lightly began rubbing his back.

He had never considered Dream as anything more than a nuisance to be fought, but as he watched him cry so miserably, he couldn’t help feeling a little sympathy for him. After all, Cross knew what it was like to lose everything. To lose your home, your family- everything just gone in an instant. And while Nightmare wasn’t technically gone, to Dream he might as well be dust right now.

“Look, Dream, I . . I know you’re upset, but it’s all going to be okay, you’ll see.”

“Y-y-you-u . . . p-pr-promise-e?” Dream sniffled quietly.

Cross didn’t answer at first. He didn’t know what Nightmare had in mind for his brother, so he really shouldn’t be making any promises. But Dream’s tiny voice sounded so broken, so desperate, that he finally just sighed and gave in.

“I promise, buddy.”

__________________________

Drip

Drip

Drip

Drip

Sci boredly watched the last drops of coffee plop into the steaming liquid below.

The monotonous sound drowned out the silence of the small break room, reminding him of the ticking of a clock. Actually, now that he thought about it, what time was it now? He didn’t keep a watch on him and the constant stream of caffeine had stopped his body from naturally telling him how late it was. Not that it really mattered anyway. He was going to stay at the lab until he’d finished going over the core’s latest readings. Maybe afterwards he’ll take a break and-

“SCI!” a voice boomed as the door slammed open.

Said skeleton started to turn around, only for something to grab him around the waist. It pinned his arms to his sides and yanked him into the air. He looked down to see it was an oozing tentacle protruding from a fuming Nightmare. It squeezed him uncomfortably tight, but not so much that he couldn’t breathe properly. Sci relaxed and smiled lazily down at the skeleton.

“Oh, hey Nightmare.”

Nightmare’s razor-thin eyelight stared at him murderously. “Who exactly did you think you were fooling?”

“Uh . . . what are you talking abou-ACK!” he yelped as the tentacle constricted his chest.

“The potion, Sci. I thought I made it clear what would happen if you backstabbed me,” said Nightmare, his tone dangerously low.

Sci struggled to breathe, but manage to gasp out,“w. . wait . . the . . . p-potion? It . . it didn’t work?”

“Oh, it worked alright. Dream's magic is practically gone. He's as weak and pathetic as a babybones . . . because he actually is one now."

The scientist blinked. “He . . he is?”

Nightmare narrowed his socket. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know this already, Sci. It’s too late for you."

“I . . can explain . .” Sci grunted.

Nightmare was so close to squeezing the scientist right then and there. But despite his boiling rage, he was somewhat curious as to what Sci had done to his brother. After giving him a few more seconds of discomfort, Nightmare lowered the skeleton onto the tile floor before him.

“Fine, explain it then. But don’t expect me to believe you,” he said, crossing his arms.

Sci hunched over, taking several deep breaths, then said, “fair enough. But the truth is that the potion I gave you was one hundred percent magic suppressor fluid. Dream becoming younger as a result was an unanticipated, but not implausible side effect.”

“Not implausible? What do you mean? Did you know this would happen?” Nightmare growled.

Sci shrugged. “Honestly, anything could have happened. Magic suppressors are known for having finicky results with the average monster, and you and Dream are anything but average. Especially when it comes to your magic. As outliers, I did the best I could and gave you enough potion to suppress a normal skeleton’s magic without hurting them. So there was always a possibility that it wouldn’t work or that something would go wrong. But one doesn’t know until they try. It’s why I told you that experimenting on you would have helped guarantee the result you wanted.”

“And I told you that I’m not some genuine pig you can experiment on!”

Sci raised a brow bone. “But your brother is, apparently.”

“No, he isn’t!” Nightmare hissed, pressing a finger to the other's chest. “All you were supposed to do was get rid of his positive magic, and instead you’ve turned him into a child! So unless you have a potion that can fix this mess, then consider your dust as payment for your mistake.”

He raised a sharpened tentacle to Sci’s neck, but the skeleton didn’t even glance at it as he frowned at him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Theoretically, using a magic enhancer would reverse the effects of a magic suppressor, but given how the latter has had such a strong effect on Dream, a magic enhancer might just make matters worse.”

“So you’re saying you can’t do it?” Nightmare said, removing the tendril.

Sci shook his head. “No, I’m saying that it’s not safe.”

“I don’t care if it’s safe! I don’t care what it does, so long as it works. It’s bad enough I can’t have my revenge now. I am not going to put up with my brother acting like an immature child and crying because he doesn't know where I am for a minute longer!" He yelled, more so to himself than to Sci.

The skeleton adjusted his glasses. “Really? He didn’t recognize you at all?”

“No. He doesn’t remember anything. I’m sure that’s just another side effect of the potion,” he said sarcastically.

“Hmmm, interesting,” Sci mumbled, tapping his chin.

“Well, Sci? What will it be?” he asked, his tentacles writhing in annoyance.

Sci didn’t answer right away, whether because he was still thinking or just trying to piss him off more, Nightmare wasn’t sure. He was seconds away from losing his temper again when Sci finally hummed and looked resoutley at him

“I need to see Dream in person first in order to determine the safest dosage of magic enhancer.”

Because of course he did. But as much as Nightmare hated any further delay, he knew this was Sci’s way of agreeing to make the cure. So he bit his metaphorical tongue and rolled his eyelight.

“Fine,” he said, as his portal back to the hideout swirled open. “Go to your lab. Dream and I will meet you there in a moment.”

Sci said nothing and walked over to grab is coffee pot. When he turned around, Nightmare and his gateway had already disappeared. He took a sip from the scalding liquid and sighed. It fascinated Sci how Nightmare was able to do that using only emotions. Maybe after this nightmare (heh) is over, he could convince the goopy lord of darkness to let him run some tests on it.

Speaking of the skeleton . . . .

Sci looked over at his demolished door. It laid against the wall, hanging on only by the top hinge, with a large dent in the middle that threatened to break the door entirely if only a bit more force had been applied. The handle knocked clean off and was nowhere to be seen. Sci chugged down his coffee and stepped through the chipped doorway.

“Guess that’s what I get for complaining,” he muttered.

__________________________

Nightmare emerged from the portal into Cross’s room and closed it while making sure he didn’t step onto some forgotten bag of week-old junk food. Across the room he saw Dream and Cross sitting on the bed. His brother shot up from the others lap, locked eyelights with him, then whimpered and hid behind Cross. Well . . . at least he wasn’t bawling his eye sockets out anymore.

“So? What did he say?” asked Cross.

“Sci needs to see him,” Nightmare said. Looking at his brother, he added calmly, “Come here Dream.”

Dream tensed and didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t want to go near the scary skeleton. He might pick him up again. But not obeying might make him even more angry at him. Unsure what to do, Dream peeked up at Cross. He was nice. He wouldn’t let the mean skeleton hurt him. Dream was safe with him.

The older skeleton smiled and patted his head. “It’s okay, Dream. Go on.”

Dream looked back at the black monster. Well, if Cross said it was okay, then it must be okay. He had promised. So Dream slid off the bed and shakily stood for a moment before slowly walking over to the goopy skeleton. He stopped when he got close to him and stared at the floor, hugging his arms around himself.

Nightmare summoned his portal, again, and turned his attention to Cross.

“While we’re gone, I need you to inform the others what happened. Tell them everything I told you. Wait for us in my office. We’ll be there shortly.”

“Okay Boss,” Cross nodded knowingly.

Nightmare glanced at Dream and jerked his head at the portal. “Alright, let’s go.”

Dream stared with tiny eyelights at the black, swirling hole. He wanted him to go through there!? But it was so dark and scary! Dream was brave, but he wasn’t that brave. Where did it even go? Dream didn’t want to walk anywhere near it. But if he didn’t, then the scary skeleton’s slimy tails might grab him again, and he was more afraid of them than the black hole thing.

“U-um, can I . . c-can I hold your hand?” Dream asked meekly. Dream didn’t like him, but he’d feel better if he had something to hold onto.

Nightmare shoved his fists in his pockets. “No you cannot.”

Dream’s eyelights began to wobble and he sniffled. Nightmare mentally cursed himself and quickly sighed.

“Here, you can hold this,” he said, floating a tentacle over to him. When he saw Dream flinch at it’s approach, he added, “just take it. It's not going to hurt you.”

Dream hesitated, but holding the slimy tail thing was better than holding nothing. He gently pulled it to his chest and wrapped his arms around it tightly. It felt cold, but he didn’t mind. At least it wasn’t holding him like before. He gave a small smile to the skeleton for letting him hold it.

“Are you ready now?” Nightmare huffed.

Dream glanced over at Cross- who gave him a thumbs up- then back at him and nodded.

“Alright then,” he said, turning towards the portal. “Let’s get this over with.”

Chapter Text

“Wait here,” said the goopy skeleton.

Dream let go of the slimy tail and stood still. He watched the monster walk through the door and close it behind him, leaving him all alone. Dream sat down with his back against the door and pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked all around him. Unlike the other hall, this new one had grey walls and a smooth floor. It was also very bright and when he stared at the light on the ceiling, it made his eyelights hurt.

He pulled his cape around him and closed his sockets. He wasn’t going to cry. He was okay. The skeleton was coming back for him. Dream was sure of it. He rubbed and twisted and pulled the edge of his cape with his fingers. But he got bored of doing that, and he leaned his head back. He wondered how long the monster had been gone. Dream was tired of waiting. Maybe he should go look for him and-

“Get in here Dream!” the scary skeleton suddenly yelled.

Dream jumped and flinched away from the door. But the scary skeleton sounded mad, so he scrambled to his feet. He pushed the door open just a little, peeked his head into the room, and gasped. Like the hallway, the room looked so white and shiny. There was a bunch of stuff everywhere, like tall metal things and large boxes with blinking colors that made funny sounds. This new room smelled funny too. He didn’t like it.

He heard a coughing noise and looked in it’s direction. Across the room stood the black skeleton right beside another white one. This third skeleton had only white clothes on and something shiny in front of his sockets. He wasn’t holding any big scary knives like Cross, so maybe he was nice too. His smile made Dream feel better. He started to smile back, but stopped as the goopy monster stepped forward.

“Hurry up,” Nightmare snapped, seconds from just grabbing Dream and carrying him over himself.

His brother nervously made his way across the room, looking everywhere but at him, until he was right in front of Sci. Nightmare didn’t notice that Dream was purposely standing farther away from him and he didn’t care. He folded his arms and let the scientist handle the introductions.

“Hello Dream, my name is Sci,” he said professionally, adjusting his glasses for a better look at the child.

Dream waved shyly. “Hi Sci. Hehe- Hi Sci, that rhymes, hehe.

“It sure does,” he chuckled.

Dream glanced at Nightmare for a second, then looked back at Sci. “Are you his brother?” he asked curiously.

Nightmare resisted rolling his eyelight at such a ridiculous idea. Of course his dimwitted l̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e brother would assume all skeletons were related. He didn’t even look anything like Sci! But then again, his past form was different in many ways from his twin. So the possibility of Sci as his brother probably wasn’t much of a stretch for Dream.

Unfortunately, Sci didn’t have the same level of self control as him and snorted at the suggestion.

“Heh, no, I’m not his brother. Midnight here is just a friend of mine. He asked me to do a check up on you. Your head was hit pretty badly, so we want to make sure you’re not hurt.”

Nightmare studied Dream’s reaction to his new alias, but he didn’t pay it any attention. Instead, he gazed at the floor when the “injury” was mentioned and he kicked his feet. Sci silently looked to him for an explanation of Dream’s sudden mood change, but Nightmare just shrugged.

“Alright, well, sit up here and we’ll get started,” The scientist said, scooting the piles of papers and eraser shreddings on his desk to make room.

Dream placed his hands on the edge an inch above his nose and tried to pull himself up. But while he was a skilled climber, the slippery surface was different from the rough branches he was used to, and he struggled to get a grip. Dream’s awkward flailing was getting on Nightmare’s last nerve, and after watching for a few more seconds, he’d had enough. Without hesitation, he hooked a tentacle onto Dream’s shirt collar, causing him to squeak, and dropped him onto the desk.

Nightmare expected Dream to freak out, but all he did was cross his arms and puff out his cheeks.

“I could of done it by myself. . .”

"I could have done it by myself!”

Nightmare patted his twin’s head. “Pfft, I know. I didn’t want you to fall and get hurt.”

“But I wasn’t gonna fall! I’m the best at climbing. I’m better than you are!” he said proudly.

Nightmare smirked. His brother was a better climber than him. But this pinetree was also a lot taller than their Tree and Dream could hurt himself falling from this high. He was about to argue with him when Dream looked out at the sky and pointed.

“Look, Nightmare, look,” he excitedly gasped, “I told you! You can see everything from up here!”

“Woah . . . you’re right,” said Nightmare as he stared at the view of their valley.

His brother giggled. “I knew you would like it! This is waaaay more fun than your boring books.”

“Hey!” Nightmare exclaimed. He hooked his arm around Dream’s neck and pulled him close to noogie his skull. “You take that back!”

“Noooooo, Nightyyy, lemme goooo!” he whined and squirmed, trying to get free, but Nightmare was stronger.

Dream finally went limp and laughed. “Okay Nighty, okay! I take it back, I take it back!”

Nightmare laughed with him and released his brother from his hold. Dream didn’t sit up and just shifted into a more comfortable position on his lap. Nightmare didn’t mind. He leaned against the tree trunk, holding onto the branch with one hand and Dream’s shoulder with the other, and looked out at the horizon again.

“When I get bigger, I’m going to go out there and see all of it,” his brother declared. “And you will go with me, right brother?”

Nightmare looked away. He didn’t really want to leave their home, but Dream did. He loved exploring new places and wanted to leave their valley. But he couldn’t. Not now that villagers were living near the Tree. They had to stay and make sure it wouldn’t get hurt or have it’s fruit stolen. Their responsibility had to come first.

Dream sat up. “Right Nightmare?

He didn’t answer him.

“Um . . . . Nightmare? Are you okay? Nighty?”

-night? Midnight?”

Nightmare blinked, and the memory faded. Turning towards the voice, he saw Sci and Dream were both looking at him. He frowned, feeling a bit uncomfortable under their gaze.

“What? Why are you staring at me?”

Sci’s smile quirked. “No reason.”

“Then stop stalling and get on with it,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Turning to the child, Sci clicked his pen and said, “Okay Dream, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer me honestly and precisely.”

“I can do that!” Dream nodded.

“So tell me, how does your head feel?” he asked.

Dream thoughtfully rubbed his skull. “It hurts sorta. I- my head felt really bad when I woke up. But it’s not that bad now.”

“On a scale from 1 to 10, how bad does it feel now?”

Dream tilted his head to the side. A scale? What’s that? Should he say 1? Or maybe 10? Sci told him to tell the truth, but he didn’t know which one was the right number.

“Um . . I . . I dunno,” he finally admitted.

“Does anything else hurt?”

“No,” Dream said.

His feet were sore and his chest hurt from when the scary- from when Midnight picked him up, but he didn’t want to say that outloud.

Sci hummed. “Interesting. Can you tell me what you remember before you woke up?”

Dream squeezed his sockets shut and concentrated, but the memory was blurry and it made his head feel fuzzy.

“I . . . I was with Nightmare . . . I think. At our Tree. I was- I was asleep and Nightmare was reading to me. I don’t . . I can’t remember any more. It makes my head hurt.”

“What’s the point of this, Sci? None of this is helping!” yelled Midnight.

Dream jumped and his sockets flew open. He didn’t understand why Midnight got so mad. He was doing what they wanted, right?

“Actually, this information is invaluable to our situation,” Sci replied calmly and wrote something on the strange paper.

He then set the stuff down and picked up a small box with a blinking blue light on it and a black string coming out of one side. On the end of it was an even smaller thing. Sci held the thing between his fingers and pressed down. It opened just like a bird’s beak.

“Hold out your hand,” he said.

Dream did as he was told and Sci put the beak-thing on his thumb. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange. Dream twisted his digit this way and that, trying to figure it out, but all he did was get the black string tangled around his hand.

“What is it?” he asked Sci.

“It’s a device that gives me fairly accurate readings of your biological functions and thaumaturgic levels,” the skeleton responded.

Dream frowned. “Tho-ma . . turg- thomoturg-tic? Is that bad?”

“No, it just means how much magic you have. Your magic is fine, don’t worry.”

“Oh . . .”

Sci held the box thing for another moment and then took off beak-thing off his thumb. He set them on the table and picked up a funny-looking bottle. It was all round and skinny and Dream could see right through it. The skeleton held it out under his face.

“Spit as much as you can in here,” he said.

Dream thought that was a weird thing to ask him. But if that is what Sci wanted, then Dream would do it. It was sorta hard since the bottle was so small, but he got most of his saliva in it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his glove as Sci put the bottle with the other stuff.

“There we go, you’re all done now. You were a very good patient,” said Sci and Dream smiled at the praise.

Sci pulled something from his shirt and handed it to Dream. “Here, you’ve earned this.”

Dream held it close to his face. The small ball was pink and blue and covered in something shiny. He had no idea what it was. Maybe it was a toy? But it smelled kinda fruity, so maybe it was food? He lifted the ball up to Sci.

“What do I do with it?” he asked.

“It’s monster candy,” Sci explained. He took it from him, peeled off the shiny paper, and placed the small ball back into his palm. “There. Now you can eat it.”

Dream threw the candy behind his teeth and rolled it around in his mouth. The ball began to melt in his mouth and he smiled. It tasted sweet! Like the chocolate he ate, but different. It reminded him of the juicy berries that he and . . . and Nightmare used to pick together.

“Do you like it?” Sci asked, confused as to why he looked sad all of a sudden.

Dream’s smile quickly returned. “Y-yeah, I love ish.Thanf you!”

“You’re welcome. Now, sit still and don’t touch anything, okay? Midnight and I are going to talk over here for a minute,” he said, walking away, with Nightmare following on his heels.

“So? How long will it take to create the magic enhancer?” he asked gruffly once they were far enough from Dream.

“You were right, the potion did work. A little too well, actually,” Sci muttered, staring at his brother.

Nightmare huffed. “What do you mean too well?”

The scientist looked back at him. “Well, according to my readings, it not only suppressed Dream’s magic to the base level a monster needs to function, but it also suppressed his biological mass as well. Which makes sense, seeing how a monster’s mass and magic have a correlating relationship. What’s surprising is that it also suppressed his mental state and his memories to that of his new biological age. I’m not a hundred percent sure why, but I have a theory it’s because-”

“I don’t have time for your theories! Just tell me how long it will take to get him back to normal,” Nightmare demanded.

“I don’t know for sure. If the magic suppressor had this great of an effect on Dream, I’ll need to be even more precise with the magic enhancer. Too much might cause his magic to increase beyond levels his body can handle and could result in it exploding into dust. But too little might make his current state unstable. And before you think I’m backing out, I’m not. All I’m saying is that I’ll need time to get the measurements right.”

“And just how much time do you need?” he sighed.

“Hmmmm, I’d say about a month or two, and that’s if the early experiments are a success,” said Sci, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Nightmare stiffened. “Two months!? I don’t- can’t you make it any faster!?”

“Not unless you want to risk dusting your brother.”

“Fine,” he groaned, running a hand over his socket. “Don’t bother making it then. I’ll just let the potion wear off on it’s own in a week.”

Sci rubbed his neck. “Yeah . . . about that . . .”

Nightmare’s eyelight narrowed. “Sci. . . how long will it last?”

“It’s supposed to last a week for a normal skeleton monster. But seeing how it’s affected Dream, it could last anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks. Who knows, it might even be permanent,” he said with a shrug.

Permanent

Nightmare’s soul plummeted in his chest. If his cheek bones could pale, they would have instantly drained of all color. Instead, his eyelight uncharacteristically flickered out. He hunched over and gripped his skull with both hands, feeling dizzy with a panic he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

“Woah, are you okay?” came Sci’s muffled voice, sounding more surprised than concerned.

Nightmare jerked his head up. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists to keep them from shaking.

“I’m fine,” he growled.

Sci pushed his glasses up his nasal ridge, completely unphased. “If this is a problem for you, why not just hand him over to his friends? I’m sure they’d be happy to take care of him”

“Are you serious!?” He hissed. “There’s no way I’m doing that! Returning him now would make my plan a complete waste of time and energy. At least keeping him with me means the Star Sanses will be less of a threat.”

Sci actually looked at him with a modicum of concern. “You’re not still going through with your original idea, are you? I mean, I know you’re the lord of negativity, but Dream is just a kid right now.”

Nightmare bristled. “Of course I’m not! You of all monsters should know that.”

“Well, I know you’re not heartless,” Sci admitted, remembering how terrified Nightmare was when one of his boys was near dusting. “But I thought you hate Dream?”

“I do hate Dream,” Nightmare snarled, only for his expression to subtly soften as he glanced over at his brother.

“But that is not Dream.”

That isn’t the Dream that betrayed him. That isn’t the Dream he’s been fighting in AU after AU countless times. That isn’t the Dream that Nightmare wanted revenge on.

The little skeleton swinging his legs over the side of the desk- that’s the Dream who Nightmare remembered as the brother he once cared for. The Dream who would insist they did everything together, whether it was playing a game of hide-n-seek, or reading a “boring” book. The Dream who would ramble on for hours about a cocoon he found. The Dream who, when the villagers first settled their town, would rather stay with him at the Tree than leave Nightmare alone to go enjoy some festival. The Dream his brother used to be before everything went wrong.

The Dream who, he now realised, he couldn’t lift a single tentacle to harm.

Nightmare glared sharply back at Sci. “I need the real Dream back, and if you can’t do that as soon as possible, you’ll be nothing more than a pile of dust in the next five seconds.”

“I know, I know. I’ll start work on the potion immediately,” he said nonchalantly. “In the meantime, let me know if anything changes with Dream. He’s stable now, but if he shows any signs of his condition deteriorating or more memory loss, bring him here immediately. If it’s a headache though, just give him some monster candy and he should be fine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” was all he muttered before heading over to Dream

Dream noticed him approaching and tensed, eyeing Nightmare warily as he stood next to him.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said sternly.

“Okay. Where are we going?” asked Dream, slipping off the desk.

Nightmare raised his hand to summon his portal. “Back where we came from.”

Dream watched as the dark swirly stuff created another floating hole in the air. He took a step back. He didn’t want to go back to the bad scary place! He wanted to go home. Thinking of home made him want to cry again, but he couldn’t. It might make Midnight mad at him. Dream needed to be brave right now, but when he stared at the black hole, he all he felt was scared.

Dream looked at Midnight and gulped. “Um, can . . . can I hold your tail again?”

“Wh-what?” Nightmare intelligently sputtered, almost losing his hold on the portal.

He whisked around, his cheek cyan with embarrassment. “They’re not tails, they’re tentacles!”

“Tent-ackles?” Dream echoed.

“Yes, tenta-cles. Now hurry up before I grab you with one,” he said, marching towards the portal.

As Nightmare stepped through the gateway, he felt something grab the side of his hoodie. He didn’t give it any notice and kept going, pulling the now attached child along with him. He did, however, look behind him to make sure Dream got through before closing the portal. Turning away from his office desk, he faced the four skeletons standing by the fireplace, all of whom had their sockets zeroed in on his brother.

Dream stared back wide-eyed and tightened his grip. There are more skeletons? Maybe every monster outside the village is a skeleton. These new ones were also white like Sci and Cross and wore funny clothes. Dream shrunk back a little. They all looked kinda scary, but Cross had been scary too, and he was actually a nice skeleton. He hoped these new skeletons were nice too.

“I assume Cross has explained everything?” Nightmare asked.

“Yeah, Boss,” said Killer, still scowling at Dream.

“Well, in that case . . .” Nightmare grabbed his brother’s arm with a tentacle and pulled him a few meters away from himself. “Boys, this is Dream.”

Dream smiled and waved at them like he always did when meeting new monsters, but only Cross waved back.

“Dream, this is Killer,” said Midnight, pointing at the skeleton. “He’s in charge whenever I’m not here.”

The skeleton frowned at him with his black, empty eye sockets. There was also black stuff all over his face that looked like tears running down. Maybe he was crying? But he didn’t look upset. Dream’s smile fell and he looked anywhere but at Killer’s face.

Midnight pointed to the one next to Killer. “This is Dust. You are not allowed in his room. Ever.”

Dust also just stared at him. Dream was glad he had both eyelights but the way they looked gave him a funny feeling. He was silently smiling at him, but it was all wrong. He looked like he was happy, but Dream couldn’t feel any happiness coming from him.

“Then here’s Horror,” the goopy skeleton continued. “You are not allowed in the kitchen for any reason without his permission.”

When Dream looked at him, Horror’s one red eyelight glanced at the floor and he slumped down into his big red chair. Dream was confused. Maybe the skeleton didn’t like being looked at? Nightmare didn’t like other villagers looking at him either. But Dream couldn’t stop staring, especially at the big hole in his skull.

“And of course, you already know Cross,” he said.

Dream smiled at the familiar black and white skeleton. Cross smiled back and gave him a little wave, which Dream returned. Since all the other skeletons were scary and new, he was glad to know at least Cross was nice. He felt safe with him.

Dream looked up at Midnight. “Are they your brothers?” he asked.

Midnight made a funny face. “No, weren’t not brothers. We’re not related in any way. They work for me, so they live here.”

He then coughed into his hand. “Speaking of that, since you’re also going to be living here with us, here are the rules you are to strictly follow. First, you’re not allowed outside without one of us accompanying you. You’re free to roam the castle if you want, but you can’t go into the dun- uh, basement, and you can’t go into my room. Both are completely off limits. And you are to obey anything that we tell you to do or not to do. Do you understand?”

Dream glanced at the others, then back at him, his eyelights watery and wobbling.

“B-but, what about-”

“Do. You. Understand?” he repeated.

Dream sniffed and rubbed a socket with the heel of his palm. “Y-yes, Midnight.”

“Good. Now go choose your new room,” Nightmare said hastily. With a tendril he pushed his brother toward the boys and added, “I want you all to show him the spare bedrooms. He can have whichever one he wants.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” said Dust.

Cross was already at the door and held his hand out to Dream. “Come on, let’s go check them out,” he said cheerfully.

“Okay,” Dream said quietly.

Clutching the corner of his cape, he sullenly walked over to the skeleton. Dream let Cross place a hand on his shoulder and guide him out into the hall. Dust followed them while Horror slowly limped after him. Killer didn’t join them and stood in the same spot as he watched them leave. Nightmare didn’t comment on it and dragged his feet behind his desk. Sitting down in the leather chair, he propped his elbows onto the wooden surface and dropped his head in his hands.

“The potion backfired then, huh?” said Killer, walking over to Nightmare and leaning against the bookcase.

Nightmare just sighed tiredly.

“Yeah, we thought so. Though, Dream turning out to be a kid was a surprise.”

“Didn’t Cross already tell you that?” He asked, lifting his skull.

Killer nodded. “Yeah, he did. Dust didn’t buy it and I had my doubts. Horror was the only one who actually believed him. But now that I’ve seen him with my own sockets, it’s . . .”

“Shocking?” Nightmare suggested.

“Hmph, more like concerning. He may be just a kid now, but he might remember his time here once he’s normal again. And if he does, then we’re pretty much screwed,” Killer said matter-of-factly.

“We’ll deal with that issue if and when it arises,” he sighed, rubbing circles into his temple.

Killer scowled. “Still, I don’t like it. Cross’s antics are barely tolerable as it is. Now we have to put up with Dream’s too? I don’t know what you expect us to do with him. Give him a deck of cards and call it a day?”

“All I want is for you boys to keep an eye on Dream until Sci can complete the antidote needed to change him back.” Nightmare said with a wave of his hand.

He raised a brow bone. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just locked him up in a room while he’s stuck like this?”

The other glared at him, so he quickly added, “I’m not saying it has to be a cell. We can lock him in a spare bedroom and just make sure he’s fed n’ stuff.”

Nightmare shook his head. “No, no, we can’t do that. Dream hates being in one place for too long. Shutting him up for days would be . . .”

He paused when he saw the odd look Killer was giving him and cleared his throat.

“Inconvenient.”

Killer smirked. “Okay, whatever ya say, Midnight,”

The dark skeleton rolled his eyelight. “Don’t you have something to do? Because if not, I can certainly think of several chores that-”

“-Fine, I’m going,” said Killer. He walked through the doorway, only to stop and peak his head back inside the office.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

Nightmare squinted his socket at him. “What for?”

“On becoming a big brother,” said Killer, disappearing right as Nightmare slammed the heavy door shut with a tentacle.

Finally alone in the peace and privacy of his office, Nightmare curled his arms under him and buried his head into the dark hole he wished would swallow the rest of him up. The stress of recent events suddenly flooded every single bone in his body, making them feel so incredibly heavy. He wasn’t sure what hurt worse- the sick feeling in his soul, or the massive headache raging in his skull. Nightmare let out a long, loud groan.

What have I done . . .

_______________________________________

The flame flickered in the fireplace. Warm. Familiar. Calming. Nightmare preferred the cold, but even he could find comfort in the coziness of a lit hearth. The monotonous dance of the fire made it easy for him to slip into meaningless thoughts, numb his mind, and eventually doze off in his well-worn arm chair.

But not tonight.

Tonight, his mind was crowded with noisy, muddled thoughts, keeping him awake despite his exhaustion. Of course, Nightmare was used to staying up late to finish paperwork or an intriguing read. But he wasn’t in the mood to work (for once) and he’d long given up any hope of focusing on a book long enough to get lost in it. So he just sat there, staring listlessly at the fire, while his mind replayed the evening’s events.

Not that anything really happened. Dream had picked the first bedroom he came too- the one closest to all of their own rooms- and said he wanted to take a nap. So all the boys left him alone to sleep. The first time Nightmare walked past his room for no reason in particular, he heard Dream faintly sobbing, and when he passed it again an hour or two later, it was silent. He assumed his brother had cried until he passed out and told his boys to not disturb him until dinner.

When they all sat down to eat, he sent Cross to go bring his brother to the table, only for him to come back and report that Dream refused to leave the room. Nightmare was fine with that. If he didn’t want to eat, then he didn’t have to. But when he slipped into Dream’s room as a shadow after dinner, he saw a half-eaten bowl of leftover soup on his nightstand, undoubtedly Horror’s doing.

Since his brother was asleep again, Nightmare retreated to his office. He shut himself up and refused to talk to any of his boys. They always worried about him when he did that, but it wasn’t a big deal. He just needed to be some time alone. So he sat in silence, letting himself drown in his thoughts, while his soul swelled a steady stream of negativity.

Wait.

Nightmare placed a hand over his chest.

The fear and anxiety he felt . . . these weren’t his emotions.

The feelings were strong, but much more muted than he was used to. Most likely one of his boys was having a bad dream. They were so commonly occurring that Nightmare was used to sensing them immediately, but he had been so sunk in his own emotional turmoil that he hadn’t detected the negative aura at first. He sighed and instantly teleported, concentrating on the tug in his soul to guide him to its source, only to realise a second too late where he had rematerialised.

Right in front of Dream’s door.

His hand hesitated a few inches from the handle.

Should he go in? It's not like Nightmare cared if his brother was having a bad dream. He didn’t care if he was scared and upset. He would be fine. Besides, Nightmare didn’t owe his brother any favors.

But . . . what if it wasn’t a bad dream that was upsetting him? What if Dream had fallen out of bed and broken something? Or had injured himself trying to climb out a window? Perhaps the potion was causing him more ill side-effects? Or maybe he was scared because there was a silent attacker in the room!?

Nightmare turned the latch and opened the door before he could stop himself.

“Dream? Is everything okay?” he whispered.

Dream didn’t respond.

But when Nightmare looked into the pitch black room, he couldn’t see or sense an intruder anywhere. He sighed in . . . annoyance? Relief? He didn’t know which one and he didn’t care. Since there wasn’t an invader or a fire in the room, there was no reason for him to stick around. Nightmare stepped back and started to pull the door shut.

“N-no, wait, d-don’t go!”

The door halted.

“ . . . what do you want, Dream?” he asked roughly.

A soft sniffle drifted out of the darkness.

“Please s-stay. Don’t g-go. Please,” replied the small voice.

Nightmare pushed the door back open and glanced at the bed. Dream was laying on top of the wrinkled bedspread and propping himself up on one arm. His tiny shaking eyelights stared at him desperately from their puffy sockets, and Nightmare could see sweat droplets glistening on his skull. It looked like his original hunch was right and his brother had just awoken from an unsettling dream.

Nightmare knew he should tell Dream he was fine and to go back to sleep. He should shut the door and head off to his own bedroom. He should . . . but then there was that strange pull at the core of his soul again. Of course, Nightmare could just ignore it. He could walk away. He was the one in control here, not some weird whim in his soul.

At least, that’s what Nightmare told himself as he scooted a chair over to Dream’s bedside.

Sitting down with his arms crossed, he shut the door with one of his tentacles. The room was completely dark without the hallway light, but Nightmare could see just fine. One of the perks of being consumed by darkness, he guessed. But he didn’t need his enhanced vision to see two glowing golden eyelights right in front of him.

“Go to sleep,” he huffed.

Dream obediently laid his head on his pillow, but his sockets remained open.

“I don’t wanna . . .” he mumbled.

“Why not?”

“ . . .‘m scared . . .” he whispered.

For a split second, Nightmare thought Dream was scared of him, but then he realised it was the other nightmare that had him too spooked to sleep. Well, if his presence wasn’t “soothing” enough for him, he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t going to hug or comfort him and he definitely wasn’t going to sing to him. But he wasn’t about to sit here by him all night either.

Nightmare sighed and said, “here, just . . . hold this.”

He lifted a tentacle out to Dream, which the child snatched the moment he noticed it. He curled his body around the appendage and nuzzled his very warm face into it like it was a teddy bear and not a oozing tendril of negative magic. Although the contact felt detached from his body, it still felt so weird for Dream to hug him- his tentacle- so affectionately.

Dream smiled at the goopy skeleton. “Thank you Midnight,” he said.

The blue eye light hovering in the dark softened just a little. “Just go to sleep now, Dream."

Dream yawned. He closed his sockets and relaxed, while his grip on the tentacle tightened just a little. The cool slime actually felt really nice against his hot face. It was also kinda squishy and was very comfortable to hug. If he tried really hard, he could even imagine he was back home, laying under their Tree, cuddling next to Nightmare.

But doing that brought back the memory of his awful dream.

It still felt so real. He had been sitting under their Tree with his brother when dark, scary shadowed figures walked over to them. They wanted to take the apples! Dream tried to stop them, but the shadows grabbed him and he couldn’t move. Dream told them to let him go, but they didn’t listen. He looked over at Nightmare, hoping his brother got away, but all he saw was dust

Dream screamed.

When he suddenly woke up and saw only darkness, he thought the shadows had dusted him too. He was so scared he couldn’t move. But then the room filled with light. He looked and saw the goopy skeleton at the door and remembered. He wasn’t dust. He was alive and staying with Midnight and Cross and the other skeletons. Nightmare wasn’t dust either. The shadows, no . . . the villagers, they had just taken his brother somewhere far away.

Dream relaxed again and snuggled into his pillow. If Nightmare wasn’t dust, then that meant Dream could still find him! He didn’t know how, but one day, he’d go out and rescue his brother. One day, he’ll be big and strong and can fight the shadows away from Nightmare and they’ll be together again! Dream decided he would stay with these new skeletons until then. After all, Cross was nice, and even Midnight, who he thought was scary, wasn’t all bad.

A really bad monster wouldn’t stay beside him and let him hold his tentacle and protect him while he slept. Only nice monsters do that. So maybe Midnight just had a bad day and he was actually really nice! Dream felt a lot safer now. Midnight was here and he would protect him from the shadows that grabbed him. Just like Cross had promised. Everything . . . everything was . . . ok . . .ay . . .

Nightmare stood up.

Finally.

It had probably only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Nightmare watched as his brother’s chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. As kids Dream had often slept in his arms, so to see him lying stretched out before him, he looked a lot farther away than an arm's length. In fact, if it weren’t for his weak grip on his tentacle, he would struggle to believe he was really there. It felt so much like a dream, especially now in the darkness. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached a hand toward him.

His fingers barely touched Dream’s skull. It felt so smooth and solid and . . . cold. Nightmare withdrew his fist while his tentacle slowly slithered out of Dream’s loosened grip. Using the now free appendage, he carefully pulled off Dream’s boots and cape and laid them on the nightstand. Curling the tendril around his brother, he lifted him up and pulled the blanket back. He tucked it over his shoulders, stood a few more seconds to make sure he stayed asleep, and then teleported to his room.

Nightmare collapsed onto his mattress, burying his face into the blankets.

This was fine.

He could handle this. He’s overcome greater challenges than simply babysitting his now adolescent brother. Not to mention, Sci said the potion would only take a month or two. It wasn’t ideal, but he could work with it. Meanwhile, all he had to do was make sure Dream didn’t die and or cause any trouble. That should be easy enough. Yeah. Nightmare had it all under control.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Chapter Text

Dream stared up at the ceiling and watched the airplane circle above his head over . . .

. . . And over . . .

. . . And over . . .

. . . And over . . .

He sighed.

This was sooooo boring.

Sure, when he first started playing with the plane, it was really fun. The toy flew just like a bird and he could make it swoop around his room by moving the box stick. He even learned how to do cool tricks with it. But after watching fly for hours and hours, it wasn’t fun anymore. It was boring. Playing all by himself was boring. Dream sat up from his bed, shut off the plane, and carried it over to the other toys. There wasn’t any room left on his play table, so he threw it with the rest of his stuff on the floor.

Dream looked for a new toy, but he had already played with everything Midnight brought him. He was so excited at first that he tried to give the goopy skeleton a hug to thank him, but a tentacle stopped him. Midnight then left and Dream didn’t see him again until dinner time. He thought maybe he was mad at him, but Midnight explained he was just too busy to see him. He must be super busy every day, because the only time Dream gets to talk to him is when they eat. Now he knows why Midnight is so grumpy. He never has any time for fun!

The only skeleton who liked to have fun was Crossy. He was busy a lot too, but sometimes he would stop working and play with him. Since Dream was bored of playing with his toys, he decided he would go and find Crossy to play with him instead! He stepped over his scattered toys and walked out of his room, remembering to shut the door behind him. Then he happily skipped down the hallway, his shoes making tapping sounds against the rock floor.

Crossy had shown him which ones were their rooms (even though he wasn’t allowed to go in them) so Dream knew exactly where to go. The rest of the castle was still kind of confusing though. It was just so big, and the rooms and hallways and stairs all looked the same. Dream almost got lost when he went exploring by himself. Now he doesn’t go anywhere past the bedrooms or the rooms where they eat and watch TV, unless he and Crossy are playing hide-and-seek.

Hey, that was a good idea! He should ask him to play hide-and-seek together. Dream was the best at that game.
Once He spotted Crossy’s room, he hurried down the hall and loudly knocked on the door.

“Crossy! Crossy, it’s me! Can you come play with me?” he asked.

But nobody answered him.

Dream peeked through the keyhole, but the light was off and he couldn’t see Crossy inside.

He looked ahead down the hall. Maybe Crossy was in the TV room? Dream sprinted off to go check. He ran so fast that he didn’t look where he was going and when he raced around the corner, he bumped right into someone and tumbled backwards onto the floor.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, pipsqueak,” snapped Killer’s voice.

Dream rubbed his head and looked up at him. “Mphmm . . . sorry Killer . . .”

“You should be. And stop running like an idiot,” he said and started to walk past him.

Dream scrambled to his feet. “Wait, wait don’t go!”

Killer stopped and scowled. “What do you want?”

Dream ignored his mean tone and asked, “Do you know where Crossy is? I wanna play with him.”

“He’s in the training room.”

Dream’s smile fell. “Oh . . . when’s he gonna be done?”

“Probably a few hours at least,” Killer huffed.

“Ughhh, that’s too long!” he whined.

The other shrugged. “Not my problem.”

“Can I go ask him-”

“-No you can’t Dream. You know the rule,” Killer said, pointing a finger at him. “And if you go anywhere near that room, you’re gonna be in big trouble.”

Dream frowned at the floor and mumbled, “it’s a stupid rule . . .”

“Rules exist for a reason,” he argued back.

Dream dropped his pout and looked up at him. “Will you play hide-and-seek with me? Pleaseeee Killer?” he begged.

“Yeah, I’ll pass. Go annoy someone else if you’re bored,” he said walking away.

He watched Killer disappear around the corner and half-heartedly kicked the wall. It wasn’t fair. Dream wasn’t gonna do anything bad. He just wanted to ask Crossy to play. But Killer was a meanie and now he couldn’t do that. Dream didn’t know why Killer was so mean to him. He wasn’t grumpy all the time like Midnight, but whenever he talked to him or asked to play with him, Killer always got angry and said he didn’t want to. But if Killer wouldn’t play with him, maybe the other skeletons would?

Dream continued walking to the TV room to see if any of them were in there. He stood in the doorway and peeked his head inside. He saw Dust sitting on the big couch, but the TV was off and his sockets were closed. Dream tip-toed over to the skeleton and climbed on to the cushion beside him and stared up at Dust. He looked like was asleep. Dream leaned forward and tugged on his hoodie sleeve.

“Dust? Dust, are you sleeping?” he asked in a not-so-quiet-whisper.

The skeleton didn’t move, but Dream was determined and carefully crawled into Dust’s lap.

He reached up and pushed on his face. “Duuuussst! Wake up, Dust!”

The skeleton’s browbones furrowed and he groaned. After a moment, one socket popped open and the red and blue eyelight stared down at him. It was less scary looking with his cheeks all squished up, but the smile was smaller than it was a minute ago.

“Uh, kid. What’re ya doin’?” he asked, removing Dream’s hands from his face.

“I wanna play hide-and-seek, but Crossy is busy and I can’t go in and Killer won’t play with me,” he explained. “But you’re awake now, so can you play with me? Please, Dust?”

Dust closed his socket again and leaned his head on his hand. “Nah,” he yawned.

“Not even for a little bit?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, okay . . .” he sighed. “Do you- do you know where Horror is? Maybe he can play with me.”

“Kitchen,” Dust answered simply.

“Okay, thanks Dust,” Dream said, scooting off his lap.

He skipped across the room and to the kitchen door. He opened it to see Dust was right- Horror was standing over by a long table with his back to him. Dream knew Midnight said he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen, but if Horror was in already here, then it was okay. Still, he walked as quietly as he could over the smoothe tiles until he stood a few feet behind the hunched over skeleton.

“Hey Horror!”

Horror tensed and turned around, but he saw it was just Dream. This was . . . unexpected. Dream never came in here. He was always in his room or somewhere with Cross. Was Dream hungry? Did he want a snack? Could he give him a snack? Would Nightmare get mad? Horror stared awkwardly at the child smiling up at him.

“Uh . . . hey?”

Dream shuffled his feet. “Can you play hide-and-seek with me? Nobody else will play.”

“Sorry . . . I can’t play . . . I’m cooking dinner,” He said and quickly went back to cutting onions.

“What’s that?” Dream asked.

Horror looked down in surprise to see the tiny skeleton right beside him, standing on his toes and peering over the edge of the counter. He was so confused. He told Dream he couldn't play . . . so why was he still here? Wasn’t he . . . scared of him? But Dream didn’t seem scared as he gazed up at him with his big, curious eyelights.

“It’s onion . . . for the soup . . .” he finally answered.

“I really like soup. Can I help you make it? Please? Pleaseee?” asked Dream as he jumped up and down.

Horror looked at his knife, then back at the hopeful child. “Um . . . I guess you can help . . .”

Dream’s eyelights dilate as he cheers, “Yay! Thank you, Horror!”

Wiping his hands on his apron, Horror tied a large towel around Dream’s neck like a bib. He picked him up under the arms like he was made of glass and set him gently on the counter right next to the stove. He walked over to the fridge, keeping his good socket on the child swinging his legs, and grabbed the carrots, potatoes, and radishes. After placing them beside the cutting board, he started scooping the onion into a bowl.

“Woah! Where did all that food come from?” Dream asked, poking a carrot that rolled near him.

“The . . . fridge?”

“What’s a fridge?”

“It’s . . . where we keep food. It keeps it fresh,” said Horror as he handed the bowl to Dream.

“Ooooh, so it’s like a cellar!” said Dream, taking the dish and holding up. “Um . . . what do I do with this?”

Horror stopped chopping a potato and pointed at the pot. “Pour it in there. . .” he instructed.

Dream did as he was told and gave the bowl back. He stared down at the stove and pointed. “What is that?”

“The oven . . . don’t touch it,” Horror warned, sliding potato chunks into the dish.

“An oven? I haven’t seen an oven like this one before. It’s funny looking. Where’s the fire? And the chimney?”

“ . . . It’s an electric stove . . .”

“Elect-tric?”

Horror nodded and handed the bowl.

Dream took it and dumped the diced vegetable into the soup, splattering some of the broth in the process.

“See! I’m really good at cooking!” He said, giving him the empty dish.

Horror sliced the carrots while Dream continued talking.

“I cooked all by myself one time and made a blueberry pie for me and Nightmare. Then I went outside to play and forgot all about the pie. I came back but my pie was all burnt and black and yucky. I didn’t wanna eat it. But Nightmare told me I should cause I used Mrs. Hoggs stuff and her oven. He said it was rude to not eat the pie. I did eat it, but I gave Nightmare the crust and just ate the blueberries. I ate too much of it and it made my tummy hurt. I laid down with Nighty and he rubbed my back and read to me so that I would feel better and . . . and . . .”

Horror looked up as Dream faltered off. His wobbling eyelights were looking sadly at the floor. Should he . . . say something? He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good with words. But he didn’t want Dream to start crying again. He placed the carrots in the bowl and handed it to him, hoping the distraction would help. Dream grabbed it and just held it. Horror tried to think of something that would cheer him up.

“I . . . I think we have . . . blueberries. Do you . . . want to try again?” he offered.

Dream looked up at him. “Huh?”

“To make a pie . . .”

“I can make a pie?” he gasped excitedly.

Horror nodded.

“Yipee!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in his enthusiasm and tossing the carrots inside into the air.

Horror stared at the mess around them and sighed, placing the knife down on the counter.

“I’m - I’m sorry Horror,” Dream stuttered. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to spill it! I can clean-”

“No . . . it’s fine . . . I’ll clean,” he said, taking the bowl from him.

Horror brushed the pieces of carrot off the counter and into the dish, then squatted to the floor to pick up the rest. It took him a minute, but he managed to retrieve most of the slices. It wasn’t a big deal, but he didn’t like to waste food, so he set the bowl and dirty carrots aside for Dust’s pet rat to eat. He opened the fridge and grabbed another carrot stick.

As he walked back, Dream looked up at him guiltily and picked at his gloves. “I’m sorry . . .”

“It’s okay . . . accidents happen,” Horror shrugged, picking up the knife.

“Do you- do you not want me to help you cook anymore?” he asked.

The knife sliced through the carrot with ease. “No . . . you can stay . . .”

Dream sat up straight, his eyelight’s brightening. “Really? I can stay and help you?”

Horror nodded and handed the child the ladle. “Here . . . you can stir.”

“Okay, I can do that!” he said, sticking the spoon in the soup and sloshing it around excitedly.

“Slower . . .” said Horor as he grabbed his tiny hands and guided them in a smooth, circular motion around the pot. “See . . . just like that . . .”

Dream nodded, “Yeah, yeah I see. Let me do it- I can do it now!”

Horror went back to cutting the carrot, and once he added the slices to the pot, he got to work on the radishes. Dream watched him with a scrunched up face and began rambling on about the vegetable. He said he found a patch once and tried eating them, but hated their bitter, strong taste. (Horror quickly assured him they wouldn’t taste ‘yucky’ in the soup.) Dream continued to talk, now about berries he’d picked with his brother, and how he liked sweet strawberries and blueberries and Nightmare prefered tart blackberries and raspberries (the raspberry tea they kept for Nightmare made more sense now.)

As Dream rambled from topic to topic, Horror found himself enjoying listening to him. The constant chatter was a pleasant background noise to him, similar to the classical music he liked to zone out too. He didn’t offer much besides an affirmative hum of nod of the head, but Dream didn’t seem to care. He must have liked talking as much as Horror liked listening. And to be honest, it was kinda nice to have company while he cooked for once.

Sure, the others occasionally hung out with him, but often the conversation would become . . . chaotic and he would have to push them all out of the kitchen. But although Dream was energetic and fidgeted a lot, he was much calmer compared to the others. All he did was talk about stuff like blowing dandelions or playing in a river with Nightmare.

As Dream currently ranted about getting his gloves all sticky with sap when he tried climbing a pine tree, Horror threw the last few pieces of radishes into the pot. He let Dream stir the now boiling liquid a little more before grabbing a spoon. Dipping it in the broth, he blew on it and then sipped it.

“Mmmm . . . more salt . . .” he hummed, adding a few shakes to the pot.

He tired the soup again and smiled. “Perfect . . .”

“Oh! Oh! Let me taste! I wanna taste it!” Dream pipped up.

Horror filled the spoon a third time, avoiding any of the uncooked radishes, and blew on it. He held it out to Dream, who leaned forward and bit down on the utensil.

His golden eyelights expanded. “Mmmmm! That tastes really good! Can we eat it now?”

Horror put the lid on the pot and shook his head. “Not yet . . . in an hour . . .”

“So does this mean you can play with me now?” Dream asked.

Horror didn’t feel like playing whatever game Dream had in mind . . . but he didn’t want to make him sad again either. Especially when no one else was willing to play with him. Horror searchd his muddled mind for a solution and smiled softly when he found it.

“Actually . . . how about we make that pie . . . for dessert tonight?” he suggested.

Dream’s eyelights morphed into a̶d̶o̶r̶a̶b̶l̶e stars as he grinned. “REALLY!?”

“Mmmhmm” he nodded as Dream cheered.

Horror walked to the pantry, trying not to smile at the child’s excitement. But when he returned with the ingredients for the pie crust, he couldn’t help smiling slightly wider than normal. As he placed the stuff on the breakfast bar, he heard Dream plop down onto the floor behind him. Horror fetched him a chair from the dining room and Dream climbed onto it, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he giggled.

After he measured out the wet ingredients, he handed the bowl and whisk to Dream. “Here . . . can you stir that?”

“Yep!” Dream said, popping the p. “I’m really good at stirring now!”

“You sure are . . .” he chuckled, watching some of the batter splash onto the counter.

Meanwhile, Horror folded in the various dry ingredients together, glancing from time to time at Dream. Once he finished, he poured what batter was left in Dream’s bowl into his own and carefully mixed them together with a spatula. Once the mixture was thick enough, he dusted the counter top with flour and scooped the dough out onto it.

“Take your gloves off . . .” he said and held out his hand.

Dream slid his tiny gloves off to reveal even tinier hands. Since he wore his gloves all the time, Horror figured they were probably clean enough to touch the food.

He scooted the flour over to Dream. “Put this on your hands . . .”

Dream stuck his hands into the bowl, creating a cloud of dust in his face.

“This feels soft,” he coughed, lifting his hands to show them covered in the fine powder.

“Now . . . watch me . . .” said Horror, turning to the dough.

He started rolling it this way and that, working out the lumps and working in the air. He watched Dream from the corner of his good socket and saw he was quietly and completely focused on the mesmerizing motions of his hands. It was weird to think he was teaching Dream of all skeletons how to bake a pie, but seeing the childish wonder in his face made it feel less weird. It just felt . . . nice.

After kneading for another moment, Horror set the dough in front of him. “Your turn . . .”

Dream shoved his fists into the ball of dough, sending a puff of flour dust everywhere, but Horror didn’t mind. He watched as Dream determinedly rolled and squished and pounded the dough. He wasn’t doing it like he showed him, but from his shimmering eyelights he could tell Dream was having fun. Horror let him play with it a minute more, then took it back and set his rolling pin on the dough. Directing Dream’s hands to hook around either side of the wooden tool, he placed his hands around the child’s and started to roll the pin gently across the dough.

“Roll it back and forth . . . back and forth . . .”

“Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth . . .” Dream chanted back.

Horror let go after a second so Dream could roll it on his own. The dough resisted the admittedly weak rolling done by Dream, but that didn’t deter the child. He kept trying and eventually put enough pressure on the pin to make the dough flatten a little bit. Horror smiled at his progress. He noticed Dream’s perseverance and stubbornness to succeed made him a good learner. Maybe . . . he could teach him how to cook some more? At least while he’s stuck here with them.

Dream stopped rolling and wiped his forehead, smearing flour and dough all over it.

“Did I do it?” he asked, beaming up at him.

“Mm hm,” he hummed, wiping his dirtied face with the edge of his apron. Dream grimaced at the abrasive rubbing, but when Horror finished, the smile bounced back onto his face.

He held the rolling pin out to him. “Now it’s your turn!”

Horror took it from him and scooted the dough over. He started rolling out the kinks Dream couldn’t get out and flattened it thin enough to fit inside the pie tin. All the while he felt Dream watching him intensely. Horror expected him to start talking about whatever topic came into his head at that moment, but he stayed silent. He glanced down to see Dream staring thoughtfully into the distance. Horror shrugged his behavior off and set aside the rolling pin. He sliced the dough into two halves- one for the pan, and on for the topping.

“Horror . . . can I ask you something?” Dream suddenly asked somberly.

He stopped and stared at him. “Uh sure . . . go ahead. . .”

Dream paused, then asked quietly, “How . . . how did you get that hole in your head?”

Horror . . . didn’t know what to say.

He had expected the question to come tumbling out of Dream’s mouth the first moment he spoke to him. Ever since then it’s just been a waiting game to see how long it would take him to ask. Apparently he had finally worked up enough courage (or curiosity). Horror didn’t know if normal Dream knew the story or not, but it was obvious this child version of him was clueless. He pushed back the fuzzy, unwelcome memories as he thought up the most kid-friendly explanation to give him.

“It . . . happened a long . . . long time ago. Someone . . . I thought was my friend . . . they hurt me . . . and I got this,” he said, scratching at the cracks.

“What? But that’s so mean!” Dream exclaimed, clenching his fists. “Friends don’t hurt other friends!”

“It’s okay . . . it doesn’t matter now . . .” he shrugged.

Dream looked up, his face changing from anger to worry. “Does it still hurt?”

Horror smiled. “No . . . it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Dream glanced down at the floor with a frown. Horror took his silence to mean he was processing the information and turned back to his work. He grabbed the pie tin, greased it, and laid the dough inside. He then walked over to the fridge and placed it on the top shelf to cool and set. While he stood there, he took the blueberries and the butter out as well. He was about to turn around when he felt someone grabbing him from behind. He jolted and saw it was Dream hugging him as far as his little arms could reach.

“Uh . . . Dream?”

Dream leaned his head into his shirt, muffeling his voice as he spoke. “You’re my friend Horror and I’m not ever gonna hurt you. I promise.”

This was . . . kinda awkward.

But at the same time, his promise was so innocent and heartfelt, that Horror couldn’t help feeling a little touched. It didn’t help when Dream tilted his head up to look at him with those big, bright eyelights of his. Eyelights which used to look at him with hostility, but now stared at him with open friendliness.

Horror patted his head and smiled. “Heh . . . uh . . . thanks Dream . . .”

Dream giggled at the touch and gave him one last squeeze before he let go.

He looked at his hand and gasped, “Oh yay, you got the blueberries! Can I have some? Please, please?”

Horror latched on to the distraction and dropped a handful of fruit into his cupped palms. While Dream was busy with his snack, Horror grabbed the chair and pulled it over to the stove. Taking a pot from the cabinet, he poured the sugar, water, and rest of the blueberries into it and turned the heat on. Dream climbed onto the chair with empty, but sticky-with-blueberry-juice hands. Horror wiped the remaining dough and fruit stains off with his apron and handed him a clean ladle.

Dream began sloshing the berries around, repetitively singing “Stir, stir, stir, stir!”

Horror left Dream in charge of the blueberries while he went back to the dough left on the counter. He carefully began slicing them into thin strips to be layered across the pie. As he worked, Dream started rambling to himself again. This time it was about colors and how he really liked blues and yellows and greens, but Nightmare liked purples and reds and white better. Horror listened quietly to him talk about his brother, not aware of the smile on his face until it fell when Dream randomly paused.

After a beat of silence, he heard him ask, “Hey Horror, am I bothering you?”

“How . . . are you bothering me?” he asked over his shoulder.

Dream shrugged and stared sullenly at the pot. “I don’t know . . . Killer says I talk too much and it bothers him. . .”

“It . . . it doesn’t bother me . . .”

Dream perked up. “You mean it?”

“Yeah . . .” Horror said, walking over and taking the pie crust out of the fridge.

He walked over to the stove and smiled at Dream and turned off the heat. Grabbing the pot with his free hand, he headed back to the breakfast bar, while Dream scooted his makeshift stool after him. He climbed back on and watched Horror pour the steaming fruity filling into the pin tin.

“You know, you are just like Nightmare,” he observed, sucking on the ladle. “I don’t bother him when I talk either. He doesn’t say a lot, but he likes to listen. He's very good at that. He’s the best listener ever!”

Horror chuckled.

Dream had revealed interesting information about his twin in their conversation, but he already knew that Nightmare was a good listener. In fact, he’d lost count of the time Nightmare let them get something off their chest to him, or came rushing into their rooms in the middle of the night to comfort and listen to them explain the bad dream they had. He never said much back, but he didn’t need to. His presence alone was calming, and they all knew he cared, even if he didn’t directly say it often. It seems like that part of him wasn’t lost to his corruption.

Horror showed Dream how to layer the pie by putting down the first set of dough strips himself. He then helped the child arrange the second layer. The pattern was a little uneven and far from picturesque, but Dream was proud of his work, so Horror let it alone. He waited for Dream to hop off his chair before the too of them carried the pie toward the oven. After placing it inside, he shut the door and twisted the dial on their apple timer.

“What is that?” he asked.

Horror set the device on the counter. “it’s an alarm . . . it goes off when the pie is done . .”

“Oh! So we don’t forget about it and it won’t get burnt!” Dream nodded.

Horror nodded back, when all of a sudden Dream barreled into him with another hug.

“Thank you, Rory! Cooking with you is really, really fun. I wanna cook with you all the time! Can I? Can I?” he asked, squeezing him tighter.

Horror’s red eyelight swelled as he smiled. “Yeah . . . you can be my little chef . . .”

“WOW, REALLY? THANK YOU, THANK YOU! I WILL BE THE BEST LITTLE CHEF! I PROMISE!” Dream shouted, grinning so wide it made his cheeks hurt just looking at it.

His increased volume also made Horror’s ear canals ring a little, but he ignored it and just chuckled.

Dream pulled away and clasped his hands. “What are we gonna cook next?”

“Actually . . . it’s time to eat . . .” Horror said, turning off the burner under the soup pot. “I need to set the table . . .”

“Oh! Oh, let me! I can do it!” Dream squealed.

Horror shook his head and handed Dream his gloves. “Go wash your hands . . . you can help me later . . . with the pie . . .”

“Okay! I’ll be right back!” He said and scurried out of the room.

Horror chuckled to himself and pulled several bowls out of the cabinet. He walked into the dinning room to see Dust was already sitting at the table with his head resting on his arms. After arranging the bowls, he went back and fetched the soup. As soon as he set the pot down and started serving it up, Dust raised his head and opened a socket.

“Smells good,” he said with a yawn.

“Dream helped make it . . .” Horror commented.

Dust lifted his socket lids a little. “He did?”

“Who did what?” Cross asked, walking into the room with Killer right behind him.

“Dream cooked with Horror,” answered Dust

Killer crossed his arms and sat in his seat. “In that case I’m not having any.”

“Just cause Dream helped cook it doesn’t make it poisonous!” Cross scolded, sitting in the chair beside him.

“Well then you can have the first bowl.”

“I will!”

“Be my guest.”

“I did most of it . . .” Horror mumbled.

Cross waved his arm at him. “See? The soup is just fine. Besides, if it’s nothing like you’re cooking, then I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Are you saying a fu-”

“Language,” Dust tskd.

Killer glowered at him. “Ugh . . . a freaking child can cook better than me?”

“I’m saying anyone can cook better than you."

“At least I can actually cook."

Cross picked up his spoon and smacked Killer on the side of his skull with it.

“Ow- hey!” he yelled, rubbing the spot.

He grabbed his spoon and whacked him back, but Cross blocked the utensil with his own.

The both started fighting with each other, swiping and stabbing as if the spoons were mini versions of their much sharper weapons. Dust ignored them and started eating his soup while Horror sat down to do the same. Their rambunctious companions continued their battle, both sides getting more and more heated with each strike. Cross went in for the killing blow, but Killer reacted faster and knocked the spoon from his hand. All four skeletons watched the silverware whiz across the table and toward the doorway just as Nightmare walked through it.

The black skeleton caught the utensil between two phalanges without so much as blinking.

“What did I say about using weapons in here?” he said tiredly.

“Technically, that’s a spoon, not a knife,” Cross pointed out.

Nightmare sat down at the head of the table and handed the spoon back to him. “Then stop throwing it like one, or I’m going to ban the silverware as well,” he said, glaring at the two of them.

Killer swirled the veggies around in his bowl. “I’m not the one who started it,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who threw the spoon!” Cross said, stuffing a spoonful in his mouth.

Nightmare shook his head. “I swear, you both are more immature at times than my own-”

“I’m back! I’m all clean and- oh! It’s time to eat now?” Dream yelled as he bounded into the room.

“Yes. Sit down before it gets cold,” Nightmare said, turning to his soup.

He watched from the corner of his socket as Dream took the seat beside his and slurped up his meal.

“Mmmm, thish isss sooo good!” He said with his mouth full. Dream then looked up at him excitedly and added, “Do you like it, Midnight?”

Nightmare held his spoon in midair. “Um . . . yes? Why do you ask?”

“I made it!” his brother declared proudly.

He furrowed his brow at Horror, “Oh, really?”

“He stirred the soup . . ." he said.

“Yeah! I’m the best at stirring!”

Nightmare relaxed and took a bite of his dinner. “Well, if that’s all you did.”

Sure, he didn’t like the idea of Dream in the kitchen. Too many things could go wrong and the last time his brother tried cooking something it went up in flames. But if Horror was supervising him and only giving him easy, hazardless tasks, then he could let it slide. After all, it would keep Dream from getting into trouble elsewhere.

“I helped put the veggies in too!” said his brother, disturbing his thoughts. “I did spill the carrots, but it was an accident. Oh! And I made a blueberry pie! Rory showed me how to do it right so I wouldn’t mess up this time.”

Nightmare’s socket widened at the mention of a blueberry pie while the rest of the table froze and stared at Dream.

Except for Killer, who was busy choking at the moment.

“Rory? You mean Horror?” Dust asked the child next to him.

Dream nodded and innocently took another bite of soup.

“So, you gotta nickname too, huh?” Cross teased, poking Horror with his spoon.

The skeleton ignored him and picked at his meal, but Nightmare could sense his annoyance.

“I’m his little chef!” Dream said, flinging a potato piece in his excitement.

“His-s . . h-his l-little chef?” Killer chortled once he caught his breath.

Horror’s cheeks flushed just a little. “He was . . . helping me cook . . . ”

“Yeah! I’m gonna help Rory cook all the time,” Dream added, causing Killer and Cross to snicker.

“ . . . I need to check the pie . . .” Horror said and stood up from his chair.

“I’ll help!” Dream shouted and hurried after him before Nightmare could tell him to come back and finish his soup.

So he sighed and ate the rest of his, while the remaining boys continued to laugh at the silly nicknames. Nightmare didn’t laugh. Sure, it was silly, but if Dream liked someone he would call them by a nickname of their name. As kids, that only someone was him, but it seemed that now Dream was warming up to his boys, they were getting one too. Nightmare could care less what Dream called them, but he didn’t want his brother to start calling ‘Midnight’ Nighty. In fact, he rather liked Dream calling him by his new alias. It kept all those unwanted feelings in check.

“We got the pie!” Dream announced, coming back from the kitchen with Horror behind him.

Horror cut and handed his brother a large slice, which he immediately dug into, dripping berry juice all over his face. Dust, Cross, and even Killer each accepted a piece of the pie, although Killer did wait for Cross to have a bite first. But when the monochrome skeleton didn’t collapse from food poisoning, he dug into his as well. Nightmare rejected Horror’s offer at a slice, so the red-eyed skeleton ate it himself.

“Mmm, this is pretty good,” Cross hummed.

“Thanthks!” Dream beamed, his cheeks stuffed with pie “Ish wasn’ on fffire thissh time.”

“This time?” asked Killer, raising a brow bone. “You’ve made a pie before?”

“Uh huh! I mashe a bue-bewwy pie for my bwro-”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Dream,” Nightmare quickly interjected.

His brother swallowed his food and looked at him. “Aren’t you gonna eat pie?” He asked.

“No, I’m full,” he lied.

Dream cut a piece of his mangled slice and held it up to him. “Try it! Pleaseeee?”

“I said I’m full. Maybe later,” Nightmare said firmly, pushing the fork out of his face.

His brother pouted and stuck the rejected pie into his mouth and chewed it sourly. Nightmare rolled his eyelight, only to look up and see all of his boys zeroed in on him, each with mixed reactions to their little exchange. He cleared his throat and stood up from his seat, grabbing his bowl as well as the other dishes with his tentacles.

“I’m going to go wash these. Bring your plates in when you all are done,” he said.

Dream watched him until he disappeared behind the door into the kitchen. He turned to his pie, but he wasn’t hungry anymore, so he just flicked the crumbs of his crust.

“Don’t worry buddy, I’m sure Midnight will eat a slice later,” said Crossy.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

Dream didn’t want Midnight to eat pie later. He wanted him to try it now. He had hoped that maybe the pie would make him happy instead of grumpy, but he didn’t want to even taste it!

“Are you . . . done?” Rory asked.

Dream nodded and pushed his plate over to him. Rory picked it up and took the other pie plates. Once he left the room, the other three skeletons got up from their seats, so Dream scooted off of his as well. He quietly followed behind them as they headed into the TV room. They didn’t seem to notice him yet, which was good. They always kicked him out whenever they came inside to watch the TV tell stories. He wanted to watch them too!

“So who picked the movie last week?” asked Killer.

Crossy said, “I think it was Horror, so it’s my turn tonight.”

This was his chance! Dream forgot all about being stealthy and sprinted over to Crossy.

“Can I watch too?” He asked, looking up with wide eyelights.

“We already said you can’t watch TV, so beat it, pipsqueak,” Killer said, pointing at the door.

Crossy folded his arms. “Stop it, Killer. It’s movie night, so everyone gets to watch, including Dream.”

“Fine, but it’s your funeral when Night- Midnight finds out you let Dream watch an adult movie,” he snapped back.

Crossy rolled his eyelights. “I’m sure we’ve got something age appropriate for him,” he said, walking over to a shelf.

“ What movie are we watching . . .” asked Rory as he entered the room.

Dream ran over to him and tugged on his hoodie. “Crossy said I can stay and watch the TV with you guys!”

“Oh . . . okay . . .” he hummed.

Rory walked over toward the big couch and dragged Dream along with him. He sat down on the end and helped Dream crawl onto the middle spot to sit beside him. He could hardly stay still though, he was so excited. He was finally going to see a movie up close and not through the door keyhole!

“Aha!” shouted Crossy, holding up what Dream assumed was the movie. “This one should be fine. We just gotta mute it a couple times.”

Killer plopped right next to Dream. “Just put it in already.”

Crossy just ignored him and put the movie in the TV box. He then joined Dust on the couch with two seats. Dream scooted closer to Rory and wrapped both arms around his. He sighed happily. It felt so nice to be close to someone again. Crossy let him ride on his back once, but it wasn’t as comfy as cuddling was. He really missed cuddling N̶i̶g̶h̶t̶m̶a̶r̶e̶.

“Why is Dream in here?” Nightmare asked sharply as he stood in the doorway.

All heads immediately swiveled in his direction.

Killer mumbled, “Not my idea.”

“Well, since it’s movie night, I picked something I thought he could watch,” explained Cross.

Nightmare sighed. “Alright then. Have fun,” he said and turned to leave.

“Wait, where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay with us?”

He stopped and shook his head. “Sorry Cross, but I have paperwork that needs finishing. You all watch without me.”

“But . . . it's movie night . . .” He pouted.

“You’ve been working too much. Take a break,” added Killer.

Dream slid off the couch and patted his seat. “Yeah, Sit here, Midnight! Pleaseee? It’ll be fun!”

Nightmare hesitated. While he wanted to avoid spending as much time as possible around his brother, the offer to relax for the first time in days was very tempting. Besides, it would be nice to experience some semblance of normality since his life was turned upside down almost a week ago. Even if it meant being in the same room with Dream for longer than twenty minutes. He debated a moment more, before slouching over in defeat.

“Fine,” he sighed.

Nightmare headed for the couch, not missing the excited grins on Cross and Dream’s face, or the smug satisfaction on Killer’s. Even Horror looked up at him with a dilated eyelight. Their reactions made him feel more confident he made the right decision as he sat down in between two of his boys.

But that certainty disappeared as he watched Dream climb onto his lap.

Nightmare’s hands froze in the air. All he could do was stare in shock at the oblivious child happily sitting in front of him. His first instinct was to get him off and shove him onto someone else’s lap or the floor. But his boys were all staring at him and he didn’t want to make a big deal of it in front of them. His fingers twitched. He quickly shoved them in his pockets before old, old habits overcame his rationale.

Nightmare glared at his still staring boys. “If you don’t press play, I’m leaving,” he hissed.

“Okay, okay, I’m starting it,” Cross said casually, but he could hear the amusement in his voice.

As the movie began playing, Dream leaned forward and watched the screen intensely. Nightmare tried following his example, but it was difficult to not get distracted every time his brother “oohed” and “ahed” at every scene. Sometimes he would even look up and loudly ask him questions, to which Nightmare would give curt answers or simply tell him to just watch the movie. After the fifth question, he heard Killer mumble “make it shut up”, but he ignored him. Still, he was relieved as well once Dream finally stopped talking every two minutes.

When his head began nodding, Nightmare knew why.

Ten minutes before the movie ended, Nightmare looked down to see Dream leaning back against his chest and breathing slowly. It seems his cooking lessons with Horror had drained him of the rest of his energy. Nightmare ignored him, but he still felt the tiniest twinge of . . . happiness? Must be because his brother wasn’t annoying him anymore. Yeah, that was it. It made it much easier to focus on the movie now- wait, it had finished?

Nightmare blinked at the black screen and rubbed his head. Well, since that was over, he should probably get back to work.

Killer chuckled. “Guess he couldn’t make it to the end, huh?”

“He’s kinda cute when he’s asleep,” Cross pointed out.

Nightmare gave him a deadpan stare and noticed that Dust had his phone out in front him. He narrowed his socket suspiciously, but he couldn’t see the camera light on. Still, it was better to leave before any of them got any ideas. Keeping his fists clenched tightly in his pockets, he wrapped a tentacle gently around his sleeping brother and carefully stood up from the couch.

“I’ll take him to bed. Goodnight boys,” he said before teleporting into Dream’s room.

Throwing the toys littering his bed onto the floor, he pulled the covers back and laid his brother down. Thankfully Dream didn’t wake up from the movement, and he didn’t stir when Nightmare took his accessories off either. He knew his brother slept pretty lightly every night n̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶r̶o̶u̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶s̶l̶e̶e̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶o and was surprised to see him in such a deep sleep already. He brushed the reason for that out of his mind, turned off the light, and quietly shut the door behind him.

Only to turn around and see all four skeletons standing in the hall in front of him.

Nightmare lifted his brow bone. “Didn’t I already say goodnight?”

“We wanna get tucked into bed too,” Cross said innocently.

“Yeah, where’s our goodnight kiss?” Killer teased.

“Dream didn’t get any “goodnight kisses” and neither will any of you. Now go to your rooms before I make you,” he said, raising his tentacles.

Dust shrugged. “Can’t blame us for trying.”

He headed for his room, while Killer and Cross followed after him, both of them snickering to each other. Horror stayed behind, and after a moment, he stepped forward to embrace him with one of his soft bear hugs. Nightmare smiled tiredly and squeezed the skeleton’s shoulder with a free tendril.

“Goodnight Horror. Sleep well,” he murmured.

“Goodnight . . .” the skeleton whispered back, before letting go and walking to his own room.

Nightmare shuffled down the cold corridor to his office and made his way over to his desk. He sunk into the chair and pushed aside the pile of tea mugs he somehow accumulated, although he didn’t remember how or when. Picking up his paperwork, he bent over it and tried to resume where he had left off. But no matter how much he made himself focus, his mind kept wandering. He knew why. But he hoped if he ignored the nagging thought in the back of his mind long enough, it would go away.

It didn’t.

Nightmare sighed.

Standing up, he gathered his magic and teleported promptly to the kitchen. Walking over to the fridge, he opened it and stared. What little self control he had seeped away the moment he saw the pie and he immediately grabbed the tin. He served himself a slice onto a clean plate. Picking up a fork, he cut off a large piece and lifted it slowly to his mouth, only hesitating for a fraction of a second, before biting down on it. He closed his socket and chewed.

It tasted so much better than he remembered.

Chapter Text

He opened his sockets slowly and squinted at the light above him.

Once his eyelight’s adjusted, he saw rays of sunlight shining down through the leaves of their Tree, warming his pale white cheeks. He yawned and groggily tried to rub away the dark shadows, but they stubbornly remained on his face. Listening to the melodic chirping of birds carried on the gentle breeze made it difficult for him to wake up, and he was tempted to nestle into the grass and continue napping. But as a guardian, he needed to wake up and, well, guard.

With a grunt, he pushed himself upwards and felt the book he left lying open on his chest land shut into his lap. He sighed in frustration at losing his place. But he supposed it's what he gets for not remembering his bookmark. He stretched his arm behind his head and yawned again. Sitting hunched over, he looked out at the horizon to see the sun dipping into the late afternoon sky. Was it that late already? He glanced around for his brother, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

“Typical,” he huffed, rolling his eyelights.

Honestly, he should really stop expecting Dream to show up when he said he would. But Dream had been so adamant this time that he’d be back before noon. Back from where exactly, he couldn’t recall. Dream might have mentioned something about exploring the southern glen, but he had sort of blocked him out when he was speaking. He simply didn’t care about what Dream did or where. The only thing that mattered to him was the fact that his brother was shirking his duties and leaving him to guard their Tree.

Alone.

Again.

Not that he couldn’t handle it by himself, but it was still Dream’s job to stay and help. Instead, his irresponsible twin spent nearly every hour away from their Tree, off playing somewhere in the valley or down in the village with his so-called “friends”. More like backbiting, manipulative bastards. Dream was too naive to see they were just using him, but he didn’t trust them as far as he could shoot an arrow at them. Of course, convincing Dream that the villagers were greedy and self-centered was practically impossible. Still, they had argued over it for what must have been the hundredth time last night. He’d tried so hard to make Dream see the truth, but . . .

“Just because you don’t like them, doesn’t mean they’re bad! If you’d only spend time with them you’d see-”

“-See what exactly? That they hate and fear me?” he spat.

“That’s not true!” Dream shouted, stomping his foot.

He rolled his eyelights at the display. “Please, don’t bother denying it. I’ve seen the way they look at me. How they avoid me like I’m carrying some sort of disease. I’ve heard plenty of spiteful whispers behind my back when they thought I wasn’t listening. But you never notice because they always act like perfect angels when you’re around.”

“I’m not dumb, Nightmare!” His brother huffed. “You’re just being paranoid like usual. I’m telling you, it’s all just in your head.”

“All in my head? So I suppose waking up to find my most delicate books ripped and drenched in mud was “just in my head”? Or getting an angry bee hive thrown at me was but an illusion? And coming back to our Tree today to find several of them climbing and attempting to take the apples- that was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, was it?”

Dream wince at the mention of this morning's incident.

“Look, I understand why you’re upset about that,” he sighed, “but they were just a couple of kids playing mean pranks. They didn’t know any better! And I told you, I’ve confronted their parents about their behaviour, so it won’t happen again.”

“It wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you had just been guarding our Tree like you were supposed to!” he snarled.

Dream narrowed his sockets at him. “This is what you’re really upset over, isn’t it? Just because you’re content to spend the rest of your life as a guardian, doesn’t mean I have to,” he said, jabbing a finger at him.

“It’s not up to me, brother. It’s our-”

“-Duty, I know. You always say that! But you’re just using it as an excuse because you want me to be stuck here forever like you!” Dream said, throwing his hands into the air.

“It’s not an excuse, it’s reality,” he said coldly. “If you would just stop being so stubborn and accept it already, then we wouldn’t have to argue like this.”

“Oh, so I’m the stubborn one here? You’re the one who won’t believe the villagers are decent people no matter how many times I try to tell you!”

“I’ll believe you when I see it with my own eye sockets.”

Dream crossed his arms and turned away. “Well then . . . I guess there’s nothing else for me to say.”

“Fine. Goodnight, Dream,” he said, walking to the other side of the tree.

“Goodnight!”

The words they exchanged during their fight echoed in his mind, making his soul ache. He shook the memory from his head, then shook a second time to wake himself up. He wasn’t usually this tired. But then again, he didn’t usually sleep apart from his twin, and he’d gotten very little rest as a result. Seems not even the nap helped as he yawned for a third time since he awoke. He decided he’ll try and patch things up with his brother when he returns . . . at some point today.

In the meantime, he might as well read some more to pass the time. Lifting the age-worn manuscript off his knee, he pried it’s pages apart and flipped the one he last remembered reading. It took him a moment or two, but he finally found the paragraph where his sockets had begun to droop. He scooted back and leaned against the familiar bark of his Tree, letting out a long, contented sigh. There was nothing quite like a good book to escape from one’s boredom and brotherly issues.

But before he could read more than three sentences, something in the distance caught his eyelights. He begrudgingly peered over the edge of his book. In the distance, about twenty yards down the hill, he saw a figure sauntering towards him. For a second he thought it was his brother, but the slow, steady gait and large size of the stranger revealed it to be one of the villagers.

Great, just great. As if he needed another headache to deal with.

Snapping his book shut, he set it to the side and got up from his spot. He leisurely stretched and yawned again, then walked forward to meet the visitor. As the villager continued coming closer, he could make out that he was an adult. He felt a little relieved at that. If it was just one adult, then this unwarranted meeting shouldn't last that long. They were probably coming to look for Dream anyway. Still, he stood on guard with his arms crossed as the villager approached him, stopping a few yards away.

“Greetings Nightmare, King of Negativity and Guardian of the black apples,” he said, with an exaggerated bow.

He leveled him with an unamused, not flattered in the slightest by the use of his titles.

“Greetings. What is it you want,” he said curtly.

The villager stood upright, a tight smile on his face. “My request is a simple one, dear Guardian. I merely desire one of the golden apples.”

Ah, so he was one of the them.

Every so often, some weasley little villager would come begging for his brother’s golden fruit. He wasn’t jealous in the slightest, but they were always such a nuisance when Dream wasn’t here to give it to them. Sometime they would even try to take it by force, but it was nothing his arrows couldn’t take care of.

“I’m sorry, but Dream isn’t here currently. You’ll need to come back later and ask for one from him,” he said with a dismissive wave.

“But I cannot wait,” he insisted, an urgency in his tone, but it rang hollow. “You see, my beloved child that was so roughly removed from your tree came home yesterday with an injury. It’s infected now and the fever from it could take their life at any moments. The only thing that can save them now is the restorative power of the golden apple. Surely you won’t deny me the chance to save my child?”

He resisted rolling his eyelights.

Now he knew this villager was full of it.

Not one of those ‘children' had been harmed by him in the slightest. If they were hurt, it was only because of their own foolishness and not because he did anything to them. Besides, even if his story was true (which he could tell it wasn’t), he certainly didn’t owe this villager any favors.

“I’m grieved to hear about your child,” he said nonchalantly, “but I have no say in the matter. The golden apples are not mine to give. I will let my brother know the moment he returns about your plight.”

He stared at the villager, expecting him to get angry and start demanding the apple, or the best case scenario: leave disappointed and dejected. But he saw neither of those reactions. Rather, the villager smiled a lazy, self-assured grin and chuckled.

“It’s such a pity Dream isn’t here. . .” he said, speaking louder than before.

He jolted in surprise to see a dozen or so villagers climbing up the hill on either side of the visitor. All strong, capable adults and all armed with various weapons. He straightened to his full height, his fists clenched at his sides as he stared them down.

“. . . looks like we will have to take the apples ourselves,” the villager finished and motioned to those around him to follow.

As they marched toward him, he summoned his bow, his face tight with determination. A wave of indigo arrows hit half of the villagers at once. The non-fatal spears infused with his negative magic pierced them with raw, all-consuming fear, and within seconds all of them fled down the hill as fast as they could run. Their unaffected companions charged angrily at him and successfully dodged his next wave of arrows.

He quickly switched his long-distance weapon for his velvet, moon-tipped staff. He stood his ground, sweat beading on his forehead. While he was a capable fighter, these were more opponents than he was used to. He desperately wished his brother was here, but he couldn’t afford to get distracted by wishful thinking and directed his all focus to the oncoming villagers.

The fastest ones reach him first. He dodged them easily, slipping past their reach and knocking out their legs. They would only be down temporarily, but before he could think of a more permanent solution, another villager swung a rake at him. He stumbled backwards as they tried again, only to drive the weapon into the ground, giving him a clear shot at their head. As they crumbled to their knees, another one came barreling at him. He stepped aside, missing the spear by an inch. He turned around to face his oppenent, but as he did so, he saw several villagers had already reached the tree.

“Get away from it!” he growled.

The attacker jabbed at him, but he darted past them and sprinted recklessly toward the tree. But he barely took four steps forward when something knocked into the back of his skull. He fell head first onto the sweet smelling, but spinning earth, his staff flying out of his hand. Groaning, he struggled to pull himself to his feet, but only managed to lift his head when he felt a shadow fall over him. He looked up to see the villager from before, their leader, staring down at him.

That’s all he saw before the club swung at his face.

A bone-cracking sound.

A choked scream.

A wave of pain.

“There, that should keep him down for good,” hummed the villager, but he didn’t hear him.

He heard nothing. He saw nothing. He felt nothing.

Nothing besides unbearable

P A I N

And yet, beyond the deafening ringing in his skull, he could hear a muffled sound.

No, wait, he . . . he couldn’t hear it.

He could feel it.

Like the ripple of water or the reverberating boom of thunder, it resounded over and over in his bones, drowning out all other noise. Despite pain’s attempt to drag him unconscious, the dread building in his soul gave him the strength to lift his sockets open. Although his vision swam and was blotted with darkness, it was just clear enough to let him watch the axe collide with the trunk of their Tree, sending another shockwave through him.

They . . . .

They were cutting down their Tree.

“ . . n-no! st - op . .” he tried to shout, but it came out as frightened, raspy whisper.

The swings never faltered for a second. One after the other, after the other, after the other; the force of their blows knocking several of the apples from their branches. It felt as though they were chopping at his own bones rather than the bark. He watched helplessly as they sliced through the ancient tree with ease, too overwhelmed with dizzying pain and panic to move

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Then, with a deep, bellowing creak, it started to fall.

He tried to scream, but he couldn’t. He stretched out a trembling hand as their Tree slowly descended to the earth, as if by doing so he could catch it. But he didn’t, and it crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. The villagers whooped and hollered at their achievement, but he wasn’t listening as he stared at the toppled giant in disbelief.

Their Tree . . . was dead.

It . . was dead.

IT WAS DEAD.

His hand fell limply to the ground like their Tree, only there was no sound. But there was something. Its smooth, solid surface brushed against his finger tips. He lowered his gaze and looked. It was an apple. .

He couldn’t save their Tree, but at least he could save this apple.

With the last of his waning strength, he grabbed it and pulled it close to him. But the moment he did so, a sick, black color began to bleed out from his phalanges and spread over the entire apple. He stared at the now rotten looking fruit in horror.

Did . . . did he do that?

He didn’t mean to! He . . . h-he was trying to save it! To protect this one apple from getting taken. But instead he poisoned with his magic. He squeezed his sockets shut, choking on a sob as he felt a wet, sticky tear trail down his uninjured cheek.

This was all his fault!

He’d failed his job as guardian of their Tree. Now it was lying dead on the ground, it’s fruit ripe for the villager’s picking. Even his best effort to save just one golden apple was a failure, as it sat blackened in his palm. He’d failed, and there was nothing he could do. He was too weak. The villagers would take their fruit and he was powerless to stop them-

. . . or . . . was he?

Opening his sockets, he stared at the apple still in his hand.

Sure . . . the fruit was tainted now, but . . . it still had some magic left in it, right?

His grip around it tightened.

If eating it could somehow give him the ability to fight back against the villagers and protect what golden apples were left, then why shouldn’t he take this chance?

He brought the fruit to his mouth, sinking his teeth into it’s flesh . . .

After all, what more did he possibly have to lose?

. . . and swallowed.

Immediately his magic absorbed the power into the very core of his being. He gasped, dropping the remaining fruit from his hand. He grasped at blades of grass, trying to breathe, but he couldn’t get the air into his chest. His bones shuddered and rattled as the icy magic spread and burned within them.

it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt

And then . . .

. . . it didn’t.

The freezing pain ebbed away after a few moments. And while he still felt colder than before, he also felt . . . stronger.

Much stronger.

He stood up, all of his pain now completely forgotten about. Not even his right eye socket hurt anymore. Although when he opened it, he couldn’t see anything. That was a shame. But he only needed one working eyelight to focus on the traitorous villagers encircling their Tree. Just looking at them made his magic boil, his rage culminating physically as pure, sharpened malice in his hands.

“Grab as many as you can. We can always come back for the rest,” their leader commanded, standing with his back to him.

He took a silent step forward.

“Well what about Dream? Won’t he-”

“Leave him to me. I can handle that spoiled brat.”

He raised his fists and aimed.

“There’s so many, I can’t believe we didn’t do this soon- wait, what!? Why are they all turning bla- ACK!”

Their leader turned to see his companion fall, a ebony fragment protruding from his back, as more voices cried out in agony around him.

“Oops . . .” he grinned darkly, his voice scratching against his throat. “. . . I missed.”

The villager gaped in terror for a brief second, then furrowed his brow and pointed a finger at him.

“Don’t just stand there, attack him!” he yelled to the few still standing.

But before any of them could move, more pitch black fragments whizzed toward them, stabbing them like the quills of a porcupine. They all simultaneously fell dead, just like the Tree whose life they thoughtlessly and greedily claimed. He let their leader take in the carnage around him, relishing in the negative emotions radiating from him, before impaling his right eye, killing him instantly.

It was . . . kinda pathetic, really.

He carefully stepped over the motionless bodies and piles of dust, watching the former warily just in case one was still alive somehow. But none of them stirred aside from the wind wiping at their clothes. Strangely, he felt no remorse from having just killed all of them. Rather, he felt relieved. Elated, even. He reasoned that it must be because the golden apples were-

Black.

They were all b l a c k.

His legs buckled under him and he plummeted to the ground.

“No . . . no . . . no no no NO NO NO!” he screamed, clawing his skull with his s̶t̶a̶i̶n̶e̶d hands.

Why!?

Why did this happen!?

Why did any of this happen!?

He’d tried. He’d tried so hard. He did everything he could to protect their Tree, to protect the apples. He’d eaten one of them just so he could kill the thieving murders. But it wasn’t enough, not even to save a single one. He still failed.

It was all h̶ ̶i̶ ̶s̶ ̶ ̶f̶ ̶a̶ ̶u̶ ̶l̶ ̶t̶

No . . .

No . . . it . . .

It was . . .

It was all their fault.

The villagers.

Those lying, backstabbing, greedy, treacherous villagers.

They did this.

They cut down their Tree.

They destroyed the apples.

They almost killed him.

Well . . .

. . . maybe he should kill them instead.

But disposing of a few shocked-stiff villagers was less of a challenge than taking on an entire village. Even with his enhanced magic, he was no match for that many at once. If he wanted to destroy them and their home like they had done to him, then he needed to become stronger.

Much stronger.

He glanced up at the dark fruit hanging before him.

Yes . . . that could work.

He’d only need to eat a few apples. Just to make himself powerful enough to bring justice down upon them. Snatching the closest one off it’s branch, he eyed it hungrily, his mouth watering with magic. Just a little more power. That’s all he needed. Just a little more . . .

Bite

The energy swelled inside him, though not as freezing as the first time.

Bite

The juice dripped onto the withered grass below him, it’s color as dark as the clouds above.

Bite

He was practically swimming in magic now, his bones becoming coated with it’s essence.

Bite

The negative energy overflowed, spilling and curling outward from his back as oozing tendrils.

Bite

He turned towards the punny village below him, his one eyelight burning with seething hatred

Bite

Each slow, slogging footstep shook the ground as he drew closer and closer to his target.

Bite

He watched many of them run and cower in their homes, while others banished weapons against him.

Bite

The feeble arrows did nothing to his now invincible, immortal body, and the spears snapped like twigs.

Bite

He leveled their homes to the ground, the air filled with their screaming

Bite

So

Bite

Much

Bite

S c r e a m i n g

Until there was no more screaming.

There were no more villagers

There was no more village.

There was nothing.

There was nothing left to guard.

There was nothing left to kill.

The only thing left was the buzzing magic and simmering fury inside of him, clouding his mind with dark twisted thoughts and leaving an empty feeling in his soul. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think straight. So he did what he always did: go back to their Tree.

There was no tree to go back to, but he didn’t care.

He trekked up the steep, bare hill, sweating and breathing heavily as he tried to control the volatile power sloshing in his and over his bones. He’d never felt more alive, while at the same time, he felt like he could die at any moment. Once he made it to the top, his hazy eyelights roamed over what remained of the dead, drifting over toward the stump of their Tree, before focusing on . . .

Dream.

He froze, the world slowing to a stop.

His brother stood several yards away in front of their Tree with his back to him. He wasn’t moving either, save for the subtle shake of his shoulders. His head was angled down at the ground and his hands were clenched at his sides. In one he tightly held a small bundle of lavender, it’s fragrance wafting towards him on the stale breeze.

He considered what his next move should be, when Dream suddenly spun around.

The skeleton gasped, his golden eyelights shrinking at the sight of him, while glistening tears streamed down his pale face. He couldn’t just see the horror and fear in his brother’s face. He could feel it. His disgust, his regret, his grief, his confusion- all of it was instantly absorbed into his very soul without any effort.

He grimaced and gazed at the bloodied, dusty earth near his feet.

̶N̶o̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶l̶o̶o̶k̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶p̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶

̶I̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶ ̶f̶ ̶ ̶a̶ ̶ ̶u̶ ̶ ̶l̶ ̶ ̶t̶

“N-Nightmare? What . . . what happened?” croaked Dream.

What happened?

The question sat bitterly in his mouth.

What happened!?

He gritted his teeth.

Dream didn’t know what happened, because Dream wasn’t here.

He wasn’t here to guard their Tree.

He wasn’t here to stop them from cutting it down.

He wasn’t here to protect his golden apples from corrupting.

He wasn’t here to protect him from getting hurt

He wasn’t here when any of that happened.

He . . .

. . . betrayed him

Dream betrayed him.

Dream abandoned him.

Dream did this to him.

It was

All

His

F A U L T

“Y- you . . .” he glared unsteadily up at the figure, “You did this . . .”

“W . . .what!? I- I didn’t-”

“YOU BETRAYED ME!”

Dream flinched, dropping the lavender in his hand, and took a step backwards. He lost his balance all of a sudden and almost fell, but managed to right himself in time. Dream looked down at what he tripped on and snatched it up, holding it out for him to see.

It was a golden apple.

The last golden apple.

His magic flared to life, writhing wildly behind his back, as he stared at the fruit in the other’s hand.

That belonged to him

“Give it to me, Dream! Now!” he hissed.

The traitor tensed at his demand. Then, clutching the golden apple to his chest, he closed his sockets and bowed his head.

“I . . . I can’t, Nightmare. I can’t let you have it,” he muttered, adding brokenly, “I-I’m sorry, brother. . .”

His socket widened as he watched Dream’s chest start to glow with a shining yellow light, realising just a moment too late what he was doing.

“NO!” he shouted, flinging out his hand and sending a tendril of magic toward the apple.

It dove like an arrow through the air, reaching Dream in a matter of seconds . . . and piercing right through him.

. . .  

Nightmare blinked.

. . .  

That . . .

. . . that wasn’t supposed to happen.

His brother should have petrified into stone the moment before his tentacle made impact with him.

It . . . . it wasn’t supposed to impale him.

But as Nightmare stared at his brother, he could clearly see the goopy appendage running through his chest and sticking out on the other side, dripping with warm, golden magic. He felt his soul drop to his non-existent stomach.

“B . . . broth . . er-r?”

The tiny, feeble voice sent a shiver down his spine.

He looked up at his brother’s face. The Dream he’d seen just a second ago was gone. Now hanging suspended in the air by his tentacle was the younger Dream he remembered from his childhood. He tried to remove the tentacle, but he couldn’t move. All he could do was stare.

The small, shaking eyelights stared up at him, while black sludge poured from his mouth and sockets.

No . . . no no no! This was all wrong!

“I’m . . . s-sorry . . . ” He gasped, his eyelights sputtering out, leaving only hollow, empty sockets.

He wasn’t trying to hit him!

His brother’s form shattered in front him, his dust scattering everywhere.

Why . . .

He looked down at his hands. They were coated in dust.

Why did everything he touch . . .

D

I

E

________________________________________________

Nightmare’s socket flew open, but all he saw was darkness.

Where . . . w-where was he!? Where was Dream!?

His short, erratic breaths came rapidly, making him light headed. He noticed his hands were gripping something. A blanket? He tugged it closer to his shoulders, his teeth chattering slightly at the freezing chill in his bones. The humming of his soul was painfully loud in his head, but he ignored it and focused on his surroundings again. After a moment, his eyesight cleared.

He . . .

He was in his bedroom. In the middle of the night. Lying in his bed.

The Tree . . . the villagers . . . his brother . . .

It was just a bad m̶e̶m̶o̶r̶y dream.

Nightmare rubbed his socket and swallowed dryly. His breathing was still shallow, so he took several deep breaths as he counted to seven, just like he told his boys. The hum of his soul finally quieted a little and he didn’t feel as cold as before. With a long, winded sigh, he sank exhausted into his pillow.

It was just a bad dream.

He was fine. Dream was fine. Dream wasn’t dust. Everything was fine.

Nightmare frowned.

Well . . . maybe not everything.

He’d remembered having this dream before. He used to have it quite frequently, actually. But ever since he took in his boys, the nightmare didn’t haunt him much at all anymore. So why did it just randomly return? Was it because Dream was living with him? But it’s already been over two weeks since his brother became a child. Why would he have this dream now of all times? It made no sense!

Nightmare groaned. He supposed it didn’t really matter why. It was just a bad dream, so there was nothing to worry about, right?

Right.

He turned over on his side and snuggled father under the covers, letting his mind drift into the black sea of unconsciousness. But everytime he neared the edge of the void, a small, irrational fear pulled him back from it. After changing his sleeping position for the third time, he sighed and opened his socket, still fully awake.

As idiotic as it was, if checking on Dream to make sure he wasn’t dust would make his stupid soul shut up, then he might as well go and get it over with.

Nightmare huffed, sitting up in bed and pulling the blankets off. He shuffled into his slippers and stumbled toward the door- too tired to bother with a teleport. Shielding his eyelight from the increase of light, he stared at the floor as he made his way down the hall. But when he reached Dream’s room, he looked up to see that the door was . . . open.

He rushed inside and flipped the light switch on, only to have his suspicion confirmed. Dream’s bed was empty. There wasn’t any sign of him o̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶d̶u̶s̶t anywhere. He felt his soul speed up, but he took a deep breath. He needed to stay calm. There was no reason to panic yet. Dream probably just woke up thirsty and left to get a glass of water.

Yeah, that was it.

Nightmare walked back into the corridor and walked briskly for the kitchen, forcing himself not to act rashly and teleport there straight away. As he walked past the boys bedrooms, something in his peripheral vision caught his eyelight and he stopped. He looked at Dust’s door.

It was cracked open.

If that wasn’t disturbing already, the negative aura seeping from the room was enough to put him on edge. Putting his look for Dream on hold, he stepped closer to the door, finally noticing the familiar muted emotions seeping from the room. Looks like he wasn’t the only one having a bad dream tonight. Nightmare reached the knob, but stopped when he heard someone whispering. It was so faint he didn’t recognize them. Had one of the other boys woken up and gone inside Dust’s room? That would explain why the door was open.

Pressing his skull up to the edge, he decided to wait outside for a moment and listen.

____________________________________

“Dust?”

“Dust? Dust, are you okay? Dust?”

“Duuusssst!”

The voice shouted into his ear canal, jerking him awake. He bolted upright as his sockets snapped open wide, his one blue and red eyelight ablaze with magic. He whirled toward the attacker and lifted his fist, ready to summon a blaster with a snap of his fingers. But as he stared at the figure in the bed next him, their silhouette shifted from that of the human child into a skeleton. A tiny skeleton, with bright, golden eyelights.

Dust blinked, his eyelights fading back to normal, and rubbed a hand over his skull.

“Are you- are you okay, Dust?” Dream asked in a hushed voice.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, glaring down at him.“Wanna tell me why you’re in my bed, kid?”

Dream anxiously gripped his shirt in his fists

“I . . I heard noises. Scary noises. So I came in here and I saw a bunch of stuff going everywhere!” he said, pointing behind him at the moonlit room.

Dust looked and saw several new scorch marks on the walls and some of his personal items haphazardly tossed all over the room with holes in them. The sight didn’t phase him one bit. His LV-infused magic was stable for the most part now, but when he slept he had less . . .control over his more violent instincts.

This wasn’t the first time he woke up from a nightmare to his room smelling of blaster burns, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You were yelling too,” continued Dream, drawing Dust’s focus back to him, “and it sounded like you were hurt. I t-tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t wake up, and I-I was scared you-”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine. See?” he said as soon as he spotted the tattle-tale wobble of his eyelights.

Dream wiped a socket and sniffed. “Are . . . are you sure you’re okay?”

Dust grabbed the blanket he’d kicked off in his sleep over and pulled it back over himself.

“One hundred percent sure. So go back to bed and leave me alone no-”

squeak squeak!

Dream gasped, his head turning toward the nightstand

“What was that?” he asked, now sounding curious instead of concerned.

Dust sighed.

He forgot his nightly episodes always woke up his pet. The poor thing would remain a scared, shivering mess until he calmed him down. While he really didn’t want Dream to know about him, it was too late for that now. He might as well not make the little guy more miserable by having him wait any longer.

Dust leaned over to the cage. Even though the moon illuminated his room, he didn’t need it to see where the latch on the metal container was and quickly unhooked it. Extending his palm inside, tiny claws instantly clung to his phalanges. As he reattached the door, his pet scurried up his skeletal arm and curled his quivering body around his vertebrae.

“Oh wow! It’s a rat!” Dream exclaimed, stretching his grubby hands toward the rodent.

Dust grabbed his wrists and shoved them back.

“Yeah, and he’s mine. So don’t touch him,” he warned with a tight grin.

Dream pouted, puffing out his cheeks. "Why not? I promise I’ll be really careful with him! Pleaseee?”

Dust shook his head, unaffected by the wide, pleading eyelights.

“I said no, kid.”

He braced himself for Dream to throw a fit or start crying again. But instead, the tiny skeleton innocently smiled up at him.

“Oh . . . okay! I didn’t know you had a rat. Does he have a name?”

Dust snorted.

Of course Dream didn’t know. He wasn’t allowed in his room thanks to Nightmare’s rule. Probably because of the chemicals and other “not-childproof-items” he had lying around. Not that he cared if Dream got his hands his stuff. It would be pretty funny if he made himself explode or something. But he wasn’t going to argue with Nightmare.

“Yeah, it’s Cyanide,” he said, scratching under his rat’s chin.

When the rodent sniffed and nuzzled his hand happily in response, Dust felt himself relax a little.

“Hi Cy . . Cy-an-ide! I’m Dream! It’s nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully, giving him a little wave.

Dust noticed the gesture caught the rat’s attention and watched as his nose twitched cautiously. Then, before he had time to react, Cyanide slid down his shirt and clambered into Dream’s lap, quietly squeaking and sniffing the new skeleton. Dust stared dumbfounded at his pet.

"Oh! Did you wanna say “hi” too?” Dream said, holding his hand out to Cyanide.

The rat smelled it, then rubbed his nose affectionately onto his glove. Dream giggled and began to gently stroke Cyanide’s back with his other hand. Then to Dust’s increasing amazement, his pet actually reciprocated the petting, arching his back and twisting his tail around Dream’s wrist. That only encouraged Dream to laugh more, and he scratched under Cyanide’s chin just like Dust had done a moment ago, causing his whiskers to twitch happily.

“How . . . how did you do that?” Dust asked, finally getting over his shock.

Dream titled his head to the side. “Do what?”

“Get him to like you? Cyanide doesn’t like anyone.”

Well, anyone new to him, that is. It took Cyanide forever to warm up to strangers. Even he had to patiently wait weeks for his experiment-turned-pet to grow comfortable to him.

Dream just shrugged, still stroking the rat. “Dunno. I’m friends with a lot of animals back home. I guess I’m just really good at making new friends!”

Dust frowned ever so slightly.

So what, Dream was some sort of . . . animal whisperer? As if he wasn’t already weird enough- now he could charm practically any animal no matter how shy and skittish they were? Including his own damn pet?

It really pissed him off.

But . . .

As he watched Dream continue to cuddle and fawn over the rat, he couldn’t help noticing how happy and content Cyanide looked in his arms. Any sign of fear from earlier was gone, and his tense, wary attitude had melted the moment he jumped into Dream's arms. Even his eyes were closed, showing how completely relaxed he was.

Gaining his pet’s trust was no easy task. So if Cyanide could instantly warm up to the small skeleton . . .

. . . then maybe Dust could give him a chance too.

“He’s sooo soft,” he cooed, bringing Cyanide up to his cheek.

The rat poked him with his nose, drawing out another c̶u̶t̶e giggle from Dream, and for a second Dust could swear he saw his eyelights turn into stars. Dust smiled softly at the two and muffled a tired yawn. He then lowered his hand toward Cyanide.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, motioning him forward.

Cyanide leapt out of Dream’s grasp and into his, settling comfortably in his palm.

“Awww,” whined Dream sadly.

“Sorry kiddo,” Dust said with another long yawn. “Time to sleep.”

Dream’s eyelights once again light up with worry. “Oh . . . are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, closing his eyes and lying down.

When he didn’t feel Dream get off his bed, he opened a socket irritably. “I’m serious kiddo. I’ll fall asleep eventually. Go back to bed.”

But instead of convincing Dream to leave, the kid perked up and said, “Oh! I can help!”

“What?” he asked, lifting a brow bone.

“I can help you fall asleep!” he said with confidence. “Nightmare always sang a song he made when I couldn’t go to sleep. I could sing it for you if you want!”

Dust mulled over his offer.

On the one hand, he wasn’t some babybones that needed to be sung a lullaby. But . . . he did find it kinda difficult to fall asleep after a bad dream without Nightmare’s presence to soothe him. He didn’t expect the song to help very much, but it would be better than nothing.

Besides, he couldn’t pass up hearing a lullaby that Nightmare of all monsters made.

“Knock yourself out,” Dust said, rolling on his side away from Dream.

He felt Dream scoot closer and lean against him. It was a bit uncomfortable, but he was too tired to care. Cyanide snuggled into the pillow next to his head like he always did, and Dust curled his hand around him and let his eyelids droop shut. Just when he thought Dream changed his mind about the lullaby, he heard him start to sing in a soft voice.

“ . . .Sun goes down, and we are here tooogeeetherrr. Firefliiesss, glow like a thousaaand charrrrrrmsss . . . .”

“ . . . Stay with meeee, and we can sleeeep toooogeeetherrr, right here in my armssss, toooniiight . . .”

Dream suddenly paused.

“I . . . I don’t remember the next words. Is that okay?” he asked.

“Mmm,” Dust grunted.

A moment later, Dream resumed his lullaby, this time humming to a different tune.

La la la . . . la la la! Um . . . oh! Stars begin to climb! La la la . . . la la la . . . sweeter aaallll the timeeee!”

He yawned, then repeated the first set of verses again, just a tad bit slower.

The childish singing made it hard for Dust to take the song seriously, but he could admit the tune was actually pretty soothing. It was so strange to imagine Nightmare singing such a sentimental lullaby. Although, if the dark skeleton were the one humming it to him, Dust knew he’d probably fall asleep in seconds. But right now, he wasn’t the one struggling to stay awake.

Dust couldn’t see him, but from the multiple yawns, the faltering in his singing, and the way he slumped against his back, he could tell the kid was falling asleep and fast. Sure enough, Dream slowly laid onto the pillow beside his and let out a sleepy sigh. After a moment of silence, he peeked over his shoulder to see the small skeleton’s chest slowly rise and fall in the moonlight. Nightmare probably wouldn’t be happy about this in the morning, but Dust didn’t care.

He was too lazy to carry Dream back to his own bed anyway.

___________________________________________________________

Nightmare pressed a hand over his mouth, preventing the choked sob from escaping.

But the tears still fell.

Letting out a shaky breath, he teleported to his bedroom and buried his head in his pillow. He didn’t know when he finally fell asleep, if he even did. Thankfully the negative essence that coated his entire being successfully hid any puffy shadows that showed up under his sockets in the morning. He got up at his usual time and sat at the table for breakfast like normal.

Everything was normal.

He didn’t hear Dream’s voice singing over and over in his head.

He didn’t notice Dream’s good mood when he trailed into the room behind ‘Dusty’.

He didn’t pay attention to Dream’s rambling about the adventures he had with his forest friends.

But he did feel a slight tug on his soul when he saw Dream grinning up at him.

Chapter Text

“Hey Killer!”

The patter of feet sounded louder as Dream ran up to him, but he didn’t stop walking.

“Killer?”

He stomped down the hallway faster to shake the kid off and tried his best to ignore him.

“Killerrrrrrrr!”

His eye socket twitched, the whiny voice pushing him to the edge of his very, very thin patience.

“Killer! Killer! Killer! Kill-”

“-Shut the heck up and leave me alone!” he snarled.

Killer twisted around and towered menacingly over Dream. The kid stopped talking, but he wasn’t the least bit phased by his outburst. It seemed his threatening, black-socket look didn’t creep the kid out much anymore. In fact, Dream looked angry rather than scared as he stared up at him with his arms crossed.

“You shouldn’t say shut up. It’s not nice,” he said matter-of-factly.

Killer clenched his fists so hard he could hear the bone scrape against bone.

Dream’s little “goody-two-shoes” attitude really nettled his bones. He didn’t need some toddler scolding him for his anger issues- he already got enough of that from Nightmare. But since he couldn’t touch the little brat, he just glared at him.

“Hurry up and tell me what you want,” he demanded through gritted teeth.

Dream’s frown flipped instantly into a grin as he said, “I wanna fight!”

Killer straightened up, a mental record-scratch ripping through his thoughts.

“You . . . want to fight me?”

“Mmmhmm!” Dream hummed.

Killer stared at him with a deadpan look. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening.”

He wouldn’t mind knocking the obnoxious kid down a peg, but Nightmare had made it clear none of them were to hurt Dream- on purpose or by accident. Even fighting each other in front of him was prohibited. So strange request or not, Killer wasn’t stupid enough to risk Nightmare’s wrath for the brat.

“Please, Killer, pleaseee?” Dream begged anyway, grating Killer’s ear canals.

“I said no, pipsqueak,” he said, but then added mockingly, “what makes you think you can fight anyway? You’re like 3 feet tall right now.”

The small skeleton puffed out his cheeks indignantly.

“I know that! But one day, I’m gonna be big and strong, and then I can go rescue Nightmare! But- but I’m not very good at fighting . . .” he faltered, looking away and fiddling with his hands.

Killer snorted at the unintended irony of that admission, drawing the golden eyelights back up to him.

“So will you please show me how to fight like you?” Dream asked.

He stuffed his hands in his jacket. “Can’t you get Cross to do it?”

“I tried to, but he said no. He told me I should ask you!”

“Of course he did,” Killer muttered, mentally noting to beat up Cross later for dumping the brat on him.

“Yep! And he said you’re really good at fighting too!”

He arched a brow bone at Dream.

“Cross said that?” he asked, sounding more surprised than he meant too.

“Uh huh!” Dream nodded.

Despite feeling a teensy bit flattered, Killer huffed, “whatever, the answer’s still no.”

“But Dusty and Rory won’t show me how to fight either!” Dream said exasperated. “I promise I’ll be good! Please, Killer?”

He hesitated a second too long and saw Dream’s eyelights start to wobble fuzzily.

“I . . . I need to rescue my brother . . .” he sniffed.

Killer scrunched his face.

Great, was Dream going to cry again? If the brat thought he could persuade him with puppy eyes and a sob story that was actually a lie, then he had another thing coming. Cause he wasn’t a wimp like Horror and Cross who caved every time a tear fell from his socket. No, he was smart and ditched him the moment that happened.

Which is what he should be doing right now.

But . . .

But it couldn’t hurt to mess with the kid a little . . . right? Nothing too bad- just rough him up a bit. This might be his one chance to have a bit of fun with him. And if Nightmare found out, then he could say it was Dream’s idea. Besides, it’s not like he was going to seriously injure the annoying brat.

Killer rubbed the back of his skull and sighed reluctantly.

“Well, I don’t have anything to do right now, so . . . why not.”

Dream wiped his face, his eyelight’s shining brightly. “R-really? You’ll teach me?”

He shrugged. “If you’re going to keep pestering me about it, then fine, I guess I will. But you have to do everything I tell you to do.”

“Yay! I will, promise!” the kid cheered, bouncing on his heels. “Thank you, Killer, than-”

“Shut up and come on before I change my mind,” he snapped.

Turning away, Killer angrily walked in the direction of the training room. He wondered in the back of his head if he was making a mistake here. He planned on getting rid of Dream as soon as possible, and now he was going to show the insufferable brat how to fight? Maybe he hadn’t thought this decision through thoroughly.

Something grabbed his hand all of a sudden, jerking him from his thoughts.

Looking down, Killer saw Dream’s gloved hand clutching his.

“Get off me,” he grumbled, yanking his arm away.

Dream took a step back. “S-sorry . . . you were going too fast. I couldn’t keep up.”

“It’s not my fault you're slow,” he said, hunching over and resuming his march.

However, he did lessen his pace a bit to make sure Dream wouldn’t fall behind. He didn’t want his grubby little hands grabbing him again. They walked the rest of the way down the winding hall and the flight of stairs without any more talking to Killer’s immense relief. He was feeling a bit calmer when he opened the door to the training room, only for Dream to break the silence with a loud, irritating gasp.

“I can come into the training room now?” he asked, his eyelights darting around the room

Killer walked toward the weapons and said, “Yeah, but only when I’m here. Otherwise you’re not allowed to come in. Ya got that?”

But Dream didn’t answer him.

From the amazed “oohs” and “aahs” echoing behind him, it was obvious the kid was distracted at the moment. Killer ignored him and turned back to the weapons rack. Most were too dangerous or too big for the tiny skeleton to hold. After a moment though, he spied a few thin, wooden poles that would work perfectly. He grabbed two of them and turned back to Dream.

“Here, catch,” Killer said, tossing a pole right over his head.

Dream scrambled after it and picked it up. “I got it!” he yelled.

Killer muffled another snort. He couldn’t resist contrasting the old Dream’s rigid battle stance and glowing staff with the babybones in front of him holding a pole twice his size. The sight was c̶u̶t̶e hilarious. Killer sauntered over to the center of the room, propping an elbow on his staff and lazily leaning on it.

“Ya ready?” he drawled.

Dream nodded resolutely. “Ready!”

Killer yawned, “well what are ya waiting for? Attack me.”

Holding his pole in the air, Dream charged at him with what was probably supposed to be a battle cry, but was closer to the roar of a kitten. Killer boredly yawned again. Then he held out the hand that wasn’t supported by the pole, which Dream immediately ran into. The kid grunted and pushed against his palm, whacking at him blindly with his pole. But Killer held him back easily and was barely hit by the clumsy swings.

After another second, he pulled his hand away, making Dream fall forward and land flat on his face.

“Good try, squirt,” Killer snickered down at him.

Dream groaned, rubbing his face as he pushed himself to his feet and retrieved his pole. Killer figured he might start crying or throw a tantrum at having been beaten with little to no effort. But the kid just brushed himself off and faced him again with that stubborn look of his.

“I wanna do it again!” he shouted.

He shrugged. “Alright. But this time, I’m going to attack and you have to defend yourself.”

“Okay,” the kid said, holding out his pole.

Killer smirked at Dream. Then swinging his staff, he knocked short little legs out from under him, sending him sprawling onto the floor a second time. Killer attempted to muffle his laughter with a hand, but he did a poor job of it.

This was just pathetic.

Dream, the guardian of positivity, one the most powerful monsters in the multiverse, had fallen twice in five minutes, and he didn’t even break a sweat! Sure, he did have a bit of a height and age advantage right now, but it was still funny how easily he could make Dream crumble to the floor.

“Heeey, no fair, I wasn’t ready!” said Dream, his cheeks glowing.

Killer squatted down beside him and chuckled. “Awww, what are ya gonna do about it, huh? Cry?”

Suddenly, a tiny hand slapped him in the face.

Or at least, it tried to. The slap didn’t hold any real punch to it and was little more than a weak pat. But it was so unexpected that Killer almost fell backwards from surprise. Instead, he quickly got to his feet, rubbing the slight sting off his cheek. He glared at Dream who was struggling to stand up.

“Tch’, don’t be such a sore loser,” he huffed.

The kid glared right back at him. “I’m not a loser! Your attack wasn’t fair, so I didn’t lose!”

“I don’t care,” Killer said, waving his hand dismissively, “Just try to hit me with your stick already.”

Dream raised his pole and awkwardly swung it at him, but he blocked it with a smooth swing of his own. The kid pulled away and tried again, only for Killer to stop that blow as well. Dream hit him a third, then a fourth, and then a fifth time- becoming more wild and unfocused with each attack. By the thirteenth swing, Killer had to admit, the kid was a persistent little thing even if he wasn’t progressing any.

Finally, Dream slowed down and eventually stopped, holding his pole limply as he bent over and panted. Killer decided to cut the kid a break and loosely swung his makeshift weapon over his shoulder.

“You know, if you’re planning on stabbing someone, swinging crazy like that isn’t going to work,” he commented nonchalantly.

“But- but I don’t wanna stab anyone!” Dream said horrified.

Killer furrowed his brow. “You don’t?”

When Dream shook his head, he added, “not even the, uh, ‘villagers’ you want to fight?”

“No! I wanna fight them, but I don’t wanna hurt them! I- I just want my brother back,” he said, shuffling his foot.

“But . . . but don’t you hate them?” Killer insisted.

Dream frowned and said, “I don’t hate the villagers. Hating others is wrong! I don’t hate anybody.”

“But why? They took your brother. Don’t they deserve it?” he asked, clenching his fist.

“I . . . I don’t think so,” the kid said thoughtfully. “They did very bad things, but I don’t want to do bad things too. And maybe they’re really sorry and I won’t have to fight and they’ll give my brother back!”

Killer silently glowered Dream’s hopeful face and then down at the floor.

This . . . this didn’t make any sense to him.

He knew Dream was stupid and naive, but he didn’t see how even he could be stupid enough to not hold a grudge against those that wronged him. After all, they took everything from him. They took his brother. Shouldn’t Dream be at least a little resentful? Shouldn’t he want to hurt them? Make them pay for what they did. Why doesn’t he-

“Killer? Killer, are you okay?”

He jolted upright at Dream’s voice.

“I- . . uh . . . ,” he fumbled for a second, before hastily coughing. “Forget it. Let’s try a different strategy.”

Walking a few yards away, Killer turned his back to Dream and said, “if you don’t wanna stab your enemy, then ya gotta catch them off guard with a surprise attack.”

“Okay! I can do that,” Dream said.

Killer chuckled under his breath.

Just how gullible is this kid? Even Cross could be quieter than this noisy chatterbox. This was almost too easy. He was tempted to stand still and let Dream win this round on purpose, just to make things a little more interesting. Maybe he could also shut his sockets and-

“Gyah!” yelped Killer as something was whacked against his back.

Jumping around, he saw Dream standing behind him, grinning proudly.

H-how!? How did he manage to sneak up on him like that!? Even if Dream hadn’t giggled like kids his age do and given away his position, wouldn’t he at least have heard his footsteps getting louder?

“Hehehe! You should see your face,” Dream laughed.

Killer’s stunned expression grew dark.

“I wasn’t ready,” He hissed, and pointed across the room. “Go back and wait for me to tell you to attack!”

Dream did as he was told and stood several steps away from him. That cheeky little grin irritated Killer, but he let it slide for now. He was gonna smack it off in a moment anyway. Once he was satisfied with his position, he turned back around and gripped his pole tightly.

“Now try again,” he said.

“Okay!” Dream responded eagerly.

Killer huffed, putting all of his focus into listening for Dream’s footsteps. He wouldn’t let himself get distracted by his thoughts again. Dream had just gotten a lucky break, that’s all. This time he’d be the one sca- surprising him. But as he strained his hearing for the slightest movement, he heard nothing besides his own breathing. Was Dream just standing there? Did he need to-

“OW!” He cried, kicking his leg reflexively as the pole thwacked his fibula.

Killer swung around with his pole raised to strike, but unfortunately Dream dodged it just in time. Of course. Even as a kid, Dream was still a slippery little shit. He glared angrily at the brat who was staring with that smug smile of his.

“What the heck was that?” he yelled.

“A surprise attack!” Dream said excitedly. “Were you surprised?”

“No! You . . . you didn’t do it right. You were too close! Go stand over there by the wall,” he said, gesturing with his pole.

Dream sighed but skipped over to the spot and stood about eight feet away. Killer smirked at him. He’d like to see Dream sneak up on him now with this much distance between them.

Turning back around, he said gruffly, “I’m ready.”

Killer shut his sockets and concentrated solely on his surroundings. There was no way the brat was going to catch him off guard him a third time! Dream may be unusually quiet, but he should still be able to sense his presence. And when he does, he’ll spin around at the last second and kick the kid into the nearest AU before he can say-

“Gotcha!”

“Oof-” Killer grunted.

Something slammed into him and the force knocked him off balance, causing him to stumble forward and fall flat onto the rough floor. He rolled onto his back and tried to stand up, but was stopped when the tiny skeleton threw himself over his chest, pushing him back to the ground.

“I’ve defeated you now!” Dream shouted, grinning up at him.

Killer stared back wide-eyed. “But- I didn’t- how are you so good at this?”

“I gave Nightmare surprise hugs all the time,” he said happily. “Did I do it right this time, Killer?”

Killer was too shocked to answer him.

Because while maybe he didn’t have the greatest eyesight in the multiverse, that didn’t mean he was deaf, dammit! In fact, his impared vision meant he depended even more on his other senses. Hardly anybody ever successfully sneaked up on him, no matter how stealthy they were.

But this wimpy kid somehow managed to catch him by surprise three times in a row? It was infuriating . . .

. . . and . . .

. . . . maybe a little impressive.

“I . . . I guess ya did, pipsqueak,” he grumbled, but couldn’t help grinning just a little.

Dream’s eyelight dilated to fill his sockets. “Really? Yes, I knew I could do it!”

Ignoring his enthusiasm, Killer pushed himself up into a sitting position. But when he was about to stand, Dream lunged forward and wrapped his arms around his conveniently reachable neck. Killer froze and stared at the kid now attached to him.

“Thank you,” said Dream, tightening his hug.

Killer shook himself out of his stupor and grabbed the kid’s arms.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Killer mumbled, pulling him off and holding him out at arms length. Then giving Dream a sly smile, he added, “Here, let me show you another fighting tactic.”

In the blink of a socket, he pulled Dream close and hooked his left arm around his neck.

“This is called a headlock,” he said, rubbing his knuckles into the kid’s skull.

“H-h-hey!” Dream whined, squirming to get out of his hold. “Killerrrrr, let goooo!”

He chuckled. “Nope. This is what you get for shoving me, you little-”

“Uh . . . Dream? Killer? What’s going on?

Killer stopped and looked up. Standing in the door in front of them was a confused and nervous looking Cross. He instantly let go of Dream and scrambled to his feet, abandoning the kid on the floor. Smoothing out his clothes, he stuck in his hands in his pockets and glared the monochrome skeleton

“What do you want, Cross?” he snapped.

To his annoyance, the younger skeleton ignored him and ran up to Dream.

“You okay there, buddy?” Cross asked, helping the kid to his feet.

“He’s fine,” said Killer, but again nobody listened.

Dream nodded and smiled. “I’m okay, Crossy! Killer was showing me how to fight!”

Cross narrowed his sockets at him. “Really, Killer? Can’t you pick on someone your own size?”

“Like you? Heh, yeah right,” he scoffed. “At least the kid can pull off a surprise attack.”

“I don’t care, just leave Dream alone,” Cross said, pulling the perplexed Dream to his side.

Killer shrugged. “Why? It’s not like I was doing anything. Isn’t that right, squirt?”

Dream’s eyelights flickered between both of them. “I didn’t-”

“It’s okay Dream, you don’t have to answer that,” Cross said, running his thumb across one of the many scuff marks on his face. “It’s obvious he’s been bullying you.”

“B-but he-”

“The only thing obvious here is your jealousy,” Killer said, cutting Dream off.

“Pfft- what am I jealous over? Not getting to beat up a defenseless child?”

“You’re just upset that I’m the one teaching him how to fight and you’re not.”

“I said no because I didn’t want him to get hurt!”

“P-please don’t fight-”

“He wouldn’t get hurt if you weren’t reckless.”

Cross bristled at the insult. “I am not! You-”

“Yes you are!” Killer shouted back. “You’re reckless, sloppy, impulsive, and way too cocky for someone with your level of skill.”

Cross scowled. “Oh, so you wanna talk about my skills? What about that time I took down the entire royal guard of swapfell by myself? Or those times that I had to save you from dusting? What about all the fights where I beat your sorry coccyx?”

Killer grimaced at the memories of his failures, but quickly hid it behind a scornful look.

“See, you just proved my point. Taking on that many opponents alone was a dumb, irrational thing to do. I don’t know why Night- Midnight allows you to fight when all you ever do is stupidly endanger yourself and us. When you screw things up, don’t blame me,” he said, crossing his arms.

Cross went silent, and Killer could’ve sworn he saw the red and white eyelights shrink a bit. But the hurt look was burned up in a flash of boiling rage. If Dream wasn’t standing beside him, Killer was sure the skeleton would have pulled out his knife.

“I- . . . I won’t screw up! I’ll show you! I’m a better fighter than you’ll ever be!” he yelled, jabbing a finger at him.

“Crossy, Killer, stop! Please!” Dream pleaded, tugging on Cross’s jacket.

Killer scowled and smacked his hand away.

“Whatever. I’m done talking to you,” he growled and headed for the door before he did something stupid.

“Killer, you don’t-”

“Drop it Cross,” he said, glaring over his shoulder at him. “Teach the brat how to fight or whatever. I don’t care.”

When Cross didn’t say anything, he stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Killer, come back!” Dream shouted and ran toward the door.

He skidded to a halt when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy, let him go.”

Dream glanced up at Crossy. “But- but he’s upset! We gotta help him.”

“Killer will cool off eventually, don’t worry.”

“But, why is he mad?” he asked. “Is- is it because of me? Did I-”

“No, no, Dream, it’s not your fault,” said Crossy, bending down. “I’m the one he’s angry at. Heh, I’m the one he’s always angry at . . .”

Dream titled his head. “Why? Did you do something wrong?”

“I don’t really know. He’s been this way ever since I started living here. I think it’s just who he is. But I guess it doesn’t help that I fight with him a lot,” he said.

Crossy then stood up and frowned. “It’s just . . . he’s so frustrating! All he ever does is boss me around and nitpick me constantly. I wish he would, you know, treat me like all the other guys? Like an equal. But no matter what I do, he always acts like he’s better than me. The worst part is . . . he’s right. He’s always been the better fighter. And . . . and I try so hard. But it’s never enough. I’ll never be good enough for any of them, really.”

I’ll never be good enough for any of them . . .

The words echoed in Dream’s head, but . . . it wasn’t Cross saying them. He didn’t recognise this new, fuzzy voice. And when he tried, his head started hurting really badly again.

The older skeleton sighed, drawing Dream’s focus back to him.

“It’s just a matter of time before I screw up and get kicked out. ‘S not like I’m not used to being alone, but . . .” Crossy stopped.

He looked down at him and rubbed his neck. “Uh . . . heh heh, sorry, got a bit carried away there. What were we- oh right! Fighting. Did you want to-”

Dream interrupted him and gave his sad friend the biggest, bestest hug he could.

“I think you’re really good, Crossy,” he said, his voice muffled by the other’s clothes.

Dream felt a hand pat him on the head. “Heh. Thanks, buddy. I’m glad at least someone thinks so.”

“I bet Killer thinks so too!” he said, smiling up at Crossy.

“Um, I don’t know about that . . .”

“Then you should go ask him!”

“Dream, buddy, it’s not . . . I can’t just walk up to him and ask that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Killer isn’t exactly someone you can just talk to.”

“But I talk to him all the time. It’s easy!”

“Pfft- yeah, I bet it is.”

“Can’t you try to talk to him?”

Crossy shrugged. “I . . . guess I could. But I don’t think-”

“-Yay! I’ll go tell Killer, Be right back!” said Dream, pulling away and sprinting for the door.

“Wait- what? No, Dream, don’t,” Crossy yelled.

But Dream didn’t hear him finish; he was already out of the room and sprinting down the hallway.

When Crossy didn’t come after him, he slowed his run to a skip and made his way up the stairs toward Killer’s room. He finally came to the door with a “GO AWAY” written on a sticky note and stood in front of it. He could hear loud thumping noises and muffled mumbling sounds coming from inside. He knew that had to be Killer.

Still, he hesitated for a moment. Killer could be really scary and mean when he was angry, and he was really angry right now. But that’s why Dream had to talk to him. Killer was angry because he was upset about something, and Dream needed to help him. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he would do whatever he could to help make things better.

So Dream smiled, took a deep breath, and knocked on his door.

______________________________________________________________________

THUNK

Stupid!

THUNK

Fucking!

THUNK

Idiot!

THUNK

The knife slightly vibrated from the impact, eventually stopping and going still like the several knives around it. Killer’s dripping black sockets bore holes into the back of his door. He curled his empty fists, his hunched shoulders rising and falling as he breathed heavily. Not from exertion, but from the rage simmering inside of him. He’d tried to take some of that fury out on his door, but it didn’t help. He still felt so angry.

Angry at Cross

Angry at what he said.

Angry at himself and what he had said to Cross.

Well, not everything he said. Cross really was too brash and bold at times, and he made a lot of risky decisions. But when it came down to it, Cross was a good fighter. A really good fighter. Of course he was- he’d had actual training with a weapon. Although he didn’t always use said training, it still gave him an advantage that Killer didn’t have.

And it scared him.

It scared him that Cross really was better at fighting than him. That all the times Cross saved him from dusting or beat his coccyx was because he was losing his edge. That one day, Cross would be so much better than him, that they wouldn’t need him anymore. He’d just be dead weight. And in a dangerous gang known for destroying entire AUs, being dead weight is a liability.

But Killer would rather dust before he let himself become that. He was the first to join Nightmare. He had earned his current role in their gang. And he wasn’t about to let anyone take it from him, no matter how good of a fighter they really were. He would make sure Cross got that through his thick, empty skull no matter what-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Killer? It’s me, Dream!” said a high pitched voice on the other side of his door.

Killer raised a brow bone.

What the hell was Dream doing here? Shouldn’t he be fighting with Cross right now? He was confused, but not curious enough to find out. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to the nosy brat.

So instead he growled, “Dust off!”

“Can I come inside please? I wanna talk to you,” Dream replied.

Killer sat on the floor next to his bed, leaning his back against the covers and crossing his legs.

“I don’t give a- . . . ugh. Go bother someone else,” he grumbled, pulling his hood over his skull.

He listened for the sound of footsteps scurrying away, but for a moment, all he heard was silence. Then, slowly but surely, there was the subtle click of the handle and the quiet creaking of his door being opened. He bit back a curse and narrowed his sockets at the child peeking his head into his room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat.

Dream stepped through the door and shut it behind him. “You didn’t say no.”

“Leave now . . .” said Killer darkly, pulling a knife from his jacket and pointing it at him. “ . . . unless you want to get hurt.”

While he wasn’t planning on carrying out his threat, he didn’t trust himself to physically remove the kid and hoped intimidating him would do the trick.

“I just wanna talk to you . . .” Dream said meekly, shrinking into himself, but staying where he was.

Killer dropped his bluff and eyed him suspiciously. “Did Cross put you up to this?”

“Nuh uh,” the kid answered truthfully.

“Well, say what you want and go,” he said curtly, putting away his knife.

Dream took a few steps forward cautiously. “I wanna know what’s wrong.”

“Why do you care?” Killer sneered.

“Because you’re upset,” he said, sitting down.

Killer stared at him, unsure what to say.

Why did Dream care if he was upset? Over the past three weeks, Killer had done nothing to the kid besides scaring him, picking on him, or just ignoring him. Yet here Dream was, looking up at him with genuine concern in his little eyelights. Killer thought back to what Dream said earlier, about how he didn’t hate anybody. Guess that applied to him too.

Killer pulled his hood down, rubbing a hand over his skull.

“I’m fine . . . don’t worry about me,” he said softly.

Dream scooted a little closer and asked, “did Crossy say something that made you upset?”

“Nah, his words don’t have any affect on me,” said Killer coldly.

“Oh . . . well, I think you really hurt Crossy’s feelings.”

Dream’s words dug up the image of Cross’s pained face in his mind, making him wince.

“I did, huh?” he said bitterly.

“Yep,” Dream said firmly. “And he wants to talk to you, but he says you won’t talk to him.”

“Why should I waste my time talking to him when we’re just gonna have the same old argument?” Killer asked, leaning his head on his hand.

Dream frowned. “Because talking is how you make things better.”

“Yeah, no, that’s not always true-”

“-Yes it is!” Dream shouted. “When something is wrong, you’re supposed to tell them so that they can make it right! But if they don’t know what’s wrong, then how are they gonna fix things?”

He paused and looked at the floor, rubbing a socket with his palm.

“I . . . Nighty didn’t like talking to me either, but I wanted him too. I wanted to help him. B-but he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. It . . It made me upset t-too,” he whispered.

Killer glanced awkwardly away from the kid.

“I get it, Dream, but I don’t think Cross would listen to me even if I tried talking with him,” he said quietly.

“He will! I promise!” Dream shouted adamanty.

“How do you know?”

“Because Crossy’s waiting in the training room for you right now.”

Killer shot him a look. “Seriously?”

“Yep!” Dream nodded. The kid placed a hand on his knee and stared at him with hopeful eyelights. “So . . . will you go talk to him?”

Killer hesitated, but after a second, he sighed.

“Alright, fine. If he’s still in there, I’ll do it,” he said, confident that Cross was nowhere near the training room by now.

“Pinky promise?” the kid asked, holding up his tiny finger.

Killer wrapped his digit around it and smirked. “Pinky promise.”

“Yay!” Dream cheered, jumping up. He grabbed his hand and started to pull on it. “Hurry, let’s go!”

Killer struggled to his feet, only for the little twerp to yank him forward, almost making him fall.

“Hey, watch it,” he said sternly, but didn’t yank his hand out of Dream’s grip this time.

The kid tugged Killer out of the room and down the hall, skipping and chattering as he did so. It was annoying, but by now he was kinda used to it. In fact, it reminded him of something . . . or someone . . . but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He smiled amusedly as they walked, but once the training room came into view, his face fell a bit and he stopped.

“Come on,” Dream urged him, letting go of his hand and running through the door without him.

Despite having second thoughts about doing this, he swallowed hard and followed after the kid.

“Crosssyyyyy, I’m back!” Dream sang.

Cross looked up from where he was leaning against the wall to see Dream running into the room. Just as he suspected, he didn’t see Killer with him. He smiled pitifully and shook his head. Well, at least now he and Dream could focus on training. Taking a few steps forward, he stood next to Dream and patted the child’s head comfortingly.

“Sorry Dream, but I told you, you can’t get-

A figure suddenly walked into the room and he glanced up, his sockets going wide.

“- Killer!?”

“Hey . . .” he greeted, giving him a half-hearted wave.

Cross looked at both skeletons and frowned, snatching his hand away. “What are you doing here? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked them.

“Nope! Killer said he wants to talk to you too!” Dream piped up.

“I didn’t-”

“He did!?” Cross asked in disbelief before Killer could continue.

This had to be a joke, right? There was no way Killer came in here of his own free will to talk to him. But as Cross stared confusedly at Killer, watching him shift in place and avoid his gaze, he started to doubt his assumption.

“I . . . t-this is stupid,” Killer sputtered. “I changed my mind.”

But before he could walk away or teleport somewhere else, Dream stopped him and grabbed his hand.

“But you pinky promised?” he said with his big, sad eyelights.

“Yeah, Killer. Everybody knows you can’t break a pinky promise,” Cross snickered.

He’d tried not to, but the idea of Killer making a pinky promise, to Dream of all monsters, sounded so absurd that it slipped out.

Killer scowled at him and quietly mumbled, “I’ll break your neck . . .”

“What was that?” he asked teasingly.

Killer folded his arms. “I said, you go first. If you have something to say to me, then say it.”

“W-well, uh . . .” Cross faltered.

He hadn’t expected to be asked that. He hadn’t expected he’d be having this conversation at all! And now he had two skeletons staring at him and waiting for an answer. Since he couldn’t think of a way to escape the situation, he decided to go the easiest route and blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“All I was gonna say is I’d like it if you’d stop being a jerk to me all the time,” he huffed.

“Sure, if you’ll stop being an immature idiot all the time,” said Killer sarcastically.

It was a comment Cross had heard over a hundred times. One that he usually brushed off. But right now, all it did was bring back all of his pent up anger. He knew he shouldn’t let it get to him. That he should just drop it. But after his conversation with Dream, for once Cross didn’t feel like dropping it.

Instead, he stepped forward and said in a low voice, “why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Killer asked.

“Act like I’m stupid? Like I can’t do anything right?”

Before Killer could answer, he continued, “I know I’m impulsive, okay? I know I get in trouble sometimes. But I’m not as dumb as you say I am! And I’m really trying to be better. But you don’t care. You only notice when I do something wrong!”

Cross frowned at the floor, ignoring his trembling fists. “I . . . I don’t understand. What does it take for me to earn your respect?”

“You . . . want my respect?” said Killer, sounding surprised.

Cross looked up. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“But- I thought . . . don’t you hate me?”

“What? I don’t hate you? I never have. I mean, sure, you annoy me all the time, but . . . when you’re not being a bossy jerk, you’re not that bad,” he said, squeezing his arm.

After a pause, he added, “and . . . I admit you’re . . . you’re much more . . . . experienced at fighting than me . . .”

Cross looked away again, not wanting to see the smug smile on Killer’s face. There was no way the other was going to pass up a chance to gloat at what he said. Killer hadn’t even said anything yet and he was already regretting his weak moment of honesty. This is why he preferred fighting instead of talking. Maybe it wasn’t too late to-

“I- I didn’t mean it.”

Cross blinked and glanced back at Killer. “Huh?”

“What I said earlier . . . about you,” he clarified. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still a hothead and you make a lot of rookie mistakes, but . . . you’re not a complete screw up. You’ve . . . you’ve got potential. And I have seen some . . . minor improvements lately.”

Killer stared at his feet. “You never know. Maybe one day . . . with enough practice . . . you could become a really great fighter. Maybe even better than me.”

The last sentence was barely audible that Cross almost missed it.

But he didn’t.

“R-really?”

“I said maybe!” Killer snapped.

“Yeah, but, why haven’t you told me any of this before?” he asked. If Killer really thought he had potential, then why did he always treat him like he’d never amount to anything?

“Tch’ . . . like you need a boost for your dumb ego- HEY! What gives?” yelled Killer.

Cross looked along with Killer at the small child frowning up at him. Dream didn’t say anything, but he didn’t really need to. He would have chuckled at Killer getting scolded by a babybones, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He wanted answers.

“Is there any other reason besides your concern for my ego?” he said slowly.

Killer scoffed. “I mean . . . I dunno. It just bothers me, okay? There, I said it. Happy now?”

Cross furrowed his brow.

It bothers him?

Why would him being a better fighter than Killer bother him?

Why would he care-

Oh.

Oh . . .

“Are . . . you worried I’m going to take your place or something?” he guessed.

“N-no! Why would you think that? I never said anything about being replaced!” Killer growled, but it came out more like a croak.

Cross shouted back, “Well why else would it bother you?”

“I don’t know!”

The room fell silent for a moment, until Cross broke it with a sigh.

“Look, for what it’s worth, I’m not trying to replace you. Heh, I don’t think anyone could. All I want is to be good enough for you guys. To . . . I don’t know . . . prove I’m worth keeping around . . .”

“Uh, why wouldn’t we keep you around?” Killer asked.

Cross hugged his arms. “You said it yourself. I’m eventually gonna screw it all up.”

“So? What, you think we’re gonna throw you out if you do?” he scowled.

Cross looked ashamedly at the floor. “Well . . . wouldn’t you?”

“No, you idiot! You’re stuck with us. And if you think screwing up will change that, then you really are a numbskull,” said Killer, punching him in the arm.

“Ah!” he yelped, rubbing the now sore spot, before giving him a cheeky smile. “Heh, is that a pinky promise?”

“I’ll dust your pinky if you bring that up one more time,” he threatened.

Cross rolled his eyelights. “Okay, okay . . . but uh . . . thanks.”

Killer looked like he was about to say something back, but was distracted when Dream walked in between them.

“I told you talking makes everything better!” he said, standing proudly with his hands on his hips.

Cross laughed at the adorable display, feeling any awkward tension left in the room disappear.

Killer coughed. “Yeah, well, enough talking. Let’s get back to fighting. What do ya say, Cross? Wanna show the pipsqueak how it’s done?”

Cross smirked and stepped back, summoning his hack knife, “You bet. I’ll show him what a real winner looks like.”

“Heh, yeah, with his coccyx on the floor,” Killer chuckled, pulling out two knives of his own.

“Just like you earlier?” Cross taunted, before glancing over at Dream.

Thankfully the kid had the right idea and backed up next to the door. He was watching them with those cute little star shaped eyelights he got when he was excited. Satisfied that Dream was out of harm's way now (probably), he turned his attention back to Killer. But when he looked, he was gone.

“I was simply showing what happens to losers like you,” a smug voice behind him said.

In a split second, Cross dashed forward, narrowly avoiding the knife that swiped at him.

He twisted around and smirked, “nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Laugh it up, twinkle toes,” said Killer, also smirking.

Cross circled around him and Killer did the same, both of them waiting for the other to strike first. Since the other had already taken his shot, Cross decided it was his turn now. He charged at Killer, giving him plenty of time to react, but when their blades met Cross managed to overpower his and pushed him off his feet.

Killer caught his balance at the last second and dodged the follow up blow from his hack knife. The small steel knives swung at him, but he blocked the attack with little difficulty. Cross mimicked Killer’s trick and teleported behind him, hoping he’d be fast enough to get to him before the skeleton could twist around. But when Cross re-appeared, Killer was already facing him and blocked his weapon mid-swing. Killer shoved him back and chuckled.

Like, actually chuckled.

Not in the arrogant or mocking way that Cross was used to, but with actual humour in his laugh.

And that’s when he realised . . . Killer was having fun.

The thought surprised him so much, that he almost didn’t block the next swing at him, only dodging it at the last second. And for once, Killer didn’t call him out or belittle him for his distracted state. Cross nearly failed to block his attack again because of that. He finally managed to regain his focus and fought back with jabs of his own, but in the back of his mind he thought about how strange this all was.

Not that them fighting was strange- they fought often and usually for petty reasons. But whatever the cause was, they were always at each other’s vertebrae for it. He couldn’t remember a time he fought Killer and didn’t want to knock his teeth in. But right now he wasn’t furious at all. And while Killer’s attacks were still precise and, well, passionate, there wasn’t any spiteful intent behind them.

In fact, this fight felt less like one of their spats and more like one of the good-natured spars he’d have with Dust on occasion.

And Cross liked it.

Sure, he didn’t really mind their more heated fights. It was a way to work off all the rage without having to actually work through whatever issue fueled it. But . . . maybe this talking thing wasn’t that bad? It felt good venting to Dream, and now that he’d cleared some things up with Killer, he felt even better. Maybe they could do this more often? Talk about the problem and then spar afterwards just for the fun of it?

If Killer’s laid back smile was anything to go by, Cross felt the chances of them doing this again were fairly decent.

He smiled a little bit himself, even as Killer nicked his arm. It was just a scratch anyway. He ignored it and swung back at Killer, catching his hoodie and sending him flying backwards. The other quickly recovered and was back to trading blows. They both swung and dodged back and forth, only landing a hit or two. Cross wasn’t certain how long they had been fighting, but he could feel sweat dripping down his brow.

As their knives clashed again, Killer pressed against him and sneered, “Give up yet?”

“Why should I when I’m winning?” Cross retorted, forcing him back, his blade almost touching the other’s jacket.

Killer jumped to the side, sending Cross staggering forward. “You sure about that?”

Cross felt something prick his spine and quickly turned around, knocking the knife off. He started to say something, but stopped when he heard footsteps and looked over his shoulder. They both froze as Nightmare casually strolled into the room.

“Oh good, I thought you might be in here,” he said, standing in front of his boys. “I need you to stop fighting and come with me, Killer.”

The black-eyed skeleton shrugged and put his knives away. “K boss. This one’s a draw, but I expect a rematch later.”

“Sure, if you don’t chicken out first,” said Cross, letting his blade fizzle out.

Killer chuckled, “you wish.”

Nightmare raised a brow bone at the interaction.

He’d noticed something was off when he’d walked in here, but now that he was looking at their smiles up close and listening to their friendly banter, it finally dawned on him what it was. He couldn’t feel any of their usual animosity towards each other. Even Killer’s typical aura of anger was radiating less energy than normal.

“You’re both in a good mood today,” he commented, studying their reactions.

“Heh, guess so,” said Killer, scratching his jaw.

Cross chuckled nervously. “Yeah, you can blame Dream for that.”

“Dream?” Nightmare asked, his eyelight flaring. “What was he doing in here? I thought I made it clear this room was off limits.”

Both of them wouldn’t meet his gaze and glanced intensely behind him, like they were staring at something.

Killer spoke up first, but he still wasn’t looking at him. “Well, I was teaching the kid how to-

Nightmare suddenly felt a creeping sensation up his spine, but it was a moment too late. Before he could react, something grabbed a tentacle, yanking him backwards. It caught him so off guard that he lost his footing. He grunted as his skull collided with the floor.

“-do that,” Killer finished.

Sitting upright, Nightmare gingerly rubbed his skull and squinted at the spinning room. He felt a little sore, but the fall hurt his pride more than it did his tail bone. After the dizziness dissipated, he glared at whoever had thought sneaking up on him and doing that was a good idea. But his socket widened when he saw his brother standing next to him.

“Haha, yes! I did it again! Did you see that, Crossy?” Dream squealed.

Cross was bent over, practically in tears as he laughed, “He-h-heh heh, y-yeah, I did! G-good job, buddy!”

Nightmare smirked mischievously at Dream.

Two can play at this game brother.

“Alright, now it’s my turn,” he said out loud, wrapping a tentacle around his leg and hoisting him upside down.

“Woah!” squeaked Dream, flailing his arms.

Nightmare stood up and crossed his arms while his brother dangled helplessly in the air. He forgot how easy it was to hold him now that he was small. He assumed his brother would get annoyed and demand to be put down. But instead Dream giggled with delight.

“Weeeeeeee!” he laughed as the tentacle swung him side to side.

Nightmare’s eyelight blurred as the sight brought to mind an old memory. One with Dream hanging upside down from the branches of their Tree and laughing while he swung carelessly above the ground. It was such a fond memory that he couldn’t help the smile growing on his face.

“Of course you think it’s fun,” he muttered to himself.

“I don’t think he’s the only one enjoying this,” teased Killer.

Nightmare immediately dropped his smile and rolled his eyelight.

“Alright, no more playing around,” he said sternly, curling another tendril around Dream’s waist and setting him upright on the ground.

“Awww, but that was fun!” Dream whined, reaching for the tentacles as they slithered away.

Cross walked up to him and patted him consolingly. “It’s okay, we can have fun by fighting now. You ready?”

“Yes!” he said, pumping the air with his fists.

“Let’s go,” Nightmare said and headed for the door, anxious to leave before anything embarrassing happened again.

“Right behind you,” said Killer, starting to follow him, but was stopped by a tackle hug from Dream.

“Bye Kiki! Thanks for teaching me how to do a surprise attack!” his brother said.

”KIKI!?” Killer shrieked. “W-what the- you’re not call- OUCH!”

Nightmare slapped him on the back of the skull before he finished. He met Killer’s glare with one of his own, tapping his foot steadily. Killer stopped rubbing the spot he hit and sighed, sagging his shoulders in defeat.

“Fine, whatever. Later, squirt,” he grumbled, shoving Dream off him.

Nightmare didn’t say a word as Killer stormed past him, but he didn’t have to. He knew Killer could see the amused smile on his face even without his eyelights. Using a tentacle, he grabbed the handle and shut the door behind him, cutting off the enthusiastic shouts from his brother. But as he walked down the hall, he could still hear Dream’s laughter ringing in his head.

Chapter Text

“Got any eights?” said Dusty.

Rory looked at his cards. “Nope . . . go fish . . .”

Dream leaned forward and watched Dusty pull a card from the pile in front of them. He stared at it silently for a moment and then added it to the cards in his hands. Dusty didn’t look disappointed, but Dream was still sad he didn’t get the card he wanted.

“Ya got a jack, pipsqueak?” asked Kiki.

Dream glanced at the cards he was holding. He saw a red seven and four and a black six and . . . he thinks this is a queen? But he didn’t see any jacks. He looked up at Kiki and shook his head.

“Nu uh, go fish!” he said.

Kiki went to pick up his new card and Dream wished really hard that it would be a jack. But when Kiki looked at it, he frowned even more. He added the not-a-jack to his cards and rested his chin on his hand with a sigh.

“Okay, my turn!” said Crossy, his mismatched eyelights looking from one skeleton to the next.

“Say Killer . . . you wouldn’t happen to have a jack, would you?” he asked.

Kiki sat up straight and looked angrily at him. “Dammit, Cross!”

“Aw, don’t be a sore loser,” Crossy said, wiggling his brow bones.

“Just shut up n’ take ‘em,” Kiki grumbled and threw him the three jacks he had.

“Thank you,” he said, which was nice of him, and grabbed the cards.

After he put down all four jacks on the floor, he looked at his two remaining cards and then at Rory.

“Do you have any threes?” he asked.

Rory checked his cards, looked up at Crossy, and then checked his cards again.

“Well?” Kiki said kinda rudely.

“Mmm . . . yeah . . . I do . . .” Rory nodded.

He handed Crossy his two cards which Crossy snatched away from him. Then he placed all of his cards onto the floor with the others.

Holding up his empty hands, he shouted, “I won!”

“Awwww,” Dream whined, throwing his cards to the side and lying his head sadly on the rug they were sitting on.

“Lucky . . .” Rory mumbled.

Dusty picked up his paper and started writing on it. “Okay, that’s four wins for Cross. Dream still has two, and Horror and I both have one.”

Kiki threw his cards down on the ground and crossed his arms. Rory scooted them into the big pile and picked all of the cards up. Dream stared mesmerized at him as he began doing the “shuffling” thing and made the cards move super fast in his hands.

“I knew it, you’re cheating! There’s no way you won four times in a row,” said Kiki.

Crossy set the cookie plate in his lap and picked one up. “Being better at this game than you doesn’t mean I’m cheating.”

Dream watched hungrily as Crossy then took a bite of the delicious snickerdoodle.

“Can I have one please?” he asked politely, pushing himself off the floor and sitting on his knees.

Crossy held his cookie between his teeth and handed him one. “Here ya’ ‘o” he said.

Dream grabbed the snickerdoodle and started to happily munch on it. It wasn’t as warm as it was earlier, but it still tasted amazing! Of course, Dream knew it would, since he had helped Rory make them. He even got to wear his own apron with “Little Chef” painted on it.

“Tch’, pushover. Cookies are for winners,” said Kiki.

“Is that why you haven’t had any yet?” Cross asked playfully.

But that only made Kiki frown even more. “Well if he gets one, then I do too.”

He reached his arm across their circle, almost bumping into Rory who was giving them all new cards, and tried to grab a cookie from the plate. But Cross smacked his hand away and held the plate over his head where Kiki couldn’t touch it.

“Now who’s cheating?”

Kiki growled. “Give ‘em here, Cross!”

He lunged forward, messing up all of the little card piles Rory had made. Dream scooted away as Kiki toppled Cross to the ground. The cookies were knocked out of his hand and into the air, and Dream was worried that they were all going to fall and get ruined. But then Dust saved them with his super cool magic and put them back on the plate. Dream went back to finishing his cookie as watched Crossy and Kiki wrestle and play on the floor.

“What are you all doing?” a deep voice asked, making Crossy and Kiki freeze.

Dream looked up along with the rest of his friends to see Midnight standing in the door with his arms crossed and his tentacles waving behind him. He looked grumpy, but Dream knew by now that grumpy was normal for the goopy skeleton. Dream smiled up at him and waved.

“Hi, Midnight! We’re playing a game,” he said.

Midnight didn’t wave back and looked at the cards scattered on the rug. “You aren’t playing what I think you’re playing, right?”

Kiki crawled off of Crossy and stood up. “Nah, we were just playing ‘Go Fish’.”

“Wanna join?” said Crossy.

“Yeah, Midnight, come play with us! Please!” Dream added, hoping he wasn’t too busy again.

But his hopes were crushed when Midnight shook his head. “I can’t. In fact, I actually need you boys to stop and help me . . . run some errands.”

“Wow, we ran outta food that fast?” Kiki asked.

“I’m afraid so. It doesn’t help that Horror’s been doing all this extra baking lately,” he said, looking at the cookie plate.

Rory didn’t say anything and just kept on picking up all the cards. He put them all in a neat stack and placed them in his pocket before standing next to Kiki. Dusty also got up and walked over to Midnight.

“When do you wanna leave?” he asked him.

“Right now,” said Midnight.

Crossy got up and smoothed out his scarf. “Well I’m ready to go!”

Dream looked curiously at the tall skeletons around him. It sounded like they were all going somewhere, but what about him? Dream wanted to go with them too and have a super fun adventure! He scrambled to his feet and bounced excitedly on his tippy toes.

“I’m ready to go too!” he said.

Midnight frowned. “No Dream, you’re staying here.”

Dream’s smile fell and he stopped jumping. “But- but I want to-”

“I don’t care,” he said sternly. “Cross, take him to his room.”

“Wait, but I don’t-”

“Come on, buddy,” said Crossy, scooping him off the floor and holding him.

The older skeleton hugged him close, which Dream would have liked if he wasn’t upset about not getting to go. Still, he clung to Crossy and closed his sockets right as he felt the magic buzz in his ear canals. When the buzzing went away, he looked around and saw he was in his room. Teleporting made him dizzy, but just for a few seconds and by the time Crossy put him down, he felt okay again.

Crossy patted his head. “Alright, now you play in here while we-”

“But I don’t wanna play in my room,” Dream said, grabbing his hand and looking up at him. “I wanna go with you guys! Please can I go? Please? I promise I’ll be good!”

“Sorry buddy, but Midnight said no.”

“But why? Why can’t I go? It’s not fair!”

“I get that, but it’s not safe for you where we’re going. You gotta hang out here, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

Dream let go of his hand and looked at the floor. “Okay . . .”

“Look Dream, I gotcha a little something to cheer you up,” said Crossy, pulling a snickerdoodle out of his jacket hood.

“Thanks . . .” he said, taking the cookie.

Crossy nodded. “No problem. Now just stay in your room and have fun. We’ll be right back.”

The buzzing sound came back and a second later both Crossy and the noise disappeared. Dream sighed and walked over to his bed. He pulled himself onto it, swung his legs over the side, and started eating his snickerdoodle. But the treat didn’t make Dream feel any better. He set the half-eaten cookie on his bed and rubbed crumbs off his face.

“It’s not fair,” he mumbled, falling onto his pillow and staring up at his ceiling.

Just because they were all bigger and stronger than him, didn’t mean he had to stay behind. He isn’t a weak and helpless babybones- He’s a guardian! So what if the place they were going to wasn’t safe? Dream wasn’t scared. He could take care of himself. Plus, Kiki said he’s getting really good at fighting.

But nobody listened to him! And now all his friends were going somewhere without him, while he was in his boring room because Midnight was being a meanie and wouldn’t let him go. Dream crossed his arms and huffed. He was going to wait right here forever and ever, and when the guys came back and saw that he was dust, then they’d all feel really bad for leaving him behind.

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And . . . now he was really, really bored.

Dream glanced over at his still shut door.

Had it been forever yet? Doing nothing for forever and ever wasn’t very fun. He looked over at the toys and craft supplies on his floor. Maybe he should play with something while he waits for them to come back? That would be more fun than counting the cracks in the wall. Scooting off his bed, Dream walked across the room and sat down next to his paper and crayons.

Reaching into the box, he picked out a bright green crayon and scribbled really fast to make the grass. He did the same with the light blue for the sky. Then using the brown and green, he drew their Tree on top of the hill. On the right side, he used a yellow one to draw himself and on the left side, he drew his brother with the purple crayon.

Once Dream finished, he stuck the crayon in his mouth and chewed on it as he looked at his picture. It didn’t look exactly like the way he remembered, but he didn’t care. He was still very proud of his drawing. He picked it up and ran to the door to go show his friends.

As Dream walked out of his room, he cupped his hands and yelled “Guys? Guys where are you?”

But nobody answered him.

Dream shut his door behind him and skipped down the hall to go look for them. He peeked inside all of the bedrooms, but aside from Cyanide sleeping in his metal house, he didn’t see anybody. Dream frowned and checked the kitchen, but it was empty too. He nervously walked into the TV room, hoping he’d find them in there, but it was just as quiet and empty as everywhere else.

Dream looked around the room confused.

Why wasn’t anybody here? Crossy had said they would be back soon. But Dream didn’t know when “soon” was or how long they had been gone already. Was it a few minutes? An hour? Maybe even five hours! But what was taking them so long? Crossy told him the place they went too wasn’t safe. Did they get hurt? Are they okay? Are they ever gonna come back home or . . .

Dream glanced down at the drawing he was holding.

Or . . . are they gone too?

Dream sniffed and felt something wet roll down his cheek.

When he heard it plop onto the paper in his hand, he sniffed again and rubbed his face with the back of his glove. He didn’t want to mess up his picture before the others guys saw it. Setting it on the couch for safe keeping, Dream sat down on the floor beside it and pulled his knees to his chest.

Since the guys would probably come in this room when they got back, all Dream had to do was sit here and wait.

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited . .

And waited . . .

And waited . . . .

But nothing happened.

He sat perfectly still so he could hear the sound of a portal opening, but all he heard was silence.

Dream didn’t like silence. He was used to hearing chirping birds and whizzing insects and the cracking of branches as the wind blew through their leaves. But he couldn’t hear any of that familiar noise inside. Dream wished he was outside. He wished that he was back home. That he was sitting under their Tree with Nightmare again.

Dream squeezed his sockets shut and tried to imagine he was there.

He could see it all so clearly. The cloudless, blue sky. The apples waving above them. The green valley below. He could feel the sunlight on his bones and the warm breeze on his face. He could hear the sound of birds singing to each other. And he could feel Nightmare sitting behind him with his arms wrapped around him, like he did whenever he would tell him a story.

Dream thought about the last story he heard from his brother. Was it the one about a magical explorer? He tried hard to remember, but his head was getting all fuzzy again. It really hurt, so he stopped and opened his eyes. His smile fell when he saw that he was still sitting on the couch. And it wasn’t Nighty’s arms that were hugging him, but his own.

He shivered, but he wasn’t cold on the outside. He was cold on the inside. He didn’t notice it much when his friends were with him, but when he was in his bed at night, the cold feeling would come and make him feel sad and empty. Like he felt right now. Dream wanted someone to hug him. To hold him and make the sad, empty feeling go away. But when he looked up, there was no one around.

He was all by himself in this big, quiet castle.

Alone.

Dream didn’t like being alone.

N-not that being alone scared him. Dream wasn’t scared of anything! But being alone and not knowing where his friends were or what happened to them, did make him a little bit worried. Dream was certain something bad must have happened. Why else had they not come back yet? He needed to go find his friends and help them. Then he wouldn’t be alone anymore and everything would be okay.

Dream stood up, ready to go looking, but hesitated when he realised he didn’t know where to start.

He couldn’t make the black portals or square portals like they did. He didn’t know how. So how could he find them then? Dream puzzled for a moment, but the only option he could think of was to look outside the castle. Midnight had said he wasn’t allowed to go by himself, but if found them, then he wouldn’t be by himself anymore! Dream chuckled at his very smart thinking and ran out of the TV room, leaving his picture behind on the couch.

He found the spare room he remembered having a window in it and walked inside. It was dusty with some old boxes in it. Dream found the smallest crate, shoved it underneath the window, and then got on top. He pressed his face to the dirty glace and looked out, hoping he would see his friends. But all he could see was the cloudy sky and a bunch of tall, dark trees.

Dream sighed sadly, but then shook the sad thoughts from his head and looked up at the latch on the window frame. He used all his strength to lift it, and after a few tries, it finally popped free. Dream pushed his hands against the glass and the window flew open with a loud creak. He smiled proudly at his success, when suddenly a bunch of dirt flew in his face, making him cough and sneeze.

Once he stopped coughing, Dream rubbed his watering sockets and clambered onto the ledge. He kept his eyelights focused on the tree standing in front of him instead of the ground below. It was a bit of a jump, but Dream was a very good jumper, and easily he leapt onto the closest branch. Then very carefully, he started to crawl down the tree. His cape got stuck on the sticks twice, but he made it to the bottom with it in one piece and landed safely onto the grass.

“Yes, I did it! I made it outside!” Dream cried triumphantly, throwing his hands in the air.

Slowly, he dropped his arms and looked around.

“Now where do I go?” he asked himself.

All he could see were more trees. Dream tilted his head up at the castle behind him. Maybe if he walked around the front, he would find a path that would take him to where the guys were? It sounded like a smart idea to him. So Dream started his march along the wall, avoiding all the thick shrubbery so his cape wouldn’t get scratched up.

Even though he couldn't feel the sun or hear any birds, Dream was very happy to be outside again. He had missed the feeling of the earth under his feet. And the wind, even though it was chilly, felt really nice on his face. He was tempted to play out here for a bit, but he had a mission to accomplish first.
Dream rounded the corner, finally spotting two big front doors and running toward the steps leading up to them.

He looked around and shouted, “Hello? Hellooooooo?”

But Dream didn’t see anyone. He didn’t see a path either. Just tall grass that lead into more and more trees that disappeared into the fog.

“M-midnight? Crossy? Rory? Kiki? Dusty? Are you guys out here?” he called, hoping he’d hear something this time.

But the only sound was that of the branches swaying in the wind.

Dream gazed at the forest in front of him and whimpered, clutching the edge of his cape to his chest. It didn’t look very safe. So this had to be the place Crossy said they went to. But the trees were so much bigger and darker than the woods at home. He had no idea how he could find them. Dream turned and looked up at the castle. Maybe he should go back inside and wait for them.

He took a few steps toward the doors, but then stopped and gripped his cape tightly.

No . . . he . . . he couldn’t go inside yet. N̶i̶g̶h̶t̶y The guys were counting on him to help them. Dream needed to be brave, even if he didn’t like the thought of going into the big, scary forest all by himself. Dream wasn’t going to give up now. N̶i̶g̶h̶t̶y They could be hurt! He had to find h̶i̶m them!

Dream faced the forest again. Maybe if he walked into it and yelled loudly enough, then the guys would hear and come to him. That way he wouldn’t have to go far. He would just walk into the forest a little bit, and if he couldn’t find them, then he would v̶e̶r̶y̶ ̶q̶u̶i̶c̶k̶l̶y go back to the castle. He nodded to himself, quite pleased with his super smart and impressive plan.

Dream held his head high and walked into the foggy shadows, cupping his hands and calling their names as loudly as he could.

He was going to find them any minute now.

Right?

___________________________________________________________________

An inky black portal swirled to life inside of the TV room. Horror stumbled through it first, panting heavily as he hugged his burlap sack in his arms. Dust sauntered through next right as a panicked Cross raced past him. Killer skidded into the room after the other skeleton and looked anxiously behind him. But his fears vanished when Nightmare walked through a moment later and closed the portal.

“Everyone alright?” he asked, setting down the burlap sack in his tentacle.

Horor gave him a thumbs up, while Cross flopped onto the couch.

“Well that was close,” the monochrome skeleton sighed, wiping his forehead.

“It was way too close. You were supposed to be watching her Dust!” said Killer.

The other’s perma smile tightened just a little. “How was I supposed to know she had a ink pen in her pocket?”

Killer crossed his arms. “That doesn’t matter. You should have stopped her before she broke it and summoned the squid.”

“Freak . . .” muttered Horror, slinging his sack on his shoulder and heading for the kitchen.

Dust shrugged. “We got food and we got out. That was the plan. I don’t know why you’re angry.”

“I’m angry because you could have cost us the raid!” he hissed. “You need to-”

“That’s enough, Killer,” said Nightmare, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right, everything turned out fine in the end. Besides, he learned from his mistake, right Dust?”

“Yeah. I’ll be sure to pickpocket her next time,” he said, winking at him from under his hood.

Killer huffed. “Whatever. But next raid, I call dibs on keeping an eye on the shopkeeper.”

“So long as you don’t dust her like last time,” Nightmare said sternly. There was no need to waste that little morsel of fear.

But Killer just grinned at him cheekily. “Eh, no promises.”

He smirked and gave him a hard, but harmless shove. “Then go make yourself useful and help Horror unpack the supplies.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, stomping off.

“You too, Cross,” said Nightmare.

“Why meeeeee . . .” he groaned, throwing an arm over his sockets and sliding down the couch cushion.

Meanwhile, Dust walked over with his sack and stooped to grab the one Cross left on the floor. Swinging it over his shoulder, he started to head for the kitchen. Cross lifted his arm and looked. He saw his sack being carried away and frantically jumped up, his legs now miraculously working again.

“Hey, that’s mine, give it back!” he yelled, sprinting toward Dust.

Nightmare chuckled as he watched the two disappear behind the door.

Despite Cross and Killer’s attitude, he sensed they were in a good mood after the raid, even if there wasn’t any fighting. Typicallythey tried to avoid combat with the Star Sanses during “errand runs” so as not to damage the food. Which was much easier to do now that Dream wasn’t able to snitch on them. In fact, Ink and Blue rarely showed up when they wreaked havoc these past few weeks. It probably helped that they only went out at night while Dream was asleep.

But Nightmare didn’t mind skipping out on the frivolous battle. The surplus of negative emotions from the unfortunate customers and staff did more to rejuvenate his magic than a week’s worth of paperwork. He didn’t need to feed on negative energy to survive, but the power boost it gave him always improved his mood. And after being stuck at his desk all day, getting out and spreading a little chaos really helped him unwind.

He stretched his arms and moved over to the couch, planning to sit and wait for the boys to finish putting the food away. With the kitchen freshly stocked and his paperwork done, Nightmare could finally take some time to relax. Maybe he’d watch something or play a card game with them. It had been a while since he’d done the latter. He sat down, debating his options, when he suddenly heard something crumpling underneath him.

“What in the-” Nightmare mumbled, jolting back up.

It was just what it sounded like- a piece of slightly creased paper. Nightmare picked it up and held it loosely as he glanced at it. From the colorful scribbles across the page, he could tell this was one of his brother’s childish drawings. Nightmare rolled his eyelight at his brother’s messy habit and was about to toss the drawing to the side when something caught his attention.

He lifted it higher to examine it more closely. It was a bit smudged, but he could make out two figures standing side by side on a hill under what looked like the Tree of Feelings. The yellow stick figure was obviously supposed to be his happy-go-lucky brother, but when he looked at the other skeleton colored with purple, he realised that it was . . .

̶P̶u̶r̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶o̶l̶d̶ ̶e̶y̶e̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶s̶

̶P̶u̶r̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶o̶l̶d̶ ̶c̶l̶o̶t̶h̶e̶s̶

̶P̶u̶r̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶

Nightmare dropped the drawing as if it burnt him. He stood still for a few hazy, long seconds, the violet color filling his vision, before he violently shook himself out of it.

He . . . he was being ridiculous.

It was just a drawing. There was no need to be so dramatic about it. But as he eyed the backside of the paper, he found himself hesitating to pick it up. To look at the image he wished he could rip from his mind’s eye.

He was very tempted to do just that to the picture on the floor.

But he restrained himself from carrying out the immature impulse. Instead, he swiped it up with a tentacle, careful not to add any more creases, and teleported to Dream’s room. Since popping in without warning had ended in his brother knocking a cup of glue on the floor, Nightmare reappeared just outside his door. He camly knocked on it and cleared his throat.

“Dream, it’s me. I’m coming in,” he announced, reaching for the lock.

His hand froze midair when he saw it was already open.

“Dream? Are you in here?” he asked, stepping swiftly inside. But as he suspected, he didn’t see or sense his brother anywhere in the messy room.

Nightmare’s cyan eyelight constricted as his tentacles writhed behind him.

Of course. He had a feeling this would happen. He never should have left Dream alone in the first place, but he didn’t have a choice. Putting the raid off any longer would have resulted in a scanty pantry, which was a hang up of Horror’s. And now his brother has wandered off somewhere and is probably getting into all sorts of trouble.

Well, whatever trouble Dream is in now, it’s nothing compared to the trouble he’ll be in when he gets his hands on him.

Dropping the forgotten drawing to the floor, Nightmare dipped into shadow and reappeared in the kitchen. All four boys stopped and looked up at him from their various tasks. Although not all of them were doing “tasks” per se. Cross was lounging on the counter and helping himself to his replenished chocolate bar stash. Nightmare narrowed his socket at him, causing the skeleton to stop chewing.

“Did you forget to lock Dream’s door when you took him to his room?” he asked.

Cross gulped down his chocolate. “Um . . . I was supposed to do that?”

“Yes, you were supposed to do that. Now Dream is missing and could be doing who knows what at the moment!” he growled.

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” said Cross, wincing.

Nightmare pinched his naval ridge and sighed. “Yes, well, I guess it’s my fault for assuming you’d know to do that without me telling you.”

“We’ll help you look for him,” said Killer, setting down the cans of food in his arms.

Cross jumped off the counter and added, “yeah, I’m sure he hasn’t gotten too far.”

Nightmare nodded. “Alright then- Dust and Horror, I want you two to check the top levels, while Killer makes sure Dream isn’t in the dungeon. Cross and I will check the rest of the floors. If any of you find him, bring him to the TV room and we’ll all meet back in there.”

“On it,” said Dust, strolling out of the room with Horror on his heels.

Killer skipped the walking entirely and teleported straight down to their lowest level, leaving Cross and him alone.

“Where should we start?” the younger skeleton asked, his posture tight like a solider awaiting orders.

“You look in the west wing and I’ll take the east wing,” said Nightmare.

“Yes sir,” Cross nodded and instantly set off.

Nightmare teleported into the hall and began his own search. He looked inside their bedrooms, even his own, just in case his brother went snooping in there and found things he shouldn’t. But he didn’t see any sign of Dream. He even checked the training and storage rooms, but aside from the weapons and furniture housed in them, they were empty too. And the more empty rooms he found, the more he felt his unease grow.

It was one thing not to find Dream hiding under a bed or behind a door, and it was another thing entirely to not feel his presence anywhere. Even if Dream wasn’t experiencing strong negative emotions, if Nightmare was close enough, he could detect the more subtle negativity that all beings radiate subconsciously. But he couldn’t sense Dream at all, which was as confusing as it was disturbing. After all, it wasn’t like his brother had left the hideout or something.

. . .

Right?

He’d made it perfectly clear to Dream that he wasn’t to go outside alone. And while he usually obeyed rules, his brother had a way of stretching them when he wanted to. Nightmare couldn’t imagine why or how he could venture outside (seeing how all exits were kept locked), but it would explain the lack of any trace of him. Nightmare had to know for sure, so he concentrated his magic on the aura outside.

His breathing hitched as he felt an immediate wave of negative emotions. Fear. Sorrow. Loneliness. All emotions that could only come from one in his empty domain. Nightmare’s soul hummed so loudly it was deafening, but he forced his panic down with an unsteady breath. With the blink of an eyesocket, he was standing in the cool, swaying grass and sweeping his eye light across the castle grounds.

When Nightmare couldn’t find him, he focused on Dream’s emotions again. They were stronger now that he was outside, but still much too faint. His brother must have wandered pretty far away. In any other situation, he wouldn’t be worried. Being outside was as natural to Dream as breathing. But this foggy forest was easy to get lost in and from the distress his brother gave off, Nightmare knew something was wrong.

His tentacles sharpened on instinct as he slipped into the shadows. Thankfully he had energy to spare from their errand earlier, allowing him to take shortcuts every ten yards or so as he worked his way toward Dream. After one teleport too many, Nightmare emerged and sensed that Dream was close. As in, a-foot-away close. He glanced around, but all he saw were the dark trees surrounding him.

Wait . . .

The trees!

Nightmare gazed up and peered between the winding branches above. He remembered how his brother would climb up their Tree whenever he was upset, and was certain that he’d find Dream perched in one of these. Sure enough, Nightmare spied the bright yellow cape hanging against the black bark within mere seconds.

He ignored how utterly relieved he felt at the sight and sternly yelled, “Dream! Get down here right now!”

Instead of obeying him, Dream pulled his cape out of his line of sight- as if trying to hide from him. From the sudden increase of fear Nightmare felt in Dream, he knew why. He cursed inwardly at his heated mistake and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Dream, I know you’re there. I saw you. Come down now,” he said in a level, but strained tone.

When his brother didn’t move, he lost his patience and shouted, “if you don’t start climbing in the next three seconds, I’m coming up there and grabbing you myself!”

Again, Nightmare felt Dream’s fear shudder through him. Hopefully that meant his threat had worked. But as he continued to stare up at him, his brother continued to stay as still as before. Nightmare stepped forward and grabbed the lowest branch with his tentacles.

“Alright, we’ll do this the hard way, then,” he said, and started to scale the tree.

Nightmare hadn’t climbed one of these in centuries, but it wasn’t something he could ever truly forget. And with his extra set of limbs, he quickly reached the branch Dream was on. Pulling himself up, he looked over to see Dream huddled against the trunk, his cape hugging his tiny frame. The golden eyelights quivered at him from their puffy sockets. Nightmare approached his brother cautiously, not wanting him to panic and accidentally fall.

“Dream,” he started calmly, studying his brother for injuries, “I -”

“I’m- I’m Sorry-y-y! P-please don’t be- b-be mad at me-me-e-e . . .” Dream skaily gasped, like he had just finished sobbing.

“You should be. I leave you alone for one hour, and this is what you do?” Nightmare said a little too harshly, causing Dream to flinch. “Care to explain why you went outside without my permission?”

Dream looked away and sniffled, “I- I’m-m, I’m s-sorry. Y-you didn’t come back, so I- I tried to find you. B-but I got lost and- and I climbed up h-here to find the wa-a-ay out. But I- I c-couldn’t find it . . .”

Nightmare exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Dream was just frightened because he got lost after stupidly walking into this forest to look for them, and not because he’d hurt himself somehow. Again, Nightmare felt relieved, and again, he ignored the feeling.

But before he could get another word in edgewise, Dream beat him to it.

“I-I couldn’t f-find you, or-r Crossy, or Dus- Dusty- I- I couldn’t f-find anyone!” he cried, burying his face in his trembling fists. “I- I c-couldn’t d-do it. I’ll n-never- never find my- my brother . . .”

“Nonesenese, I’m sure you’ll find him someday,” he said hastily, sensing his brother was close to breaking down.

“B-b-but I ne-need to f-find Ni- Nighty now!” Dream bawled, fresh tears leaking past his gloves and down his face.

Nightmare rubbed his face in annoyance. Not because Dream was crying, but because he was feeling that strangely strong tug on his soul again. Seriously, what was causing it? Was he becoming sick? It probably had something to do with Sci. He was going to strangle that scientist, but first, he had to deal with his hysterical brother.

Nightmare sighed and slowly seated himself beside Dream. He didn’t want to comfort him. But he also didn’t want to bring Dream back and have him whine and cry about “Nighty” in front of the boys. Sure, they’d told him that they often saw Dream cry when he was brought up, but Nightmare disregarded that fact and curled a tentacle around his shaking brother.

“Shhh, Dream, it’s okay,” Nightmare said quietly. “I know you . . . miss your brother, but there’s no need to get upset. Everything is alright. You’re doing fine with us here, and I’m certain that wherever that your brother is, he’s fine as well.”

Dream just continued crying. Nightmare stayed silently as his brother let it all out and rubbed his shoulder and back soothingly. Within a minute or two his sobbing devolved into watery sniveling. After another moment, Dream caught his breath and peeked up at him with wobbling eyelights.

“Y-you real- really thi-ink so-o-o? N-nighty is o-oka-ay?” he croaked.

Nightmare nodded. “Of course. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, it’ll take more than a couple villagers to scare him, right?”

Just as he hoped, Dream smiled at him, albeit weakly. “R-right!”

“And if he isn’t afraid, then you don’t have to be afraid either. Do you think you can do that? Can you be brave for your brother?” he asked.

“I- I’ll t-try,” Dream stammered, scrubbing his cheeks. “B-but I’m not- not as brave a-as Night-ty. H-he-e isn’t s-scared of any-anything.”

“Oh really? Nothing at all?” he said with an amused smile.

“Re-really!” his brother insisted seriously. “T-there was one t-time, I- I was playing in the river- I was really hot and I- I wanted to cool off and I was swimming- but I forgot to be careful and I got stuck in the water. It was so strong I couldn't swim and- and I was so scared. B-but Nighty wasn’t scared. He was really brave a-and he saved me!”

Nightmare stared hazily into the fog as the incident Dream was referring to replayed in his mind.

It was one of his most vivid memories- as vivid as the event of his corruption. He could still hear Dream’s fearful, garbled cries as the current tossed him around mercilessly, nearly drowning him. If his brother hadn’t left his cape on the river bank for Nightmare to pull him out with, he didn’t know what he would have done.

He could count on his phalanges the number of times he’d felt such overwhelming fear, and that time was one of them. The calmness he had portrayed was just to comfort Dream. In reality, he was shaking almost as badly as bone-soaked brother. Never before had he come so close to losing his twin- it was like losing his whole world. Nightmare vowed he would never come that close to losing him again.

And then he did.

His whole world, completely gone in a snap of his fingers.

And for over 500 years, his brother remained lost.

But now . . .

Nightmare gazed down at the child sitting beside him. At the cape draped across his back. At the brightly colored outfit he wore. At the large, golden eyelights staring so innocently at him without a hint of judgment. This small skeleton didn’t just look and act like the Dream he remembered from long, long ago. He literally was that Dream.

The Dream that he’d lost.

And every morning since the “potion incident”, Nightmare woke up expecting this Dream to be gone again. To be back to his older, stubborn self. To be the twin that wants nothing to do with him except to “cure” him of his magic. But every morning, he walked into breakfast to see his small, childish little brother sitting hungrily at the table.

He was so tired of repeating this cycle. So tired of being paranoid all the time.

Maybe . . .

Maybe he should take this second chance fate had given him?

It had been at least a month now since Dream’s transformation. Perhaps Sci was right. Perhaps the potion really was permanent. Nightmare wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’s had more headaches these past weeks alone than he’s had all year. But then again, not everything about this situation has sucked.

Maybe . . . just maybe . . . he should take advantage of the hand he was dealt. Even if it was just going to be taken from him in the end, he could at least enjoy having Dream like this while it lasted. That sounded better than going through all this trouble to avoid him. Somewhere inside his corrupted soul, something urging him to seize this one chance he had, before he lost his brother again.

Nightmare ignored the urge, of course.

But as he smiled down at Dream, it was much . . . warmer than his usual smile.

“You’re right. Your brother does sound brave,” he said.

Dream beamed proudly, “y-yeah, he’s the bravest!”

Nightmare chuckled. “Yes, well, as much as I enjoy listening to you talk about your brother, I think we should head back inside now, don’t you?” he asked, sensing Dream’s negative emotions had considerably dulled.

“Mmhmm,” Dream nodded.

Right as Nightmare was about to speak again, his brother turned and hugged him as far as his small little arms could reach.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, squeezing him slightly.

“Y-yes, well . . .” he sputtered, unsure if he should hug back or not.

He compromised with a light pet on the head and after coughing, he said more firmly, “of course I’d find you. It’s my job to look after everyone, and that includes you.”

Then titling Dream’s head to look up, Nightmare added, “But don’t think you’re not in trouble still. You broke a rule and you have to face consequences for your actions. So when we get back, you have to stay alone in your room for one hour. Understand?”

“Yes, I- I understand,” said Dream, hiding his face in his hoodie. “I’m really sorry, Night.”

He winced at the all-too-familiar nickname. “Just call me Midnight, okay?”

“Oh, okay. I’m really, really sorry, Midnight,” he repeated, pulling away and staring up at him with sad, wide eyelights.

“I know. You won’t do it again, now will you?”

“Nu uh! Never!”

“Good. Then let’s go home.”

“Yeah, lets go,” Dream said, finally letting go and eagerly squirming off the branch.

Nightmare’s worry spiked as he watched his brother stand precariously on the limb below.

“Here, I’ll help you get down,” he said and automatically reached for him.

“No, I can do it!” Dream argued, leaning away from his grasp. “I can-”

He abruptly stopped. He had leaned too far back, losing his balance, and slipped off the branch before Nightmare had time to react. Dream shrieked and desperately tried to grab onto something. But he couldn’t get a grip and continued to fall.

And fall

And fall

A N D F A L L

“NO!” Nightmare screamed, shooting all four tentacles after his plummeting brother.

In an instant, the blur of tendrils caught the child, winding and wrapping around him until only his head was visible. With his brother now safely secure, Nightmare lifted him back up and held him out at arms length. He withdrew three of the tentacles, keeping only one twisted under Dream’s arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked thinly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Yeah, I’m okay!” Dream said, grinning much too widely for someone who almost fell to their death. “Let’s do it again!”

“Absolutely not!” Nightmare snapped. His soul was still humming a million miles a minute.

“But it was fun,” he pouted, hugging his tentacle. “Please? I want you to catch me again!”

He arched his brow. “What if I can’t catch you this time?”

“Sure you can! Your super cool tent-ackles are really fast. I know you’ll catch me!” said Dream with complete and total confidence.

Nightmare rolled his eyelight at his brother’s stupidly blind trust in him.

“It’s tentacles,” he corrected him, then smirked. “Tell you what. I can do something else instead.”

Dream titled his head to the side. “Do what?”

“This,” he answered, pushing himself off the limb.

Dream squealed as they both dropped through the branches. A few feet before they hit the ground, Nightmare directed his tentacles with perfect precision into the earth, breaking their free fall. He then lowered them safely the rest of the way. Once his feet touched the grass, they all returned to his back, except for the one still tightly wound around Dream.

“That was so cool!” Dream giggled, his eyelights shining.

Nightmare shook his head at his brother’s enthusiasm. He probably shouldn’t have encouraged Dream’s reckless behavior by doing that, but it was the quickest way down the tree. The fact that it also made Dream happy had nothing to do with his decision.

“Can we do it again?” he asked

“Maybe another time, Dream. Right now, we need to get back,” said Nightmare, holding his brother just a little bit closer as he activated his magic to teleport. “Hold on tight.”

In a swirl of black, they emerged out of the dark, foggy forest and into the warm, familiar TV room.

“Rory!” Dream gasped, waving excitedly at the skeleton on the couch.

“What are you doing here?” asked Midnight as he walked toward him. “And where is Dust?”

Rory stood up and shrugged. “With the others . . . . Cross found a window open . . . thought Dream went outside. They went looking . . . I stayed . . . just in case . . . this happened.”

Midnight sighed. “Alright. Stay in here and watch him for me while I’ll go get them.”

The tentacle then gently set him on the floor and slipped off of him. Dream turned around but when he looked, Midnight had already disappeared. He looked back at Rory and ran into the skeleton, wrapping his arms as best he could around him. His feet left the ground again as he was picked up, and he eagerly snuggled into the soft fur that tickled his face.

“Please don’t run away . . . okay little chef?” said Rory.

Dream headbutted his jaw affectionately. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Thank you . . .” the older skeleton said, hugging him closer.

Dream sighed, closing his sockets and relaxing in Rory’s hold. After a few moments, he heard the buzzing noise of magic behind him. Dream raised his head and looked. It was Midnight, and he had Crossy and Dusty and Kiki with him too. Now they were all back home again! Dream grinned and waved at them.

Crossy saw and ran over to him. “Dream? Are you okay buddy?” he asked

“Yep! I’m okay. See?” Dream said, holding his arms out.

Crossy grabbed him from Rory and hugged him so tightly that Dream couldn’t breathe for a second.

“Don’t ever do that to us again!” he shouted.

“Yeah, you made us waste our time looking everywhere for you, you little twerp,” Kiki said angrily. “What were you thinking, huh? Trying to prove that you're a big kid or something?”

Dream frowned and picked at the white hairs on Crossy’s jacket. “I’m sorry Kiki. You guys didn’t come back and I was scared you got hurt. I tried to find you. But I- I got lost . . .”

“Good thing Midnight found you then. Right Killer?” said Crossy.

Kiki huffed, “I guess so. Just don’t pull that stunt again. Got it squirt?”

“Okay, Kiki,” he smiled, and Kiki smiled back.

“So, do you wanna finish that game of ‘Go Fish’ now?” Crossy suggested.

Dream was about to excitedly say yes, but he stopped and looked over at Midnight.

“Can I, Midnight? Pleaseee?” he asked, unsure if he had to have his punishment now or not.

The goopy skeleton nodded. “Go ahead Dream. We’ll worry about the timeout later.”

“Really? Thank you Midnight!” Dream cheered, oblivious to the confused expressions on everyone elses face.

“Oh! And we also brought home some Nicecream. Have you ever had Nicecream before?” Crossy asked.

When Dream shook his head, he added, “It’s very sweet and cold. I’m sure you’ll like it! And there’s different flavors too. Which one do you wanna try? We got chocolate, vanilla, uh . . . cotton candy, and strawberry-”

“Strawberry!” Dream decided, going with the only flavor he knew besides chocolate.

Crossy laughed. “Strawberry it is then.”

“I’ll get them . . .” Rory said. He handed Kiki all the cards. “You deal . . .”

Kiki got down on the floor and started to do that shuffling thing again. “I’d like to see you try and cheat now, Cross.”

“Hey! I wasn’t cheating! I just had a lucky streaky going,” Crossy said, sitting in front of Kiki and placing Dream beside him.

Kiki smirked. “Yeah well, your luck is about to run out.”

Dream situated himself comfortably on his knees and looked over at two skeletons still standing.

“Are you going to play?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Dust, sitting down on the other side of Crossy.

Dream looked hopefully at Midnight, and to his delight, the dark skeleton shrugged and sighed, “I suppose so.”

“Yay! Come sit with me,” he said, excitedly patting the rug.

Midnight walked over to him and sat on the floor next him. Dream grinned and was about to pick up his cards when he saw one of the tentacles floating near him. Very sneakily, he reached out and grabbed it, giggling as he hugged his prize to his chest. Dream didn’t know why, but the tentacle things made him feel really safe- like nothing could ever hurt him.

“I don’t believe that’s yours,” said Midnight. He sounded annoyed, but Dream could see the small smile on his face.

“Yes it is! It’s my squishy now,” he said playfully, hugging the tentacle tighter in case he tried to take it back.

Crossy snorted. “Pfft- squishy.”

“Not a word, Cross,” Midnight said, frowning down at his cards.

Dream was worried for a moment that he made him mad (although, it wasn’t really his fault ‘tentacles’ was hard to say). But when Midnight didn’t yell at him or pull his tentacle away, he smiled and nuzzled it. The squishy hugged him back, coiling the tip of it around his arm. Dream giggled again and looked up at the skeletons around him.

He wasn’t lost anymore. He was back home and playing with all of his friends again, even Midnight. The cold feeling was gone. Now all he felt was happy and warm inside. Dream still missed his other home, and his tree, and his brother- but Midnight was right. Everything was okay. His new friends would keep him safe until he found his brother. And while he waited, Dream would be the bravest there ever was!

For Nighty.

Chapter Text

A black, glossy liquid seemingly seeped from the floor, and after it pooled into a sizable puddle, the inky owner of it hopped out, sticking his landing confidently.

Turning back towards the puddle- or rather portal- Ink squatted and held out his hand.

“That was a close one,” he remarked cheerily as a gloved hand grasped his own.

Despite his short stature, Ink pulled the taller skeleton out of the shrinking portal with ease and on to his feet. Blue swayed a little unsteadily and leaned on the other’s shoulder for support, cradling his swimming skull. Ink stood with his hands on his hips and waited a moment for the swap sans to recover.

“Hey, you didn’t throw up this time,” he said as Blue straightened. “I told you it would probably get better!”

“NNNNN . . .” was all Blue could groan.

Although he had to admit, Ink was right.

It was better now- at least compared to the first few times he traveled through the inky portals.

The feeling of his body and soul melting like one of Undyne’s amalgamates, only to be molded back to normal once he surfaced was almost unbearable. Losing his lunch was always the last thing he worried about. And it took every ounce of his willpower to force himself through that horrific hole over and over again.

Not that Blue really had a choice in the matter.

He wasn’t an outcode, and so he didn’t have an inter-dimensional portal of his own. Fortunately, after passing through Ink’s portal so many times, he didn’t feel nearly as sick anymore. Incredibly dizzy and shaky all over, but not so nauseous that he immediately dry-heaved. Of course, Blue was grateful for this slight improvement, but . . .

. . . he couldn’t help thinking longingly about Dream's warm, bright portals.

Blue hung his skull, letting out a long, heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Ink asked, titling his head at him. “Are you still feeling sick?”

He quickly smiled. “NO, NO I’M FINE! I WAS JUST . . . THINKING ABOUT DREAM AGAIN.”

“Dream?” the other echoed, his eyelight flipping into an exclamation mark. “Oh right, Dream! Yeah! Uh . . .”

Ink shifted uncomfortably for a moment, before perking up again and pointing over at the kitchen.

“I know, let’s go cook something! Cooking always cheers you up,” he said, already across the room.

Pushing the remaining woozieness aside, Blue sprinted after him.

“INK, WAIT A SECOND, I-”

He got about three steps when a sharp, stinging pain shot up his leg.

“AHH!” he yelped, stumbling and crashing to the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

Ink popped his head through the doorway. “Blue? You okay?”

“I-I’M OKAY! BUT I -NN!-” he winced, grasping the bone. “I THINK MY LEG’S BEEN INJURED.”

“Lemme see,” Ink said as he crouched beside him.

Carefully, Blue pulled his pant leg out of his boot and rolled it up to his knee, revealing a spidery crack running up his tibia.

Ink whistled. “Yep, that’s a pretty bad one. Heh, look, we kinda match now!”

Blue stared unamused at the line-riddled arm eagerly waving in his face.

“I SEE WHAT YOU MEAN, BUT I WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU WOULD GO AND GET THE CANDY FOR ME PLEASE. I CANT-"

“Oh, sure!” said Ink, jumping to his feet. “Just hang tight, buddy Blue!”

Once the short skeleton had dashed out of the room, Blue grimaced and pushed himself off the ground. Slowly, he hobbled to the closest piece of furniture, which happened to be the old couch (also known as his brother's second bed). Sinking down into the springy cushions, he slumped back, letting his sockets close for just a-

“Wait, where is it?”

Blue jolted upright, sockets flying back open.

“OH! IT’S UH . . . IN THE BATHROOM. UNDER THE SINK,” He said only slightly louder than normal.

“Okaythanks!-”

"NO PROBLEM," Blue replied, dropping his shoulders.

Figuring Ink might be a minute, he slowly scooted sideways on the couch and stretched out his injured leg. The burning ache lessened, but only by a little. While he could tolerate and even ignore pain while fighting, with the danger and adrenaline rush gone, he was having a harder time ignoring it now.

To distract himself, Blue glanced around at stuff within the room.

The dented TV. The new-ish rug. The trash his slob of a brother had littered while he was gone. The cheerful sunshine streaming through the window panes. Things that, either nostalgically familiar or refreshingly new, should have been comforting to him.

But all of it just reminded him of how much more time he was spending in his homeverse with Dream gone.

Without Dream, there was no reason to visit the guardian’s home in the omega timeline like he used to. After all, he wasn’t there to play games or to spar with. He wasn’t there to try new recipes or just to chat with. He wasn’t there to have sleepovers with after a long day of helping the multiverse and fighting their enemies.

Without Dream, Blue was stuck at home with nothing to do.

Feeling stuck wasn’t anything new to him. He was stuck in the Underground for most of his life. But he didn’t feel helpless in the Underground. There was always something he could do- train with Alphys, keep everyone’s hope alive. Always a goal he could work toward- capturing a human, doing his part to break the barrier.

He was always able to do something to help.

But not this time.

This time, there was nothing he could do. He’d already reached out to their allies when Dream first disappeared with no luck. And even though he constantly checked his phone, all the texts were just asking for updates or offering emotional support. The only way he could help now was by joining Ink in his fights with the Bad Sanses.

Which from the state of his leg, he wasn’t even able to do that much.

Blue quickly slid his gaze to the floor.

He felt his soul sink down his spine just looking at the crack in his bone. Not because it made him queasy, but because it reminded him of how weak and helpless he's become. Of what a failure he’s become. Sure, Ink said there was nothing he could have done that day, but Blue knows that isn’t true.

He could have stuck close to Dream’s side, or noticed he was missing sooner.

He could have done something, anything.

But he didn’t.

He failed Dream then, just like how he failed to-

“I got it!” Ink shouted, bursting into the room with the jar of medicinal candies above his head. “Sorry I took so long. I got distracted.”

Blue smiled knowingly at his friend. “IT'S ALRIGHT, DON'T WORRY. I’M JUST GLAD YOU WERE ABLE TO FIND IT.”

Ink twisted the lid off and peered into the container.

“So which one do you want? There’s orange and uh . . . green.”

“THE ORANGE ONE PLEASE,” he said, holding out his hand.

The green ones tasted like apples.

“Orange it is,” the other skeleton sang as he tossed him the candy.

Blue caught it and popped it past his teeth.

Immediately the little ball of magic dissolved, like melting cotton candy, leaving behind a weak citrusy flavor. And within seconds, Blue could feel the cold magic trickle down his leg. He shuddered, feeling as if there were a hundred tiny spiders running through the cracks. Gritting his teeth, he shoved his hands under his arms to keep from scratching at the tingling sensation.

Blue really despised using this commercially-made healing magic, but just like the portals, he didn't have a choice.

The only person in their little group who could heal him was Dream. And his friend always used to help with his injuries, even the minor ones he insisted weren’t worth it. Unlike the candies, Dream’s magic was warm and soothing, and held such affectionate intent that Blue could still feel it long after the wound had healed.

The cold, clinical candies were hardly better than a band-aid compared to it.

Still, they did their job, and when Blue inspected his leg, he saw that only the biggest cracks were somewhat visible now.

“Do you need another one?” asked Ink, sounding more curious than concerned.

Blue waved him off. “NO, I’M GOOD, THANK YOU. IT’S ONLY A SURFACE CRACK ANYWAY.”

Ink shrugged, screwing the lid on and setting the jar down.

“Okay, now that’s done, we can go um- . . . we can . . .” he trailed off, his eyelight slowly spiraling.

“YOU WERE GOING TO GO COOK,” Blue started, “BUT I-”

Ink snapped his fingers.

“-but you fell, that’s right!”

“YES I DID, BUT I MEAN THAT I-”

“Come on,” the other said, heading toward the kitchen. “You can sit in a chair if your leg still hurts.”

“INK-”

“-Oh! And we should make those cherry pocket pies, so all you have to do is fold the dough, while I-”

“INK!”

His friend finally stopped and spun around.

“Yeah?”

“I DON'T WANT TO COOK,” Blue said curtly before Ink could interrupt him again.

A beat of silence passed.

“Wait, are you serious!?” he asked, his sockets widening.

Blue nodded, opening his mouth to explain, but in the next second the smaller skeleton was on top of him.

“Who are you and what have you done with Blue!?” he demanded, gripping the sides of his face.

“OW! INK! CUT IT OUT!” he cried and (with some difficulty) shoved the delusional skeleton off of him. “YOU’RE BEING RIDICULOUS!”

“Oh I am, am I?,” Ink said, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re the one who isn’t acting normal! First you keep getting all sad, and now you don’t even wanna cook anymore?”

Blue frowned, rubbing his cheek. “IT'S NOT THAT I DON'T WANT TO COOK EVER AGAIN, I JUST DON'T WANT TO COOK RIGHT NOW.”

Ink frowned back. “Why? Are you still hurt or something?”

“NO, I-“ he glanced at the carpet. “-I’M JUST TIRED FROM ALL THE FIGHTING.”

And there it was, that twinge of guilt in his soul.

He hastily squashed it down, telling himself that the little white lie was for the best. Even though Ink was his friend, he knew from experience that talking about his feelings would get both of them nowhere. The only one Blue could talk to was Dream, who’s absence was the reason he was upset in the first place.

The lingering citrus in his mouth suddenly tasted a lot more bitter.

“Oh, is that all?” Ink smiled lopsided. “You could have just said that in the first place, you know.”

Blue let out a small huff. “I TRIED TO, BUT YOU-”

“So how did you get that nasty crack anyway?” the other asked, situating himself more comfortably on the couch. “I don’t remember seeing you get hurt.”

“I WAS-”

“-Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing you for most of the fight.”

“THAT'S BECAUSE WE GOT SEPARATED. YOU WERE BUSY FIGHTING ALL FOUR OF NIGHTMARE’S GANG MEMBERS, WHILE I FOUGHT NIGHTMARE HIMSELF,” Blue explained patiently, as if it hadn’t just happened ten minutes ago.

“You did what? Stars Blue, no wonder you got injured!” said Ink, waving his arms. “Why did you think it was a good idea to take Nightmare on alone? What if you disappeared like Dream did?"

He flinched. "I KNOW IT WAS RISKY, BUT-"

“So why did you do it!?”

Blue stared silently at him for a moment.

“I . . . I DON’T KNOW, INK,” he finally sighed, hunching over.

His gaze drifted down towards his snow-soaked boots.

“I GUESS. . .”

The bright blue bones surrounded him, speeding towards him like bullets of light, but the skeleton didn’t even look as his tentacles swatted them away like they were annoying flies.

“Hmmm, you’re rather aggressive today. Something bothering you?” the corrupted monster noted casually.

Thanks to his impressive self-control, Blue held back his undignified growl.

He was used to Nightmare making snide comments on his emotional turmoil all the time, but for him to point it out now, seeing how he was the one responsible for it, felt downright insulting!

Still, Blue managed to keep his voice level as he yelled, “WHERE IS HE, NIGHTMARE?”

The black skeleton eyed him boredly, his hands in his pockets.

“Are you really asking me this again? You know, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results each time.”

Blue dodged a tendril right as it swung at him, unable to deflect it with any of his weapons.

They didn’t have the same burning positivity of Dream’s magic.

“STOP PLAYING DUMB, I’M NOT AN IDIOT-”

“Debatable.”

“-AND YOU’RE NOT AS CLEVER AS YOU THINK YOU ARE!”

“Oh, so you know something I don’t?” asked Nightmare, raising a brow bone.

The tentacles swayed lazily behind him now, giving Blue a breather, but he remained on edge in case it was a trap.

“I KNOW YOU’RE HIDING SOMETHING FROM US,” he shouted back.

He could always tell that thanks to his brother.

Nightmare pointed the tip of his tentacle to his chest. “Me? Hiding something?”

Blue stiffened as the monster abruptly sunk into shadow. He twisted jerkily in a circle, summoning a bone and holding in front of him. Any moment now Nightmare would pop up and attack, he just knew it. But as seconds past, all he saw were the trees and more trees and-

Someone was behind him.

Before he could even blink, something freezing brushed against his neck.

“Now why would I ever do that?”Nightmare whispered uncomfortably close to his ear canal.

Blue shuddered, but swallowed the cry in his throat.

Jumping forward to create some distance, he rubbed the chill from his vertebrae and spun towards the slimy skeleton. His soul was still sputtering in his chest, but the initial scare had already worn off. Standing at his tallest, Blue looked his smug opponent in the eyelight.

“TOY WITH ME ALL YOU WANT NIGHTMARE, BUT THIS ISN’T A GAME! YOU MAY NOT CARE ABOUT DREAM, BUT I DO, AND I’M NOT GIVING UP ON HIM.”

“Always ever the hero, aren’t you, little boy blue,” Nightmare sneered, folding his hands behind him.

Blue summoned a second bone as the other stepped forward, ready to attack despite the unfavorable odds, but Nightmare walked past him without so much as a glance

“Tell me, just how do you plan on saving Dream?” he hummed, stopping a few feet away. “How long has it been since he disappeared, and yet you and your liquid-brained friend still haven’t found him? Granted, the multiverse is massive, but you know as well as I that every second that goes by, the chance of finding him slips more out of reach.”

Blue bristled slightly.

Of course he knew that!

Why else did Nightmare think he was taking such a huge risk fighting him one on one?

Surely he of all monsters could tell how desperate he was.

He probably sensed it the moment Blue attacked him. And it was painfully obvious that he was taking advantage of it here, trying to poke at his marrow lines. But the blunt words painted the reality of the situation so bleakly, that his shoulders sagged just a little.

Blue gave his skull a good shake.

No, he couldn’t let Nightmare manipulate him like that!

He huffed through his nasal cavity and glared up at the skeleton.

“AND THAT DOESN’T WORRY YOU AT ALL? EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE BOTH ENEMIES RIGHT NOW, DREAM IS STILL YOUR BROTHER,” he argued.

Nobody, even someone as cruel as the king of negativity, could possibly be that soulless.

(Metaphorically speaking, of course.)

The dark monster didn’t move, save for the tentacles curling idly at his feet.

“Brother or not,” Nightmare answered flatly, “ his well-being is of no concern to me.”

Blue squeezed the bones in his fists.

“YOU’RE LYING! YOU KNOW WHERE DREAM IS, I KNOW YOU DO," he screamed.

Nightmare remained silent.

But right as Blue was about to chuck one of the bones at him, the goopy skeleton finally turned around, smiling softly.

“Maybe I am lying,” he said.

Blue straightened, his scowl melting away into shock.

Was . . . was this it?

Was Nightmare finally going to give him the answers he wanted?

As the other slowly stalked towards him, Blue stood frozen in place, unable to look away.

Nightmare started speaking again, his voice low and smooth. “Maybe I do know which wretched universe he’s trapped in . . . unable to get free . . . unable to call for help . . . unable to survive for much longer . . .”

Blue’s eyelights hazed over as he vividly imagined the picture Nightmare described.

Was he really telling the truth?

Was Dream really stranded in an AU somewhere, wasting away to the point of dusting?

Was it too late to save him?

“Or maybe I have him trapped in a prison of my own . . .” the other continued, pulling Blue back to the present, “ . . . leaving him to rot even as he pathetically begs for mercy, for help, for anything but the dark hell he’s been doomed to . . .“

Blue looked up, staring horrified at the monster looming above him.

No . . . Nightmare wouldn't . . . he couldn’t . . .

He couldn’t do that!

Not to Dream! Not to his own brother!

. . . R-right?

But the longer he looked at that cold, merciless eyelight, the heavier his soul felt in his ribcage.

Nightmare leaned closer to his face- so close Blue was sure the other could hear his shaky breathing.

“Say either of those realities are true,” he whispered, voice dripping with malice.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Blue opened his mouth . . .

. . . and closed it.

The dark skeleton’s grin grew sharp.

“That’s right.”

A tentacle wrapped around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides, but he didn't even struggle.

“Nothing.”

The world around him shifted, and he belatedly realised he was spinning through the air, the branches slapping his ragdoll body until he finally smacked right into the trunk of a tree and-

“. . . I GUESS I UNDERESTIMATED HIM,” he said.

Then ducking his head in his scarf, he mumbled, “I Don't Know How Dream Made It Look So Easy . . .”

For once, Ink didn’t say anything.

He probably didn’t know what to say, judging from the awkward silence that had settled between them. But Blue didn’t care if it was awkward, he was just happy it was quiet. He didn’t have to force his feelings behind a fake, cheeerful tone if they weren’t talking.

The silence didn’t last long though, and after a few seconds, Ink stiffly patted his shoulder.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to remember to ask him when we get him back. Because you know I won’t!”

He chuckled at his self-deprecating joke, but Blue couldn’t even muster a half-hearted “MWEH”.

Instead, what slipped out was a weak, ”If We Get Him Back . . .”

“What do you mean, “If we get him back”? Of course we’re getting Dream back!”

“BUT IT’S BEEN SO LONG!” Blue cried, finally looking up with wobbling eyelights. “WHAT IF . . . WHAT IF WE’RE TOO LATE? WHAT IF SOMETHING AWFUL HAPPENED TO HIM AND NOW HE’S D-DUST!?”

As soon as the dreaded word left his mouth, Blue choked on a sob.

Suddenly, something in him broke, overwhelming him with the emotions he'd supressed for days, maybe weeks now. His chest was heaving uncontrollably as tears flowed from his tightly shut sockets, but he just couldn't stop! And the harder he tried, the more he thought about Dream and how his friend must be suffering right now and how it was all his fault for not finding him fast enough and what a terrible friend he is and -

“Blue! Blue, stop, it’s okay!” Ink snapped, grabbing his shoulders.

Sniffling, Blue lowered his shaking hands and looked wide-eyed at his blurry friend.

“I’m sure Dream is fine,” the other continued. “We just need to keep trying to find him! You’re not giving up now, are you?”

“N-NO, I’M N-NOT GIVING- GIVING UP. I JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT T-TO DO! WE’VE ALREADY TRIED EVERYTHING- THING!” he hiccuped.

Ink smirked. “Not everything . . .”

Blue furrowed his brow.

“INK, N-NO.”

“Ink, yes!”

Blue took a deep, calming breath as he wiped his sockets. “I KNOW YOU’RE JU- JUST TRYING TO HELP, BUT LAST TIME YOU HAD A PLAN, IT-”

“-was a disaster, I know, you told me,” he said, rolling his eyelights. “But this one is gonna work for sure!”

Despite the flicker of hope he felt seeing his friend’s confidence, Blue hesitated. “I- I DON’T KNOW INK . . .”

The shorter skeleton slung an arm around his back, pulling him to his side.

“Trust me, buddy Blue, I won’t let you down. Soon, Dream is gonna be here with us like nothing ever happened!”

Blue weakly smiled back at his beaming friend.

Maybe . . .

Maybe Ink was right.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to save Dream.

Maybe his plan would actually work this time.

Blue hoped with all the hope he had left that it would.

Because at this point, it was all he could do.

Chapter Text

Nightmare stared down at his desk, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface.

He eyed the quill that sat untouched beside the neat stack of paperwork. His eyelight glossed over the sheets, their inky letters demanding him to start writing already. Usually Nightmare was more than happy to comply, but today he was having a little trouble . . . focusing. He wasn’t sure why he was struggling to work though.

It’s not like there was anything distracting him. The boys had all left the hideout, doing their own thing and leaving him alone in the peace and solitude of his cozy office. The only sounds he could hear was the comforting crackle of the fireplace and the rhythmic tapping of his phalanges on the well-worn mahogany. Otherwise, the room was completely quiet.

Too quiet.

Nightmare leaned forward and peered suspiciously over the edge of his desk.

Dream was still lying down on the floor just like he was five minutes ago, with his little feet waving in the air. The art supplies he dragged in here were littered all over the rug around him, and he noticed that a few of the crayons had rolled dangerously close to the hearth. But aside from the mess and potential fire hazard, everything was perfectly fine.

Slumping back in his chair, Nightmare let out a tired sigh.

Babysitting Dream hadn’t been on his agenda for today, but he didn’t have a choice. Ever since their raid last week, his brother had become increasingly clingy. He avoided playing alone in his room, and was practically glued to at least one of his boys at all times. But since they were all gone at the moment, he was the only one left to deal with Dream.

It was easy enough at first. But at some point, he ended up with his brother attached to one of his tentacles, refusing to let go and begging to play in his office while he worked. Nightmare relented on the condition he didn’t bother him- a decision he was sure he would regret. Only he didn’t. Not only did it help him to keep an eye socket on Dream, it also saved him the headache of hearing more whining.

The fact that he also felt guilty for accidentally causing Dream’s spike of separation anxiety had no effect on his decision.

But trivial reasons aside- Nightmare decided he should take advantage of Dream’s unusual quietness sooner rather than later. Picking up his quill, he twirled it in his fingers, resting his jaw in his other hand as he focused on the file in front of him. Slowly but surely, he worked his way down the paper. After what felt like an hour, he finally finished and set it aside to start the next one.

Right as he set the quill to the page, he felt something tug on his sleeve. Nightmare lifted his head and looked over to see Dream standing next to him. His brother was shyly peeking up at him from behind the paper he held out in front of his face. Nightmare ignored how eager he was for a distraction like this and set down his quill.

“Yes Dream? Do you need something?” he asked pleasantly.

The child grinned and turned the paper around. “I wanted to show you my picture! I drew everybody, see?”

Nightmare glanced at the uneven row of stick skeletons. Killer stood on the left with his angry black sockets beside Horror, while one the right side, Cross and Dust were smiling happily next to each other. There was a pink blob on the latter’s shoulder that he assumed was supposed to be Cyanide. In the middle was a frowning black skeleton with lots of squiggly lines behind him- one of which was holding a small, yellow skeleton.

“I do see. Good job, Dream,” he said, smiling at the c̶u̶t̶e picture, then at his c̶u̶t̶e brother.

Dream’s eyelight’s dilated. “You really like it?”

“Yes, it looks very nice,” Nightmare complimented curtly.

“Thank you!” he said, beaming proudly at the simple praise. “Is everyone home yet? I want to show them my drawing too.”

“No, I’m afraid not,” he answered.

Dream’s smile fell a little as he hugged the image to his chest. “Oh . . . okay. Do- do you know how much longer they’re gonna be gone?”

“I’m not sure, but probably not for another hour,” Nightmare said truthfully.

Feeling Dream’s mood sour even more, he added, “But uh, why don’t you put your drawing on the fridge? That way, when they come home, they’ll all be able to see it.”

“Oh! That’s a good idea!” said Dream, perking back up. “I’ll go do that right now.”

“Do you need my help?” Nightmare asked, watching his brother skip away.

He pulled the door open and shook his head. “Nope, I can do it!”

“Alright then. There’s tape in the top left drawer beside the sink,” he said, picking up the quill and bending over his desk again.

“Okay, thanks Midnight!” Dream chimed as the door shut behind him.

Holding the paper with one hand, Dream raced eagerly down the hallway towards the kitchen. He couldn’t wait for the guys to come home and see his super cool picture. They would all be really impressed with his drawing skills, just like Midnight was. Maybe he could make even more pictures while he waited for them to return. Then the whole entire fridge would be covered in his art!

Dream pushed open the kitchen door, thinking about what he should draw next, but was suddenly distracted by the noise of a portal opening. He stopped in surprise on the threshold and looked across the room. Dream grinned excitedly. Finally, the guys were back! Now they could see his picture and play with him! But right as he was about to rush over to them, someone he didn’t know stepped through the portal.

It was another skeleton!

His bones looked black like Midnight’s, but he had two red sockets and funny-looking eyelights. The clothes were black too, except for the t-shirt, which was red like his legs and fingers. His teeth were all weird and yellow. Dream wondered if maybe he ate too much sugar. But what really caught his attention were the blue lines running down his face and the strange box thingies floating around his body.

Dream stood still and stared as the new skeleton closed the portal behind him.

He thought the only ones who could make portals were his friends. Did that mean that this was a friend too? Or maybe this black skeleton was Midnight’s brother? While Dream puzzled silently in his head, the skeleton stretched and walked over to the counter. He watched curiously as the stranger reached inside the top cabinet and pulled something out. When he saw what it was, he gasped and clamped a hand over his mouth.

It was one of Crossy’s chocolate bars!

As the skeleton started to peel back the shiny paper, Dream’s sockets widened with horror at the realization that he was going to eat it! This was wrong. Friends don’t steal other friend’s favorite food! This skeleton, whether he was a friend or not, needed to be stopped. And since no one else was around, Dream was going to do just that! Setting his drawing carefully on the floor, he quietly walked up to him.

Right as the stranger lifted the chocolate to his mouth, Dream poked his back and said, “excuse me, mister skeleton?”

“Gggy-YYAa-aHHh-h!” Error screamed, his glitches rapidly multiplying.

He jumped around, his hands raised to fight, and glared at the prick who thought they could touch him and live. But there was no one behind him. He looked warily about the room, confident that the culprit was hiding somewhere. No one could teleport that fast.

“W-w-who’s there? Is it you Cross-s-s-s?” he asked, clutching the chocolate tighter.

If this was some sort of ‘prank’, he was going to string every last one of them up and rip their code apart piece by-

“No, it’s me!” said a very high-pitched voice, very close.

Error looked down, dropping his defensive stance the moment he locked eyelights with the skeleton in front of him.

He couldn’t believe it.

It was a child.

There was a child in Nightmare’s hideout.

And it was just . . . standing there, frowning up at him, perfectly unharmed.

Error sensed his system freezing up as it struggled to process what he was seeing, but before he reached a crash, the child pointed a tiny finger at him.

“That’s not your chocolate!” it said indignantly. “You shouldn’t take food that doesn’t belong to you. You need to put it back right now.”

Error looked blankly at the kid, then at the bar in his hand, and then back at the kid.

“W-w-what little anomaly are you-you-you supposed to b-b-be?” he asked, squinting at it.

Something about the tiny skeleton reminded him of someone, but the name was on the tip of his tongues . . .

“I’m not an anom . . . anom-oly. And I’m not little either! I’m an inch tall for a monster my age,” it said matter-of-factly.

“I d-d-d-don’t care. I meant, who are-are-are you? And how did-did-did you even get h-h-here?” he asked, glancing around for any sign of h̶i̶s̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s Nightmare’s lackeys.

If a literal babybones could get into the hideout by itself, then the gang is more incompetent than he thought.

“Oh! I’m Dream! And I came in here through the door.”

Error looked the kid over again and arched a brow bone. “D-d-dream? Nightmare's brother-r-r-r?” he asked incredulously.

“Yep!” it grinned, popping the p.“That’s me!”

Error couldn’t hold back a snort. His eyesight was pretty much useless without his glasses, but even he could see this child wasn’t actually Dream. Sure, it had the same eyelights and crown-thingy, but that’s where the similarities ended.

Still, he smirked and said, “r-r-r-really? Let me guess, you’re a-a-a Star Sans t-t-too?”

The little anomaly titled it’s head. “What’s a Star Sans?”

“Yeah, t-t-t-that’s what I thought-t-t-t,” Error nodded, bringing the chocolate to his mouth.

“Stop! Don’t eat that!” it cried out, taking a step forward.

The glitch flinched back. “W-w-why not?”

“Because that’s Crossy’s chocolate!”

“S-s-so? You can’t tell me-me-me what to do.”

The child frowned and crossed it's arms. “You are being really mean right now.”

Error also crossed his arms. “I am n-n-n-ot.”

“You are too!”

“I aM N-n-N-oT!”

“YOU ARE TOO!”

“Am not t-t-t-times infinity~” Error sang smugly.

The child puffed out it’s cheeks. “That’s not fair! You can’t use infinity.”

“I can and-and-and I did. N-n-n-now leave me alone,” he said, shooing him away and trying again to take a bite.

“Fine! I’m telling Midnight you’re eating Crossy’s chocolate!” it squeakily shouted.

Error stopped, snapping his jaw shut. “Wait, what-t-t-t? “W-w-w-who’s ‘Midnight’?”

But when he looked down, it had already bolted across the room and was opening the door.

“H-h-hey! Get b-b-b-back here!” he demanded, casting several strings with his free hand.

Instantly they wrapped around the small skeleton’s waist, trapping its arms and stopping it in its tracks. It yelped as it was effortlessly lifted up and yanked back over to him. Error kept his strings tight, suspending the child at eye-level above the floor. He expected it to panic, but the little anomaly obviously didn’t recognise him or the possible danger it was in, and looked more frustrated than anything.

“Hey! Put me down,” it whined, trying to wiggle out of the strings and failing.

“N-n-n-not until you tell me-me-me who this “Midnight” is-is-is. He your little f-f-f-friend?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Midnight is my friend, and he’s bigger and stronger and he’s gonna stop you!”

“I’d like to-to-to see him try.”

It suddenly stopped its squirming and glared silently at him.

He stared back, determined to win this standoff.

. . .

His patience lasted only about three seconds.

But right as he was about to snap, the kid shut it’s sockets and took a deep breath.

“MIIIDNIIIGHHHHHTT!!!”

“A-a-a-aHh!” Error screamed, covering his ear canals.

A moment later, the sound of a teleport distracted Error from his flash of anger. Both he and the little anomaly looked over at the door in time to see Nightmare’s form materialise in front of them. His expression looked more annoyed than angry, but his twitching tentacles gave him away.

“Alright, what have you done this ti-” he groaned, only to stop and stare open mouthed at the two monsters.

“Midnight!”

“MidNighT-t-tT!?”

“Error! Put him down!” Nightmare demanded.

The glitch looked at the kid, then back at the scowling skeleton. “W-w-what? What’s going-”

“NOW!”

“Ok, ok, I’m d-d-d-doing it,” he said hastily, releasing his strings and dropping it onto the ground.

The child landed lightly on his feet and scurried over toward Nightmare. Error expected him to race past the dark skeleton to try and escape through the door, and was even more shocked and confused than he already was when the kid hid behind him instead. Peeking out from under Nightmare’s arm, he frowned and pointed at him.

“He was- he stole Crossy’s chocolate and- a-and he was gonna eat it too, Midnight!”

“T-T-Tattletale.”

“Enough,” Nightmare said sharply, then looked down at Dream.

When he had heard the shout, the last thing he expected was to find the destroyer in the kitchen with his brother tied up. But now with a bitter sense of deja vu, he realised he had some explaining to do to keep matters from escalating even more. Only this time, he didn’t feel like going through his cover story again.

So dislodging his brother’s grip from his clothing, Nightmare said firmly, “Dream, go to your room. I’ll talk to Error about the chocolate.”

Dream hesitated, glancing over at the other black skeleton, before nodding up at him. “Okay, Midnight.”

“Thank you,” he said, patting him on the head with a tendril.

His brother smiled at that and walked cheerfully through the door toward his room. After waiting a moment or two to make sure Dream was gone and out of hearing range, he turned towards Error. He gave the glitch an unamused look.

“W-w-what?” Error asked innocently, his mouth full of chocolate.

Nightmare pinched his nasal ridge. “Just . . . tell me what happened.”

“W-w-well, I came over for a s-s-snack,” he started, swallowing the mentioned treat, “and I see the k-k-kid. I asked who he-he-he was, and he said he was your brother-r-r-r. I didn’t believe him. T-t-t-then he got fussy over me-me-me eating chocolate, and ran off to f-f-find ‘Midnight’, so I stopped him-m-m. T-t-that’s when he screamed, and-and-and now you’re here.”

“Are you sure that’s all? You didn’t tell him anything about me, or mentioned that I lived here?” he asked, the paranoia in his voice betraying him.

When Error shook his head no, Nightmare heaved a sigh of relief, earning him a funny look from the destroyer.

“So-so-so, mind explaining what the heck is-is-is going on?” he asked, taking another bite.

The goopy skeleton sighed again, only instead of sounding relieved, it sounded like he’d rather be doing anything else than having this conversation.

But he eventually answered, “that child is my brother, Dream.”

Error gasped, choking on his mouthful of chocolate.

Giving a few punches to his chest right above his soul, he managed to cough out, “W-w-wa . . . w-w-wait . . . that’s a-a-actually him-m-m?”

“Yes,” said Nightmare, rolling his eyelight at the other’s dramatic reaction.

“Is t-t-turning into kids something you two-two-two apple f-f-freaks can do?” Error asked, taking a disgusted step back.

"No, of course not!” he snapped back, cringing at the idea himself.

Nightmare rubbed his temple. “Look, what basically happened is that over a month ago, I had Sci make a magic suppressor for Dream. But unfortunately it suppressed more than just his magic, and he reverted to . . . his younger self and now has some sort of amnesia. He doesn’t recognise me at all, and that’s how I want to keep it until Sci’s finishes the cure,” he finished, ripping the bandaid off.

Error took a moment to process the information, then asked, “so . . . t-t-t-that’s why he calls you Midnight-t-t?”

Nightmare nodded. “Exactly. It’s what everyone calls me right now. You included.”

Biting another chunk out of his bar, Error said nonchalantly, “D-d-d-doesn’t matter to m-m-me what I call you, b-b-b-but I don’t get why-why-why you c-c-care if Dream knows the truth. I bet his reaction-tion-tion would be hysterical-cal-cal!”

The glitch snickered, but Nightmare just gazed uncomfortably at the floor.

“All it would do is complicate matters even more. Besides . . . my corruption is something I’d rather never discuss with him,” he admitted quietly.

Error stopped laughing and slowly swallowed his chocolate.

Okay, this got awkward really fast. He never asked about Nightmare’s past- he simply didn’t care about it- and he wasn’t about to start asking questions now. Crossing his arms, Error narrowed his sockets at him and quickly changed the subject.

“When e-e-exactly were you planning to-to-to tell me a-a-a-all this?” he asked.

“Preferably never,” Nightmare retorted. “The less who know, the better. Not even his friends are aware of his current condition.”

“G-g-g-guess that explains what the-the-the ink stain was r-r-rambling on about,” Error mused.

“Oh? He didn’t tell you about Dream’s disappearance?”

“I t-t-t-think he tried. He kept bringing him-him-him up during our fights and said you h-h-had something to do with it-it-it. But I th-th-thought it was just his usual word vomit so I d-d-didn’t listen.”

Nightmare hummed. “I see. Well, let’s keep him in the dark. Ink’s memory is foggy at best, but it’s safer not to take any chances. And if those two found out, I’m certain they’d only double their effort to get Dream back.”

Something Nightmare said jogged the glitch’s own splotchy memory, making him pause his chewing.

“Actually . . . the-the-the paint bucket did mention he s-s-s-something about a plan. He didn’t say what it was-s-s-s, but I think it had to-to-to do with one of t-t-t-the Underfell AUs?” he offered.

“Do you know which one?

“P-p-p-sh, like I cared to ask. They’re all g-g-garbage.”

“Right, right. Thank you for letting me know,” said Nightmare.

If he remembered correctly, there were about 137 Underfell verses in the multiverse. Blindly looking for the exact AU would take him at least a day to do. He decided to put off the task of finding it for tomorrow. The boys should be home for the entire day, so he was sure Dream would be fine (although he couldn’t say the same for the hideout.)

“Sure, no-no-no problem,” Error shrugged, pulling Nightmare from his thoughts.

The glitch then yawned boredly, stretching out his hand and opening his portal.

“A-a-anyway, see ya later, N-n-n-night,” he drawled, turning towards the anti-void.

He was about to step through, but a tentacle shot out a few inches in front of him, blocking the way.

“Wait a moment, Error,” it’s owner said. “I want you to go talk to Dream.”

“W-w-w-what? Why-y-y?” he asked, spinning around.

Nightmare withdrew the tendril, staring at him sternly. “Because I don’t want to deal with my brother freaking out the next time you come over. And don’t try to tell me that you won’t, because you know you will.”

“Y-y-yeah, well, he s-s-s-started it.” Error grumbled.

“It doesn’t matter who started it, I don’t want this happening again. And if I find you using your strings on him again, you’ll be the one tied up,” he said darkly, waving his tentacles .

Error paid them no attention and huffed, “F-f-f-funny, they n-n-never bothered you b-b-b-before. You going-ing-ing soft now, octopus-s-s-s? Or d-d-d-do you actually ca-”

“Don't finish that sentence,” Nightmare snapped faster than he meant too.

The glitch shrunk back at the outburst. “Okay, okay, no ne-e-ed to to be-be-be so rude . . .”

“Hurry up and go already,” he hissed.

“W-w-what do you want me-me-me to do!?”

“Just talk to him about the chocolate bar.”

”R-r-really? That’s it-it-it?”

“That’s it. And in return, I’ll tell Cross I gave it to Dream.”

Error considered the deal for a minute, then closed the portal. “Alright, f-f-fine . . .”

Shuffling towards the door, he shoved the rest of the chocolate in his mouth and tossed the empty wrapper over his shoulder.

“Go down the hall and make a right. First door on your left,” Nightmare instructed, catching the balled-up trash.

Error gave him a thumbs up over his shoulder and exited the room.

As he walked down the hall, his hands in his jacket pockets, he wondered what he should say. He wasn’t exactly good at “just talking”, especially when it came to enemies or small, sticky children- and now Dream was both. But if it would save him the trouble of dealing with Cross, then doing this was worth it . . . probably.

With that thought in mind, Error reached Dream’s door and opened, peeking his head inside.

He was surprised to see the usually empty room now cluttered with stuff. Dream and Nightmare may be twins, but they were apparently opposites when it came to cleanliness. But as much as the mess bothered Error, his mismatched eyelights were drawn to the little skeleton playing on the floor. It was still strange to think that Dream was this child, but Error had encountered far stranger things in his unspecified amount of existence.

Still, the sooner he got this over with, the better. He quickly pushed the door open the rest of the way and shuffled inside. Dream jolted up at the noise and scrambled to his feet, turning around with a wide grin.

“Midnight! Look what I . . . Oh. Error?” he said, head tilted in confusion.

“The one-one-one and only,” the glitchy skeleton replied, giving him lazy jazz hands.

“What are you doing here?” asked Dream, then looking at his empty hands, he frowned and added, “Did you eat Crossy’s Chocolate?”

A beat of silence passed.

“N . . . n-n-n-no . . . .” Error said, his natural echo hiding the stutter that slipped out.

The kid squinted at him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded his head. “Good.”

Another beat of silence passed.

And then another.

And another.

Error shifted awkwardly in place, trying to think of something else to say. The kid wouldn’t shut up a minute ago, so why was he quiet now? All Nightmare said was to talk to him about the chocolate and he’s done that, so it was time to ditch Dream. But before he summoned his magic, something in the other’s tiny hands caught his curiosity.

“Uh . . . w-w-what’s that?”

Dream smiled and held up his hand.

“Oh, this is my sock puppet! I made it myself,” he said proudly.

Error sneered at it’s hideously drawn face and poorly glued-on googly eyes. “Y-y-you call that a-a-a puppet?”

“Yes? Is it not a puppet?” Dream asked.

He smirked. “Nah. Here, t-t-t-this is what a real puppet looks like-like-like.”

With a flick of his wrist, Error ripped open a small portal just big enough for his hand to fit through. He then summoned his strings and pulled out his most cherished puppet, Classic Sans. Maybe calling it a puppet was a bit of a stretch since it was designed more like a doll, but having his strings attached to it made it a puppet in his book.

“S-s-see?” he said, dangling it just out of reach.

Dream gasped. “Wow! It’s so cool!”

“Told y-y-y-ya,” he grinned.

“Did you make it all by yourself?” he asked, eyeing the puppet thoughtfully.

Error scoffed. “Of c-c-c-course. I’m the only one-one-one that can. Not e-e-e-even the squid can make one this good-d-d-d.”

“Can you make me one?” said Dream, bouncing on his heels.

The glitch furrowed his brow. “W-w-what for?”

“I want one that looks just like my brother!”

“You do, huh?” Error said, crossing his arms. “And what d-d-does your b-b-brother look l-l-like?”

“He looks like me, but he has a moon on his crown,” he said, pointing to his own. “And he wears a long purple shirt- but he doesn’t have any gloves! And- and his pants are black, and he has purple shoes that have gold buckles. Oh! And his eyelights are purple.”

When he finished, Dream clasped his hands and gave him the biggest puppy eyes Error had ever seen.

“So . . . so can you make it for me? Please, please, pleaseeee?”

Error scratched his cheek as he mulled over the request. He never made puppets for anyone besides himself but . . . maybe he could make a small exception here. He didn’t have anything else to do at the moment, and the design for it sounded easy enough. Not to mention, it would be an easy way to get the kid to forget about the chocolate issue.

At last he shrugged, “eh, s-s-s-sure, why not-not-not.”

“Yaaaay!” squealed Dream.

“Ugh-h-h, are you always t-t-this loud?” Error groaned, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “B-b-be quiet or I’m leaving-ing-ing.”

“Okay!” he said as he happily copied the glitch’s pose.

Error ignored him, pulling his needles through the void pocket. After he summoned enough strings and donned his glasses, he got to work on the body of the puppet. The room was silent save for the soothing clicking of his knitting needles. After a few moments, he glanced up at Dream, but the kid wasn’t doing anything. He was just sitting there and watching him with a big, expectant smile.

It made him feel a little . . . claustrophobic.

Error wasn’t used to having an audience while he knit, and the small, messy room didn’t help the shrinking atmosphere either. Looking back at the puppet, he narrowed his focus to the task at hand to avoid getting worked up. His nimble fingers were practically a blur as they worked their magic. Within a minute, he had the entire torso completed and quickly moved onto the limbs.

As he finished the left arm, Error sensed the tiny skeleton leaning forward.

“Pssssssst . . . . Error? Can I ask you a question?” Dream whispered.

“You just d-d-d-did,” he said, not looking up from his work.

“Can I ask another one?”

Error sighed. “Just ask-ask-ask already.”

“Why is your voice all funny when you talk?” Dream said, his voice normal again.

“It’s a-a-a-a side-effect of l-l-l-living in the anti-void,” he said, attaching the last leg.

“Ant- anti-void? What’s that?”

“S-s-see for your-your-yourself.”

Error set down a needle and activated another portal to the negative space. Only this one acted as a one-way window instead of a gap between dimensions. Dream turned to the side, sitting up on his knees, and stared with wide sockets at the never-ending white and countless strings.

“Woooahhhh . . . it’s so big!” he said, pressing his hands against the “screen”.

Pointing over to the one section of the anti-void that wasn’t completely empty, Dream added, “What’s that over there?”

“That’s j-j-j-just my s-s-s-stuff,” Error hummed as he resumed his knitting.

“Your stuff? But where’s your house?”

“D-d-d-don’t have one. Don’t n-n-need one,” he said, finishing the skull. “All I need is-is-is my bean bag and m-m-my hammocks. Oh, and t-t-t-that one fridge I s-s-stole too.”

Dream frowned, placing his hands on his hips. “You stole a fridge? Error, stealing is wrong! You need to go and give it back.”

Error snorted. “F-f-finders keepers, loser’s weepers-s-s.”

“That’s not very nice,” he scolded.

The glitch rolled his eyelights. “Oh, r-r-r-really? I didn’t know-w-w-w that.”

“That’s okay!” said Dream, back to smiling brightly. “Now that you know stealing from others isn’t okay, you won’t do it again!”

“Yeah . . . d-d-d-don’t count on it-t-t-t,” said Error, mentally noting that sarcasm wasn’t a concept Dream grasped at the moment.

Then pocketing his needles, Error “reached” into the code and adjusted the blue color of the strings to become the colors he needed. Now the puppet looked just like Dream had described, right down to the gold shoe buckles. Error tossed his new creation to the child, cutting off whatever “niceness” rant he was about to start again.

“H-h-here you go. Abomination-tion-tion 21,” he said, taking off his glasses.

Dream’s eyelight wobbled as he cupped the puppet’s face. “It’s . . . it’s . . .”

“W-w-w-ell?”

“It’s perfect,” he said softly.

He hugged the tiny version of his brother and squeezed his sockets shut, sending a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“Heh, I c-c-c-could’a told you-you-you that,” Error said casually, not at all flattered.

“I love it! Thank you Error” Dream squealed, lunging forward with his arms open.

Error scooted back and shot out a string on instinct, wrapping it around the child and holding him in place.

“D-d-DoN’t tOuch-ch-ch m-M-mee-e,” he hissed.

Dream recoiled as best he could being tied up. “Oh . . . I’m- I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I-”

“-it’s f-f-f-fine. Just don’t ever do-do-do it again,”he warned, retracting the blue twine.

Once the kid was free, he relaxed and smiled at him. “Okay Error, I won’t. I promise.”

“G-g-g-ood,” he mumbled, relaxing a little himself.

Error silently watched as Dream went back to cuddling and fawning over his new toy and smirked. It wasn’t often that the guardian let his, well, guard down around him (and for good reason). Yet now that he was a naive little kid, Dream was nothing but open and trusting. This dramatic turn of events was even more entertaining than his favorite “episode” of undernovela.

He was cut off any further musings by the sudden sound of footsteps drawing closer. Looking over his shoulder, he was just in time to see Nightmare walk into the room. The goopy skeleton tiredly rubbed his socket, but it did little to remove the shadow underneath.

“Dream? Are you- oh. What are you still doing here?” he asked.

Before Error could answer, Dream jumped up from the floor and bounded over to him.

“Look Midnight- look what Error made me!” he shouted, shoving something into his hand.

“Oh? What did he make you?” Nightmare asked, giving the destroyer an amused smile before looking down at the object.

His smile froze.

His whole body froze.

The entire multiverse froze.

Even time itself froze as he stared at the knitted toy.

It was one thing to see his . . . older form in the simple style of a child’s crayon drawing, and it was another thing entirely to see a nearly perfect replica of himself the size of a doll in his hand. Even the shade of purple was practically identical to the shade he used to wear.

A shade that Nightmare now utterly loathed.

“It’s a puppet!” Dream said innocently, sending the world spiraling back into motion. “It looks just like my brother, Nighty!”

“What do-do-do you think, Midnight? Is it a-a-a-accurate?” the glitch added, standing up and joining them.

Nightmare was still too stunned by the apparition from his past to scowl properly at the cocky skeleton.

Instead, he gazed conflicted at the toy and muttered, “It’s . . . i-it’s uh . . . ”

Weak?

Pathetic?

Despicable?

That’s what Nightmare wanted to say. He wanted to crush that taunting smile to dust. His clawed phalanges were already tightening their grip, teetering on the edge of piercing the soft fabric. Why shouldn’t he destroy it? After all, this skeleton doesn’t even exist anymore. It doesn’t deserve to exist.

But one look at Dream’s face halted his rising s̶e̶l̶f̶-̶l̶o̶a̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g rage.

It wasn’t just the way he was beaming with pure joy, or how fondly his shining eyelights looked at the replica of himself. It was how, underneath the happiness bursting from his brother, Nightmare could sense the aching loneliness and grief he held deep down. Dream missed his twin more than anything, and having something that resembled him seemed to comfort him.

Nightmare glanced at the doll again and sagged his shoulders with a sigh.

“It’s . . . nice . . .” he said, giving it back to Dream with a strained, but small smile on his face.

Dream clutched it to his chest, swaying back and forth. “I know! I love it so much! I can’t wait to show it to Nighty one day.”

Nightmare grimaced at the irony of that statement, as did Error.

“Okaaaay, w-w-w-well I’m going to-to-to go now,” he said, as a portal split open behind him. “S-s-s-see ya.”

“Bye Roro! Thanks for the puppet!” Dream waved.

Error glanced back, already one foot into the anti-void. “R-r-r-roro?”

“It’s his thing. Just go with it,” he shrugged.

Error blinked, looking back and forth between the brothers.

“Tch’, weirdos,” he muttered, disappearing into the void.

As the portal snapped shut, Nightmare slumped forward and ran a hand over his skull. He was relieved now that Error was gone, but he still felt worn-out from the stressful afternoon events. And while he wanted nothing more than a cup of tea and a good book, he pivoted out the door toward his office.

He didn’t get farther than a few steps before he felt something grab his arm.

“Did you finish your very important work? Can you play with me now?” he asked hopefully.

Nightmare stopped and hesitated to answer him. In his mind's eyelight he could see the sheets of paper still stacked up on his desk that needed his attention. And that was on top of chores that had to be done. But they didn’t need to be done now necessarily. Perhaps one little break wouldn’t hurt.

“Well, I suppose I could spare a few minutes,” he said, smiling playfully at his brother. “Have the boys taught you how to play chess?”

Dream shook his head. “Nope!”

“Well, come on then,” said Nightmare, holding out his hand.

“Yay!” his brother cheered, grabbing hold of it and tucking his doll under his arm with the other.

Nightmare chuckled at his little brother’s enthusiasm and tugged him down the hall. While his boys enjoyed a high-stake game of cards, Nightmare preferred the more strategic game of chess, which no one would play except Dust. And even though Dream would probably get easily bored of it, he knew that once his brother set his mind to something, he would stubbornly stick it out.

Pretty soon, he would have two skeletons to play chess with.

Chapter Text

Peeking his head around the corner, Dream glanced down the long, quiet hallway. It looked completely empty to him, but he waited a few more seconds just to be safe. And he was very glad he did, because just a moment later he saw two skeleton-shaped shadows appear on the floor. Ducking back behind the stone wall, he grinned up at the skeleton beside him.

“I saw them! I saw them! They’re coming!” he whispered as quietly as he could.

Dusty raised his orange dart gun and winked. “Ya ready?”

“Ready!” he nodded.

Facing back toward the hallway, Dream stared intensely at the shadows, watching them grow longer and longer. He fidgeted excitedly. They guys had no idea that he and Dusty were waiting around the corner for them. They would be so surprised! Dream tried not to laugh at the thought of their faces, but a few muffled giggles slipped out anyway.

All of a sudden, the two shadows stopped moving.

“Hey . . . did you hear that?” someone whispered.

“Hear what? I didn’t-”

Before the other one could finish, Dream leapt from his hiding spot and raised his weapon.

“Take this,” he yelled at the frozen skeletons.

Crossy quickly recovered from his shock and aimed his gun, but it was too late. Dream was faster and pulled his trigger first. The tiny foam dart shot out with a “click” and landed with a “pop” right between Crossy’s sockets.

“Haha, yes!” he cheered, jumping up and down at his success.

Kiki stepped forward and pointed his gun at him. “You’re gonna pay for that, squirt!”

Dream gulped, not sure whether he should run or duck. But right as he was about to move, something grabbed him under the arms and yanked him to the side. He watched as the foam bullet zipped past him and smiled gratefully up at his rescuer.

“Nice try,” Dusty said, setting him down on the ground again.

Crossy plucked the dart off his head and frowned at them. “Hey, that wasn’t fair!”

“All is fair in a nerf fight,” his teammate replied.

The other started to speak, but Kiki stopped him and said, “forget it Cross. You just focus on Dream. I’ll take care of Mr. Cheater here.”

“Got it,” Crossy nodded, aiming his gun at him.

Dream dove to the side, just barely avoiding the second dart. Crossy was bigger and better at shooting than him, but he was very, very good at dodging. He zig zagged past the rest of the foam bullets easily and ran around the black and white skeleton. Standing behind him, Dream shot a dart near the top of Crossy’s skull.

“Ah!” Crossy yelped as it hit him and bounced off.

The older skeleton whipped around and fired again, but Dream dived down onto the ground. The stone floor scuffed him up a bit, but other than that, he was okay. Flipping over on his back, he tried to get back up, but hesitated when he saw Crossy standing over him.

“I’ve got you now!” he said, pulling the trigger.

Dream tensed when he heard a click and covered his face.

But nothing happened.

Dream peered through his fingers to see Crossy pull the trigger again, but again, nothing happened. Giggling, he realised the other was out of darts. This was his chance! Dream reached for his gun and fired while Crossy was still distracted. The dart almost hit him in the face, but Crossy ducked at the last second. Which would have been fine, except that at that moment, Rory walked up behind him.

“Rory, look out!” he shouted, but it was too late.

The dart hit the other skeleton, landing very close to the hole in his skull.

“Oh no! I’m- I’m so sorry, Rory! Did I hurt you?” Dream asked, scrambling frantically toward him.

The one-eyed skeleton sighed, and removing a hand from the basket of dirty towels he was holding, plucked the dart off his face.

“No, no . . . I’m not hurt . . .” Rory said, handing it to him.

Dream smiled, feeling relieved that he hadn’t hurt his friend’s head more than it already was.

Now that he knew Rory was okay, Dream skipped back over to the others. They had all stopped fighting for a minute and were busy retrieving their darts off the floor. He copied them and grabbed as many as he could find, cramming them inside the toy. After he shoved the last one in, Dream felt hand on his head and looked up to see it was Crossy.

“By the way, that was a really good shot, Buddy. You really surprised me there,” he smiled down at him.

“Hehe, Thanks Crossy!” said Dream, his cheekbones glowing at the praise.

Dusty walked up and asked, “ya still wanna be my partner, kid? Or do ya wanna go with Crossy here?”

“Nu uh, I wanna stick with you!” he answered, grabbing his teammate’s hand and tugging him down the hall. “Come on Dusty, we gotta go and-”

But the sudden sound of a portal opening distracted Dream, making him stop in his tracks.

“Midnight’s home!” he gasped, dropping Dusty’s hand.

Forgetting all about the game, Dream dashed around the corner and into the hallway, excited to greet the goopy skeleton.

“Midnight, you’re back! You’re . . . y-you’re . . .” he faltered, skidding to a complete stop.

Dream stared speechless at the black figure at the end of the hall. He was breathing heavily and leaning against the wall with one hand, while the other hand gripped his skull. His knees were bent and he swayed like he was about to fall down. But what wasn’t swaying anymore were his tentacles. They were all lying motionless on the floor.

All three of them.

Dream’s eyelights shrank as he watched the goop slowly dripping off him into the growing puddle.

“You’re . . . y-you’re melting?!” he finally choked out.

“He’s what?” Kiki asked, coming up behind him.

Before Dream could tell him, Crossy gasped, “what the- Night!”

The two skeletons along with Dusty rushed past Dream and over to Midnight. Dream snapped out of his shock and started to follow after them, but was abruptly picked up before he could get very far. He squirmed and struggled, attempting to push himself out of the arms holding him, but they wouldn’t budge.

“No Rorryyyyy, put me down!” Dream whined, “I- I gotta help Midnight!”

“Calm down Dream . . . it’s alright . . . stay with me,” said he, his usually gentle voice sounding firm.

Dream pouted up at him. “B-but . . . but I . . .”

One look at Rory’s red eyelight told him that trying to argue with the older skeleton was pointless. Reluctantly, he stopped fighting his grip and sagged against his chest. Rory held him closer and rubbed his back, making him feel a little better. Snuggling into the other’s fluffy jacket, he warily watched Midnight and the rest from the corner of his socket.

“What the hell happened, Night?” Killer asked, grabbing his shoulder.

“How badly are you hurt?” added Cross.

Nightmare flinched at the volume of their voices. He knew they didn’t mean to, but their questions only made his spinning head feel worse. However, since he didn’t want them to panic them even more, he forced his expression to a neutral state and nodded up at them.

“I’m fine . . .” he rasped.

“Doesn’t look fine to me,” Dust grunted from behind him.

Nightmare could feel the other’s eyelights stare at the oozing nub of magic that used to be a tentacle. He wanted to tell Dust to not waste his magic healing it, but he knew that he wouldn’t listen to him. And sure enough, a second later he felt a warm sensation on his injury, as if a heated mug of tea was pressed against it.

“Night, who did this?” Killer spoke again, his tone sharp.

“Who do you think?” is what Nightmare was tempted to snap, but instead he sighed bitterly, "Ink and Blue . . . they ambushed me . . ."

“But how?” asked Cross in disbelief.

He glanced over at his brother, seeing his quivering eyelights fixed on him, and dropped his gaze. “They brought friends . . . a lot of friends . . . ”

Nightmare knew his answer was vague at best and that his boys would want more information, but it was all he could comfortably say with Dream in the room. It’s not like he didn’t tell them the truth. He just . . . omitted certain details.

Like how he spent the entire day visiting Underfell verse after verse, and found no sign of Ink or Blue. That is, until he entered copy 130. Everything had appeared normal, but when he reached Waterfall he didn’t find Undyne, but the duo waiting for him.

Along with ten other well known and powerful Sanses from across the multiverse.

Nightmare attempted to retreat to the hideout, but they instantly surrounded him, making opening a portal too risky. It was then that he knew they weren’t here to protect this AU. They were here for him. This whole thing had been a trap all along, and he had fallen for it. So he wasn’t surprised when the Stars held off on attacking him to offer him a deal first.

He could either tell them what he did to Dream, or they would take him hostage until a trade could be arranged.

Obviously, Nightmare laughed at their pitiful demands. But he also refused to let himself be captured, knowing his boys would do anything to rescue him, even if that meant handing over his brother. Aside from the slight fatigue he felt from his travels, Nightmare was prepared to fight every last one of these skeletons to keep that from ever happening.

And fight he did. Although he wasn’t used to fighting defensively, he managed to hold his own against the unfavorable odds. He wasn’t trying to win anyway. He just needed to beat them back enough to give himself a chance to escape. After an hour of relentless fighting, Nightmare finally found the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Unfortunately, it had come at the cost of his tentacle.

It wasn’t the first time he’d lost a tentacle, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Though, it was definitely better than losing an arm or leg. Not that severing said limbs would have been life threatening either, as it was practically impossible for Nightmare to be mortally wounded. It was just less painful for a tendril to be ripped off rather than his tibia. That said, the sudden loss of magic left him feeling unstable and sluggish.

“There. That’s the best I can do,” said Dust, waking him out of his daze.

Nightmare twitched his tendril, feeling it as little more than a stub on his back, just like he suspected. As nice as Dust’s magic felt, it couldn’t regrow his tentacle. It would have to do that on it’s own via a slow and draining process. But hey, at least now it wasn’t leaking negative essence all over the floor.

Nightmare looked up at Dust over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

The hooded skeleton shrugged. “No problem.”

“Come on, Night, you need to lay down,” said Cross, gently pulling his arm.

“I can walk on my own-” but the words were hardly out of his mouth when he suddenly stumbled, having to grip onto Killer to catch himself.

Okay, so maybe he was a little light-headed.

Killer met his eyelight with that insufferable smirk of his. “Sureeee, but better safe than sorry, right?”

“ . . . fine,” Nightmare huffed, “but don’t you dare pick me up or I’ll-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Stop whining and start walking,” Killer said, adjusting his arm under his shoulder.

Nightmare glared half-heartedly at the snarky skeleton, unable to waste energy on a response to him.
He had to focus all his strength on just moving at the moment. Which proved to be a challenge since his lead-like legs refused to cooperate. But while his steps were unsteady, he wasn’t afraid of falling with Killer and Cross supporting him on either side.

Thankfully, his portal had opened only a few doors away from his bedroom, resulting in it being a short trip. And a good thing it was, because by the time he reached his bed, he was shivering so badly he had to grit his teeth to keep them from chattering. He was used to feeling cold, but the lack of magic was sending his system into overdrive to compensate for it, and freezing every bone of his body.

Once he was under the covers, he sank onto his pillow and shakily exhaled through his nose.

“Is . . . is Midnight going to be okay?” a hushed voice asked.

Nightmare’s socket remained shut as Dust replied, “yeah, he’ll pull through. He’s been hurt worse before.”

“He has!?”

“Really Dust?” Cross hissed.

“What? I’m just sayin’.”

“Yeah well, don’t worry about what he said, Dream. Midnight will be okay. It’s just gonna take a while for him to heal.”

“Tch’, not if we have anything to say about it. Come on guys.”

Nightmare’s socket shot open in alarm.

“Wait . . .” he yelled weakly and tried to sit up, but the rush of dizziness pushed him back down.

Killer stopped halfway across the room and turned around. “What?”

“You . . . you all are to stay here . . . understand?” he said as sternly as he could.

Killer’s expression twisted into an annoyed scowl. “Look, I know it’s risky, but I can’t stay here when there’s something we can do to help. We’ll be extra careful, don’t worry.”

“I don’t care. It’s too . . . too dangerous right now. I can’t let you go. If you want . . . to help, watch Dream for me,” Nightmare finished, taking pauses not to stammer.

Killer stared silently at him for another second, before stomping out of the room.

“ . . . stubborn . . .” he muttered, letting his socket close again.

While he did appreciate Killer’s willingness to wreck a few AU’s for the sake of speeding up his tentacles regeneration, he couldn’t condone it with a clear conscience. Not with the Star Sanses still on high alert. He’d never forgive himself if one of them got wounded or worse while he was too weak to do anything.

Waving his hand, he mumbled, “I’d like . . . to rest now . . .”

The four remaining skeletons shuffled away in single file, each casting worried glances back at their shivering friend. When they had all exited the room, Dust pulled the door shut with a soft click. A cough drew their attention over to Killer, who was leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed.

“You guys ready now?” he said, stepping forward.

“For . . . what?” Horror asked.

Killer hunched over and dropped his voice to a whisper. “To go pay the nearest AU a little visit.”

Cross frowned. “But Night said-”

“I know what he said, idiot” he hissed, “but I’m not gonna hang around while he’s in there suffering. You know he’d do the same for us in a soulpulse. I’m leaving whether you guys come with me or not.”

Dust shut his socket and shrugged. “I’ll go.”

“Same here,” said Cross, standing straight

“Be right back . . .” Horror hummed and set the young child on the floor.

Dream looked up at the other skeletons and asked hesitantly, “Can I come with you guys? Pleaseeee? I wanna help Midnight too!”

“Sorry pipsqueak,” said Killer, squatting down next to him, “you can’t tag along with us. We got an even better way for you to help Midnight.”

“You do! What is it?”

“We need you to stay here and watch Midnight for us while we’re gone and help him get better. Think you can do that?”

Dream nodded “Yeah! You can count on me!”

“I knew I could. Oh! And don’t tell Midnight that we left, okay? It’s our little secret,” he winked.

“Yeah, our secret,” Dream winked back.

Kiki started to stand up, but Dream grabbed his jacket and stopped him.

“Uh, Kiki, can you . . can you please be careful. I- I don’t want you guys to get hurt like Midnight. Please promise you’ll come back okay, “ he said, shuffling his foot.

Kiki chuckled. “Sure thing kiddo. Don’t worry, we’ll be home before ya know it.”

“Thanks,” Dream grinned.

Killer stood back up and raised his hand. A white portal opened in front of them, dazzling Dream with it’s bright light. Killer walked into the portal and along Dust, the both of them disappearing into the white.

“See ya, buddy,” said Cross, giving him a pat on the head, before going into the portal too.

Hearing someone’s footsteps, Dream turned around to see Rory walk up to him, now with his axe swung over his shoulder.

“Bye Rory!” he waved.

The skeleton waved back with a smile and joined the others in the portal. The portal then faded into nothingness, leaving Dream all alone in the hallway.

With his new mission in mind, Dream skipped back over to the bedroom door and peeked through the keyhole. Midnight was lying on his side with his back facing him. Slowly, Dream opened the door and leaned his head inside.

“Midnight?” he whispered loudly.

The goopy skeleton didn’t reply, but after a moment, he shifted in the creaky bed.

“Yes? Do . . . you need something?” he said, his voice sounding very tired.

“Can I come in?” Dream asked, remembering Midnight’s rule about his room.

There was another pause.

“Yes . . .”

Leaving the door open, Dream grinned and tip toed over to the side of the bed.

But his smile turned into a frown when he gazed up at Midnight. His blue eyelight was all fuzzy and blurry-looking. And even though he was bundled up in the blanket, he was shaking so much that Dream could hear his bones quietly rattling.

“What . . . what is- is it?” Midnight asked.

“I wanna help you get better,” he said, gripping the edge of the bed.

“D-don’t . . . don’t worry about me . . . go play . . . with the others . . .”

“But I don’t wanna play! I wanna help you!”

“You c-can’t help-”

“Yes I can!” he shouted indignantly, “I can help! Just tell me what’s wrong. Are- are you cold? Or you sick? Do you need medicine?”

Midnight shivered. “N-no, Dream, I’m fine . . . just a little chilly . . .”

“Oh! Then I’ll go get you some more blankets and pillows!” he said, sprinting away.

“N-no, wait! Dream, don’t-”

But Dream was already out the door before Midnight finished.

Dream ran all the way to his bedroom and over to his own bed. He pulled every one of his blankets and pillows off and shoved them into a big pile. Then being the strong skeleton that he was, he scooped them all up and started walking, leaning his head to the side so he could see where he was going.

When he finally made it to the room, Dream pushed everything onto the bed with a grunt.

“Whew . . . this is all I could carry, but I think it’s enough,” he said, wiping his forehead.

He clambered up the bed himself and crawled over to Midnight. Grabbing the blankets first, he got straight to work and spread them over top of Midnight, making sure he covered the skeleton completely. When he was satisfied with his job, he began arranging the pillows along Nightmare’s side, making him a little pillow nest.

All the while, Nightmare stared at his brother in silence, lying completely still aside from the occasional shiver.

The blankets and pillows did little to warm him up. They couldn’t, since he didn’t give off any body heat. However, the added weight on top of him reduces his rattling a little. Not only that, but the gesture itself was comforting, if a bit strange. Nightmare wasn’t used to receiving such treatment . . . especially from his brother, child or not.

And yet, as he watched his brother work, he felt a small smile grow on his face.

“There!” Dream said proudly, stuffing the last pillow next to his head. “Do you feel warmer now, Midnight?”

“Yes . . . thank you,” he nodded.

“See, I can help!” Dream beamed. “What can I do for you now?”

Nightmare hummed, “nothing comes to mind . . .”

His brother frowned thoughtfully. “But there’s gotta be something I can do to help you feel better! Do you want some food? I can go get you a snack! Or- or a drink too!”

“A drink would be nice,” he mumbled.

Nightmare wasn’t sure why he said it. It just sorta slipped out.

But before he could take it back, Dream perked up and said, “Oh, okay! I’ll go get you one.”

He scooted off the bed and happily skipped toward the kitchen.

As he walked up to the counter, Dream placed his hands on his hips and wondered what Midnight would like to drink. His eyelights fell on the teapot. Of course, tea! Dream knew Midnight loved tea, so that’s what he would make him.

Pushing his little stool over to the sink, he grabbed the silver kettle and filled it with water, just like he’d seen Midnight do it. While that was filling up, he crawled onto the counter and reached into the cupboard.There boxes and boxes of teas to choose from.

After some very thoughtful thinking, Dream decided to pick the “Chamomile with Lavender” one. Midnight often drank that one at bedtime, and he was in bed right now, so it was the perfect choice! Pulling out a bag, he dropped it a mug and set it on the counter. Once the kettle was full, he moved it to the stove and turned it like how Rory taught him.

As Dream dangled his feet over the counter and waited for the water to boil, his thoughts drifted back to Midnight.

The image of the dark skeleton bending over in pain while slimy goop poured off him came to mind, making him shudder a little. He never imagined he would ever see Midnight hurt. Midnight was the strongest and bravest skeleton he knew (besides Nighty of course). Midnight was the one who kept them all safe. Midnight couldn’t get hurt.

At least, that’s what Dream had thought.

But as he sat there, twisting the fraying edge of his cape, he wasn’t sure what to think anymore. If Midnight could get hurt, then did that mean he wasn’t as strong as Dream believed? What if this time, Midnight didn’t get better? Did that mean Midnight woul . . . Midnight would dust?

Dream frowned and shook that idea out his head, clenching his fists tightly.

No, Midnight wouldn’t dust! Midnight would get better! That’s what everyone had said. And besides, Dream was helping him. First he got him some warm blankets and pillows, and now he was making him some warm tea to drink. With his help, Dream was positive that Midnight would be all better soon!

He sat up straight, his eye lights shining with determination, and checked the tea pot. It wasn’t whistling, but he could see the steam, so it was probably hot enough. Leaning on his tippy toes, he slowly poured the water until the mug was full. Dream picked it up and held it very carefully as he walked out of the kitchen.

When he got to the bedroom, he saw Midnight had his socket closed again, and crept quietly over to his side of the bed.

“Psssst- Midniiiight. I got your drink for you, Midnight.”

Said skeleton groaned, blinking several times, before his bleary eyelight finally recognised the blur of blue and yellow in front of him.

“Mmmm . . . yes Dream? What’s’it?” he drawled.

“I said I got your drink!”

Nightmare rubbed a hand over his face and frowned. “What? . . . Oh right . . . drink . . .”

“Here ya go,” his brother said, raising the mug to him.

Although Nightmare wanted to do nothing but sleep, he couldn’t help noticing how dry of magic his mouth felt. So ignoring his body’s protests, he pushed himself up and rested his sore back against his pillow. Taking the cup from Dream, he peered down at it with surprise.

“Wait . . is this . . .”

“It’s tea! Don’t worry, I was very careful. And I didn’t spill a single drop of it the whole way here!” he said, standing a little taller.

Nightmare’s eyelight flickered between his brother and his beverage. He should probably reprimand him for handling hot water unsupervised, but since his brother hadn’t burned himself, he decided to save his breath for cooling down his drink. Lifting the mug to his mouth, he did just that and gingerly took a sip.

Suddenly, Nightmare lurched forward, pressing a hand to his teeth as he coughed the liquid back up.

“Is it good?” Dream asked, titling his head to the side.

He hastily swallowed and looked down at his brother, his eyelight the size of a pin prick.

“Um . . . yes . . .” he said hoarsely, studying his brother’s reaction.

But all Dream did was smile up at him. “Yay! I hoped you would like it. Do you feel any better?”

Oh . . .

So his brother wasn’t . . . he didn’t know that . . . .

Heh . . . right . . . of course.

Nightmare sighed and slumped back onto his pillow. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Dream said cheerfully as he took another sip of tea. “Is there anything else I can get you Midnight? Anything at all?”

Nightmare shook his head. “No, no, I’m good now, thank you. I’m just going to sleep for a little while.”

But instead of pouting, Dream’s smile widened. “Oh, okay! Do you want me to read you a story? My brother- he used to read me stories to help me fall asleep.”

While he didn’t need any helping dozing off, he smiled and said, “alright, I don’t see why not.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” Dream shouted as he bounded out of the room.

As soon as his brother was out of sight, Nightmare narrowed his socket at the swirling brown liquid.

It wasn’t nearly as hot as he would have liked, and the tea had hardly steeped at all, so that the beverage was pretty much just hot water. But despite the weak flavor, the subtle hint of lavender was unmistakable. It’s why he’d nearly choked when he tasted it.

Because for a soul-stopping second, Nightmare thought that Dream knew the truth. And that Dream was using the tea to trick him into giving himself away. After all, why else would his brother give him the tea that tasted just like his favorite flower?

But it seemed his panic had been unfounded, since Dream didn’t have any ulterior motives besides wanting him to like the tea he made. Checking his brother’s intention confirmed that much at least. But it left him with even more questions.

Like, why didn’t Dream just get him a simple glass of cold water? Why did he go through all the extra trouble of boiling him a cup of tea? And why had he picked this tea out of all the rest? And . . . and . . .

. . . . when was the last time Dream did something kind like this for him?

The lavender lingering in his mouth answered that question for him, but he quickly dismissed the memory. The point here was that it had been years, literally centuries since his brother had done something thoughtful for him. Yet here he was, weak and injured, while his tiny twin went out of his way to be nice to him.

Nightmare took another sip of his tea, hoping it would drown the pesky warm feeling, but all it did was succeed in making him feel even warmer. Though he supposed he should be grateful, since it was also helping relax his magic. His shivering was barely noticeable now. Instead, he felt rather drowsy, like he normally did when drinking this tea.

But as he considered snuggling back under the covers and drifting off, Dream crushed any hope of that by bouncing back into the room.

“I got the book!” he announced, holding it up as he ran across the room.

“Oh? Which one did you choose?” Nightmare asked, unable to read the title from Dream’s jerky motions.

Tossing the book on the bed, Dream pulled himself up after it and said, “Oh- it’s uh- it’s a new one Crossy got me. It’s about bears I think.”

Glancing at the cover, there were indeed two bears standing side by side, right underneath the title “Patchwork and Pincushion: Work and Play” written in a crayon-like font.

“Hmm, yes, I see that,” he hummed, taking another sip.

But the easy smile on his face soured when he spotted something sticking out from under Dream’s arm.

It was that thing again.

Seriously, why did Dream feel the need to drag that thing everywhere with him? Especially into his room. He was this close to making Dream to leave it outside, but that would probably be more trouble than it was worth. He chose to ignore it and simply focused on slurping the last of his tea.

Meanwhile, Dream crawled over to the wall of pillows and laid down beside them, propping “Nighty” up on one of them.

“There, now he can read too,” he said, completely oblivious to the other’s dirty look and picked up the story book.

“Wait Dream, before you start, could you tell me where the others are?” the goopy skeleton asked, setting down his empty mug.

Dream flicked the cardboard corner “Um . . . I dunno,” he shrugged.

The guys never told him exactly where they were going, so it wasn’t really a lie.

To his relief, Midnight hummed, “okay . . . if you say so. Go on then.”

Dream smiled and eagerly opened the book, taking a moment to enjoy the pretty pictures, before he started reading in a slow, steady voice.

“Patchwork and Pincushion were the best of friends, They did everything together! They did their chores together. They went looking for berries together. They cooked their meals together. And at the end of the day they played together. The two of them were insep- . . . insep-ar-able-”.

“Inseparable,” said Midnight.

Dream frowned. “I know, that’s what I said!”

But Patchwork had other friends that he liked to play with sometimes. That afternoon, they were all going to go swimming in the lake. Patchwork grabbed his floaty and waved over at Pincushion.

“Do you want to go swimming with us?” he asked.

“No, I can’t go swimming. I have to do the laundry,” his friend replied.

“Okay then. Bye!” he yelled, leaving Pincushion to do the chore all by himself.

Once Patchwork and his friends had finished swimming, they all laid out in the sun to dry off. While they were lying there, Pincushion came up to his friend with two baskets in his paws.

“Can you help me pick the berries for dinner?” he asked.

“No, I am too tired to pick berries,” his friend replied.

“Okay then. Bye,” he said, leaving Patchwork to go pick berries all by himself.

Dream stopped for a moment and frowned. “I don’t understand . . . why isn’t Patchwork helping his friend?”

“Why should he help his friend?” asked Midnight.

“Cause that’s what he’s supposed to do!” he shouted. “Friends are supposed to help their friends. Patchwork needs to stop being such a . . . such a meanie!”

“Well, let’s see if he does,” said the older skeleton, turning the page for him.

Dream rested his squishy cheeky on one hand and huffed, but continued to read the story.

As soon as he and his friends were dry, Patchwork went back to his house to get something to eat. They made a warm fire outside and toasted marshmallows over it. Just then, Pincushion walked over to him with his basket of berries.

“Are you going to help me make dinner?” he asked.

“No, I am too full to eat dinner anymore,” his friend replied.

“Okay then. Bye,” he said, leaving Patchwork to go make dinner all by himself.

When the stars came out, all of Patchwork’s friends had to go home for bed. He said goodbye to them and went inside his house. He found Pincushion reading in his chair and ran over to him.

“Hey, let’s play a game before bed!” he suggested.

“No, I don’t want to play a game with you,” said Pincushion.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because you spent the whole day playing, while I spent the whole day working. I did the laundry by myself. I got the berries by myself. I made dinner by myself. So now I’m playing by myself.”

“But I want to play with you too! You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not your best friend anymore. Go find your other friends if you want to play.”

Dream looked up at Midnight and gasped, “that was so mean!”

The goopy skeleton raised his brow bone. “I thought Patchwork was the mean one?”

“I mean- he is- or he was- b-but Pincushion is being mean too! He said he wasn’t Patchwork’s best friend anymore. That’s not very nice at all.”

“Yes, but his friend wasn’t being nice either.”

Dream grumbled, “I don’t like this story very much . . .”

“Just keep reading. Maybe it’ll get better by the end,” Midnight chuckled

“I don’t wanna read it anymore,” he said, crossing his arms.

Setting down his tea, Midnight picked the book up from his lap and sighed. “Fine. If you’re going to act like a babybones, then I guess I’ll read it.”

Patchwork started to cry. “I’m sorry! I promise I will do all of the chores tomorrow!”

And so he did.

The next morning, Patchwork folded and put away all the laundry.

That afternoon, Patchwork took the baskets and picked all the berries.

And in the evening, he made muffins for dinner.

After the two bears finished eating, Patchwork said. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you yesterday. I shouldn’t have played while you did all the work. I promise I’ll help you do all the chores from now on!”

Pincushion smiled. “I forgive you. Thank you for helping me today. Tomorrow, you can go play with your friends, and I’ll do the chores. Then we can both make dinner together. Ok?”

“Ok! Are we best friends again?” he asked.

“Yes, we’re best friends again,” he answered.

The two bears laughed and hugged each other. They were very happy to be the best of friends once more. Even though some days Patchwork would play with his friends, while Pincushion did the chores, they always made sure they cooked their dinner together.

And the only thing sweeter than the muffins they made, was the friendship they shared~

“I’m so happy they became friends again!” Dream said, clapping his hands.

Midnight snapped the book shut. “Now see, what did I tell you? I knew the ending would be something as sappy as this,” he said, rolling his eyelight.

“Well I really liked the ending! And . . . I guess the rest of the story too. Did you like it, Midnight?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, but I . . .” the skeleton lifted a hand and yawned, ” . . . I think I’m ready to sleep. Don’t forget to shut the door on your way out, okay?”

Dream’s smile fell as he glanced over at the door.

Midnight wanted him to leave?

B-but Dream couldn’t leave! He’d told Kiki he would watch Midnight while they were gone. The guys were counting on him. How was he supposed to watch him if he left the room? But he also knew Midnight needed to sleep if he was ever going to get any better. Dream stared at the blanket under him, unsure what to do.

“Dream? Is something wrong?” the older skeleton asked.

“N-no, nothing is wrong, I just, um . . . I . . .” he took a deep breath and glanced up at him. “Can- can I sleep with you?”

Dream sat rigid as Midnight looked at him, but after another tense moment, the skeleton finally sighed.

“Alright . . . if that’s what you want to do.”

He gasped, “wait- really!? Do you mean it- I can stay?”

“Yes, you can stay,” said Midnight, setting the storybook on the little table, “but only if you’re quiet. You don’t have to fall asleep, but you have to not move or talk so that I can fall asleep. Understand?”

“Uh huh! I promise, I won’t make any noise,” Dream assured him, plopping back down into his pillow.

Midnight simply grunted and turned over on his side with his back facing him.

The room was so quiet now. In fact, it was so quiet, that the only sound Dream could hear was his own soft breathing. After a few minutes, he started to feel a little tired, but he couldn’t fall asleep. He was in here to watch Midnight and make sure he was okay, and that’s exactly what he was gonna do!

So lying very, very still, Dream stared unblinking at Midnight’s back, watching the blanket go up and down.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Up and . . . down . . .

. . . up . . .

and . . .

whu- huh!?

Dream’s sockets flew open. Wait- when had he closed them? He didn’t remember closing them. How long were they shut? Was Midnight still okay!?

He looked over at the goopy skeleton and whispered, “Midnight . . . . Midnight, are you asleep?

But Midnight didn’t respond- the blanket just kept going up and down very slowly.

Dream breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, hugging his “Nighty” doll close to his chest.

“Don’t worry Midnight, I’m gonna take good care of you. You . . . yawn . . . You're gonna be okay. I . . . I promise . . .”

He yawned again, curling his knees up to his chest, and let his sockets droop shut for just a second.

Only this time, he didn’t open them again.

Nightmare, on the other hand, had his one socket wide open.

He’d been on the very edge of unconsciousness when Dream’s voice had jerked him awake. Of course, he didn’t tell his brother that. He’d kept quiet, hoping that he would just assume he was asleep and leave him alone. But as Nightmare was drifting off again, his brother murmured words that made something inside him click

Dream cared for him.

Which wasn’t much of a revelation on it’s own. Dream cared for everyone he knew. That was just who he was. So when his brother said nice things to him, or tried to play with him, or even did stuff like fetching him blankets and making him tea, Nightmare hadn’t thought too much about it.

That is until he realised Dream had never cared for him before.

At least, not since his corruption. Perhaps that was his fault- he hadn’t exactly been caring himself. But for all of Dream’s monotonous, empty claims that he still cared, Nightmare knew his brother only cared about the old him. Dream didn’t see him as a monster anymore. No, he was just an obstacle in the way of Dream’s delusion.

But the tiny skeleton lying beside him didn’t see him like that at all.

Nightmare knew it was partly because this Dream didn’t have a reason to. He was blissfully unaware of what his negative twin had done and now was. But this younger, kinder version of Dream was still Nightmare’s brother. And right now, his brother saw him as a monster- not some soulless mess of magic. Dream saw him for who he really was.

And Dream . . . cared about him . . .

Nightmare slowly rolled over onto his other side, careful not to make the bed creak. Peaking over the pile of pillows, he looked down at Dream. The closed sockets and even breathing assured him that his brother was indeed asleep. He chuckled softly under his breath as a smile spread all the way to his crinkled socket.

For once, Nightmare didn’t need his soul to tell him what to do.

Silently, his tentacles snaked out from under the blanket. Two of them wrapped around Dream’s tiny form and effortlessly lifted him over the pillow barrier, lying him gently by his side. With the third tentacle, he removed the thing from Dream lax grip and set it on the floor. He then pulled the extra blanket over his brother’s shoulders with the fourth tendril.

Wait.

The fourth one?

Nightmare stared in disbelief at the tendril. It had almost completely regenerated, and he could steadily feel it getting stronger. But how and why did it heal so quickly? It was practically impossible for him to grow it back this fast! Unless . . .

Unless his boys had gone and done the exact thing he told them not.

Nightmare heaved a sigh and shook his head. He should have known they would do something like this, especially with how quiet the castle has been. They were usually good when it came to his following orders, but when the orders concerned himself, well, they had a bad habit of disregarding them.

But as reckless as it was, he knew this was just their way of showing that they cared for him. Not to mention he’d do the same for them in a soulpulse. Still, Nightmare planned to give them all a stern talking to when they returned (and if any of them were injured, he’d do a little more than just talk).

But for right now, he just wanted to sleep.

Curling his tentacles around his brother, he rested his forehead against Dream’s skull and felt his body slowly relax.

This was . . . nice.

Actually, this was really nice. He wasn’t full-on snuggling Dream, but just having his brother be this close to him again . . . it stirred something in his soul that he hadn’t felt in a long, long while.

Something he hadn’t realised how much he missed feeling.

As Nightmare’s socket lid began to droop, the memory of their lullaby floated to mind. Whether it was his exhaustion in his bones or the nostalgia overwhelming him, he wasn’t sure. But at some point the familiar tune quietly started in the back of his throat. When Dream didn’t react to it, Nightmare closed his socket and continued humming the gentle song.

Completely oblivious to the small, sleepy smile that appeared on Dream’s face.

He was also completely oblivious to the four skeletons snickering softly at his bedroom door.

“Heh, looks like Dream did a pretty good job taking care of Night while we were gone,” said Killer, leaning against the door frame.

“I know right? I can’t believe this is really happening. You’re getting this, right?” Cross asked the skeleton next to him.

Dust nodded, still looking at his phone. “Oh yeah, I got it. Video and pictures.”

He and Cross snorted, turning their attention back to the skeleton brothers cuddled on the bed. It was something none of them thought they’d never see- not even in a hundred years. But here Nightmare was, peacefully sleeping next his little brother. It was a sight none of them wanted to miss.

But after another minute of snickering and picture taking, Horror mumbled, “We should . . . probably go now . . .”

“Yeah, better not ruin the moment,” Killer agreed.

Cross watched the two step into the hall, and then looked back at the brothers. “Fine, I guess you’re right,” he sighed.

Reluctantly he joined them, while Dust quietly shut the door.

“Pfft, don’t worry Cross,” Killer smirked. “I gotta a feeling this won’t be the last time we see something like this.”

Chapter Text

The hinges creaked as the door swung open, spilling light into the cold, empty room.

“Midnight? Are you in here?” asked Dream, peering into the darkness.

All he could see was the dusty old bed in front of him and some boarded up windows across the room. There was no sign of the goopy skeleton anywhere! Dream cocked his head to the side. He thought he’d heard a noise coming from this room. Had he been wrong? Glancing over his shoulder at the hallway, he decided he should leave and keep searching.

But right as he started to turn around, a quick movement caught his eyelight.

Dream looked over just in time to see something black peek out from under the blanket before it slipped back under the bed. So Midnight was in here! He knew it all along, of course. He was just letting Midnight think he didn’t know. Smiling smugly to himself, Dream walked over and crouched on his knees where the tentacle appeared.

“Aha!” he shouted, lifting up the fabric. “Found you!”

Except he didn’t.

Dream glared at the stupid, dirty floor. “I know you’re hiding under here, Midnight. I found you, so you have to come out now!”

When nothing happened, Dream hesitantly ducked underneath the bed to get a better look. Everything was completely black for a few seconds as his eyelights adjusted. Once they did, a blue light suddenly glowed in his face and then-

“Gotcha!”

“EEK!” Dream squealed, flailing backwards at two tentacles swiped at him.

He fell on his tailbone with an oof and sat stunned for a moment, before bursting into a fit of giggles. Hearing Midnight chuckle along with him, Dream glanced up to see the shadowy skeleton emerge from under the bed- his body becoming solid again as he stood up. Midnight towered over him, staring down with a large grin as his tentacles swayed in the darkness around him, but Dream wasn’t scared.

“I knew it- I knew you were under there!” he laughed.

Midnight tilted his head. “Oh? And what gave me away?”

“I saw one of your squishies under the bed,” answered Dream, as one of said “squishies” twisted around his torso and helped him to his feet.

“Ah, I see. I’ll have to be more careful next time.”

“Yeah! And come out when I find you next time too.”

“How am I supposed to scare you then?” he smirked.

“You’re not supposed to scare me!” Dream frowned, pointing a finger at him. “We’re playing hide and seek, not hide and scare. I find you and then you come out so I can win. No more scaring.”

Midnight shrugged. “Fine. I’ll play it your way.”

Dream smiled brightly. “Good. Come on, it’s your turn to count now!” he said, grabbing the other’s hand.

He easily tugged him out of the empty bedroom and marched down the hallway. Entering the TV room, Dream pulled the older skeleton over to the couch designated as their “base” and excitedly patted the cushion. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he waited for Midnight to slowly sit down on it.

“Better go hide,” he warned, closing his one eye socket.

Dream didn’t need to be told twice and ran out the room, yelling, “okay, but no peeking again! That’s cheating!”

He slid to a stop as soon as he was a little ways down the corridor. He could faintly hear Midnight counting, but ignored it as he thought of a good place to hide. Unfortunately, there weren’t very many good places left. He had already hid in the kitchen cupboard, underneath the table, and even in his cramped toy chest.

And no matter matter what spot Dream picked, Midnight always found him.

But not this time! Dream was determined to find the best hiding place ever. A place that Midnight would never ever ever think to go look for him. Dream paced down the hallway, going over the options in his head. Just as he was about to give up, he glanced towards Midnight’s door and grinned at it with starry eyelights.

It was the perfect hiding spot!

With only a few precious seconds left to hide, Dream sprinted over and opened it, finding it unlocked. He wanted to go in, but paused for a moment, uncertain if he was allowed to. It had been a few days since Midnight got sick and the dark skeleton hadn’t said anything about the room still being off limits. So Dream decided it was probably fine and slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.

His eyelights darted anxiously around the room. The little bed table was too small for him to fit under, and the desk under the window was too big, making it easy to see him. Dream couldn’t hide under the bed either because Midnight just did that for his turn. The only place left to hide was the big, wooden wardrobe across the room.

Dream skipped toward it and, standing on his tippy toes, swiftly unlatched the door.

Looking inside, He was disappointed to find it empty. There weren't any cool clothes or toys or anything! But then he spied the tangled up blanket lying in the corner and giggled mischievously as another good idea came to him. He would hide under it so that if Midnight found him, he could jump out and scare him- just like Midnight did to him! Pleased with his plan, Dream crawled in and pulled the blanket over his head.

But as he did so, he felt something fall and heard it roll onto the floor with a clink.

Dream froze, hoping Midnight didn’t hear the loud noise. After a few seconds of silence, he dropped the blanket and scooted out of the wardrobe. Midnight would find him if he saw something suspicious on the ground, so Dream bent down to pick it up. Only to stop and stare wide-eyed at the object glinting in the light.

Was this a . . . crown?

Puzzled, Dream picked up the golden metal circlet. It definitely felt heavy like a crown. Dream twisted it around, studying the mysterious headwear curiously, until he saw the shape carved on the front.

A crescent moon.

Dream gasped sharply.

This was Nightmare’s crown.

He just stared at it for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Then he glanced in the wardrobe at the blanket the crown had rolled out of. But to his disappointment, there was no small, brother-shaped body hiding under it. Dream frowned and looked back at the crown.

It was definitely Nightmare’s, Dream was sure of it, but then . . .

. . . where was he?

Midnight said the villagers had taken Nightmare, so why was his crown here? Why was Midnight keeping it in his room? And why didn’t Midnight tell him?

Was . . . was he trying to hide it from him? But why would Midnight do that?

Dream gulped when he couldn’t think of a good answer and took a step backwards.

Something was wrong. He needed to leave now, before Midnight came in and saw him with the hidden crown and got mad at him. He needed to-

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of my room?”

Dream jumped and looked over his shoulder, locking eyelights with the black skeleton standing in the doorway.

Nightmare stopped a few feet away, his annoyed scowl turning perplexed when he saw his brother’s frightened expression. At first he assumed the spike of panic that shot from Dream’s soul was because he’d been caught. But Dream wasn’t demanding he count again or laughing off the scare. He was just standing there, silently.

Then Nightmare saw the crown Dream was clutching over his soul.

The crown he was unable to dispose of.

The crown he kept hidden away.

The crown he hated

His crown.

Nightmare’s eyelight shrank, flickering between his brother’s face and the cursed relic.

He was painfully aware of how bad this must look to the small child, but he pushed his panic down. Besides . . . maybe Dream didn’t recognise the crown. It was bigger than his brother would have remembered. Maybe Dream was simply spooked because he’d found him snooping in his stuff. Maybe he could play this off and pretend it never happened and everything would be fine and-

“Midnight? Why . . . w-why do you have Nighty’s crown?” Dream asked, his small voice breaking the silence.

He was so screwed.

Still, while his mind struggled to come up with a coherent answer, Nightmare forced a small, tight smile onto his face.

“What are you talking about, Dream? That’s not your brother’s crown,” said Nightmare, as if his question had been the silly kind that kids tend to ask.

“Yes it is!” Dream cried, looking offended.

Nightmare quirked his brow bone. “Oh? What makes you so certain?”

“Because it looks just like his.”

“Does it now? So your twin brother’s crown is that big?”

“No, but-”

“Then it can’t be his, right?”

“I . . . but I thought . . .” Dream faltered, looking down at the crown again.

Nightmare could feel the mixture of doubt and sadness roiling in his brother. This was his chance! Taking a step closer, he softened his smile and gazed sympathetically at him.

“It’s okay Dream, I also see the resemblance. But that there is just an old relic I found on my travels. I had it in my wardrobe for safekeeping. Now, hand it over to me so I can put it away,” he said, holding out his hand.

Dream looked up at Midnight, unsure what he should do, then squeezed his sockets shut.

“No! No, that . . . that isn’t true! This is his crown!” he shouted, shaking his head.

He didn’t care what the older skeleton said, Dream knew he was right. He knew this was Nightmare's crown. He could feel it way, way down in his soul. It had to be his crown. It had to be.

“If you don’t believe me, then give me the crown and I’ll show you,” Midnight said firmly.

Dream flinched back. “I don’t care- it’s not yours!”

"Yes it is" Nightmare thought as he gritted his teeth. “Just stop being so stubborn and give it to me.”

Although he wanted nothing more than to snap that crown in two, he restrained himself from taking the golden object by force.

He wouldn’t repeat the same mistake twice.

“N-no!” Dream said, holding his head high. “It belongs to Nightmare and I’m going to give it back to him. You found it, so you know where he is, right?”

“I already told you, I don’t know where the villagers took your brother,” Midnight argued.

“You’re lying! Y-you-”

Dream paused, gripping the metal band so hard it made his hands hurt.

If that was true . . . if the villagers do have Nightmare right now like Midnight said . . . then how did Midnight get his brother’s crown?

Unless . . .

“. . . did- did you take Nighty?”

Midnight’s socket widened, his tentacles stilling instantly.

“Of course not! I . . . I uh . . .” he hesitated.

He hesitated.

Dream took a small step back.

“I . . I don’t understand. Why did you take my brother?” he asked, blinking away hot tears. “I- I thought you were my friend.”

Nightmare winced as if he'd been slapped in the face.

“Dream, just calm down, I'll tell you-”

“Shut up!” his brother screamed. “I don’t wanna listen to you- I want Nightmare! Where is Nightmare?”

Dream glared at him, but Nightmare could sense his true feelings beneath the heated stare.

He could sense his fear.

His pain.

His betrayal.

All because of him.

Nightmare gazed silently at the floor, his soul torn between risking another lie or finally telling his brother the truth.

"O-okay fine! I don't need you, I'll go find Nighty by myself," said Dream.

Nightmare lifted his head as the tiny skeleton darted past him, evoking a nasty feeling of deja vu. But unlike last time, he didn’t try to grab Dream. He wasn’t lost in his own emotions enough to do something as stupid as that. Instead, he stretched out a tentacle and locked the door before Dream reached it, trapping him in the room.

“Hey, Let me out!” Dream pulled on the handle, but it refused to budge. “Let me out, Midnight! I want out! I gotta look for-”

“-It’s okay, Dream, it’s okay. Just . . . calm down,” said Nightmare, slowly stepping towards his sibling.

The small skeleton twisted around and cowered back against the door, his shrunken eyelights staring up at him.

Nightmare continued steadily approaching him, holding his hands out placitingly. As much as he hated to terrify Dream more, he needed him to stay in his room so he could talk to him. Even if what he was about to say left his mouth dry . . .

Stopping a foot away from his brother, he gently lowered all four tentacles to the floor.

“It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you. I . . . I’ll tell you the truth this time.”

“P-promise?” Dream whimpered.

“Promise,” he said, bending down on his knees to be eye level with him.

“The truth is . . I . . .”

He clenched his fist, trying to find the right words to say.

Finally he sighed, “My name actually isn’t Midnight. It’s Nightmare.”

Dream looked at him confused, but after a breathless moment, a flicker of realization flashed across his face.

“You . . . y-you mean . . .”

“It’s me. Your brother,” Nightmare finished somberly.

He held his breath and waited for Dream to process what he said. But the only thing his brother did was stand there speechless, as though he were a stone statue once again. Nightmare tried thinking of something to say to snap him out of it, but before he could get a word out, Dream spoke up first

“I . . . I don’t b-believe you! You- you’re just trying to trick me again . . .” he stammered bitterly, tears forming in his sockets.

Nightmare watched helplessly as the golden liquid dripped down Dream’s cheeks. His soul tugged harshly at him, urging him to comfort his little sibling, but he was afraid to touch him. He couldn’t even speak for the damn lump in his throat. So he just knelt there stupidly while his brother crumpled in front of him.

“I- I just w-want my brother b-ba-a-ack,” Dream sobbed, scrubbing at his face. “P-please . . . I- I- promis-s-se, I’ll do- do what you want- want! I just wanna see- see-e-e him again, please-e-e, I-”

That was it.

Without a second thought, he leaned forward, wrapping both arms around his little brother and pulling him against his chest. He kept his grip tight in case Dream tried to push away, but his brother didn’t struggle. Rather he stiffened up and choked back a sob. Whether out of fear or surprise, Nightmare wasn’t aware- too focused on what he was about to do.

Resting his head over Dream’s shoulder, he shakily inhaled a deep breath.

“Sun goes down . . . . and we are here . . . together. Fireflies . . . glow like a thousand . . . charms. Stay with me . . . and we can dream together . . . right here in my arms . . . tonight . . .”

He finished the first verse, the soft notes leaving the air empty aside from Dream’s occasional sniffle. His brother didn’t move, much less speak. But Nightmare didn’t need him to. Holding the small skeleton a little closer, he resumed his singing, his voice steadier this time.

“Sounds of day . . . fade away . . . stars begin to climb. Melodies . . . fill the breeze . . . sweeter all the time . . .”

Nightmare trailed off again, gauging Dream’s reaction.

Still nothing.

He anxiously glanced back at his brother.

Was . . . was he singing it wrong? Nightmare knew he had the correct words. Perhaps he was singing it off tune? That must be it. Here was his one chance to prove he was telling the truth, and he’d messed it up, just like everything else he-

“S-sun goes down . . . . a-and we are here t-together . . . fireflies-s-s . . . glow like a thous-sand ch-charms . . .”

The voice was so faint that if it wasn’t right next to his skull, Nightmare would have thought he was imagining it.

But he wasn’t.

Dream was singing.

He was singing.

Nightmare's shoulders slumped as relief swelled in his chest, allowing him to breathe properly for what felt like the first time in a century. With a small smile on his face, Nightmare sang their lullaby along with Dream, his low voice melding with Dream’s trembling one.

“S-stay with me . . . and we can-can dream together . . . right here in m-my arms-s-s . . . to- tonight . . .”

“Stay with me . . . and we can dream together . . . right here in my arms . . . tonight . . .”

Once their voices had faded into silence, Nightmare shifted his hands, pulling his brother back and looking down at him.

Dream met his gaze with wide, wobbling eyelights.

“Is . . . i-is it really you, Nighty?” he sniffled.

Nightmare could only nod.

Dream furrowed his brow. “But- but . . how? W-what happened to you? Why do- do you look s-so . . .”

“Different?”

“I-I was gonna sa-say old.”

Nightmare smiled awkwardly. “Ah, yes, that’s uh . . . a long story, but-”

“I-I want to hear it!” Dream demanded, yanking on his hoodie. “And- and no lying thi- this time.”

“No more lies,” he assured him, his thumb rubbing away the tear that never should’ve fallen.

Nightmare stood up slowly, detaching Dream from his clothes, and headed towards the bed. If he was going to do this, then he might as well be somewhere more comfortable than the floor. He sat down on the mattress and looked over at his brother, who was still standing where he left him.

“Come here,” he said, patting the blanket.

Dream didn’t move. He looked at the goopy skeleton, and then glanced behind him at the door. A small part of him felt like this was just another trick and that he should run before it was too late. But Dream quickly pushed the bad feeling away. Slowly, he walked over to the bed and clambered on top of it.

“O-okay . . . I- I’m ready,” Dream said, placing the crown beside him.

Nightmare took a few seconds to breath, trying to steel himself for what he was about to do.

All he could do was tell Dream the truth and hope for the best, but the latter was proving to be a struggle. Nightmare wasn’t a pessimist by nature, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. The fact that Dream’s trust was fragile to say the least wasn’t helping matters. But whether or not his brother hated him, or feared him, or wanted nothing to do with him once he learned the truth, Nightmare had to tell him.

There was no going back now.

“Alright, so, you know how I told you the villagers became greedy, and how they destroyed the Tree in order to take the fruit?”

“Y-yeah . . .”

“Unfortunately, that part of my story was true.”

“And- and we couldn’t s-stop them?” Dream asked, deflating.

Nightmare shook his head. “No. There was no “we”. You were off picking flowers when it happened, so I was alone when the mob attacked.”

He felt a small twinge of resentment saying that, but quickly smothered the spark. He couldn’t blame this innocent version of his brother for the actions of his older self. It wasn’t his fault.

It was his.

Staring at his balled up fists, he continued, “I fought back as hard as I could, but they eventually overpowered me and . . . and one of them damaged my socket.”

Carefully, Nightmare retracted the magical sludge covering his injury, revealing the cracked, hollow socket as proof.

Dream let out a strangled cry at the sight, slapping his hands over his mouth.

“Don’t worry, it’s not painful,” he hastily assured him.

The small skeleton still looked horrified, his voice quivering as he asked, “b-b-but you were okay, ri- right? Y-y-you didn’t dust?”

“I didn’t dust,” he said, lowering the goop back over his trauma, “but I wasn’t okay. I would have been much worse though if it hadn’t been for the gold apple.”

“Y- you saved one of my apples?” his brother asked hopefully.

Nightmare grimaced. “I tried to, but it rotted as soon as I picked it up. Then I ate it.”

“What!” shrieked Dream, “Why did you do that? You can’t-”

“Because I had too,” he hissed.

Dream shrunk into himself at the outburst, a flash of hurt in his eyelights. Nightmare swore inwardly for the second time, breathing heavily through his nasal cavity. He then glanced apologetically at his brother and tried again much more calmly.

“I didn’t have a choice, Dream. Eating it would give me the power I needed to fight back. I couldn’t let those . . . those traitors get away with their crime. They had to pay for what they did.”

“And pay they did. But . . . so did I. The corrupted apple . . . changed me. It messed with my magic and gave me these.”

A tentacle floated over to Dream, settling gently in his tiny palms. His brother pulled it into his arms and hugged it, whether to comfort him or himself, Nightmare couldn’t tell. But the action was endearing either way. After sitting silently for a few more moments, Dream looked up at him sadly.

“Did . . . did- did it hurt?” he asked meekly.

“A little,” Nightmare admitted. “But it was worth it. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to destroy the village.”

“You destroyed it?” he squeaked, clutching the tendril tighter.

Nightmare scowled. “They destroyed our Tree, our home, everything. It was only right that I destroyed everything of theirs. After I uh . . . made them leave, of course. There’s nothing left now. No Tree, no villagers, no apples. All of it is gone.”

Then with a small smile he added, “Well, I suppose there’s still one apple left.”

“Huh?”

“You managed to save the last golden apple.”

“I did?” his brother said, straightening up in surprise.

“Yes. After I finished dealing with the village, you showed up and found it. Then to keep it safe, you put it inside your soul.”

Thankfully, Dream didn’t question what he needed to keep it safe from and looked quizzically at his sternum.

“My . . . soul?”

Nightmare lifted his hand. “Here, I’ll show you.”

When his brother didn’t shrink back, he focused his magic around the now tiny soul, just like his boys had taught him. Carefully, he coaxed it out and the golden soul materialized, hovering right over Dream’s lap. It’s owner gasped at the shining spectacle, his large eyelights sparkling.

“That’s . . . that’s my soul?” he asked breathlessly.

“It is.”

Although it looked quite different than how Nightmare remembered. He rarely saw his brother’s soul, but from the few times he did, he could tell how considerably duller it was now. Only the positive apple encased safely inside shone brightly, like a flame within a lantern.

Pointing to it, he said, “See. There’s the apple, all safe and sound.”

Dream stared transfixed at the fruit and lifted a finger to touch it, but Nightmare's gentle grasp stopped him. He blinked up at the skeleton, knowing by the look he was giving that he shouldn’t do that. Dream lowered his hand and gazed back at his pretty soul.

“How did I do that?” he asked.

He didn’t even know how to use his magic yet!

“I don’t know,” Nightmare answered. “Must be because you’re a guardian.”

Dream frowned, tearing his eyelight away from his golden soul to his brother’s hidden socket.

Some guardian he is.

“Why . . . why can’t I remember any of this?” he asked, squeezing his tiny palms in frustration.

“Because after taking the apple, you fell asleep for a very, very long time. It must have erased your memories of what happened. That’s why when you woke up, you didn’t recognise me,” Nightmare explained, releasing Dream’s little soul.

There were some things his brother was better off not knowing.

“Oh . . .” Dream said thoughtfully.

“S- so . . . you were guarding the tree by yourself, but you g-got hurt. And- and so you ate the apple and it made you all black and slimy. Then you destroyed the village a-and I came back and put the apple in my soul. But I fell asleep and forgot everything . . . r- right?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

When Dream didn’t respond, Nightmare tensed and braced himself for his twin’s reaction.

But it was no use. His stubborn soul continued to hum louder every moment no matter what he did. Even focusing on Dream’s turbulent concoction of negative emotions only increased his concern. Just because he knew his brother was feeling upset right now, he couldn’t be certain as to the reason why.

Was Dream upset because things would never be how they used to before?

Was Dream upset that he could never have the old “Nighty” back?

Was Dream upset at him for what he did?

As much as the last thought crushed him, Dream had every right to be.

He didn’t deserve to have his brother back. He didn’t deserve to be loved and cared for by him. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven.

The only thing he deserved was to be hated and feared and-

“I- I . . .”

Nightmare snapped out of his spiral at the sound of his brother. Tears were streaming from Dream’s sockets, but he didn’t bother wiping. His dim, watery eyelights looked up at him so pitifully, Nightmare felt his own throat closing up with magic.

“I- I . . . N-nighty, I’m s-s-so sorry-y-y-y!” Dream cried brokenly, flinging himself at him. “I’m so -hic- so s-s-sorry, I- I’m sorry, I- I- didn’t me-mean to- ! I’m sor- hic sorry-y-y-y-y!”

Nightmare froze at the contact, but quickly recovered and held his blubbering brother, slowly rubbing his shuddering back.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Dream, it’s okay . . .” he said soothingly.

“It’s -hic- it’s not- n-n-ot okay-y-y!” Dream hiccuped. “You g-g-g-got hurt be- because of me -hic- me-e-e. I- I didn’t protect you- or- or- or our Tree- hic- it’s all- all my fault!”

Nightmare winced, his soul clenching within his chest.

“Dream . . . look at me.”

His brother leaned back and glanced up at him, still sobbing quietly.

“Not all of it was your fault,” he said, his eyelight drifting to the side. “I . . . I am the one who wasn’t strong enough to protect our Tree. I couldn’t even protect a single apple. And I . . I tried to fix everything, but all I did was make it worse. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. It’s my fault . . .”

It’s his fault their home was ruined.

It’s his fault that his magic was corrupted.

It’s his fault that Dream spent centuries as stone.

It’s his fault that they did nothing but fight each other.

It’s his fault that Dream is stuck as a child, possibly forever.

It’s all his fault.

Nightmare bowed his head to his chest, shutting his socket tightly.

“ . . . I . . . I-I’m so sorry, Dream . . .”

Suddenly, something small and soft cupped his cheeks, gently holding them as the cool metal of a crown pressed against his forehead.

“It’s o-okay Nighty, ” his brother sniffled, “Don’t be sad. I- I forgive you . . .”

I forgive you.

Nightmare couldn’t remember how many times Dream had said those very words in battle.

But those words always felt hollow and empty and desperate.

They had meant nothing to him.

But the way Dream said those words just now, he sounded so . . . so . . .

Sincere.

Opening his socket, Nightmare felt the blue-tinted tears escape and trickle past his smile.

“H . . heh . . . thanks,” he chuckled weakly.

Dream let go of his face and wrapped his arms around his neck. A few fresh tears sprang up at the touching gesture, but Nightmare used a tentacle to wipe them away before they fell on Dream’s head. When his brother started to pull away after a moment, he reluctantly allowed him to do so, feeling a bit disappointed.

“Um, Nighty? Can I ask you something?” said Dream.

“Of course, ask me anything,” he smiled.

He was willing to answer so long as it was within reason.

The small skeleton gazed intensely at him. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you? Do . . . do you not want to be my brother?”

“Of course I do,” he said with a lot more force than he intended.

“Then why did you lie to me?”

Nightmare sighed. “I . . . I figured it would be better if you didn’t know the truth. I didn’t think you would believe me. And even if you did, I thought that maybe . . . you wouldn’t like me. I’ve changed, Dream. I’m not the same Nighty you remember.”

He glanced down, unable to look his twin in the eyelights.

“I know you’re not the same Nighty anymore . . .” said Dream, reaching for something he couldn’t see.

Curious, he peeked up, just in time to see his brother stretch up and place his crown on his skull.

“ . . . But you’ll always be my brother!” he beamed.

Nightmare’s cyan eyelight dilated, nearly filling his entire socket.

In a blur of motion, he scooped his tiny twin up into his arms, his tentacles subconsciously curling around the both of them

“And you’ll always be mine,” he whispered, hugging him closer.

“N-night . . . to t-tight-!” Dream wheezed

Nightmare stiffened and instantly released him from the embrace.

“S- sorry,” he coughed, retracting his tentacles behind his back.

Seriously, what had gotten into him?

“Guess I need to be more careful now that you’re smaller, huh?” he smiled, playing off his embarrassing emotional display.

Dream puffed his cheeks out. “I’m not smaller! You’re just bigger!”

“If you say so,” Nightmare said, tapping his nose with a tendril.

His brother giggled at the touch, the melodic, care-free laugh making his smile widen even more. Nightmare thought he’d never get to hear that favorite sound of his again. Yet here was Dream, still puffy-eyed and tear-stained, but grinning happily in his arms.

“Oh! Hey Nighty, I just realised something,” his sibling said.

Nightmare titled his skull. “And what’s that?”

“Nobody knows you’re Nightmare yet. We gotta go tell them!”

“Yeah, about that, Dream . . . the boys all-”

“I know they’re all gone right now, but you can make them come back with your phone, right?” Dream asked eagerly

“I . . . ” Nightmare hesitated, then sighed, “Right. I can do that.”

It was probably for the best that Dream didn’t know the gang lied to him anyway.

Lifting the lopsided crown from his head, he said, “Let’s go sit on the couch and wait for them.”

“Okie dokie. I- wait! Why are you taking it off!?”

Nightmare’s hand stopped midair. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t like wearing this now.”

“But how are they gonna know it’s you if you don’t have your crown?”

“I’m certain it won’t matter whether or not I wear it.”

Dream looked down, twisting his fingers. “It matters to me . . .”

Nightmare let out another sigh.

Just thinking about wearing his abandoned regalia made him want to cringe. Their conversation was already going to be awkward enough without it. But after all the emotional stress he’s selfishly put Dream through this past month or two, Nightmare felt he owed this to him.

His brother’s kicked-puppy look had no effect on his decision whatsoever.

Setting the heavy crown back on his head properly, he said, “I guess I could wear it a little while longer. But just for today, alright?”

“Alright Nighty,” Dream sang, standing up.

Nightmare watched his brother stumble unsteadily behind him and felt his little arms latch around his neck.

“Okay, I’m ready now!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, unamused.

Dream pointed ahead. “There’s no time for questions- let’s go!”

“Not until you get off me.”

“Awwww, come on!”

The older skeleton rolled his eyelight.

He knew if he let Dream ride on his back once, he’d ask for a ride all the time. But as annoying and inconvenient as that would be, Nightmare couldn’t find it in him to deny his sibling his childish request. Error was right. He really was going soft.

Pushing the thought aside, he huffed, “Fine . . .”

“Yay!” Dream cheered.

Slowly, Nightmare stood up, wrapping a tentacle or two around his brother to keep him from falling. He really didn’t need to, as Dream had a fairly strong grip, but better safe than sorry. The small skeleton didn’t seem to care and just laughed, the contagious sound spreading a smile onto Nightmare’s face.

“Go faster, go faster!” shouted Dream.

“I can’t,” he smirked, “I’m old, remember?”

“Uggghhh, you’re no fun . . .”

Nightmare just put his hands in his pockets and chuckled.

As soon as they reached their destination, he peeled Dream off his back and set him down on the middle of the couch. Sitting on the left end seat, Nightmare flipped open his rarely used device and powered it on. Dream leaned against his shoulder and watched him pull up their group chat, bouncing restlessly on the springy cushion.

Blocking out the distraction, Nightmare typed a simple “Living room. Now.” message before snapping the phone off.

“There. They should be here any moment now.”

“Oh goodie! I can’t wait to tell them!” said Dream, plopping down onto the seat.

But the small skeleton couldn’t sit still, shifting and swinging his legs in anticipation. Nightmare on the other hand, crossed his arms and sagged against the couch as he waited patiently for the boys to return. A comfortable silence fell over the room, lasting a precious five seconds, before Dream disturbed it by leaping onto the floor.

“I’m thirsty. I’m gonna go get a drink,” his brother announced, marching towards the kitchen.

“Don’t spill it,” Nightmare couldn’t help yelling after him.

“I won’t!”

He heard the door open and close, only for it to squeak open again a second later.

“And don’t tell them anything until I get back, okay?”

“Alright, Dream.”

His brother made a pleased noise and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Taking a few long, deep breaths, Nightmare composed himself as best he could. The last thing he wanted was to be an emotional, mushy mess in front of his boys. Or anyone for that matter. Fortunately, he’d had a few centuries of practice when it came to controlling his emotions.

Speaking of centuries . . .

Nightmare slowly raised his hand toward his head. He carefully brushed his fingers against the cool metal, as though it might shock him. When it didn’t, he glided his fingers over the smoothe band. He stopped when he reached the engraved crescent moon, tracing the familiar groove.

Despite everything . . . it still fit.

Nightmare suddenly jolted as a portal fizzled to life in the middle of the room, and snatched his hand away from the diadem.

“What happened,” Killer growled, bounding over with a knife in each hand. “What’s wrong?”

Nightmare leaned forward and waved for him to lower his weapons. “Nothing’s wrong, Killer, I-”

“I DIDN’T DO IT!” Cross yelled frantically, stumbling through another portal.

“Didn’t do what?” Killer asked suspiciously.

The monochrome skeleton went rigid. “Uh-h . . . nothing!”

“What did he do?” said Dust as he and Horror joined the group.

“I didn’t do anything!” Cross insisted, his mismatched eyelights glancing warily at the goopy skeleton. “Right Midnight?”

“Yes, Cross, you didn’t do anything wrong. None of you did,” Nightmare told them calmly.

Then deciding not to dance around the issue any longer, he coolly added, “Also you can stop calling me Midnight from now on.”

Just like he expected, all of their sockets widened in unison. Even Dust’s.

“Really?” said Horror.

“Yes,” he curtly replied.

Dust lazily closed a socket and grinned. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that shiny jewelry on your head, would it?”

“Actually, it does,” Nightmare said, ignoring the stares at his skull. “Dream found my old crown when we were playing and recognised it. Long story short, I told him the truth about me and what happened. Save for the potion, of course.”

Killer smirked. “So the secret is out then.”

“Finally . . .” Horror muttered. Cross hummed in agreement.

“It is. But Dream thinks you all don’t know who I am and wants to tell you himself, so act like I didn’t tell you,” he said quietly, glancing over at the door.

“Did Dream also want you to wear your crown?” Killer asked, jumping over and sitting uncomfortably close to him.

The black-eyed skeleton tried to touch the golden headband, but Nightmare shoved him back.

“Stop it, I don’t-”

“-Tch’, come on, it’s so obvious! Even Cross here can see it,” he scoffed, earning an indignant “Hey!” from said skeleton.

Before Nightmare could respond, Killer elbowed his shoulder, “Admit it, Dream has you wrapped around his little finger~”

“I have what?” a high-pitched voice asked.

All heads instantly turned toward the confused child standing in the kitchen doorway.

Cross spoke up first. “Midnight here said you have something to tell us?”

“Oh yeah!” Dream said, running over to them with his cup in hand.

But in his excitement, his brother negelected to be careful and sloshed his water all across the floor.

Nightmare shook his head. “What did I just say about spilling?”

“Oops. Sorry, Nighty,” he smiled sheepishly, setting the cup on the floor where he stood beside Dust.

“Nightmare?” Horror echoed. “You mean . . .”

“Midnight is actually my brother, Nightmare!” Dream shouted, dramatically throwing his hands in the air.

Nightmare smiled at the silly theatrics, until Killer went and ruined it with a snort.

“Wow, really? How come you kept it a secret, Night?”

“I-”

“-He thought that if I knew he was my brother that I wouldn’t like him cause he’s old and slimey now,” Dream innocently answered, much to Nightmare’s mortification.

Just because he was technically “old” and “slimey”, didn’t mean he appreciated the smothered snickers at his brother’s bluntness.

“Well, do ya still like him?” Dust prodded.

Nightmare gave the skeleton a warning glare, but the other didn’t pay him any mind.

“Uh huh!” Dream said enthusiastically. “He doesn’t really look like my brother anymore, but I don’t care. He’s still kind and fun to play with and super smart and brave and strong and really, really cool!”

The tiny skeleton finished and looked up at him, his face glowing with pure adoration.

Nightmare stared wide-eyed at his brother, his voice catching in his throat. As Dream’s fond praise slowly sunk in, a familiar feeling started spreading up from his soul, warming his entire face. He forgot all about the four skeletons watching him. The only thing he saw through his misty eyelight was Dream.

“Aw, how adorable,” Cross cooed, drawing him back to the present.

Nightmare quickly rubbed a hand over his face, trying to get a grip on himself.

Apparently he needed a few more centuries than he thought.

“I think you broke him, pipsqueak,” Killer snickered.

Nightmare looked cooly at the others, refusing to give the skeleton the reaction he wanted.

Dream took it seriously however and cried out in alarm, “I did!? Oh no, are you okay brother?”

The small skeleton sprinted over to him and grabbed his hands, his golden eyelights frantically searching his face.

“I’m fine,” Nightmare said, finding his voice. “Killer is just playing with you.”

Dream’s frown bounced back into his bright smile. “Okay, well . . . I’d rather play with you right now.”

Killer let out an offended gasp, giving Dream a betrayed look.

“Oh? What do you wanna do?” he asked, pretending not to notice his couch companion.

Dream looked around the room. “Ummm . . let’s watch a movie!”

“Alright, go pick out which one you want.”

His brother dashed towards their movie collection, the words hardly out of his mouth.

While Dream browsed the bottom selection, Nightmare turned his attention to his boys. Horror and Dust were settling down on the second sofa, giving him not-so-subtle smirks. Cross was gone, probably to make his favorite chocolate-drizzled popcorn. And Nightmare didn’t even need to glance at Killer to know the little shit was reclining back and wiggling his brow bones at him.

“Found it!” Dream said, holding up the first movie they saw together.

While Nightmare didn’t feed off his boy’s negative emotions, he did feel a great deal of satisfaction when he sensed Killer’s mood suddenly sour.

“Ugh, seriously squirt? We saw that yesterday!”

“And the day before that, and the day before that, and the day bef-”

“Shove it, Dust,” Killer growled, then looked back at Dream. “Cross got you a whole stack of kiddy movies. Pick one of those.”

Dream shook his head. “Nope, I wanna watch this one. It’s my favorite!”

“Fine. Have fun watching it without me, then,” he said, standing up and walkling past Nightmare.

But he didn’t get more than a few steps before a tentacle snaked its way around his waist, picking him up off the floor.

“Hey!” he snapped, glaring at his captor.

“Ah, ah, not so fast,” Nightmare tsked, setting the scowling skeleton back on his seat. “I believe he wants you to stay for the movie, don’t you Dream.”

His brother caught on and looked at him with wide, sad eyelights. “Pleaseeeeee, Kiki?”

Killer struggled for a few more seconds, then slumped over in defeat.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

“Thank you!” his brother said cheerfully, completely oblivious to Killer’s suffering.

Nightmare, on the other hand, was enjoying his payback immensely, his waving tentacles reflecting his good mood.

After a minute, Dream figured out how to put the movie in and grabbed the remote, skipping back over to Nightmare. The king of negativity stretched out his arms and lifted his brother into his lap. He kept his arms around Dream’s chest, using a tentacle instead to give the remote to Killer for “bleeping” duty.

As the opening sequence started to play, Cross returned to the room, turning off the light and passing out bowls of sweet and salty goodness. The last one was given to Dream’s grabby hands to hold, to the child’s delight. Nightmare didn’t mind. He was holding something so much sweeter than the treat.

Even though Nightmare hadn’t been forced to watch this film on repeat like his boys, he found he couldn’t focus on it. Dream meanwhile was completely engaged- so much so that he hadn’t eaten a single kernel of popcorn. Nightmare took advantage of this and snuck a few pieces with a tendril to satiate his boredom.

But after a few minutes of idle chewing, a few pieces turned into almost half the bowl.

“Wha- Hey!” Dream shouted, noticing his stolen snack a little too late. “Stop eating it all, I haven’t gotten any!”

“Better get some while you can then,” Nightmare shrugged as he snatched another piece.

His brother swatted at his tentacle. “No more!”

“I thought sharing is caring?”

“Then stop eating it and share it,” Dream pouted, crouching over the bowl and shielding it from another tentacle attack.

Nightmare chuckled at his brother’s adorable angry face.

“Okay. You can have the rest,” he relented.

Dream squinted at him, but after realising his popcorn was no longer in any danger, he smiled and sat upright. Turning back to the movie, he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and happily munched on it as if their little spat had never happened. Nightmare observed his brother from above, a funny feeling settling in his chest at the sight.

Dream was behaving so . . . so normal.

He was just eating and watching the movie, looking perfectly comfortable as he sat in Nightmare’s arms. As if he hadn’t told Dream earlier that he had single-handedly destroyed their lives and doomed them both to their current fate. He could detect some grief still in his soul, but it was greatly numbed by his positive mood. Otherwise, it was like nothing had changed.

Well, save for one thing.

And that was Dream’s affections towards him were even stronger than they were previously. If Nightmare had thought his brother was clingy when Dream knew him as “Midnight”, he couldn’t even imagine how much more he would be now. Strangely enough, he discovered that he was okay with that. In fact, he was even better than okay with it.

Dream forgiving him for his past mistakes and accepting him, tentacles and all, was something he hadn’t even dared to hope for. He could still barely believe it even happened, but it wasn’t some dream or cruel nightmare. It was real. And now that Dream knew who he was, he treated him like he did all those centuries ago.

He treated him as his brother.

Nightmare’s chest felt lighter, like an eon-old weight had slipped off it, causing a strong emotion to spring up in its place.

A strong emotion he only felt for the special few in his life.

"Psssst!"

Nightmare blinked and gazed down to see his twin smiling up at him.

“Yes?” he asked quietly.

Dream silently crooked his finger for him to lean down.

He bowed his head, turning it to the side for Dream to whisper too, only for his brother to gently nuzzle his cheek instead.

“I love you, Nighty,” he whispered.

Nightmare closed his socket and nudged him back.

“I love you too, Dream.”

Chapter Text

To say the Doodle Sphere was an eccentric place would be an understatement.

One moment you can stand on a floating piece of rock with a door to an entire universe, in an ocean of other similar miniature islands with their own unique universe doors. And then in the next moment, you can stand inside of a white void with what’s presumably a house that looks as unconventional and colorful as it’s unconventional and colorful owner.

Or, you can be like Blue, who was currently standing in a totally different and equally bizarre section of the Doodle Sphere.

Unlike the “Floating islands” and “Ink’s house”, this place didn’t have an official name. Titles like ”The Doodle Zone” or the “Room of Universes” and even “The Heart of the Doodle Sphere” have been suggested, but none of them stuck. Not in Ink’s blotchy memory, that is. The Artist usually referred to it as just his “paper room”, which was rather uncreative for one known as“the Artist”. But Blue felt that such a special place deserved a special name.

So in his Magnificent Mind, he always called it "The Golden Room."

Okay . . . so maybe it wasn’t very creative either, but it at least sounded more important.

It was also pretty accurate as far as descriptive titles go.

A saturated gold color completely covered the place, from the “ceiling” to the “floor”, becoming richer and deeper the higher one looked. The only things that weren’t golden were the hundreds and hundreds of papers suspended in the space above. Each one containing the essence, much like the floating islands, of one of the many Alternate Universes.

When Blue was first introduced to "The Golden Room", the experience had nearly wowzed the boots off of him!

The bright light gave him a warm, ooey-gooey feeling, like the one he’d had upon seeing the surface for the first time. It felt like he was standing inside of the sun, which Blue had never been inside of, but if he had, he was certain it’d feel like this. Even after visiting "The Golden Room" dozens of times, he could still feel the yellow hues heating his face like surface sunshine.

And that’s not even mentioning the papers. There were an uncountable number of them (trust him, he’s tried) dotting the entire golden “sky” like a bunch of square-shaped stars. Blue stared up at them to the point his neck started aching, but he was too caught up in wonder to notice the pain. Every time he looked at the awe-inspiring sight, he was always reminded that he, the Amazing Blue, was responsible for helping to protect them.

They are what made this his favorite place in all the Doodle sphere.

Or . . . well . . .

It used to be his favorite place.

But now . . .

As Blue stood with his arms crossed tight against his chest and gazed somberly at the AU’s hanging above him.

. . . he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

He no longer felt that cozy, cocooning feeling from the light of this place. Now the only thing he felt was cold. The kind of cold that creeps in once you step away from a heat source. That empty, “lack-of-warmth” kind. Because for Blue, that golden warmth was gone, and the mocking yellow smothering him made his lack of it, of him, all the more noticeable.

And the paper portals weren’t very comforting either.

Instead of giving him a sense of grandness- that he was a part of something bigger- staring up at them now made him feel very, very small. Like they were all looking down at him, judging him. Now the only thing they reminded Blue of, was that he not only failed his duty to protect the multiverse, but that he had also failed to protect one of his best friends.

Blue couldn’t take it anymore and dropped his eyelights to the floor, though it wasn’t much better to look at.

“Okay, I found it!”

Still, he couldn’t stop staring at the honeyed-reflection at his feet.

“Hey Blue, did you hear me?”

Even after everything he’s done to find Dream . . .

“Hello?”

. . . He was still the image of a fail-

“Blue?”

Something poked him in the back, startling Blue straight.

He whipped around and spotted the skeleton standing with his finger still in the air.

“OH- HEY!” he exclaimed.

“Are you okay there, Blue?” asked Ink, giving him another poke.

“I’M PERFECTLY FINE,” he waved him off, probably adding a bit more gusto to his assertion that he should have. He hastily changed the subject with a cheerful, “SO DID YOU FIND THAT AU YOU WERE LOOKING FOR?”

Ink leaned an elbow on top of “Broomie” and nodded, “Yep! Sorry it took me a while. I probably should have written myself a note or something. But I eventually found Pillowtale right where it belonged, safe and sound!”

“I’M HAPPY TO HEAR IT!” Blue smiled, despite not remembering what this “Pillowtale” AU was.

Of course, he must have been to it before. Blue visited every AU in existence during his exhaustive search for Dream, which naturally include “Pillowtale”. However . . . if it was a recently made AU, then there’s a possibility he hasn’t, and an even slimmer possibility that Dream was in it. But it couldn’t hurt to check, right? Just to make sure-

“-ue? Blue!”

The shout broke him from his musings and he looked over, meeting Ink’s mismatched eyelights.

“YES?” he hummed. “WHAT IS IT?”

Ink arched his brow. “Are you sure you’re okay, buddy? You keep zoning out on me.”

“OH. SORRY ABOUT THAT, I DIDN’T MEAN TO IGNORE YOU” he apologised sheepishly, going with the typical excuse of, “I’M SIMPLY A BIT TIRED, THAT’S ALL.”

“See! This is exactly what I was talking about,” said Ink, waving an arm out at him.

Blue crossed his own, saying firmly that, “JUST BECAUSE I'M FEELING LESS ENERGETIC TODAY DOES NOT MEAN I’VE BEEN WORKING TOO HARD.”

Ink gave him a look that said if his eyelights could spell words like Fresh’s special shades, he’d be staring at a sarcastic neon ‘RLLY?’.

“REALLY!” Blue shot back defiantly. “I AM NOT A QUOTE, WORKAHOLIC, UNQUOTE. LIFE HAS BECOME BUSY FOR EVERYONE LATELY, NOT JUST ME!”

The Artist still didn’t look convinced by his impassioned statement, but it was true!

The past few weeks- or maybe months; Blue wasn’t really keeping track- were nothing short of hectic.

Every day he was swamped with things to do, monsters and humans to see, friends to help out. He hardly had a moment alone to himself! (And when he did, his soul would hurt and the bad thoughts would worm their way in and then the itch to do something, anything, became so strong that he was moving again because he had to, he had to keep moving-)

But that didn’t make him what Ink and his brother and a few dozen others called a workaholic.

Half his work was just him helping out his friends, which Blue doesn’t even consider as work! He’s more than happy to do things for his friends. To be useful to them. To show how much he cares about them. (Sure, they aren’t in any danger of being taken away from him by that slimy, soulless monster, but there are still other dangers he had to consider. He didn't know what time would be The Last Time.)

Blue had tried explaining this before but . . . Ink just didn’t get it.

“I get it, Blue,” Ink said, coming up and patting him on the shoulder. “Which is why you're here to take a break from it all!”

That was . . . sort of correct. The real reason he was here was because Ink dragged him through a portal. But since it was with the good intention of having him “hang out and relax for five seconds”, Blue decided to give it to him.

And since Ink had his nonexistent soul set on it, Blue relented and sighed at last, “ALRIGHT, I GUESS ONE LITTLE BREAK COULDN’T HURT.”

“I knew you’d come around,” said Ink, puffing out his chest as he tugged him forward.

Blue fell into step behind him, keeping his eyelights fixed on the trailing brown scarf and asking, “SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN MIND FOR US TO DO?”

“Oh!” Ink did a 180 and continued walking, only backwards now, not missing a beat in his step. “Well, it’s been forever since you’ve been to my place, right?”

It hadn’t been “forever”, but it had certainly been a long while, so Blue gave Ink the confirming hum he was looking for.

Ink smirked and went on. “So, I figured we could just, you know, hang out there. Play some games and stuff.”

Blue smiled back. “SOUNDS GOOD TO ME!”

(Although to be anywhere else in the Doodle Sphere right now sounded good to him.)

Pleased, Ink turned around and began to walk side by side as he chatted with him. Blue wasn’t in the mood to talk much, so he listened to Ink’s ramblings instead, like any good friend would. It was a win-win really. Ink had an audience that was more expressive than his favorite paintbrush, and Blue had something to distract him from their golden surroundings.

He was so distracted in fact, that by the time he realised they were in the blank, empty void, thank stars, Ink’s puzzle of a home was looming in front of them.

“-should’ve seen the look on his face- Priceless, haha! I have got to draw it later,” Ink said, concluding his story with another chuckle as he walked up to his door.

But when the knob turned and it refused to open, Ink’s grin twisted into a frown.

“Huh . . . why won’t this thing open?” he asked aloud, pushing his shoulder against it as he tried again.

“UM, IS IT LOCKED?” Blue offered.

Ink paused and thought for a moment, then blinked his eyelight into an exclamation mark. “You know what, I think I did. Heh, whoops.”

“DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE KEY IS?”

“No. Actually, I don’t think I even made one.”

Then pulling “Broomie” from his bandolier, he quickly added, “but don’t worry, I’ve got an idea!”

Blue nodded, assuming the Creator to, well, create the key they needed.

Only for said Creator to promptly turn and stride along the side of the house, leaving Blue confused and a bit concerned on the doormat.

But before he could think to ask Ink for an explanation, the shorter skeleton stopped abruptly in front of a window. He then raised the wooden end of his brush above his head and stabbed it, shattering glass everywhere. Ink made a satisfactory noise and gave Blue a thumbs up.

Blue returned it with an approving thumbs up of his own for Ink's smart thinking (honestly, Blue is surprised he hadn’t thought of it first.)

At that, Ink threw “Broomie” inside and jumped in after it. Blue waited patiently for his friend to reach the door, though the muffled noise from inside had him a bit anxious as well. But within a few seconds, his patience was rewarded with an open door and his friend in one piece.

Ink bowed with a flourish, “Entrez, mon ami~”

“THANK YOU,” he said politely as he set a foot inside, only to immediately regret it.

Blue knew Ink wasn't the cleanest or the most organised. He and Dream had to help make the house livable again countless times, often turning into a “team building exercise”. So seeing how it’s been a couple weeks if not more since he’s visited, Blue anticipated it to be messy.

And boy was it messy alright.

Blue couldn’t even see the colorful carpet with the amount of paper strewn everywhere. Along with paint cans, paint cups, other cans and other cups that weren’t paint-related, brushes, blankets, and a dizzying amount of other odd items and art supplies. It’s like something exploded in here, turning what should be a living room into a madman’s art studio.

Which, considering the strong smell of oil, burnt metal, and something, he probably wasn’t far off.

“Sorry about the mess” Ink said, interrupting Blue’s horrified gawking at the chaos. He closed the door and walked carelessly across the room. “I didn’t really have a chance to clean up before you came.”

“IT’S . . . ALRIGHT . . .” Blue strained, keeping his eyelights glued to the floor as he followed after his friend, doing his best to avoid stepping in puddles of paint (or what he hoped was paint-).

Ink headed over to a pile of stuff and began digging through the mangled mess with an odd hum here and there.

Blue stood tensely behind him and watched, sparing a glance or two at the room around him.

“HEY INK?” he started hesitantly as his friend continued his rummaging. “HOW ABOUT WE DO A BIT OF TIDYING UP TOGETHER FIRST? THAT WAY WE CAN RELAX AND-”

“-Nope. You are banned from doing any sort of work while you’re here,” Ink said matter-of-factly.

“BUT-”

“-No buts!” Ink shouted, spinning toward him. He shoved the box he’d grabbed in Blue’s face, “Now let’s stop wasting time arguing and start playing!”

Blue stared down at Dream’s favorite the old board game and then farther down at Ink.

“O . . . KAY,” he said, glancing at the room again, “BUT WHERE ARE WE GOING TO PLAY IT?”

Ink dropped to the floor and shoved an armful of paper and pens (and what looked like a sandwich if Blue squinted hard enough) to the side, revealing a “clean” patch of carpet.

“Right here!” he declared, dramatically throwing down the board game.

Blue stood for another moment, contemplating whether or not he could convince Ink to move their board game outside. But after further thought, he decided against it, knowing the skeleton hated spending too much time in the white void.

So with a slumped and defeated sigh, Blue slowly sat down in front of his friend.

“I think I remember how to play this one,” Ink said, getting out the glossy board.

“THAT’S GREAT,” Blue replied as leaned back on his hands.

Suddenly, something squished under one of his palms, sending a slight shiver through him. Grimacing, he lifted it up and watched as paint . . . goo(?) stretched between his hand and the floor like chewing gum.

“These color cubes are what we use to move across the board, right?” Ink asked.

“RIGHT,” he answered off-handedly, grabbing a cloth in arm’s reach and rubbing the goo off his glove before it stained.

“In that case, I’m gonna pick . . . this one!”

Blue looked over with mild curiosity to see what piece he chose, only for his eyelights to immediately shrink.

“NO WAIT, NOT THAT ONE!” he cried, snatching up the cube mere milliseconds before Ink could.

“Hey!? What’s wrong, why can’t I have it?” Ink demanded, stretching out his hand.

Blue clutched the yellow cube even tighter to his chest.

“BECAUSE IT’S DREAM’S PIECE,” he snapped.

“Dream?” Ink asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “Who’s Dream?”

Blue stared back silently.

Shoot.

He didn't mean to say that.

He really didn't- it just slipped out.

And here he had been so good about not bringing him up, only to get upset over a silly board game piece and now . . .

Now he had to answer the same question Ink has asked him again . . .

. . .

”Dream? Wait, who are we talking about?”

“DREAM! YOU KNOW, OUR FRIEND!”

“Our friend?”

“YEAH, OUR FRIEND. HE’S MISSING, REMEMBER?”

“Oh yeaaah! Sorta! I mean, I don’t really remember his face, but I bet I’ll recognise him once I see him.”

. . .

. . . and again . . .

. . .

“I don’t know . . . who’s this Dream guy again?”

“I’VE TOLD YOU THREE TIMES ALREADY! DID YOU NOT WRITE IT ON YOUR SCARF LIKE I SAID?”

“Right, my scarf. So,heh, funny story about that . . .”

. . .

. . . and again . . .

. . .

“Dream? You mean the guy selling those frozen snacks?”

“NO, THAT’S NICE CREAM GUY, NOT DREAM.”

“Oh . . . so who’s Drea-”

“NIGHTMARE’S BROTHER. THE GUARDIAN OF POSITIVITY. OUR FRIEND.”

“Right, our friend! Sorry, his name keeps slipping my mind for some reason. We really need to catch up with him sometime.”

. . .

. . . and again . . .

. . .

”Dream? Dream who?”

“I . . . HERE. LOOK AT THIS PICTURE.”

“Hmm, he does look familiar. Is he the “Sans” from another AU?”

“NOT REALLY. DON’T YOU REMEMBER DREAMTALE?”

“Oh! Dreamtale, yeah! Nightmare and Dream! Now I remember.”

. . .

. . . and again.

Blue didn’t know how many times this has happened- ten times? a hundred times?- but it was one time too many if you asked him.

And yet as exasperating and concerning as it was, he couldn’t really blame Ink.

He wasn’t forgetting because he was some soulless monster who didn’t care about his best friend.

Well, the first part was true, yes, but not the second part.

Because everytime Ink remembered Dream, it was with deep fondness, or at the very least, a casual liking. But due to his soulless-related memory loss, he never him remembered for long, and it had only gotten worse the less Blue talked about Dream.

So no, Blue couldn’t hold a grudge against him for it, no matter how tiring the song and dance had become.

Actually, if anything, he felt just the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous.

Unlike him, Ink couldn’t feel the weight of grief at the loss of their friend on his soul because he didn’t have one. He didn’t have a soul that ached at just the mention of his name. He didn’t have to worry about soul wrenching feelings of guilt and loneliness and pain. The only thing he had were his vials.

And sometimes . . . when Blue was alone with his thoughts . . . he wished that he had vials too. That he could avoid the color that was second name to him and just drink the color that at least he remembered was Dream’s favorite.

Sometimes . . . he wished he could forget that Dream too.

But Blue always had to push those bad, selfish thoughts away and make himself get up and keep moving forward.

Because no matter how much it hurt, he knew he didn’t want to forget Dream, not really

Besides, Dream deserved to be remembered.

And while everyone in the entire multiverse seemed to have forgotten him, Blue hadn’t.

He still remembered Dream.

And he alone.

So when he finally spoke up, this time he answered casually, “OH, HE’S JUST A FRIEND OF MINE. HE MUST HAVE LEFT THIS HERE BY ACCIDENT. NOT TO WORRY, I’LL MAKE SURE HE GETS IT BACK!”

Ink just stared at him, still clearly confused, but withdrew his hand anyway.

“Uh . . . okay,” he said, looking at the remaining cubes. “Guess I’ll use the orange piece.

Blue let out the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding and nodded.

“PERFECT! THEN I’LL USE THIS ONE,” he said, reaching for the cyan shaded square.

But not before he discreetly slipped the sunny yellow one into the pocket of his pants.

Who knows, maybe he’ll keep it with him.

Just something to remember him by.

Chapter Text

Pinching the well-worn corner, Nightmare flipped the page over and flattened the creases with his fingers.

His eyelight traced along the faded words, reading them from memory instead than from the paper. But that didn’t make the story any less enjoyable. He’d read it a dozen times already, and he’ll probably read it a dozen more. It was a nostalgic favorite of his that he picked up whenever he had time.

And for once, he actually had time.

There were no raids to run or worlds to ruin. No paperwork cluttering up his desk and calling for his attention. No energetic little brother also calling for his attention. No one around for him to supervise and nothing for him to do.

It was just him, his novel, and what remained of his breakfast tea.

Which Nightmare realised wasn’t much when he lifted the mug and peered inside.

Downing the last lukewarm sip, he gave the now empty bottom an annoyed glare. Annoyed, because if he wanted to enjoy a drink with the rest of his book, he’d have to leave the cozy reading corner of his library. Setting the mug aside, he stared instead at the steady rainfall outside the window.

While this weather was gloomy to some, Nightmare found it rather pleasant, even if he couldn’t name a specific reason why.

Perhaps it was because of its cold, dreary aura. Or because the monotonous droning is soothing to listen to. Or maybe it was due to the fact it had never rained in Dreamtale; where every day was the same- warm, dry, and sunny, and only after finding the multiverse did he experience rain, thunder, and lightning.

Well, whatever the reason, something about the shower outside smoothed the crease of his brow and settled his soul with a sort of calm that he couldn’t describe.

But as much as he enjoyed watching it, he couldn’t ignore the nagging part of his mind telling him he was just delaying the inevitable. Reading just wasn’t as relaxing without a hot drink. So, memorizing the page number, Nightmare closed the book with a crack of its spine and grabbed the mug. Then he stood up, cracking his own spine, and headed for the door.

When he stepped into the hall, his foot caught on something and he stumbled, nearly dropping his mug.

“What the . . .”

Frowning at the floor, Nightmare picked up the yellow cube of plastic (a lego, if he recalled correctly) that had failed to assassinate him.

“. . . really, Dream,” he muttered.

This was what- the fifth time he’d nearly snapped his neck on a piece of junk in the past week?

All because Dream was now determined to follow him everywhere nowadays and bring his tripping hazards along with him. It was getting to the point where his mighty fortress was starting to look like a mighty-pathetic daycare. And Nightmare had had enough of it.

Stuffing the toy in his hoodie, he veered sharply towards Dream’s room to have a little chat.

About halfway down the detour, while Nightmare was thinking of how to reprimand Dream’s recent messy habits, a muffled sound caught him off guard.

He paused to listen and- there it was again. The suspicious snickering sounded like it was coming from around the corner a couple yards away. It was also unmistakably high-pitched. Nightmare stood still and waited, his tentacles swaying similar to a cat’s tail as it prepares to pounce on its prey.

“Shhh! Gotta keep quiet, buddy,” said prey whispered, it’s footsteps growing closer.

There was more snickering as well as a not-so-quiet whisper, “right, sorry!”

“It’s cool. We’re almost there anyway.”

“Hey Crossy, is Nightmare gonna be mad?”

“Nah. We’ll have everything cleaned up before he can find out.”

“Find out what?” Nightmare asked as Cross and Dream slunk into view.

The latter jumped and let out a tiny surprised scream, while the adult froze in place, his eyelights shrinking to the size of I-am-so-screwed.

“Oh- uh, hey-!” Cross stammered with a nervous smile.

Everything, from his rolled up sweater to his boots (or rather, boot and bare foot) was soaked- no, drenched in mud. It was hard to tell which dripped from him more: water or regret. And Dream wasn’t any better aside from having every article of clothing on. All of which were so stained, that the only other visible color was the white of his bones and his anxious yellow eyelights.

It was a disgusting sight, made even worse by the puddles quickly growing under their filthy feet.

“We uh-” Cross started, drawing Nightmare’s gaze from the floor to him. “-we were just playing a game outside.”

“I can see that,” he said, his tentacles flicking irritably in the air. “Tell me, was this what you had planned when you agreed to watch him? To spend all morning in the rain?”

The other shuffled in place. “Kinda?”

“Mmph. And I suppose it was also your idiotic idea to sneak through the halls instead of shortcutting to your room,” he asked rhetorically.

“Uh, yeah- sorry. Guess I should have thought of that,” Cross said as he wiped water (and sweat) from his skull.

Nightmare barely managed to resist rolling his eyelight.

Barely.

“But don’t worry- we’ll clean it up right away,” he added appeasingly.

“No, you’ll clean it up right away, while I take care of him,” said Nightmare, walking over to the pair.

Dream looked up at him, clearly confused, but Nightmare just wordlessly wound a tentacle around his arm and turned to walk away.

“Uh- wait!”

Nightmare stopped and gave a warning glare, but Cross went on, albeit hesitantly.

“I can help clean him if you want-”

“-You can help by cleaning yourself and then the floor,” he snapped.

Cross gave a curt, “Yes sir,” and retreated blipped promptly into the void.

“Come on,” Nightmare said gruffly, resuming his march toward his room.

“Hey, wait- where are we going?” Dream squeaked out as he was dragged forward.

“To the bathroom.”

“The bathroom? Why-”

“Because you need a bath, that’s why.”

Nightmare might of said it a bit too harshly, but at least it got Dream to stop testing his nerves with stupid questions. The only thing left to fill the silence was the squelching of his boots, no doubt leaving a trail of muddy footprints for Cross to mop up.

But Nightmare didn’t care- it served the skeleton right for running the both of them into the rain.

Seriously, what possessed Cross to do such a thoughtless thing?

The whole point of playing with Dream had been to give Nightmare some time to himself- not to give him another responsibility to deal with.

“Nightmare!”

But no, they just had to go out in the storm for whatever stars-forsaken reason.

“Nightmare, slow down!”

And now here he was, leaving his library farther and farther behind, all because-

“Oof!”

Nightmare felt a sudden tug on his tentacle and spun around, but another tendril had already caught Dream by his shirt collar.

“Watch your step,” he reprimanded, hoisting him to eye level.

Dream frowned, “you were going too fast!”

“You’re walking too slow,” Nightmare argued back.

“But my shoes are wet,” he whined, kicking his feet. “It’s hard to walk.”

Nightmare narrowed his socket. “What do you expect me to do, carry you?”

Dream shook his head yes because of course he did.

“Hmph. Fine. If it’ll keep you from falling . . .” he said, continuing to walk with Dream dangling behind him.

And as he walked, he ignored the brewing headache and focused on the unwelcome task ahead. Only for it to finally dawn on him that-

He didn’t own any soap.

So when he reached his bedroom, he continued on past it, causing Dream to pipe up, “Wait, go back, you missed the door!”

“I know,” Nightmare said, walking down to the room he sensed was occupied. “I need to get something.”

As he gave the door a solid knock, Dream swung his legs. “I want to get down now.”

Nightmare lowered him to the floor. “Stand right there,” he said, hoovering a tentacle closely to cut off any chance of wandering off.

Inside, the muffled classical music faded and shortly after the door opened to reveal the red-eyed skeleton.

Dream smiled. “Hi Rory!”

“I need to borrow your soap,” Nightmare said brusquely.

Horror blinked from the muddy child to him, the surprising sight struggling to sink in for him.

Then when it clicked, he slowly smirked.

“Sure . . . one sec . . .” he said and lumbered out of sight.

The silence returned, only to be broken after a beat by a meek voice beside him.

“Um . . . Nightmare?”

He scowled down at him.

“What?”

“I’m really sorry . . . ” Dream mumbled, gripping the corner of his mud-soaked cape.

“Sorry for what?”

“For . . . going outside and getting dirty.”

“Apology accepted,” he nodded. “And from now on, you ask me for permission to go outside, even if someone is with you.”

“Okay, I will.”

Nightmare left it at that, still annoyed, but much more satisfied now the matter was settled.

In perfect timing, Horror approached them with a bottle in hand. Nightmare assumed it was body wash, probably mint scented if the picture was any indication. Nightmare was also grateful to see Horror had thought to grab him some towels as well

“Here . . .”

“Thank you,” Nightmare said as he exchanged his mug for the other items.

He wasn’t going to be drinking anytime soon, after all.

As he picked Dream up again, this time winding the tentacle around his waist, Dream waved, “Bye Rory!”

Horror waved back at him, sliding another amused smirk to Nightmare (which if it irked him, and it did, he didn’t show it), and then quietly shut his door.

The walk back was short without little feet tripping him up, thank stars. Dream’s excited squirming was starting to get on his last nerve. Upon reaching the bathroom, Nightmare quickly molded the tip of a tentacle into a key, unlocked the door, and flipped the light switch on.

It flickered a few times, most likely from disuse. In fact, the entire room looked like it hadn’t been used since he had claimed the castle, which was true. But although it was dusty enough to rival Killer’s room, Nightmare figured the tub still worked.

Setting Dream in front of the sink, he walked over to the clawfoot basin.

That is . . . it would work if he remembered which of the two knobs he’s supposed to turn.

He knew one controlled the cold water while the other made it hot, but he never needed to use said knowledge, so the details were a bit foggy.

Wasn’t there some sort of saying to help him remember which was which? Something like . . .’lefty loosey, righty tighty.’

No, wait, that was for screws, wasn’t it?

“Well 'screw' this,” Nightmare thought dryly, reaching randomly at one to turn it on.

But before his hand touched the rusted metal, a noise from behind pulled Nightmare’s gaze from the tub to see his tiny twin hauling himself onto the bathroom sink.

“Stop, we’re not using that,” Nightmare called over.

Dream froze. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to bathe in the tub,” he said, setting the bath supplies down.

“Really!” Dream gasped, landing on the floor.

Running over, he grabbed the tub’s rim and peered inside. “Woah, it’s huge!” he exclaimed. “Where’s all the water? Isn’t it supposed to have water in it?”

“I’ll turn the water on in a minute. First, take off your clothes.”

Dream titled his head. “But all my clothes are dirty, I have to clean them too.”

“That’s what the machines in the laundry room are for,” Nightmare told him, taking the crown from his skull.

“Hey!” Dream tried to grab it, but Nightmare held it out of reach. “Give it back!”

“Calm down, I’m just rinsing it off,” he said as he headed over to the sink. “Start getting undressed.”

Dream reluctantly pulled off his gloves. “Okay, okay. I’m doin’ it . . .”

While he busied himself with that, Nightmare turned on the faucet, and after a dreadful hacking noise, water sputtered out of it. He held Dream’s little crown under the water, twisting it around as he rubbed his fingers over it, washing off the dirt.

And then it hit him.

He was holding Dream’s crown.

And it wasn’t worn, dented, and dull like the one that Old Dream had stuck on his stubborn skull.

It was small and, now that the mud had rinsed off, shiny as well, with only a scratch or two from Dream’s reckless playing.

Just like it was the last time Nightmare held it.

When Nightmare was a young child himself, whose biggest problem in life was Dream thinking it was sooo funny to jumpscare him. So Nightmare decided to retaliate and took off with Dream’s crown, his unhappy twin hot on his heels. He’d scaled their Tree to escape, but Dream caught him as always, ending their little spat with them both breathless but smiling.

It was a very faint memory, but not a forgotten one.

And to be holding the same crown now, in his large, blackened hands, it suddenly felt very . . . surreal.

It felt . . .

“You know, I like rain.”

Nightmare blinked and glanced over at Dream.

“. . . What?”

“I said I really like rain!” he repeated.

“You do?” Nightmare asked, turning off the sink.

“Yeah! Well, I-” Dream paused and pulled his shirt off with a grunt, “-I was kind of scared of it. Well, not really scared, but I didn’t want to go outside, because I didn’t know if I would like it. But Crossy- he told me it was fun if you run through the rain, so I did, and it was really fun!”

“Oh really . . .”

“‘And after we played tag- oh! And caught rain in our mouths too! Then we played in the mud. I tried to make a mud house, but the rain messed it up. And then Crossy started throwing mud at me and he hit me a lot, but he slipped so I threw a big ball of mud at his face!” Dream said, swinging a boot over his head to demonstrate.

Nightmare set the crown aside. “You did, huh.”

Dream giggled into his hand. "H-he looked really f-funny!”

“I’m sure he did,” he said, walking back over to him.

Using his tentacles, Nightmare gathered the filthy clothes off the floor and grimaced at them in disgust. Maybe it was a hypocritical reaction for a sludge-covered monster like himself, but as the saying goes, old habits die hard.

“Nightmare,” Dream said, holding out his pants.

He took them and said, “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.”

“Okay!” Dream smiled innocently as he rocked on his heels.

After giving him one more sharp look, Nightmare teleported against his better judgment to the laundry room.

There wasn’t much in the small space: just two machines side by side and a rickety rack of soaps. The last time Nightmare did any laundry in here was when Horror came down sick several months ago. Fortunately, he still remembered the steps.

First, put the clothes inside the machine.

Nightmare opened the side door easily enough and shoved the soiled clothing in the conveniently empty compartment, boots and all.

Next, pour in the soap.

Grabbing the closest jug, he generously doused the pile in the thick liquid before putting it back and shutting the door.

And finally, turn the machine on.

So Nightmare pushed the button with the bold word “START” under it and . . .

. . . nothing happened.

Confused, he looked behind it to see if maybe it was out of power. But no, the cord was connected to the electric box.

Nightmare tried pushed the button again, and again, and again. He even held it for several seconds, but still the stubborn machine would not start.

“Ugh- I do not have time for this,” Nightmare growled, whipping out his phone.

He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to do this. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and since he didn’t want a repeat of the coffee maker incident, Nightmare dialed the number despite his feeling of dread.

After three buzzing noises, he heard a grumbled, “yeah?”

“Horror, it’s me again,” he said, keeping his voice level. “I’m trying to clean Dream’s clothes, but the machine here refuses to start. And yes, I made sure it was connected to the electricity. Is it by any chance broken?”

“I don’t think so . . .” Horror replied, “. . . what cycle is it on?”

“Cycle? What are you talking about?”

“Look at the knob . . . should say stuff like . . . normal n’ heavy duty on it . . .”

Nightmare squinted at the panel.

“All I see are a bunch of numbers and the words ‘sanitize’ and ‘wrinkle control’.”

Horror was quiet for a second.

And then a second more.

And then . . .

“ . . . uh, that’s the dryer. Not the washer.”

Nightmare’s socket twitched.

“What idiot decided to put the dryer on the left side of the washer!?” he shouted.

“I dunno,” was Horror’s answer, but he still heard the unspoken, “probably you did”.

“Great . . .” Nightmare muttered to himself, rubbing his temple.

“I can fix it . . . if you want . . .” he offered casually.

“I . . .” he started, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, “ . . . I would appreciate you doing that. I need to return to Dream. Stars know what mess he’s made while I’ve been gone.”

“I’ll be there in a sec . . .” said Horror.

“Alright. And don’t say a word about this to anyone, understand?” he added sternly.

Horror gave a short, “sure thing” and ended the call.

That . . . wasn’t the most reassuring reply.

But Nightmare had more important things to worry about, so he pocketed his phone and promptly ported back to his bathroom.

Only for him to emerge from the shadows in time to witness Dream raising the opened soap bottle to his mouth.

Now, any responsible adult would rush to prevent the disaster that was seconds from occurring. But a more primal instinct overcame Nightmare. So instead of stopping Dream, he silently smirked as he watched his naive little sibling take a big gulp .

A second later, Dream’s face twisted with a delightfully sour expression. He bent forward and gagged, but it was too late- the soap had already been swallowed.

“Bleeeeh,” Dream groaned.

Nightmare couldn’t hold it in any longer and started laughing. Not a loud or hearty laugh, but not the usual half-hearted chuckle either. Just a deep, genuinely amused one.

Dream spun around and frowned.

“Stop laughing at me!” he huffed.

Of course, that only made Nightmare laugh more. Still, he hid his grin in his hand and grabbed his side, trying to calm down. But it wasn’t easy with Dream childishly glaring at him.

“I- eh heh- I can’t believe you drank that- eh heh hah

“But it- it smelled good! Like ice cream!” Dream said defensively, wiping the soap from his mouth.

Nightmare took a deep breath and walked over to him.

“Just because it smells good doesn’t mean it tastes good, ” he chuckled.

(Though in his opinion, mint flavored ice cream didn’t taste good either, but he digressed.)

Taking the soap and setting it on the tub rim, he added smugly, “you should’ve listened when I told you not to touch anything.”

Dream puffed out his cheeks and turned his back to him in response.

“How mature,” he murmered, turning one of the knobs.

Dream grumbled something back, but Nightmare didn’t catch it over the rushing water.

Sticking his hand under the spout, he found the temperature hot like he’d hoped. After making sure the plug was in place, he stepped back and looked down at Dream. The small skeleton was slumped against the tub and eyeing the evil soap bottle.

“Here, tell me how the water feels to you,” Nightmare said, nudging him closer.

Dream stood on his toes and excitedly swished at the water, spraying droplets everywhere.

“It feels great! It’s so warm. Can I get in it now?” he asked as he turned back around.

Unfortunately, he turned too far and knocked the bottle off the rim with his elbow. It landed with a splash in the steadily rising water before Nightmare had a chance to grab it.

Dream peeked back over the rim.

“Oops.”

Nightmare lifted the dripping bottle out. “I guess a bubble bath will work too.”

“A bubble bath? Cool!” Dream ooed.

He watched with captivated excitement as the water level rose higher and higher, flooding the tub with white foam. The fresh minty scent also rose and filled the room. It was a bit strong for Nightmare, but Dream seemed happy with it, even after his little taste test.

“Now can I get in?” Dream asked again, bouncing impatiently.

The tub looked about half full, so Nightmare said, “yes, you can get in.”

As his brother started climbing over the side, he added, “and try not to-”

But a wave from Dream’s headlong dive cut him off.

“. . . splash.”

Nightmare frowned from the wet floor to the culprit who was happily sloshing around in the sudsy water, completely oblivious to his silent scolding.

“This is amazing! It's so warm, I love it! This is way better than the river!” Dream cheered, splashing another wave over the side in his enthusiasm.

“Quit wasting all the water,” he said as he turned the faucet off.

Now it was Dream’s turn to frown. “Hey, why did you make it stop?” he whined.

“I’m not letting you have more water if you’re just going to spill it. Besides, you’ve got enough now,” answered Nightmare, sitting down in front of the tub.

“But I need more bubbles!” Dream demanded and slammed his fists, disturbing the bubbles he already had.

He grabbed a towel and told him flatly, “the soap is for cleaning with, not for playing with.”

After soaking it thoroughly, Nightmare wrung the excess liquid out and handed it to Dream, but Dream just stared at it from where he was sulking nose-deep in water.

“Sit up and wash yourself. Unless you want me to do it for you,” he threatened.

“Okay” Dream gurgled, taking the towel.

Nightmare perched his elbow on the rim and rested his chin on his knuckles. “Make sure to scrub hard."

Dream responded by smashing the towel onto his face and start violently scrubbing away at it.

“Not that hard-” Nightmare quickly stretched out a hand.

But Dream jerked back and clutched the towel to his shoulder. “No! I’m doing it!”

Nightmare rolled his eyelight. “Well, do it right then.”

“I was doing it right,” Dream said stubbornly as he resumed washing.

Nightmare watched him with a silent, but critical eyelight. Dream continued much more gently (almost too gently) until his face was white again. But when Dream worked his way to the rest of his skull, he only gave it a few rubs before moving on to his arms.

“I still see mud,” he pointed out. “And don’t forget to clean your ears.”

Dream sighed dramatically and rubbed the cloth over the surface of his ear canals.

“No, you need to clean inside them.”

“I am,” he huffed

“No you’re not. Look, I’ll show you,” Nightmare said, holding his hand out expectantly.

Dream rolled his own little eyelights, but gave the towel up without resistance this time. Grabbing the side of his skull, Nightmare held him firmly as he poked the towel in the tiny opening, cleaning out any mud and residual magic inside.

Dream scrunched his face. “Nnhh-!”

“Almost done,” Nightmare said as he switched sides, “hold still."

As soon as he finished, Nightmare dipped the towel in the water and began washing the back for good measure. Like he suspected, Dream had done a poor job, especially near his neck. Nightmare started to clean it too, but the instant the fabric brushed against his vertebrae, Dream twitched.

Followed by a little, “Snnk-!”

He paid the snort no mind and scrubbed between the discs, only to be stopped again by Dream lunging forward.

“Ah!- ah ha ha! Eh heh, heh,” he snickered as he hunched his shoulders.

Nightmare paused, a sly smile slipping up his face.

“My, there sure is a lot of dirt right here,” he tsked, struggling to keep the smile out of his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you.”

“No, don’t-” Dream tried to say, but he was too late.

Nightmare attacked, using both towel and finger to scratch at his neck, and instantly Dream broke into a fit of giggles.

“Stop- eeK! ha ha- Stop, s-stop!” he stammered, trying to squirm free of Nightmare’s iron grasp. “Ah ha ha ha- d-don’t! Ha ha- stop!”

“Don’t stop? Okay, if you insist,” Nightmare said, moving his hand to tickle underneath his chin.

Dream’s laughter weakened as he grew out of breath, but his efforts to escape the merciless onslaught did not. And since Nightmare’s hand was now removed from his neck, he finally had an advantage. He took it, and after a few hard tugs, he slipped from his grip and slumped back against the tub.

“Tha . . . that was . . . so mean!” Dream wheezed indignantly, still smiling.

He chuckled. “That’s what happens when you don’t do it right the first time.”

Dream kicked his foot and splashed a spray of water at him.

“Hey now, don’t start that,” Nightmare scolded lightly.

Wetting the towel again, he smiled, “come on, you need to finish washing.”

“Okay. But I’m going to do it by-! My-! self-!, so you don’t tickle me again!” said Dream as he sat up.

“Aw, do you really think I’d do that?” he said mockingly

“Yes!” he humphed, snatching the towel from him.

Nightmare smirked but said nothing as Dream continued bathing, still a little guarded as he wiped down his shoulders to his arms.

“Make sure you get in between your joints too,” he commented off-handedly.

Dream lifted up his elbow, displaying a layer of mud caked within the crack, and started scrubbing at it.

“Stars, Dream, what did you do, go swimming in it?” Nightmare muttered.

“No, I didn’t,” said Dream as wiped off the other one. “The mud wasn’t very deep, so I couldn’t swim in it. That would be really cool though! I’d love to swim in mud. Next time, I’m gonna made a big hole and-”

“Next time?” Nightmare repeated, raising a brow bone. “There’s no ‘next time’.”

Dream dropped his arms with a splash. “What? Why?”

“Because you’ll just make another mess all over again.”

“I won’t! I’ll be really, really careful Nighty. I promise!”

Nightmare glanced away from his puppy eyes and hummed, “well . . . if you wear more proper attire next time and don’t trail mud through the halls, then maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Dream perked back up. “And next time you’ll play with me too, right?”

He gave him an incredulous look.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Besides, you know I’m not fond of getting dirty,” he said, though the familiarity of that statement felt . . . strange.

Dream tilted his head. “But you’re always dirty.”

“What?” Nightmare started, then curled his fingers. “Oh. No, this isn’t dirt, it’s magic. Remember?”

“I know. But I . . ." Dream paused, thinking hard as he struggled to find the right words. "You’re not- you still look like, like how you used too, right? If you didn’t have magic all over you?”

Ignoring his shattered socket, he shrugged, “I suppose so. What’s your point?”

“You gotta to take a bath too,” Dream concluded matter-of-factly.

Nightmare furrowed his brow. “My magic doesn’t work like that. It’s a part of me now. I can’t wash it off.”

“Have you tried?”

“Well yes, but that’s not-”

“Can I try? I can help!” Dream said optimistically.

He shook his head, “No you can’t, I just said-”

“-But I wanna try! Pleaseee?” he asked, holding out his little hand.

Nightmare stared at it, then at Dream’s hopeful face, and exhaled a short sigh.

“Fine. If this is what it takes for you to believe me, then be my guest,” he said, begrudgingly extending his arm.

Dream grabbed his fingers with a confident nod. “Don’t worry Nighty, I’ll get you cleaned up!”

Nightmare snorted, but remained still as his sibling started wiping his palm.

But the sudsy water did nothing but run off the rubbery surface. The more seconds passed, the harder Dream tried- his strokes getting faster and wilder; his determined grin falling into a frustrated grimace. But even with his increased effort, the goop didn’t come off.

The goop would never come off.

Nightmare had accepted that fact centuries ago and was more than content with it. But Dream still stubbornly scrubbed at it despite how obviously pointless doing so was. And when it seemed like he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, Nightmare cleared his throat.

“There, see,” he said, snapping the wide golden eyelights up to him. “I told you it can never wash off.”

Dream’s gaze fell back to his hand. “Never?”

“Never,” he echoed solemnly.

“Oh . . .” was all Dream said, but the disappointment in his soul spoke volumes.

Nightmare frowned.

What, was his appearance a problem now?

Had Dream only accepted him because he thought the pale, purple-eyed skeleton was trapped under his corrupted magic? Was Dream going to reject him now that he could never have his “normal” twin back? Was Dream, at his core, no different than his adult self?

Nightmare glanced off to the side.

No . . . none of that was true and he knew it.

His younger brother is different. His younger brother is not a stubborn fool, but a good-natured kid who learned less than a week ago that his twin brother is now this older, malformed monster. A monster that he’d played no part in creating.

Nightmare looked again at the sullen littlebone, this time with a more . . . sympathetic expression.

Lifting up a tentacle, he lightly poked his forehead.

“Hey.”

Dream slowly gazed up.

“At least I have this now,” he weakly smiled and wiggled the tendril. “It’s . . . ‘cool’, right?”

Dream stared at it, then back at him, and smiled.

“Yeah. It is really cool,” he said, letting go of Nightmare’s hand.

Then his eyelights lit up. “Hey, can I get magic tent-ackles too?”

“Tentacles,” Nightmare corrected, “and no, that’s not possible.”

“Why not?” he pouted.

“Because only I am cool enough to have them,” he teased, flicking him on the forehead.

Dream clumsily swiped at his hand and missed. “Nu uh, I’m cool too!”

“Cool kids don’t play in the rain and track mud everywhere with their dirty little feet.”

“I don’t have any mud on my feet. See-,” Dream raised his foot, splashing water over the side, “-no mud!”

Nightmare hummed. “You’re right.”

“So does that mean I can get tentacles too?”

“No, but it does mean it’s time for you to get out,” he said, finding the floating towel and twisting it.

Dream’s foot fell with a plop.

“Aww. Can I stay for just a little more?” he asked, sinking lower into the water.

“Nope.” Nightmare stood up and stretched, closing his socket to whatever pitiful look Dream was giving him. “Now are you going to get out yourself, or do you need me to help?”

“No, I got it,” Dream said, resigning his fate and standing up as well.

Nightmare grabbed the larger towel as waited for his sibling to climb out. Dream managed to get one leg over before he froze and looked apprehensively at the floor, clinging to the side like a drowned cat. Nightmare wordlessly held a tentacle within reach.

Dream held onto it with a vice-like grip and released his hold on the tub, slipping the rest of the way onto the floor. He stumbled a little, but the tentacle balanced him back upright. Dream let go and hugged his arms as his bones rattled slightly from the cold air.

“Here,” Nightmare said, throwing the towel over his head, creating a small ‘oof’. “Dry yourself.”

Pulling it off, Dream began rubbing his face in the fluffy fabric.

While he was occupied with that, Nightmare slipped his phone out and privately messaged Horror for the state of Dream’s clothes. The reply was relatively quick. Though the answer that the outfit was still being washed wasn’t the one he wanted. He told Horror to keep him updated and put the device a way with a disgruntled hmph.

“I’m afraid your clothes aren’t clean yet,” he said, glancing down at Dream. “Do you have anything you can wear in the meantime?”

If he didn’t, Nightmare could probably get one of his boy’s old shirts for him to wear. Or maybe he should send one of them to an AU for some child-sized clothing. Or perhaps he should just-

“I have my play clothes in my room.”

Nightmare stared at him.

“Oh. Good. Well-” he crossed the room and opened the door. “-let’s go.”

Dream waddled over with the towel wrapped around him, and then abruptly stopped.

“Wait, my crown!” he cried, turning to the sink and grabbing the shiny circlet off the counter.

Dream struggled to do it with one hand but eventually got it on, albeit crookedly. “Okay, I’m ready now,” he announced.

Nightmare swept his arm forward, “after you.”

“Thank you,” said Dream, holding his head high as he walked past him, the long towel dragging on the floor.

Pocketing his hands, Nightmare leisurely followed a little ways behind. They traveled in silence save for the rapid click-clacking of Dream’s little bare-boned feet as he marched. That, plus the downy white towel he was bundled in, reminded Nightmare of a little bird, like a baby swan or duckling.

And if the comparison coaxed a fond smile to his face, no one but him caught it.

Dream certainly didn’t. As soon as the bedroom door was in sight, he dropped his regal air and raced headlong for it, leaving Nightmare in the dust. Slamming his hand onto the wood, he spun around with shining eyelights.

“I win!” he declared.

Nightmare calmly opened the door. “Congratulations,” he said, and followed Dream inside.

“So, where are the clothes?” he asked as he closed it behind them.

“In there!” said Dream, pointing to the large plastic chest decorated with stickers.

Nightmare lifted the lid and stared into the swirl of chaos. There were an assortment of colorful balls, plastic animals, what he assumed to be strictly toy weapons, and other items he didn’t recognise. But there was nothing that looked like normal, decent clothing.

He raised a brow bone at Dream. “Are you sure it’s in here?”

“Yeah, this is where I keep my stuff,” he said, digging through the carnage. After a moment, Dream yanked his hand out and exclaimed, “Aha! I found it!”

Nightmare eyed the flopping wings and smushed spines. “ . . . That’s a dragon costume.”

“Yep! I play the dragon and Crossy plays the knight, just like in the stories. But I always defeat him,” Dream explained.

“I'm not surprised,” he said dryly, taking the towel so he could put on the convenient, though unconventional outfit.

Dream slipped his legs in one after the other, being careful not to step on the swinging green tail. He pulled his arms into the sleeves and started buttoning the front, slowly but surely making his way to the top. The suit was a size too big based on how baggy it hung, but Dream didn’t seem to mind it bunching at his hands and feet.

“See! Now I’m a scary dragon,” he grinned, flexing his hands like claws, “and I’m going to defeat you!”

Dream jumped and slammed into Nightmare’s leg, wrapping his arms around it.

The older skeleton stiffened. “Uh . . . congratulations, you have defeated me.”

“Nooo, Nightmare, you’re supposed to run away!” Dream pouted up at him.

“Well, you never asked if I wanted to play your little dragon game,” Nightmare said as he pried him off, “-and before you ask, the answer is no.”

“Oh, that’s okay! I know what we can do instead,” he said, digging again in his toy chest.

Nightmare sighed . “No, Dream, I can’t stay. I have . . . things to do.”

Like finish his book and replenish his tea mug.

“But this puzzle isn’t very fun to do alone,” Dream said, spinning around with the colorful box in question.

“Then, why don’t you go ask Horror to-”

“But I don’t wanna do it with Horror, I wanna do it with you!” he shouted. “Please, Nighty? I haven’t got to play with you all day . . .”

Unfortunately for Nightmare, he realised his mistake of staring into Dream’s pleading eyelights just a second too late.

He rubbed his socket. “Alright, fine,”

“Yesss!” Dream cheered and plopped down on his knees.

Nightmare joined him cross-legged on the floor, firmly adding, “just one puzzle though.”

“Okay,” his brother agreed.

While Dream spread the pile of pieces out, Nightmare picked up the lid and boredly glanced at the picture they were to put together. A castle stood atop a flowered hill with a rainbow arched above it, while a sparkly unicorn pranced along the bottom. It was simple enough, but the colors alone were so disgustingly bright, Nightmare could practically taste the positivity.

“Isn’t it really pretty?” asked Dream.

“Charming.”

“I’m going to do the unicorn first,” he decided, grabbing anything with a speck of pink on it.

Propping the pungent picture up on a tentacle, Nightmare said, “Alright, I’ll work on the castle,” and began collecting his needed pieces in a neat pile.

“That’s a good idea! I like the castle, but all the pieces are all purple and it’s hard to figure out which ones to put together,” Dream told him as he connected the horse’s head to its neck.

He glanced over at the picture. “I wish your castle was purple. That would be so cool! Can you make the castle purple, Nightmare?”

“It’s not impossible, but just because I could, doesn’t mean I’m going to. Or even want to, for that matter,” he answered, snapping the cardboard into place.

“But purple is your favorite color,” Dream said.

Nightmare stared at the piece pinched between his fingers.

“It’s . . . not anymore.”

“It’s not?”

He shook his head.

Dream was quiet for a moment. “So . . . what is your favorite color?”

“Black.” It was the first color that came to mind.

“Really?” Dream titled his head. “Is that why the castle is black?”

“No, it’s just the way I uh . . . found it."

“You found it? Like the story?”

“Yes, like the story.”

“Oh wow, that’s so cool! I thought that it was all just made up. Like the fairies and trolls and octopuses-ses. All that stuff. But it’s real and now you and me, we all live in one. Now we’re in the story! It’s so cool!” Dream rambled, his eyelight’s sparkling.

Nightmare smiled at him. “You think so, huh? Do you like living in a castle better?”

“Uh huh! There’s so many places to play in, and I like the kitchen. And my room, and my bed. It’s big and comfy. I didn’t like it at first, but now sleeping in a bed is waaay better than sleeping under the . . . than sleeping outside.”

Dream’s smile slowly fell as he fidgeted with a puzzle piece.

“But sometimes . . . sometimes, I miss looking at all the stars when I go to sleep.” He stared up at him with a sad sort of curiosity.

“Do you miss looking at the stars too, Nighty?”

As Nightmare tried to think of a response, the door flew open with a startling bang.

Cross rushed in a second later carrying a mop of all things. He quickly shut the door and leaned his back against it, breathing shortly.

“Oh-!” he started, noticing the two staring at him. “-uh, hey guys!”

“What are you doing,” Nightmare asked, lidding his socket.

Cross shifted in place, “Uh, well, Killer’s kinda annoyed with me right now, so I-”

A knife suddenly thumped into the door, it’s blade protruding through mere inches from his head.

“Shit-” Cross swore quietly, though loud enough for Nightmare to glower at, and stumbled away from the door.

It flew open again, only this time Killer stomped through it, his dark, murderous sockets fixed soley on Cross.

The monochrome skeleton whipped the tasseled end of the mop at him. “hey, hey, hEY-!”

But Killer just grabbed the mop and shook it.

“Stop swinging this thing in my face!” he snarled.

“Killer.”

The skeleton jerked his head at Nightmare. “What!? He slapped me in the face with it!” He jabbed the knife in his other hand at the wet spot on his cheek and chest.

“Because you kicked my water!” yelled Cross as he yanked the mop free.

Killer scoffed. “Toldja’ it was an accident.”

“Accident my coccyx!” he said, shaking it inches from the other’s head.

“Both of you drop it,” Nightmare finally snapped.

The two stopped and looked at him, each lowering their respective weapons.

“You know the rule. No fighting in here.” He nodded for emphasis at his brother, who had checked out of the argument and resumed his puzzle piecing. “Take your petty squabbles somewhere else.”

“Yes Sir. Sorry.”

“Yeah. Got it.”

Nightmare took their simultaneous apologies, as flimsy as they were, and narrowed his socket at Cross.

“Are you done cleaning, yet?”

“Well, I was almost done until someone-” Cross shot a dark look at his companion “-’accidentally’ knocked my water everywhere.”

“Go and take care of that,” Nightmare said, not unkindly, but in a tone that left no room for argument.

Cross gave Killer one last side-glare over his shoulder before silently storming out of the room.

The black-eyed menace sneered. “See ya, Crosserella . . .”

“Did you and Dust take care of business this morning?” Nightmare asked sharply.

Killer looked back at him and twirled his knife between his fingers. “Yeah. It went fine. Though Duster had a little issue at one point.”

“Oh? What kind of issue?”

“Done!” Dream suddenly interrupted, clapping his hands. “See, Nightmare!”

“Just an LV flare. Nothin’ I couldn’t handle.”

“Nightmare?”

“That’s good. Do you-”

”Nightyyyy”

Nightmare quickly glanced down at the glittery pink horse.

“Very nice, Dream-” he commented. He looked back at Killer “-Do you know where Dust is right now?”

The other shrugged. “I dunno. Probably in his room or something.”

“I see. Very well, you’re dismissed.”

Killer turned on his heel and sauntered lazily toward the door.

Nightmare waited until he reached it to say, “oh, and one more thing.”

He stopped. “Yeah?”

“If I ever see another knife in Dream’s door, there will be consequences.”

Killer plucked his knife from the wood. “Tch’, sure. Like what?”

He looked over with a smirk that told Nightmare he wasn’t going to like what came out next.

“You gonna make me do laundry too or something?”

Nightmare bristled.

“Leave,” he hissed, seconds from throwing the skeleton through the door himself.

But Killer was smart enough to slip out, shutting the door behind him with a satisfied snicker.

Rrg- Damn him! Damn Horror! Damn them all! The insubordinate, insufferable little-

“Ah-heem!”

Nightmare glared down at his sibling. “What?”

“Are you going to finish the castle now?” Dream glared back.

“I won’t if you keep pestering me,” he snipped.

Dream said nothing and stared sourly at the puzzle.

Nightmare turned his attention to it as well and resumed his section of the picture. He wasn’t in a puzzle-piecing mood anymore, but he wasn’t about to stop it and storm off just because he was feeling frustrated. His pride wouldn’t let him.

And although the silence that fell on the room felt a tad tense, the quiet change gave Nightmare a chance to clear his head. The puzzle was also a surprisingly helpful distraction. So that within a minute or two, Nightmare’s temper cooled off, leaving him burnt out but otherwise normal.

Dream on the other hand was still strangely quiet.

Nightmare glanced over with concern curiosity and found his sibling still sulking as he sifted through the puzzle pieces.

Before he could make any comment on it, a soft knock cut him off.

“Come in,” he told them curtly and paused, puzzle piece in hand.

The door creaked open, revealing the “them” to be Horror as he peeked his skull inside.

Nightmare felt a flicker of indignation at the sight of his betrayer. A part of him wanted to lash out at him for leaking his little laundry mishap. But the other part of him told him that doing so would achieve nothing besides adding more fuel to the fire, which he had already done in his response to Killer’s teasing.

So he settled for disapproving scowl instead.

Horror didn’t bat a socket at it though and slowly said, “Sorry I uh . . . just need to ask . . . something . . .”

“What?”

He sensed Dream’s mood dip after he said that- another odd piece to his puzzling attitude, but he shoved it aside for later.

“I was gonna make noodle soup,” Horror went on, “ . . . but we don’t have noodles so . . .”

His bulbous eyelight shifted over to Dream.

“. . . so I was . . . gonna . . .”

Nightmare looked as well, just in time to see a tiny hand reaching for his own.

“What are you doing? Stop it-” he said, holding his arm higher.

Dream sat back down. “But I need that!” he huffed.

“Then use your words,” Nightmare scolded as he handed over the piece he so desperately needed.

He rolled his eyelight at Horror. “Continue.”

“I was gonna make . . . a veggie pie instead . . . if that’s okay. ”

“That sounds fine,” Nightmare agreed.

Horror glanced at Dream again. “You wanna help later, little chef?”

“No. I don’t wanna cook,” he mumbled to the floor.

“Oh . . . okay” Horror said simply, but Nightmare could feel the ping of hurt in his soul.

The second the skeleton was gone, he frowned at his brother.

He understood why Dream was upset with him, seeing how he had slacked off on his part of the puzzle. What he didn’t understand was why he had given Horror (of all skeletons) the cold shoulder. It’s not like Dream was too busy having fun with him at the moment.

Nightmare opened his mouth to confront Dream when the door opened for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

“Hey Night, do you-”

Dream snapped his head up and actually growled at the visitor, as if he had transformed into the little dragon he was dressed as.

Dust stood in the doorway and stared wide-eyed back and forth between each brother.

Then without a word, he slowly closed the door.

Dream crossed his arms. “Hmmph!”

“Okay, that’s enough. What has gotten into you, Dream?” Nightmare demanded, folding his own arms.

“Everybody keeps coming in my room!”

“So? They didn’t bother you. They were talking to me.”

“Yeah! You talked and didn’t do the puzzle with me!” Dream pointed at the nearly completed picture.

“What else was I supposed to do, ignore them?” he argued.

“No, but-”

“Then what did you want me to do?”

“You didn’t- . . . I want- . . . I don’t know . . .” Dream faltered.

“So when I don’t give you attention for two seconds, that gives you the excuse to act like this?” he pressed.

Dream stayed silent, fuming down at his lap.

“I didn’t think so.”

Still nothing.

“You better not behave like this again,” Nightmare added sternly. “I’m not going to stop everything to play with you just because you want me too.”

“I know!” Dream shouted, clenching his little fists. “But I have gotten to play with you all day. It’s not fair!”

He hastily rubbed one of his shut sockets. “It’s not fair . . . you’re my brother, I just wanna play together. Like . . . like we used to . . .”

Ah. There it was.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Nightmare gently touched Dream’s cheek with a tentacle.

He had dealt with enough water for one day.

“Look . . . I know you like playing together,” he said softly, “I like playing together too. But I can’t do it all the time anymore. I’m an adult now, so I have to do adult things sometimes. You know that, right?

Dream leaned over and hugged the tentacle to his chest. “Mmmhmm . . .”

“I’ll try to make time to play with you when I can, and in turn, I want you to try being more understanding. Alright?”

When Dream didn’t respond, Nightmare bent a little closer to him. “Alright?”

The golden eyelights finally flickered up.

“Alrighty Nighty . . .” Dream sighed.

“Good,” he said, patting his skull with a smile and earning a small but bright one in return.

Nightmare then tried to slip his tendril out of Dream’s grip, but stopped when Dream squeezed it tighter.

“Come on Dream, let it go,” he said, tugging it gently.

“Nope.” Dream popped matter-of-factly. “It’s mine now.”

“Oh? How are you going to finish the puzzle then?” Nightmare pointed out.

“I did finish!”

Nightmare glanced down to see Dream was right- the puzzle was complete, save for one last piece lying next to his leg.

He held it up. “Seems like you missed a piece.”

“No I didn’t. I saved that one for you!” Dream beamed proudly.

Nightmare's socket widened as his soul melted just a bit from that warm, affectionate smile.

“Oh. Well, uh, thank you,” he said, giving him a lopsided smile back.

He slid the last piece into place, completing the grotesque picturesque scene. “There, all done.”

“Great! Let’s play something else!” said Dream.

When the goopy skeleton shot him a look, the littlebone sheepishly dipped his head.

“I mean, can we play something else now? Since the puzzle didn’t take very long . . .” he asked, tapping his fingers.

Nightmare rubbed his chin and pretended to think. “Well, I suppose I could spare a few more minutes. What did you have in mind?”

“Um, I don't . . . oh wait! I’ve got it!” Dream let go of the tentacle and scrambled to his feet.

Nightmare copied him and stood up, though a bit more slowly than his hyperactive twin.

Dream reached underneath his bed and pulled out a book, holding it up excitedly. “We can read this!”

“Again?” Nightmare asked, looking at the crayon-colored bears.

Dream jumped up. “Yeah! It’s your favorite, right?”

“Eh, sure,” he conceded, shuffling toward the bed.

Having lived as long as he had, Nightmare knew which battles were worth his time, and this was not one of them.

Pushing aside the plethora of plushies Dream had somehow accrued, Nightmare fluffed the pillows up and laid down. It wasn’t as spacious as his own bed, but it was fairly comfortable. Nightmare crossed his ankles and let all but one of his tentacles fall to the floor.

Dream climbed on after him and crawled up to where the fourth tendril lay curled and waiting.

“Where’s your little friend?” he asked, quirking a brow at the missing purple doll.

“What little friend?” said Dream as he snuggled up to his side.

Nightmare crossed his arms behind his head. “Nevermind. Go on and read.”

“Okay.” Dream flipped open the book to the first page and looked up at him. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” he nodded.

“Patchwork and Pincushion were the best of friends, They did everything together!” Dream began.

Nightmare followed the words along with Dream as he read. But since the story had little to offer the first time and he’d already seen all the childish pictures, Nightmare found his focus waning fast. Soon, his mind wandered to other things.

Such as the sound of the heavy rain drumming against the window.

It filled the room with it’s low, repetitive music. Slowly, Dream’s voice began to fade into the background, becoming one with the white noise. Nightmare stared at the glass, watching the droplets run down and down, as his socket grew heavier and heavier and . . .

“. . . don’t you, Nightmare? Uh . . . Nightmare? Nightmare!”

He opened his socket and blinked blearily.

“Mmm . . . Hmmm?”

Dream squinted at him. “Are you falling asleep?”

“No, no, I’m awake,” he yawned, removing his hands from behind his head and folding them over his chest. “Keep reading.”

Dream scrutinized him another moment, then slowly turned back to the book.

“Okay, so, . . . The next morning, Patchwork folded and put away all the laundry.”

As his sibling read on, Nightmare tried to stay alert.

He really did.

But when his thoughts went back to floating aimlessly, any attempt to catch them was like trying to catch the bubbles from Dream’s bath.

And after spending all morning on that arduous task, and then dealing with all the drama that followed, he deserved to relax a little. To just . . . rest his socket for a moment. Surely that wouldn’t hurt. Dream wouldn’t even notice he closed it.

Except that Dream did notice when Nightmare’s socket refused to open after several pokes.

After the fifth poke, Dream gave up and pouted at his brother crossly.

First Nightmare didn’t do the whole puzzle with him, and now he didn’t even listen to him read the whole story! And while the puzzle wasn’t all his fault, this time it was. Which was weird, because Nightmare loved loves reading books. He never used to fall asleep when they read together.

Right?

Dream stared his little picture book thoughtfully.

Well . . . he remembered how when they used to play together before, Nightmare always got tired of playing faster than he did. And his twin took lots of naps too. Sometimes Dream would join him, though he usually tried to see how much stuff he could pile on Nightmare before he woke up instead.

But that was different! Now Nightmare is tired all the time!

Was it because he was bigger and older now? Or maybe all the goopy magic made him tired. There was also his very important job that made him write a bunch and go lots of places. If Dream had to spend all day writing boring words, he knows he’d be really tired too.

Dream glanced again at Nightmare’s sleeping face.

It looked completely different from how Dream remembered, but at the same time, it didn’t look different at all.

Just like everything else about Nightmare.

It was so confusing. Dream started to get a concussion the more he tried to figure it out. But there was one thing that Dream knew for sure with all his soul, and that Nightmare was still his brother no matter what he looked like.

And as his brother, it was Dream’s job to take care of him!

So he set the book aside and slowly pulled the tentacle wrapped around his ankle off. It twitched slightly after being freed, but thankfully Nightmare didn’t wake up. Next, Dream carefully and not-at-all-clumsily scooted off the bed. He picked up a small, star-covered blanket and threw it over Nightmare’s chest, tucking it around his neck like he does for him sometimes.

Once Dream was happy with his work, he leaned forward and nudged Nightmare’s cheek.

“Sleep tight, Night Night,”

Dream then quietly tip-toed out of the room and shut his door behind him. While his brother napped, Dream headed down the hall to find Rory and help him cook lunch. He is the “little chef” after all. And that way when Nightmare woke up, they could all eat a delicious meal together!

Just like they always do.

Chapter Text

“Ughh . . . where is it, dammit . . .” Nightmare muttered under his breath, slamming the counter cabinet door shut.

He stood up and opened the top cupboard again, and again he saw nothing but mugs and a leaky coffeemaker they for some reason still kept. Nightmare glared at it, but the broken pot remained a broken pot, and his missing tea kettle remained a missing tea kettle. It was insulting, really.

But after five minutes of stubbornly poking into every cobwebbed corner, he finally conceded that his kettle was indeed not in the kitchen.

Which left only one other possibility.

Nightmare glanced over his shoulder at the door where the muffled noise was coming from.

One that he had a very strong hunch about.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the broken appliance into the black void where it belonged. Then crossing the room he opened the door, tentacles writhing, words sharp and at the ready-

-only to be greeted with the gruesome sight of a helpless human woman being brutally stabbed.

On the television screen, of course.

Her bloody screams were barely audible to keep Dream from hearing and getting curious, making Nightmare feel self-consciously loud as he approached the back of the couch. Looking over, he saw Horror lying down on his side, while Killer sat on the floor with a knife dangled over his knee. Despite the near silence, neither skeleton acknowledged his presence.

He started to announce it himself, but Killer stopped him with a harsh laugh.

“Ha, see- called it.”

“Mmm . . .” Horror grunted.

Killer’s cocky smile fell. “What, I did?”

“She isn’t blonde . . .” the other replied, his hazy red orb staring unblinkingly at the screen.

“Yeah she is. What else would you call that?” Killer jabbed his knife at the human slowly dying from blood loss.

Horror said nothing for a moment, either pretending to think or actually thinking about it- Nightmare couldn’t tell.

“ . . . Amber,” he said at last.

Killer lidded his sockets. “That’s a shade a’ blonde.”

The other half-heartedly shrugged.

“Tch, whatever,” said Killer, giving it up as well. “Humans all look the same anyway. Fuckin’ ugly, fleshy things . . .” He slashed the knife through the air. “ . . . look better covered in blood.”

Sensing the lull in the conversation, Nightmare coughed conspicuously into his fist.

“Excuse the interruption, but the tea pot I need to use is missing. Do either of you know where it is?”

“Nope,” Killer answered instantaneously.

Horror, on the other hand, shifted onto his back and looked up. He said after a thoughtful second, “Don’t . . . know . . . when’d you use it?”

“Not too long ago . . . earlier this week, I believe,” he said, thinking back to the recent rainy day. “Have you seen it lately?”

Horror shook his head slowly.

Nightmare curtly thanked him, holding in his sigh of disappointment, and headed back to the kitchen.

He had really liked that one . . .

But with Dust and Cross still out raiding one of the undertale labs, he had no choice but to heat his water in the coffee pot (the one that didn’t leak). That or go find tea pot replacement number 7, but that was probably more trouble than it was worth, as much as he hated the lingering taste of coffee in his-

“Ugh, it’s not that big a deal,” said Cross as Nightmare stepped into the room.

Oh.

Well then.

Looked like he wouldn’t need the coffee maker after all.

But that train of thought skidded to a stop as he observed the state of the monochrome skeleton.

Clearly he was irritated over something, his shoulders hunched and frown thin. Something to do with Dust judging by his lazer stare at him. But Nightmare wasn’t focused on the skeleton sticking halfway inside the freezer, he was focused on Cross’ right socket- or rather the purple ring of inflamed magic around it.

“What happened,” he said, more of a demand than an inquiry.

“Nothing,” Cross huffed, “I just-”

“-He didn’t take cover like I told ‘em and got caught in the blast,” Dust interjected, raising his monotone voice above the shuffling of frozen waffles and ice cream bars.

Cross glared at the other’s hood. “I tried to, but that stupid robot was relentless!”

“You weren’t injured anywhere else, were you? No chemical burns?” he asked. He knew full well Cross’ tendency to hide any injuries he could, and he wasn’t about to let him deflect.

“Nah. The floor broke his fall this time,” Dust informed him as he stood up. He shut the freezer door and shoved a bag of frozen peas at Cross.

Nightmare raised a brow bone at it. “I see. And were you not able to retrieve any medicinal candies while you were out?”

“I don’t need any,” Cross snapped. “It’s just a bruise, it’ll be gone in a few hours.”

“Then that’s how long yer gonna keep that on,” Dust said flately but firmly, his face darkening just a shade.

“Fine.” Cross slapped the bag onto his socket. “Happy?”

“Would be happier if you’d listened to me.”

Nightmare cleared his throat, capturing their attention. “By the way, since you’re both in here, have either of you seen the teapot recently?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s in my room right now,” said Dust.

Ah, that made sense- Dust had a habit of taking kitchen utensils to his room for experiments. It annoyed Horror to no end. Now he understood why.

“Want me to grab it?” the other added.

He tilted his head at the door. “If you would.”

Dust walked through the door without another word, magic probably still recovering from their earlier expedition, leaving Cross and him alone in the kitchen. Nightmare folded his arms at the sulking skeleton.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t like to be babied, you’re acting a lot like one right now,” he said pointedly.

“Me?" Cross waved his other hand at the door, "He’s the one making a big fuss about it. I told him I was fine, but he didn’t listen!”

“And why do you think that is?”

Before Cross could answer, a low whistle interrupted him.

“Nice one ya got there, Cross,” said Killer as he strolled over to them (no doubt drawn in by the sound of conflict).

Cross flipped his free middle finger at him, but Killer just grinned.

“What’d you do this time? Piss off a whimsun?”

“He certainly pissed off Dust when he didn’t take cover from the explosives again,” Nightmare replied for him.

“I’m right here you know!”

“Again?” said Killer, brushing over his outburst. “What’s this, like, the third time? Aren’t you sick of seeing stars yet?”

Seeing . . . Stars . . .

“Well someone had to go with him,” Nightmare distantly hears Cross say, but is too distracted by the tingle of dejavu to register it.

Instead, he lowered his head, mulling over the memory those words had triggered.

Dream fiddling with the puzzle piece in his lap . . . lifting his sad little eyelights at him . . . asking ever so softly “Do you miss looking at all the stars too, Nighty?” . . .

Now that he thought about it, a part of him still did.

But any time in the past that he spent stargazing had made him wistful and nostalgic. Feelings he’d spent centuries squeezing from his soul. Which is why he’d had Error remove any and all stars from the code of his domain.

He couldn’t have foreseen the unintended consequence it would have on his currently little brother.

It was no surprise though- Dream had slept under a starlit sky all his life, it was only natural he would miss them. Nightmare regretted that this hadn’t occurred to him sooner, but he quickly turned to more productive thinking, like figuring out how to rectify this little issue.

Taking Dream outside of the hideout wasn’t an option, of course. But surely there was some other way to show him some stars. Hmmm . . . maybe he could-

Something shoved his side.

“Hey? Did ya hear me?” Killer asked, following with another shove.

Nightmare blinked at him. “Hmm? Oh . . . no, sorry, I was just thinking for a moment. What did you say?”

“I said Cross is-”

“-What were you thinking about?” Cross asked hastily.

“Oh, nothing,” Nightmare flicked his hand. “Killer just reminded me of something Dream said the other day- about how he missed looking at the stars. So I was thinking of what to do about it.”

Cross perked up. “Oh! I know- you should get him those stars you stick to the ceiling. You know, that glow in the dark ones? That’d be really cool!”

He held his chin and nodded. “Mm, yes, that’s a good idea.”

“No it’s not,” Killer said, stepping forward with a frown. “If the kid wants to see the stars, then show him the real ones. Nunna that fake shit.”

“You mean like, taking him to Outertale?” asked Cross.

“No, Underfell,” was the snarky reply.

“Any AU is out of the question,” Nightmare said sternly, holding his head with an air of unquestionable authority.

“Why?”

Well . . . usually unquestionable.

“You know why, Cross.”

“Yeah, but, isn’t there some way to work it out? Just this one time?”

“Unless you know of a way to permanently dispose of two particular skeletons, then no.”

“Eh, those guys aren’t much of a threat now,” Killer waved dismissively. “And they haven’t pulled any stunt since the last one failed. Hell, they barely even show up anymore!”

“Didn’t see ‘em when I blew up that lab,” said Dust as he materialized beside him with the tea pot in hand.

“Last time I saw them was a couple raids ago, and I think it was just Ink,” Cross pitched in.

“Yeah, and it wasn’t much of a fight anyway. They’re getting kinda boring actually . . .” Killer muttered.

“I don’t care, I will not put Dream at risk,” Nightmare hissed at all three of them.

Honestly, he couldn’t believe that they were even entertaining the idea, much less encouraging him to do the same. Had they all lost whatever was left of their sanity?

“If you’re so paranoid about them finding him or whatever, then just get Error to keep a socket on them,” suggested Killer.

Yep, that confirmed it- they’d lost their minds. And the more this conversation continued, the closer he felt to losing his own. Still, he did his best to keep his tone even as he said, “Error is many things: reliable is not one of them.”

Cross raised a finger. “But you trust Error to babysit Dream sometimes!”

“That’s because I have no other choice,” he shot back.

“Come on, the dude fights Ink like everyday, it’s not something he can’t handle.”

“Whether he can or not isn’t the point, Killer. That’s not going to work-”

“Sure it’ll work!” said Cross. “He can keep Ink and Blue distracted while we hang out in that Outertale he likes to visit. The genocide one.”

“We could . . . have a picnic . . .”

Nightmare’s slitted eyelight honed in on Horror as he slid over to Cross, taking their side of the argument because why wouldn’t he.

“That’s a great idea!” Cross agreed. “We could make it a whole day thing and-”

“Enough.” He growled, whipping a tentacle with a crack.

All eyelights darted to him.

“Dream is not leaving the hideout and that. Is. Final.”

He looked at each one of them, but they all remained silent, either staring downcast at the floor like kicked puppies or frowning off to the side. Only Cross maintained eyelight to eyelight contact, his expression the definition of crestfallen.

“. . . what about Dream?”

“What about Dream,” he repeated sharply.

Cross slowly lowered his ice pack. “It would make him really happy . . . wouldn’t it?”

Nightmare . . . didn’t answer that.

Because it would make him really happy. Positively thrilled, to be exact (no pun intended). And as much as such exuberant emotions sickened him, the image of Dream’s unbridled joy gave him second thoughts . . .

Then third thoughts.

Then fourth thoughts.

Then finally, letting the silence hang for another second, he sighed heavily.

“I suppose so . . .”

Cross leaned forward. “Does . . . that mean we can go?”

Nightmare closed his socket. “If Error agrees . . .”

“Eee-yes!” he cheered.

The others weren’t as vocal with their enthusiasm, but Nightmare could still sense the disappointment lifting off their souls.

“. . But!” Nightmare continued as his socket opened, eyelight fuzzy and round again, “There are rules I expect you all to strictly follow.”

They focused their full attention on him at that, still grinning at him like idiots.

“No fighting around Dream like usual. Never leave him by himself. Always make sure one of you is with him or he’s somewhere I can see him. If someone, anyone, appears- you are to take him to the hideout immediately, nullify the threat, and notify me.”

Cross raised his hand.

“Also, we are going to Outertale and Outertale only. No side stops or impromptu visits.”

Cross lowered his hand.

“Soooo don’t kill each other, keep a eye on the kid, and don’t leave Outertale. Got it,” Killer summarized nonchalantly. It would’ve sounded disrespectful if Nightmare didn’t know better, but he did, so he let it slide.

“And keep in mind, this is a one time thing, so there will be no taking him to any AU’s afterwards,” he added.

Cross raised his hand again.

“Yes, Cross.”

“Even if he uses the puppy eyes?”

Nightmare lidded his socket. “If he uses his “puppy eyes” then come get me. I’ll deal with them.” He then turned to the rest. “Do all of you understand?”

Once he received all the murmurs of confirmation he’d been waiting for, Nightmare nodded. “Good.”

Killer swayed to the side. “So, when are you gonna talk to Error?”

“After I finish my paperwork,” he replied. “I’ll arrange for us to go tomorrow if possible.”

“K’ then, come on big guy, let’s finish the flick,” he waved at Horror.

Horror rolled his bloated eye good naturedly and followed the other back to the living room.

“I’m gonna go tell Dream-” Cross announced, throwing his frozen peas on the counter. But he only made it two steps before a tentacle blocked his path.

“Wait, Cross. Error still has to agree. It’s best if we tell him after arrangements have been made,” he said, mentally replacing the “we” with “I”.

Cross smiled. “Oh, so make it a surprise, good idea!”

“Kiddo loves those . . .” Dust commented, walking over to the counter.

Setting down the tea pot, he grabbed the frozen peas and turned back around. Cross opened his mouth to protest, but a flash of Dust’s eyelights stopped him. He groaned, swiping the frozen vegetable from him, and placed it back on his socket.

“So I trust you’ll keep it a secret then,” Nightmare pressed.

Cross swiped his pinched fingers across his teeth. “My mouth is sealed.”

“Oh? Did ya super glue them again?” asked Dust.

Nightmare swore he could see the fur of Cross’ hood bristling. “That was one time! And it was a prank!” he shouted, shoving him as he stormed into the hallway.

Dust left as well, chuckling to himself, “Still don’t know how you thought it was toothpaste . . .”

Now finally alone, Nightmare took a slow, deep breath and let his tentacles droop to the floor.

What had he just let himself get talked into . . .

Walking over to the counter, he picked up the tea pot and held it under the sink faucet. As the water rushed inside, he drummed his fingers on the countertop.

This . . . this was fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

Error would make sure Ink and Blue stayed busy worlds away from where they would be. Which was a dead timeline, which meant no NPC’s to run into. And even if one did show up- or more likely, another outcode- he and his boys would keep Dream safe.

Yes.

Yes, he had everything under complete and total control.

The boys would have their fun, Dream would get to see his stars, and everyone would be happy. Absolutely nothing could possibly go wrong tomorrow.

Nightmare would make sure of it.

“Now give me the egg, or you’ll be made into delicious dino nuggets!” the dinosaur demanded in Dream’s deepest, most scariest voice.

The chicken plushie in his other hand flapped frantically, letting out a high pitched squawk, “no, you can’t have my baby! Help! Someone help me!”

“No one can help you! Get her my evil dinosaurs!” roared the plastic villain.

The other three reptiles stood motionless in a row. Well, all of them except for one, which was lying on its face where it had fallen. Setting the dino aside, Dream sat the other one upright with a bone-rattling “grrr”.

The chicken bawked in distress at the fearsome beasts. But when all hope seemed lost, Dream stopped and scooted off his bed, shaking the tyrannosaurus off balance again. He then grabbed a toy lying limp on the floor and zoomed it through the air, adding a proper “woosh” as he slammed it onto the bed.

“Don’t- I mean, do not fear! Super Ducky is here!” shouted the stuffed bird, sticking his chest out just like the superheroes do.

Dream picked up the first dino again and gulped, “Super Ducky?!”

“Leave Chicky alone or face my feathers!” the brave hero said, flapping his fabric wings for emphasis.

But the villain wasn’t scared. “I’m not scared of you. Dinosaurs- attack that duck!”

Dream reached for the rest of the reptiles, each one giving a terrifying roar at the duck that would have made anyone run away in fear. But not Super Ducky. When one of the dinosaurs lunged at him, he flew into the air to dodge it, then dived down on its head, causing the stegosaurus to stumble.

Super Ducky repeated this super cool and amazing move on the other two bad guys until all three were lying on their sides fast asleep. With all of them taken care of, Ducky flew down in front of the last dinosaur, his beak set in a determined frown.

“I’ve- I have defeated everyone, so I win. Now you have to leave, you bad dinosaur!”

“Never!” yelled the villain, “and I’m not a dinosaur! I’m actually-”

Dream paused dramatically as the plastic reptile darted underneath his pillow. A moment later his hand emerged, this time holding a stuffed reptile. The brightly colored serpent jumped back over and landed with a “POOF” .

“-Sssssneaky Sssnake!” the creature announced with a raspy hiss.

Ducky took a long, long breath. “Sneaky Snake?!”

“Yes, that’s what I just said, ssstupid,” the mean snake replied.

“I’m not stupid,” Ducky snapped at his archny. . . archnemy . . . arch…..nem-y-sis. Archnem-y-sis.

“Stop being so mean,” he continued, “and leave Chicky’s egg alone.”

“No,” Sneaky Snake shouted.

“But why?” asked Ducky, his stitched face now looking very sad. “Why won’t you stop being so mean to everyone? You’re supposed to be nice. If you were nice, we could be friends!”

“I don’t want to be nice and I don’t want to be friends either. I want the egg,” the snake said stubbornly.

Suddenly, Sneaky Snake slithered toward Super Ducky, barely giving the bird time to fly and avoid getting tackled. Before Ducky could react, the snake scooped up the big polka-dotted egg (very clumsily so, as Dream’s hand wasn’t very big).

“Oh no! My baby! It’s taken!” the chicken cried.

But Super Ducky swooped to the rescue, saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll save it!”

And save it he did- chasing that sneaky snake to the foot of his bed and knocking into him right as he was about to jump off the “cliff”. He snatched the egg from him and carried it back to the chicken, leaving the unconscious snake on the blanket.

“Here you go,” said Ducky, nudging the egg that was twice as big as the mother.

“Thank you, Super Ducky, thank you! You’re the best!”

“You’re welcome, Chicky!” the duck replied as Dream sat up a little straighter. Dropping his duck, he crawled back over to the snake, lifting its head and hissing.

“You win again this time, Super Ducky, but you’ll never catch me! Ha ha ha!” he laughed.

Then he dived off the “cliff”, flopping soundlessly onto the floor.

“Oh no- Sneaky Snake!” yelled Ducky as Dream hopped off the bed

He ran as fast as he could, but he was too late- Dream kicked the snake underneath the bed, ruining his chance to catch the sly serpent. Kneeling down, Dream stuck the duck’s head into the dusty darkness.

“Come back here right now, Sneaky Snake,” he said, mimicking the stern tone Nightmare often used.

But unlike him, the stubborn, stuffed snake didn’t listen and continued to lie three feet out of reach.

Ducky slapped his beaded body on the ground, stumped as to what to do next- when the sound of footsteps put a stop to his puzzling.

“Did Sneaky Snake get away again?” asked a deep voice, much deeper than Dream’s dinosaur voice. Much nicer too.

Sitting back on his heels, Dream looked up at Nightmare and sadly sighed, “Yeah, he always gets away . . .”

At least, the bad guys on TV and in his story books always do, anyway.

But Dream didn’t want to end his game on such a sad note, so he smiled at the toy still in hand and said cheerfully, “but Super Ducky will catch him soon. Then they’ll be friends!”

“Oh I’m sure they will be,” said Nightmare in a slightly sarcastic tone.

But Dream was too busy realizing that Nightmare was standing over him and not at his desk doing boring grown up work to notice it.

“Did you want to play with me?” he asked, waving his toy up at him. “You can be Sneaky Snake again.” Nightmare was much better at playing the bad guys than him.

Without waiting for an answer, he dove back under the bed and stretched his arm towards the snake, fingers inches from the tip of its tail.

“Actually . . .” started Nightmare, causing him to pause. “. . . I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?!” Jolting up, Dream hit his head on the wooden bedframe. He winced and rubbed his skull. “Oww . . . “

“Careful.”

Dream ignored his reprimand and scrambled backwards, gaining a few scratches on the way out.

Then jumping to his feet, he shouted, “You have a surprise for me?!”

“I do,” was all Nightmare said, his hands hidden behind his back.

“What is it? What’s the surprise?” Dream tried to peek around him, but failed because Nightmare kept blocking him, the meanie.

“Follow me and you’ll see,” he said, turning away with a smug smile and revealing (to Dream’s disappointment) nothing but tentacles behind his back.

But the disappointment only lasted a second before ditched his duck on the floor and dived after Nightmare.

Skipping alongside him, he asked, “So where are we going?”

“To the kitchen,” said Nightmare, facing straight ahead.

“Why? Oh- is the surprise a special treat!” Dream gasped.

After all, he had been playing quietly by himself all morning like a good little skeleton, and good little skeletons get treats!

Nightmare peered down at him from the corner of his socket. “Hm, not quite.”

“Oh,” Dream said, turning thoughtful. “Well- um . . . it’s not lunch time yet . . . oh! I know! Me and you-”

“-You and I.”

“You and I are going to go cook together!” he said, confident that he had guessed it right this time.

“Nope, try again,” said Nightmare.

But Dream was tired of guessing and switched tactics.

“What is it, Nighty, tell meee!" he whined, grabbing Nightmare’s arm and dragging his feet.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” he said, continuing to stroll down the hall unhindered.

“Awwww, please? Give me a hint. Just one little one. Pleaseee?"

Nightmare sighed and pulled his arm out of his grip. “Calm down, Dream. It won’t kill you to practice some patience.”

“Yes it will! I need to know what it is! If I don’t, I’m- I’m gonna explode!” he exclaimed, demonstrating said explosion with his arms and a very convincing ’KA-BOOM'.

Nightmare frowned. “. . . you’ve been watching too much TV.”

Dream heard the muttered comment, but didn’t reply, his eyelights zeroing in on the kitchen door appearing as they rounded the corner.

“He he, hurry up, Nightmare!” he yelled, sprinting ahead, “I’ll beat you!”

Dream did beat him, just like he said he would, and threw open the door with all his might to find-

Nothing.

There was no treat or other-surprise-looking thing inside the room that he could see. It was empty, save for the three skeletons standing inside. Upon spotting Crossy, he perked up and made a beeline for him.

“Crossy! Crossy! Cross!” he shouted, running up and grabbing his pants leg.

“Woah there,” Crossy chuckled, “what’s up?”

“Nightmare said there’s a surprise for me, but he won’t tell me what it is! Can you tell me Crossy? Pleasepleaseplease?” he begged, pleading up with very big, very sad eyelights.

As he expected, Crossy began to crack, scratching at his shirt collar. “Sorry buddy, I can’t . . .”

“Pleaseeeee?” Dream pressed a little harder.

“I-”

“Wait Cross. Killer hasn’t returned yet,” said Nightmare as he finally walked in.

“I know, I didn’t tell him anything,” Crossy said defensively.

Dream looked up at Nightmare with a very serious and not-at-all pouty glare. “But you said you’d tell me in the kitchen . . .”

“I’ll tell you when Killer arrives,” said Nightmare.

“But where is he?” he whined, looking around at the skeletons surrounding him. “Is he gonna be here soon?”

“He’ll be here before ya can say photosynthesis seven times,” said Dusty.

Dream blinked. Then he closed his eyes and inhaled the biggest, deepest breath.

“Photosynthesis, photosynthesis, photosynth-ee-sis, photo-sisy-this, photo-to-sissy-thisis, photo- !”

A pixelated portal popped into the air, cutting him off.

“All clear. You guys good to go?” said Kiki as he strode through.

Rory hummed. “Lucky . . .”

Dusty shrugged.

“Kiki!” Dream exclaimed and rushed right into him.

“Heya squirt,” said the older skeleton, plucking him off the ground and holding him out at arms length. “Ready to see Outertale?”

“Killer,” Nightmare hissed behind him, sounding upset for some reason.

Dream tilted his head. “Outer-tale? What’s that?”

“It’s a place we go to sometimes,” Kiki answered.

“You mean, through a portal?”

“Yep.”

“Is it a dangerous place?” Dream asked, frowning as he shrunk into his collar.

“No Dream, this one is safe,” Nightmare answered as a pair of hands grabbed him and placed him back on the floor. “Isn’t that right, Killer?”

“Yep,” said Kiki, holding his hands behind his head and stretching. “Babybone-proofed the whole thing.”

Dream looked between the two, still very confused. “Is that where my surprise is?”

“That is the surprise, Buddy,” Cross spoke up. “We’re all going to Outertale together.”

His sockets widened until they couldn’t widen anymore. “We are?!”

Crossy nodded. “Yeah! We’re gonna go exploring and play games-”

“-and eat lunch . . .” Rory added, patting the bulging basket beside him on the counter.

“Right, and eat lunch. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Dream shouted as he bounced around, feeling like he could jump all the way up,up,up to the moon. “This is the best surprise ever!!"

Nightmare chuckled, laying a hand on his shoulder and pinning him in place. “Wait until you see the best part . . .”

“What? What is it?!” His bones rattled with barely contained excitement.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Nightmare smirked.

Dream grabbed and shook his arm as he resumed his bouncing. “Then let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Alright, one moment-” Nightmare said, lifting his free hand.

His portal, the inky black-looking one, started to swirl to life in front of them. Dream stared at it with a strange, sickening feeling, and that’s when he remembered the last time he saw one of Nightmare’s portals.

He stopped bouncing.

“Wait, wait!”

Nightmare lowered his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Dream crooked his pointer at him and the taller obliged, stooping within whispering range.

“What about . . . Ink and Blue?” he asked, squirming at the names he’d heard behind cracked doors. “Are they gonna be there too?”

“Don’t worry, they won’t find us here. And if they do, you have all of us to protect you,” said Nightmare softly, but with a very serious look on his face.

“And I’ll protect you too, Nighty,” Dream said, just as serious and somber.

No one was ever ever ever going to hurt his brother again. He would make sure of that.

Nightmare half-smiled, “I appreciate that,” and stood up straight, “Are you ready now?”

Dream nodded, his own smile returning at full force, and slipped a hand into Nightmare’s larger one.

“Okay. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so.”

Dream did as he was told and squeezed his sockets super duper shut.

As Nightmare walked forward, he clung a little closer and shivered as the old, but familiar magic washed over his bones.

The feeling faded as fast as it came, and a new feeling was felt in its place. One that felt cool, and dry, and fresh- a stark and startling change from the stale, humid chill of the castle.

He started to squirm, trying to keep his eye closed, but finding it harder and harder to do so.

“Can I open them now,” he grumbled.

“Alright, go ahead and look,” Nightmare said.

Dream’s sockets flew open at the first word, his eyelights instantly dilating to see . . . rock.

Lots and lots and lots of rock.

“Oh . . .” he said, trying really really hard not to sound disappointed.

Don’t get him wrong, Dream loved rocks! And all the bulky boulders and hugenormous holes looked super cool and everything. But he saw nothing but rock every single day.

He had kinda hoped his surprise would be something, you know, surprising.

Then he felt a finger tap the top of his skull.

“No Dream, look up.”

So Dream looked up-

-and gasped, his eyelights shrinking to the size of pinpricks.

. . .

S . . . stars . . .

There . . . there were so . . . many stars . . .

More stars than Dream had ever seen in his entire life.

“What do you think?”

There were big stars and little stars and stars that twinkled different colors. The black sky had different colors too- purple and blue and pink in some spots and orange and yellow and and red in others. It looked kinda like somebody threw paint and glitter where. It was . . . it was so . . .

“Dream?”

“. . . so beautiful,” he whispered.

He didn’t notice the tense shoulders and furrowed brows around him relax, still fixated on the starry wonder above.

“It really is,” he subconsciously heard Crossy say.

“I didn’t know there were so many . . .” he mused in a hushed tone.

“Welcome to space, kiddo.”

Dream finally tore his gaze from the sky to stare wide-eyed at Dusty.

“You mean outer-space? Where the moon and stars are?”

“Yep,” said Kiki as he gave the ground a stomp or two. “If it weren’t for this hunk of rock, we’d all be dead right now.”

Dream eyed the soil suspiciously and leaned closer to Nightmare.

“Dude!-” Crossy elbowed him in the ribs, eliciting a grunt from him, “- way to ruin the mood!”

“He does have a point Cross,” said Nightmare as he bent down, looking from Cross to him.“While this is a safe place, you still need to be very careful.”

Dream stared up and nodded, but then his eyelights drifted to the side and . . . there were so many stars . . .

“Stay where either I or one of the boys can see you at all times. No wandering off by yourself. And don’t go near any of the craters. Understand?”

. . . and so many colors . . . even more than the rainbow he painted on his door-

“Dream, I said, do you understand.”

He blinked at Nightmare and smiled. “Yep! Don’t go near the craters.”

“And stay with someone at all times. Got it?”

“Got it!”

“Alright, any questions?”

“Yeah. What’s a crater?”

“It’s an impression on the surface of . . . they’re those big bowl-like holes in the ground. Don’t play anywhere near those.”

“Okay, I won’t!”

“And no teleporting onto the floating debris,” Nightmare added, glancing up at the others, but mostly at Kiki.

Kiki looked mildly disappointed, but Crossy stood straighter and gave him a curt, “yes sir.”

And like that- a switch was flipped inside him and he began to bounce again, finding to his delight that his bounces lasted a few seconds longer in this new pretty place.

“Can we go explore now? Can we, can we?” he pleaded, throwing away any earlier reservations he had.

“Ask them,” said Nightmare.

Dream spun around but before he could ask, Kiki stepped forward and said, “sure, I’ll show ya around.”

Cross raised his hand. “I’ll go too.”

“Sounds fun,” said Dusty, completely monotone.

Dream grinned back at Nightmare and tugged on his arm. “Yay, come on, Nighty!”

Nightmare shook his head, “you go ahead without me, I’m going to stay here and help Horror set up our picnic spot.”

“But I wanna explore with you," he tugged again, lifting up his doleful, dilated eyelights.

Unfortunately, Nightmare was much stronger than Cross and said with a smirk, “I know, perhaps later.”

“Come on, Buddy, I’ll race you to that big rock over there,” Crossy said suddenly, pointing to a boulder in the distance. He started jogging towards it. “Last one there is one of Killer’s dirty socks!”

“Hey!”

“He’s not wrong.”

Kiki gave Dusty a sour look. “Shut up.”

Dream watched the two skeletons follow after Crossy at a causal pace, still hesitantly clinging to Nightmare’s arm.

“Hurry, Dream,” Nightmare said gently, nudging him forward. “You don’t want to be last, do you?”

He looked up at Nightmare, then at his friends, then back at him.

“Okay . . .” he sighed, reluctantly letting go. He sprinted a few steps, then looked back. “But I’ll be back really soon, I promise!” he waved, that way his brother knew he wasn’t abandoning him.

“There’s no need to rush, we’re not going anywhere. Now go have fun,” Nightmare waved in return.

“I will!” Dream grinned.

Satisfied that Nightmare was safe with Rory while he would be gone, he turned tail and dashed after the others.

He had some exploring to do!

Chapter Text

Not that there was much to be explored- they were in outer space after all.

But that didn’t dampen Dream’s enthusiasm one bit. You would think he was in a lavish jungle or amusement park with how he zipped about like a bee, his eyelights sparkling at everything they landed on. He’d “ooh” and “ahh” at something for five seconds, then fly off to find the next fascinating discovery.

Meanwhile his pack of bodyguards were always one step behind him. None of them understood what was so incredible about boulders and sinkholes, but they were happy to see Dream happy. Occasionally they’d pull him back whenever he got too close to a crater or crack, but otherwise they let him explore as he pleased.

After a considerable amount of tail wagging at every little thing, Dream finally slowed down to catch his breath. And the minute he caught it, he began barraging the three of them with questions like “Where is the sun?” (It’s that really bright dot over there- yes, it is very small right now-) and “Well, where is the moon?” (We’re standing on it.)

At that revelation, Dream stood completely still and stared at the ground.

Before any of them could question him, he bent down, grabbed a handful of blue-gray dirt, and shoved it in his mouth without a second thought- only to immediately start coughing up clouds of dust.

Killer broke from shock first and barked out a harsh laugh, slapping his knees.

“Oh my stars-!” Cross waved his arms in alarm. “Are you okay, Dream? Dream?!”

Dream couldn’t answer, still dry hacking moon sand into his hands, so he just nodded.

Squatting beside him, Dust pulled a cloth from his jacket and handed it to him, patting the choking littlebone on the back.

“That’s. . . that’s the funniest thing- heh heh -I’ve seen this week,” Killer wheezed, still bent over.

“You won’t think it’s so funny when Nightmare kills us because he got sick eating dirt!” Cross shouted in an infuriated frenzy.

“The kid’s fine,” said Killer. He swiped the runny black tear from his cheek. “ ‘Sides, I think he’s coughed most of it out.”

Sure enough, Dream had stopped choking, and was busy wiping his watery sockets.

“Ugh . . . that didn’t taste sweet at all . . .” Dream told the tissue with disgust.

Cross frowned. “Why‘d you think it’d taste sweet?”

“Uh, well, in one of my books, the moon was made of candy, like marshmallows and chocolate,” he explained, returning the cloth to Dust. “But it doesn’t taste like it at all.”

“What did it taste like,” asked Dust.

Dream looked thoughtful for a moment, then said matter-of-factly, “Like very cold dirt.”

“Well listen- whatever you read about the moon being some magical place made of candy, it’s not true. So no more eating things off the ground, okay,” Cross said sternly.

“Wait, you mean, there’s no moon mites? Or humstrums? Or- or luluboos?!” Dream asked, growing more distraught with each magical creature he mentioned.

Killer not-so-subtly scoffed “What’s a luluboo?"

“It’s a big moth with fluffy wings,” said Dream, stretching out his arms, “and you can ride on their backs and fly around the sky!”

“Those things aren’t real Dream, they’re made up,” said Cross with about as much delicacy as Killer’s laughter. He then added with a completely straight face, “the only thing that can live out here are space worms.”

Dream titled his head. “What’s a space worm?”

“Space worms are-” Cross began, but then Killer rudely interjected, “-are something he made up too.”

He narrowed his sockets at him. “No, I didn’t. Why would I make them up, huh? Because I wanna sound crazy? Is that what you think?”

Dust sighed heavily, his sockets lidding a little more. “Here we go again . . .”

“So you admit you sound crazy,” said Killer.

“Not as crazy as you with your spider story.”

“Hey, believing in somethin’ and actually seeing somethin’ isn’t the same thing.”

“Oh well, too bad Error conveniently destroyed that AU so I never got a chance to see the ‘giant-monster-eating-spider’ then.”

“Error saw the code for it-”

“-and Sci said space worms exist!”

Dust let out a long, slow yawn.

As riveting as their philosophical argument concerning the existence of space worms and giant spiders was, it took everything in him to keep his eyelights from fading away out of boredom. Which they inevitably did. But they blinked back a second later when he caught movement in his peripheral.

Gazing down, he watched as Dream skipped away from them. Guess he didn’t care to listen to the other’s petty fighting any longer. Dust didn’t blame him. In fact, he decided to ditch them too and trailed after the little skeleton.

They had walked a little ways off when Dream suddenly stopped and squatted.

“Hey Dusty, look at this super cool rock I found!” he said as he held it up, unphased by the hooded skeleton hovering over him.

Something warm sparked in Dust’s LV-numbed soul seeing the complete trust the babybone had in him.

So similar to another babybone he once cared for . . .

“That’s silicate,” he said shaking off the ghostly memory.

“Silicate,” Dream repeated in awe as he eyed the rock. “Cool!”

Raising his head, he perked up and dashed for another shiny rock a few feet in front of him. He did it again and again- crouching like a goblin as he zig-zagged from rock to rock. Dust meandered two steps behind him, watching the pile of stones in his elbow grow steadily bigger.

“Hey, kid.”

Dream stood up, dropping a rock or two. “Yes, Dusty?”

“Give ‘em here.” He stuck out his hand.

Confused, Dream clutched his treasures to his chest. “But I wanna show them to Nightmare.”

“I know.” Dust squatted down again, hand still open, and pulled his jacket back to reveal pockets lined inside. He closed one socket. “I’ll keep a hold of ‘em for ya.”

Just like he used to do in waterfall with his . . .

“Oooh, that’s a great idea!” Dream smiled, passing his armful of rocks to him. “Thanks Dusty, you’re the best.”

If Dust’s static expression softened for a second, Dream didn’t seem to notice.

As soon as the last one was stashed in his pocket, Dream said, “I’m gonna go find some more-” and scampered off to scavenge.

Chuckling, Dust rose to his full height. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, but didn’t bother turning around. His assumption was proven correct (as always) when Killer and Cross walked up on either side of him (fortunately unscathed).

“What are you doing?” Killer asked.

Dust side eyed him. “Collecting rocks.”

Right on cue, Dream ran up to him with another chunk of silicate.

“Look, I found a purple one!”

“It's . . . sorta purple,” Cross commented as Dust took it.

“Purple is Nightmare’s favorite color,” Dream informed them, then paused, his smile falling a bit as he corrected himself, “or, I mean- it used to be. Now it’s black. I need to find the blackest, sparkliest rock!”

“We’ll help,” Cross said as the small child scurried off again.

While he started his search and Dust continued to stand motionless, Killer wandered a little away, looking for a rock just like Cross, just a different one.

He found it pretty quickly and threw it in the air as he casually approached Dream. Who was, at the moment, standing with his hands on his hips over a pile of fragments.

“Hey squirt, check it out,” he whispered, “I found an egg rock.”

Dream squinted at the oval-shaped stone he was handed. “An egg rock?”

“Yeah. Take a bite ‘n see what it tastes like more- an egg or a rock,” he said, swallowing back a snicker.

“O . . . kay.” Dream opened his jaw wide as Killer split a shark-ish smile.

Only a second now until that sweet, sweet crunch-

“Dream!”

Dream froze like a deer in headlights, the rock still hovering between his teeth.

The intrusive thought to shove it in his mouth entered Killer’s head, but it was intercepted by Cross yelling, “What did I just say about eating stuff off the ground?”

“To not too . . .” Dream admitted sheepishly.

The child placed the rock back in his hand and slunk away, but Killer didn’t notice, too busy scowling at Cross.

“Killjoy," he muttered, giving into his Cain instinct and chucking the rock at him.

Cross leaned a little to the left and avoided the attack, raising a sarcastic brow bone in response.

To which he flipped a spiteful bird.

Then making a disgruntled noise, he went back over to Dream, his hands sulking in his pockets.

The child thoughtfully hummed at the rocks in his palms. “Which one should I pick?”

Killer stared sourly at the two rocks. “Dunno. They both look like the same stupid rock to me.”

“But this one is blacker than the other one,” said Dream, raising his right hand higher. Lifting his left, he added, “And this one has more sparkles on it.”

“Whatever, just take ‘em both.”

“But I need to find the best one for Nightmare,” he huffed.

“How about this one?” Cross asked, coming up to Killer's shoulder and earning a black look from his empty sockets.

Dream gasped, dropping the other rocks to hold Cross’. “It’s perfect!”

Killer scoffed, drawing the spotlight back to him. “Tch’, you think that’s cool? I got something even better to show you.”

“What is it?” Cross asked suspiciously.

Something that’ll show up your dumb rock, that’s what, Killer thought as he walked away.

Out loud all he said was, “hurry up and you’ll see.”

Before Cross could protest, Dream sprinted after him, leaving the monochrome skeleton no choice but to traipse after him. Once Dust joined the trio (and pocketed Dream’s very special rock for Nightmare), they all followed Killer to their new mystery location.

A minute of marching later, Dream randomly stopped and pulled off his shoe, explaining there was a rock inside. He shook it out and they continued on, only for Dream to pull off his shoe again. After the fourth shoe-stop Killer finally snapped, so Cross hoisted Dream on his back and carried him the rest of the way there.

There being, as it turned out-

“A cave?!” Dream exclaimed, wriggling higher up his back to get a better look. “Wow . . .”

Cross stared unimpressed at the yawning hole in front of him and then at Killer. “You know we can’t go in there, right? Nightmare literally just said no-”

“-no craters, I know.” Killer walked up to the cave and jerked a thumb at it. “But like the kid said, this is a cave. See the difference, dumbass?”

“That’s a bad word!” Dream shouted as Nightmare had drilled him to do whenever they cursed, causing Cross to wince.

Over the ringing in his skull, he heard Killer add flippantly, “I’ve already scoped this thing out anyway, it’s perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, like I trust your definition of ‘safe’.”

“Oh come on, you’re acting more paranoid than Night now.”

“No I’m not, I’m- ,” he grunted, pausing to lower Dream off his back, sick of his squirming.
Holding Dream in place beside him, he squared his shoulders. “I’m vigilant because one of us has to be.”

Killer lifted his eyebrows as he rolled his empty sockets. “Whatever. If you wanna play guard out here “Vigilant”, go ahead. We’re goin’ inside,” he said, ducking into the mouth of the cave.

“You mean, you are. We are staying out here, right Dust? Wha- Dust!” Cross squawked incredulously as the hooded skeleton sauntered past him.

“Wait for me!” yelled Dream.

“Dream don’t- get back here!” he yelled, missing the edge of his yellow cape by centimeters.

But of course Dream didn’t listen to him- no one ever listened to him! So he stood there helplessly, watching his baby brother dive into the cave and be swallowed whole. (Er- Nightmare’s baby brother- that is.)

Cross slumped his shoulders and started walking after him. “. . . We’ll go exploring, I said . . . It’ll be fun, I said . . .”

He stopped short at the entrance, unable to see past it.

Welp, if Nightmare was gonna kill him anyway, then he might as well go in right?

With that cheery thought in mind, he stepped warily inside.

The ground sloped unexpectedly and he stumbled a step or two before it flattened out again. Cross stood up straight and was surprised to find the cave a lot bigger than he expected. Not cavernous, but tall enough that his head didn’t hit the ceiling.

Which he was grateful for as he gazed up at the sharp crystal stalactites that hung down from it.

Actually, there were crystals everywhere- the ceiling, the walls, the floor. Most were the size of his hand, but the ones at the far end of the cave were almost as big as himself. And definitely much bigger than the tiny skeleton currently gawking at them.

Cross made his way across the cave, easily avoiding the crystals littering the ground (having learned from many a lego), and over to Dream’s side.

Dream didn’t appear to notice his approach, his head empty of all thoughts, only crystals.

Pressing his tiny palms carefully on one towering shard, he stared it up and down, his eyelights literal stars. It was the tenth wonder-filled expression he’d made today, but Cross swore this time was the cutest by far.

“Woah . . .” he said, breathing a milky cloud on its shimmering surface. “They’re so cool . . .”

Killer propped an elbow on the crystal next to him. “Eh, they’re not too shabby for a bunch of shiny rocks, right Cross?” he said, sliding him a smirk.

He shrugged it off with a lidded eye roll of his own.

“These aren’t shiny rocks, these are star seeds!”

They stared simultaneously at Dream.

“Star seeds?”

“Star seeds?!”

“Yeah, star seeds!” the child repeated. “See, there’s the star inside,” He added, pointing at the ethereal glow emitting from the trapped beams of light.

“Pft- were ‘star seeds’ in yer book too?” Killer asked.

Dream shook his head and said proudly, “Nope, I figured it all on my own! I used the science-tific method that Dusty taught me.”

“I . . . think you might have missed a step,” he said, glancing at Dust, but the other just gave him a non-commital shrug.

“I wanna take this one home,” Dream said, hugging the massive and immovable crystal.

Killer crossed his arms. “Not happening, pipsqueak.”

“What? Why not?”

“Cause I said so.”

Dream spun around, hands clasped under his chin. “But I really, really want one. Please, Kiki? It doesn’t have to be the big one, I’ll take any star seed! Please?”

“Nope,” said Killer, popping his ‘p’. “What’s in the cave, stays in the cave.”

Cross stiffened as Dream’s desperate eyelights turned to him. “Pleaseee, Crossy?”

“Sorry, buddy . . .” he offered a stilted but sympathetic smile.

But his smile must have been too sharp- popping Dream’s last hope and deflating him like a balloon.

Dream gave the crystal one more longing look then dropped his gaze to the floor. Cross tried to say something comforting (or at least, break the awkward tension), but stopped when Dream started walking away.

“What are ya doing?” Killer asked.

“Leaving . . .” he replied, still hanging his head.

Killer unfolded his arms. “Fine. Let’s go guys.”

Cross followed them to the entrance and watched them slowly exit the cave, but when it came his turn to crawl out, he hesitated.

Dream’s droopy demeanor just didn’t sit right with him.

Exploring Outertale was supposed to cheer him up, not drag his spirits down. He wasn’t sure why Dream wanted a crystal so badly, but if it really meant that much to the little guy, then Cross was going to get him one- screw what Killer said!

And as luck would have it, there just happened to be a single crystal sticking out in the wall next to him with a neon sign that read “TAKE ME”.

(Okay, so there was no sign, but there should have been with how perfect it was.)

Grabbing the small shard with both hands, Cross pulled at it with no luck. Pushing back his sleeve, he pulled harder, and harder, and harder, but still refused to budge.

“Cross? What are you doing? Get out here,” Killer’s voice echoed into the cave.

“I’ll be right there!” he grunted, wiping his forehead.

Then gritting his teeth, he poured every last bit of strength and adrenaline he had into yanking the crystal free-

-and it worked!!

“Ha, yes!” he cheered breathlessly to himself, smudging the dirt off his shiny prize.

Crack.

His skull snapped up.

Crack Crack.

Cross watched as the cracks ran rapidly from the now vacant hole and traveled upward to the ceiling where hundreds of sharp crystals started shaking.

His eyelights shrunk.

“Cross?!” someone shouted, but he couldn’t reply- he couldn’t even move. All he could do was stare up in shock at the shards now seconds from raining down and dusting him. His life flashed before his eyelights-

-and then something grabbed his shirt.

“Cross, come on!”

He didn’t need Killer to tell him twice and scrambled after him through the shower of debris. They both bounded out right as the ceiling caved in, narrowly avoiding a crushing death.

Cross bent over to cough up what dust he’d inhaled, but when he tried to stand up, a hand smacked his skull back down.

“What the hell, dumbass?” Killer growled, sharp and short.

Before he could answer, Dream wiggled out of Dust’s grasp and ran up to him. “Are you okay Crossy? Did you get hurt?” he asked anxiously.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry, ” he grumbled, glaring at Killer as he rubbed the stinging spot. Dream still hugged his leg anyway.

“You wouldn’t be if you’d kept standing there like a moron. What the hell were you still doing in there?”

“I, uh . . ” he coughed weakly into his hand. “. . . just had to grab something.”

Killer’s narrow sockets widened an inch. “Cross, tell you didn’t just take-”

“-you got a star seed?!” Dream gasped, spying the crystal in his other hand.

“I hate you,” said Killer in the most ‘I’m done’ tone ever.

Cross ignored him and crouched down to Dream’s eye level. “Sure did. And it’s all yours,” he smirked, holding it out to him.

Dream reached out, almost trance-like, and picked it up. It looked twice as large in his tiny hands as he carefully cradled it. For a moment Dream was silent, then a big, bright smile spread across his chubby face.

“Oh boy, oh boy, thank you, Crossy!” he squealed and threw himself against his chest. “thank you, thank you!"

Cross hugged back, resisting the strong urge to squeeze the life out of his adorable little bones. “Heh, it was no problem, buddy.”

“Yeah, cuz’ causing a cave-in was noooo problem at all,” said Killer, crossing his arms.

Giving Dream’s head a pat, he stood back up and sighed. “Yeah . . . sorry about that. I didn’t think it would collapse. That was my bad.” Then with a small smile, he added, “But uh, thanks. For grabbing me.”

“Whatever. Just don’t expect me to risk my neck to save your tailbone next time you do somethin’ stupid,” Killer groused.

Cross snrked at his half-hearted attempt to play it off. “What would I do without you, Killer.”

“You’d be dust, that’s for sure,” he smirked.

“Uh- ” He quickly glanced at Dream, hoping the distasteful reminder of his squeak with death didn’t distress him, and was relieved to find him still picking lovingly at his crystal. He looked back up at the other two. “ -yeah, about that . . . we’re not gonna tell Night, right?”

Killer snorted, “Don’t tempt me,” so Cross shoved him.

“What do we do now,” Dust said before Killer could shove back.

“Oh! Oh! I have an idea!” Dream shouted, raising his little hand. “Let’s play hide-and-seek!”

“Sounds good to me,” he said after a shrug from Killer.

“Okay, I’ll count and you all- oh! Wait!” Dream paused and walked up to Dust. “Can you keep this with the other rocks?”

Dust nodded, depositing the crystal shard in his pocket.

“Okay! Now you all can go hide,” said Dream, turning away with his face in his hands. When none of them moved for 1.5 seconds, he looked over his shoulder and frowned. “Go, go, go!”

“Okay, we’re going, we’re going” Cross he said, walking off with Killer.

Behind him he heard Dream start to count, “1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . . . 5 . . . . .”

But after a few paces the counting stopped, so he looked back to find Dream peeking through his fingers at them. The littlebone realized he’d been caught and spun back around, counting twice as fast now.

Cross shook his head with a chuckle and darted for a near-by boulder, spurred on by the squeaky numbers echoing over the rocky terrain.

The old quilt smelled musty, undoubtedly having been dragged out of some dusty storage closet stuffed with other junk. But the thin layer made sitting on the ground moderately more tolerable. Secretly, Nightmare regretted not bringing a chair, but he’d dreaded the “old dinosaur” and/or “dad” jokes it would evoke, so he settled for coiling his tentacles behind his back for support instead.

And while he’d probably pay for it with a cramp later, for now he felt fairly comfortable as he lounged on them. Meanwhile, the book he’d brought sat propped up on his knees (an old, old habit). It was a smooth read- immersive just enough for it to hold his focus and distract him from his paranoid thoughts, but not deep enough that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings.

Or of the knot of frustration inside Horror.

After a minute or two of sensing it, Nightmare glanced up at the cross-legged companion on his left. The skeleton sat hunched over the crossword puzzle he was working on, his brow drawn tight in concentration, but his eyelight distant and hazy.

Nightmare peered down at the paper. “Number seven?”

“Nine . . .” Horror grunted.

“ ‘Determined in an obstinate, unthinking way’,” he read the clue aloud. “Well, I can think of four words that fit that description.”

Horror stared blankly for a moment, processing his joke, then smirked. “You missed one . . .”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid my name won’t work either. You need ten letters, not nine. Try again.”

Horror took his cheeky comment as a command and turned back to the puzzle.

“. . . stubborn?” he muttered after a pregnant pause.

“That’s eight,” said Nightmare.

After another pause with no movement from the other, he spoke up. “What about ‘headstrong’? That has ten letters.”

“No . . . it has a ‘u’ in it . . .” said Horror.

Instantly, the correct word occurred to Nightmare, but he said nothing, giving Horror another moment to find it for himself.

“Try talking it out,” he suggested instead.

“ . . . not stubborn . . . not headstrong . . . ” Horror began to mumble under his breath, “ . . . stu . . . head . . . headed . . .”

Then he stopped.

“Bullheaded.”

Nightmare smirked. “Bullheaded, huh? That was my fifth guess.”

Horror merely chuckled at the quip, busy penciling in the word and moving on to the next line.

Shifting to a more comfortable position, Nightmare turned back to his own activity, satisfied he no longer sensed any negativity in his charge.

But before he could find his place again, a shout caught his attention- head swiveling around.

He then sighed, sagging with relief at the sight of Killer and Cross chasing his adrenaline-fueled sibling, who was screaming with delight, not fear. Dust strolled at a steady pace, choosing to teleport whenever he drifted too far behind.

Nightmare watched with a smile as Dream raced toward the big rock from earlier, shouting “safe! safe!” upon touching it.

That smile quickly fell when Dream began climbing it, though. His reckless brother reached the top in a matter of seconds and stood triumphantly. He shouted something as the other three gathered below him, but Nightmare couldn’t catch it.

Then, Dream jumped, causing his soul to leap simultaneously into his mouth. It stayed there until Dream was caught mid-air by Dust’s blue attack a second later. Only once his sibling was safe on the ground did his soul sink back into his chest cavity.

Nightmare groaned as he rubbed a hand down his face.

Stars . . . were they trying to test his immortality or his patience? Because at this point they were testing both.

“This was good . . .”

Nightmare frowned at Horror. “What?”

“Bringing him here . . .” he said, smiling softly at Dream and then back at him. “He looks . . . brighter . . .”

Nightmare didn’t reply, retreating to his thoughts.

Horror was right- Dream had brightened considerably since they’d arrived. Acting more like the carefree, energetic twin he remembered from his childhood. And it made him wonder if Dream’s restless and whiny behavior all this time had been a symptom of him being cooped up in the castle too much.

Guilt crawled from the corner of his mind, but he shoved it back and coughed. “Mmm yes, it certainly put some color in his cheeks.”

“Good for you too . . .”

Nightmare quirked his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been out much . . .” Horror shrugged, “. . . could use the fresh air . . .”

“It’s not like there isn’t air inside,” he contended haughtily, a tad bit offended.

Inwardly though, he knew the other had a point.

His trips outside the hideout were rather sparse of late. Partly to appease his anxious sibling, and partly because he simply hadn’t felt like leaving.

But he wasn’t wandering through worlds or creating chaos right now- he was quietly reading under starlight. He was relaxing. Something he hadn’t done in an AU in a long time . . .

Horror made a little hum, then opened the basket he’d brought and slowly began pulling out the bagged sandwiches, drinks, and oatmeal raisin cookies (Dream’s favorite to Nightmare’s disgust). Taking the hint, Nightmare leaned back around to call the other four over for lunch.

Only for his goop to cartoonishly spike at the sight of Dream suspended in the air with blue magic again, floating around in circles like some kite.

”BOYS!” Nightmare roared, his threat echoing across AUs.

”Sorry!” Cross cupped his hands and shouted as Killer dropped Dream to the ground.

Nightmare rolled his eyelight. “Come over here, it’s time to eat,” he shouted, setting his book aside.

Sitting up, he helped Horror remove the rest of the snacks from the basket, and by the time it was empty, his mana pressure had returned to normal levels. His brother and miscreant babysitters, however, were still missing. But as he was about to check on them, he sensed someone approaching from behind.

Judging from the quick, light steps it was most likely Dream sneaking up on him to give him a surprise hug. With an amused smile, Nightmare continued to prepare Dream’s lunch, pretending not to notice his brother coming closer.

Then suddenly, something yanked on his jacket hoodie and jerked it over his face.

“Ah- wha-” he sputtered, pushing it back off his head. He glared up at the culprit. “Dream?!”

But Dream didn’t reply- taking advantage of his confusion to snatch a cookie from the container and scramble away from him.

Nightmare stared dead ahead as he lazily latched a tentacle around Dream’s waist, eliciting an “eep”. He carried him back over, flipping him upside down, and held him at eye-level a foot from his face. Dream stared back, his cheeks bloated like a chipmunk’s.

“Taking that cookie was a very poor decision on your part,” he said dryly.

Dream swallowed. “ . . . what cookie?”

“The one you just ate.” He flicked Dream’s nasal ridge, making his face scrunch. “I hope you enjoyed it, because that’s all the cookies you’re getting now.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! It was their idea!” he protested and pointed at his conspirators.

Nightmare glanced up as the three sat down beside him- Cross joining Horror on his left, while Dust and Killer chose his right side.

“Don’t worry, they’re not getting any either,” he said.

A statement he didn’t think they’d take seriously, but one that hopefully still got his displeasure at their shenanigans across.

“Nice going, pipsqueak,” Killer huffed facetiously.

“But- but I didn’t do anything! Nightmare- he-”

“Calm down, he’s just messing you,” said Nightmare, stopping Dream’s stammering. He set him right-side up on his feet and handed him his plate. “Here, sit down and eat.”

Dream stared petulantly at his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Can I really not have another cookie?”

“Finish that first and I’ll reconsider my decision.”

“Fine,” Dream relented.

He plopped down, mirroring his cross-legged position, and began wolfing down the white bread.

“Slow down, you’re going to choke,” said Nightmare as he passed Dream his juice box. (Grape juice, of course.)

While his brother alternated between bites of bread and slurps through his straw, the rest of his boys started eating too. Even he picked up a small bag of salty nuts. He snacked on them idly as he listened to the others casually chatter among themselves, with Dream occasionally piping in, his mouth full.

After he finished off the bag, he finally pitched in with, “So Dream, how did exploring go?”

Dream squeezed his juice box, sucking up the last drops, and smiled up at him. “It was so much fun- we explored everywhere! And we played hide-and-sheek and catch-me. Oh! And I found a whole bunch of cool rocks too!”

Dream scooted on his knees over to the hooded skeleton. “Can I have my rocks back now, Dusty?”

Dust nodded, reaching in his jacket and giving him the first rock that Dream then proudly presented to him. “This one is for you!”

“Why thank you,” he said, weighing it in his palm. “This will make a suitable paper weight.”

Dream grinned and turned back to Dust with grabby hands. The other silently began removing the rest of Dream’s rock collection one at a time. Which Dream in turn passed off to him, adding a comment with each one.

“This one looks like a soul.”

“This one is purple-ishy.”

“And this one is super sparkly on the top!”

He accepted them all with an admiring glance as he replied to Dream’s descriptions.

“Oh, I see.”

“How pretty . . .”

“That’s because it’s covered in star dust.”

Dream perked up at that last one. “Oh! I forgot! Dusty, I need my star seed.”

“Star seed?” Nightmare repeated, adding the final rock to the pile on Dream’s empty plate.

He didn’t know what he expected the skeleton to pull from his pocket, but an opalescent crystal was not one of them.

“Yeah, a star seed! Isn’t it so cool?” Dream said as he held it out.

Nightmare titled the crystal in the light. “It is . . . tell me, where did you find this ‘star seed’, Dream?”

All of a sudden, he sensed a subtle spark of something akin to panic, dread, and regret within two souls on either side of him.

Hmmm, strange . . .

“In a cave that Kiki showed us!” said Dream. “It was so full of star seeds and some were so big, I couldn’t touch the top! Kiki said I couldn’t have the big ones, so Crossy got me this smaller one. And then the cave fell down! It was really scary, cause Crossy was inside, but he was okay,” he innocently assured him.

For now, thought Nightmare, shooting an icy glare at Cross. But out loud he said in a threateningly light tone, “I’m glad to hear it. It would be dreadful if someone got hurt, wouldn’t it Cross . . .”

Cross didn’t answer, his shrunken eyelights staring intently at his cookie as he picked at the raisins.

Fortunately for the monochrome skeleton, he was spared any further intimidation by Dream grabbing both the crystal and his attention.

“I’m gonna take it home and grow it,” he declared.

Nightmare, seeing his chance, started to correct him about the crystal, but then Dream added, “Then we’ll have a pretty star to look at at night. Isn’t that great!”

And at once, his words fell back down his throat.

Dream’s face . . . those shimmering eyelights, that sweet smile . . . beaming with pride and hope and pure childish joy . . .

All for one simple star.

He closed his socket and reopened it with a small smile.

“It sounds like a tough job to me,” he said. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Dream puffed out his chest. “Uh huh! I can do it!”

“Alright. In that case, give it back to Dust so he can keep it safe until we go home,” he said, handing him back the crystal.

Dream agreed and passed it on to Dust, but when the silent skeleton went to stick it in his pocket, he stopped and frowned ever-so-slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Dream asked.

“It won’t fit. There’s something in there . . ” Setting the crystal in his lap, Dust dug inside and pulled out a small plastic tube of clear sloshing liquid.

Dream leaned forward. “What is that?”

“It’s bubbles,” said Dust, unscrewing the lid and lifting out a thin wand with a plastic ring on the end. He closed one socket. “Watch.”

Unsurprisingly to everyone but Dream, he blew at the wand and a flurry of tiny bubbles burst into the air.

“Oh wow! I wanna try!” he clapped excitedly.

Dust handed him the toy with a hooded smirk. “Knock yerself out.”

Dream dunked the wand several times and took a deep breath, blowing it harshly at the tiny circle. Only a bubble or two popped out as a result, but Dream still giggled. And on he went, blowing and giggling and blowing some more- caught in a cycle of self-perpetuating euphoria.

As Nightmare watched this wholesome display, a bubble strayed uncomfortably close, so he lifted a tentacle and popped it.

“No, Nighty, don’t pop it,” Dream pouted, shooing the tentacle with the wand.

“Then stop blowing them near my face. Go play over there,” he instructed him, pointing ahead.

“Okay,”said Dream. Sticking the wand in the tube, he scrambled up and skittered away.

When his brother was several yards away he called out,“Stop right there, Dream.”

The small skeleton obeyed and began blowing bubbles again. Sometimes he stood still and followed them as they floated into the sky, and other times he’d chase after them laughing (the latter reminding Nightmare of a long ago field filled with grasshoppers). Either way, his flushed face glowed as brightly as ever.

“Is it just me or does he look a lot smaller right now?” Cross asked randomly.

“Glad to know you still have depth perception,” said Dust dryly.

Cross rolled his eyelights. “I know it’s perspective and all that- but everything’s so wide and open out here, he just looks so small, you know?”

“I see what you mean . . .” Horror nodded.

“Yeah, hard to believe you used to be that small too,” said Killer, glancing at Nightmare as he chewed on a toothpick.

He snorted in response. “I hardly believe it myself. It was such a long time ago . . .”

“To you . . .” Horror looked from him to Dream. “. . . only yesterday for him.”

“Oh yeah- remember how he used to go on about him those first weeks? He was like “Nighty used to do this” and “Nighty loves that” all the time,” said Cross, mimicking Dream’s words with his hand

“Ugh . . . kid was so damn annoying . . .”

“Takes one to know one.”

Killer flicked his toothpick at Dust.

“He’s barely done it though since he, you know, found out,” Cross shrugged at Nightmare.

“Yeah, I still don’t get what the whole “Midnight” thing was for. The kid is perfectly fine,” Killer said, pointing at Dream.

Who had seemingly changed his mind about popping the bubbles and was gleefully destroying as many as he could before they floated out of reach.

“He has reacted better than I had expected,” Nightmare admitted.

“And now . . . he’s your little shadow . . .”

“Tch’, I’ll say. I’m surprised the kid isn’t covered in goop from hanging with you all the time. Some days I don’t even see him.”

He raised his brow bone at Killer. “Sounds like someone misses spending time with him.”

“Wha- hell no!” the other denied vehemently.

“Oh yes you do,” Cross said with a grin. “Yesterday when Dream said he wanted to play with Nightmare instead of fight with you, I saw you stomp off. You’re totally jealous.”

“Says the guy who got all pouty when he didn’t play monopoly with us the other night.”

“I did not pout-"

Nightmare raised his hand. “Alright, enough. We’re here to look at the stars, not squabble with each other.”

They both backed down; Killer literally stretching out and crossing his arms behind his head, while Cross just silently chewed another cookie. The tense mood lifted after a moment and they idly chatted again. But Nightmare tuned them out, listening instead to his favorite sound as his brother froliced in the distance.

At one point, Dream blew a singularly large bubble and waved over at him. “Nighty! Nighty, look, it’s huge!”

He gave him an approving thumbs up. “Good job.”

Dream attempted to make several more with varying levels of successes, but none of his failures could curb his enthusiasm. All good things eventually come to an end, however. So after another minute or two Dream lumbered toward them, out of bubbles and out of breath.

“All done?” Nightmare asked.

“Yeah,” Dream sighed. He carelessly tossed the bottle and collapsed into his lap. “I need . . . a break . . .”

Nightmare didn’t bat a socket at his theatrics. “Well, don’t fall asleep before you’ve looked at the stars,” he said, handing a cookie to revive him from the brink of dusting.

“I’m not sleepy,” Dream asserted, taking the cookie and scooting upright. He proved it by inhaling the cookie in seconds.

“Can I have another one?” he asked sweetly.

“Good huh . . .” Horror asked, sliding him two more with a cheeky grin before Nightmare could object.

“These are the best cookies you’ve ever ever made!” he praised with a mouth full.

Dream lifted the second one up to him, but he shook his head. “No thank you. I refuse to partake in such crimes against cookies.”

“Pfft- Drama queen,” said Killer, but he was too busy explaining to Dream what “crime” meant to pay him any mind.

Dream responded to his argument for oatmeal raisin cookies should be erased from existence by simply stating that he likes the raisins and resumed munching his treat. The rest of his boys satisfied their sweet tooths too, and they all stargazed in comfortable silence.

That is, until Dream broke it and asked, “Hey, where’d they all go?”

Nightmare made a “hmm?” noise.

“The- the lion. And the big bears. I can’t find them.”

“You mean the constellations?” he clarified, earning a nod from the littlebone in his lap. “You can’t see those here I’m afraid. There’s too many stars.”

“What about our stars?”

That caught him off guard, causing him to hesitate just a second too long. “They’re out there somewhere,” he said, brushing over the memory question.

“Your . . . stars?” Horror prodded.

Nightmare hid his conflicting emotions behind a blank mask as Dream nodded.

“Mmhmm, Nighty and me-”

“-Nighty and I.”

“-we have our very own stars! They’re really bright and they’re right beside each other. Mine is the one on the left.”

“No it’s not,” he corrected him, only to inwardly curse himself for letting it slip out.

“Yes it is!” Dream insisted.

But like the stubborn fool he was, he just couldn’t let it go and said firmly, “No, mine is- was- on the left. Because I’m left handed, remember?”

He held up his left hand and jolted a bit when Dream unexpectedly placed his right hand in it.

“And mine is the right one because I’m right handed?” he asked, peeking up at him.

Nightmare couldn’t resist a smile at that, curling his fingers. “That’s right.”

“Aww,” Cross smirked.

He glared unamused at him as Dream chirped, “Do you have a star too, Crossy?”

Cross’s smile fell a bit. “Afraid not, bud.”

“Really? Why?”

“We grew up underground, squirt,” said Killer, his face turned toward the sky still. “Never got ta’ see any stars.”

Dream let out a horrified gasp. “You didn’t?! That’s- that’s so sad!”

“Eh . . . there’s worse things than not getting to stargaze . . .” he said indifferently, though all of them but Dream knew the true weight behind it.

Dream looked like he was about to protest or ask what those things might be, but thankfully Dust interjected with-

“There was the wishin’ room.”

“What’s a wishing room?” asked Dream.

“It was a big cavern with blue gems covering the ceiling,” his eyelights fixed on the stars too as he spoke.

“So . . . like the cave?”

“Sorta. But bigger. The gems looked like stars, so we treated them like stars. Even had a telescope.”

Dream frowned, “I thought the telescope makes you see the really small stuff?”

“That’s a microscope.”

“Oh.”

After another pause, he asked, “Was it called the wishing room because you made wishes?”

Dust winked. “Yep.”

“That’s so cool!” said Dream, his grin so wide it made Nightmare’s cheeks hurt. “Did your wishes all come true? I bet they did.”

Dust didn’t reply to that.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a second or two before Cross spoke up hesitantly.

“We uh . . . we didn’t really make any wishes.”

“You didn’t?” Dream asked as if such a thing was completely incomprehensible.

They all responded with affirmative nods and nopes.

“Then we all need to make wishes right now!” he yelled, eyelights blazing with determination.

“You mean . . .right now right now? . . .” Horror teased.

Dream nodded somberly. “Right now right now.”

Horror and Cross looked at each other, then the latter shrugged.

“Eh, why not.” He glanced at the sky for a moment and said, “Okay, I made mine.”

Dream turned to the hooded skeleton. “Dusty?”

“Got it,” he said, right as Horror added, “Me too . . .”

“Kiki?”

The black eyed skeleton huffed. “What?”

“You gotta make a wish too,” Dream said adamantly.

“Tch’, this is stupid . . .”

he reached over and bopped his head. “Make a wish!”

Killer swiped at his hand. “Fine, fine. Uh . . . I wish for-”

“No! You can’t say it out loud or your wish won’t come true! Right?” Dream glanced up at him.

“That’s right,” Nightmare nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“Did you make your wish yet?” Dream asked, his focus now shifted to him. “You have to make one too, Nighty.”

“Hmm, let me see . . .” he said, deciding to humor him, and rubbed his chin for several long seconds.

Unfortunately it was a second too long, because Dream then asked, “What’s wrong, Nighty?”

“I’m not sure what to wish for,” was the first excuse that came to mind.

But of course Dream countered it with a cheerful, “You can wish for anything! Books, food, a book that’s made of food. Whatever you want!”

Well see, that was the problem.

Nightmare already had everything he wanted.

Possessions, power, and thanks to his boys, a purpose. And anything else he desired to have, he could easily take, making wishes obsolete to him. A mere fantasy he hadn’t indulged in since he was a child.

So there was nothing he could possibly want to wish for.

. . . at least, that’s what he’d assumed at first.

But as he stared at the golden eyelights shining up at him, so full of innocence and affection, his soul suddenly clenched with a sense of longing.

Guided by this longing, this new but not-so-new desire, he gazed at the stars and silently made just one . . . small . . . wish . . .

“Alright, I’ve done it,” he said at last, his chest feeling weirdly lighter. “Now it’s your turn.

Dream followed his example and looked up, squinted really hard for a moment, then smiled. “Okay, I made a wish too!”

“What’dja wish for?” asked Killer, sitting up on his elbows. “I bet it was for more junk or everyone in the world to be happy, or some sappy crap like that.”

Dream lifted his nose and crossed his arms. “I’m not telling you.”

“Aw, come on, just a hint?” Killer teased, poking his ribs.

Dream squealed and grabbed his arm, which Nightmare made limp and allowed him to use to shield his ticklish sides from any more phalanges. Killer got the message and gave up, chuckling as he lazily laid down.

With the threat gone, Dream snuggled back into the crook of his arm and held his goopy hand over his chest like a plush. And again, Nightmare let him without complaint. He then breathed deeply, drinking in the sweet moment of silence as he admired the sky.

But evidently Dream was allergic to silence and spoke up, his voice bordering on wistful.

“Can you sing your lullaby, Nighty?”

Nightmare froze as all heads turned toward him one by one.

“Wait- wait-” Killer pushed himself up on his arm. “You made a lullaby?”

While he inwardly wished (as ironic as that was) that the ground would split open under him, he managed to force a flat look as he answered pragmatically, “Well, yes and no. Some unknown author wrote the poem. I simply made the tune for it. When I was younger, that is.”

Cross leaned closer, curious but tentative. “Can we hear it?”

“Sing it, Nighty, sing it!” Dream chanted, tugging on his arm.

“This is gonna be good,” said Killer, switching from a skeptical look to a mischievous smirk.

Nightmare blocked out the four pairs of sockets staring at him and smiled down at Dream’s. “How about you sing it instead, hmm?” he deflected smoothly.

As expected, Dream frowned and pushed back, “but I don’t remember all the words.”

“Just try. I’ll help if you need it.”

“But I can’t sing as good as you do . . .”

“That’s alright, just do the best you can. Come on,” he gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

Dream caved at that and huffed a moody little, “Okay . . .”

Confident the crisis was averted, Nightmare focused all his attention on his tiny brother, smiling much more easily now.

“Sun goes down, and we are here together.” Dream began, his sweet voice filling the empty air. “Fireflies, glow like a thousand charms. Stay with me, and we can dream together, right here in my arms . . . tonight . . .”

Taking another deep breath, he started the first verse. “Songs of day-”

"Sounds of day,” Nightmare softly corrected.

“-Sounds of day . . . fade away . . . stars begin to climb. Memories-”

“Melodies,” he interrupted again.

“Melodies . . . fill the breeze . . . louder-”

“Sweeter-”

“-Ughh, I can’t do it!” Dream exclaimed, crossing his arms.

He smothered the rising chuckle in his throat as he smoothed Dream’s skull. “Yes you can. Come on . . . Sun goes down . . .”

“ . . . and we are here together.” Dream sang, though a bit sourly. “Fireflies . . .”

“ . . . glow like a thousand charms . .” he continued coaxingly.

Then together they sang, “. . . stay with me and we can dream together . . .”

Only for Dream to stop, leaving him to sing alone in his low, gentle voice, “ . . . right here in my arms . . . tonight.”

And he could have stopped there.

The boys had heard more than enough to satisfy their curiosity and Dream clearly wasn’t going to sing anymore. Nightmare could have stopped.

But at some point, memories had slipped through the gap in his guard as he sang. Memories of refreshing night air, of a warm body curled on top of him, of stars winking at them from above. Memories that mirrored the present so precisely that the line between the two blurred.

The words were in his mouth before he could stop them, so warm with nostalgia and so natural feeling, that he didn’t question if he should stop them.

“It’s magic, when you are here beside me . . .”

“ Close your eyes, and let me hold you tight . . .”

“Everything, that I could ever need is . . .”

“ . . . right here in my arms . . . tonight . . .”

He trailed off and looked down at Dream. His sockets were closed, but when he stroked his little skull, a smile spread up his cheeks and he nuzzled into his side. Soul swollen with affection, Nightmare lifted his eyelight to the stars and continued singing.

“Sounds of day, fade away . . . stars begin to climb. Melodies, fill the breeze . . . sweeter all the time . . .”

“Sun goes down, and we are here together . . .”

“Fireflies glow like a thousand charms . . .”

“Stay with me, and we can dream together . . .”

“. . . right here in my arms . . .”

“Tonight . . .”

Once he finally finished, he gazed back at Dream again, but this time his brother didn’t stir, having quietly dozed off. Nightmare smirked fondly, gently caressing the side of his face.

“Wow . . . that was . . . nice.”

He blinked up at Cross, meeting his soft expression with a blank one.

“Very nice . . . ” Horror hummed low in agreement.

“Ah, yes . . . well . . .” Hastily clicking his throat, Nightmare held his head aloof to dispel any suspicion that he was flattered or flustered, which he was most certainly not. “It is a very reliable trick for putting him to sleep.”

“Hey, sing twinkle twinkle little star next,” said Killer, giving him a wicked grin.

Nightmare unwound the tentacle from around Killer’s arm (wait- when had he done that? And why did the other three have one too-) and weakly slapped him with it.

“Hush.” he whispered sternly. “You’ll wake him up,”

“Nah, the squirt sleeps as hard as he plays.”

Cross chuckled. “Guess the little guy was sleepy . . .”

Nightmare glanced down at Dream in response, not bothering to hide his smile at his sleeping brother despite feeling their sockets on him.

It reminded him of the first time Dream fell asleep in his arms. To that night they all watched TV together. It had only been a few months ago, but to him it felt so, so much longer. To think, so many things could change in such a short amount of time . . .

Nightmare stared into the speckled sky again and wished that this precious moment could last forever.

Apparently, he should have wished harder, because forever only lasted another blessedly quiet five minutes before a portal opened behind him.

Nightmare’s neck cracked as he whipped his head around, all four tentacles raised like serpents recoiled to strike. But when he saw Error stumble through, his hackles lowered. He remained hunched over his cradled brother though, just in case.

“Hey Error!” Cross waved.

“‘Sup,” said the glitch, scratching his rear.

Keeping his head turned, Nightmare said as quietly as he could, “all went according to plan, I presume.”

Error shrugged, “I guess. Ink was-was-was annoying like-ke-ke usual.”

“And what of the swap skeleton?”

“He stayed in his-his-his AU the whole t-t-time.”

“Good,” Nightmare nodded approvingly.

“I told ya,” said Killer in the most annoying way possible.

Nightmare glared at him for being right (this one time), but before he could respond, Cross piped up, “you should’ve come earlier Error, you just missed getting to hear Night sing a lullaby.”

“You’re joking-ing-ing,” said Error, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Nope,” said Dust. “Swear on our souls.”

The destroyer squinted Nightmare. “Wait- r-r-really? You can sing-sing-sing?”

“That’s not important,” he said, his tentacles twitching irritably. He made the mental note to to never ever sing in front of his boys again as he added, “Now tell me, can you still access the code of my domain?”

“Psh- don’t insult me-me-me,” scoffed Error just as he’d expected.

“Then presuming you can, I need you to make some . . . minor changes.” His eyelight flickered to the stars for just a second. “We can work out the details later.”

The destroyer crossed his arms. “Alright. But-but-but it’s gonna add another two weeks of-of-of no babysitting to-to the deal-deal.”

“A whole month?!” Nightmare hissed, forgetting to keep his volume in check. “Are you ridiculous? One extra week and no more.”

“One and a half-half-half,” said Error.

“Rgh- fine. Deal,” he quickly said as his brother slowly awakened.

“Mmnn . . .” Dream groaned, sitting upright and rubbing his sockets open. He blinked blearily at the glitching skeleton in his line of sight. “. . . Error?”

“That’s my name, don’t-don’t-don’t wear it out,” he said, yanking a broken inky bone from his arm and yeeting it through a portal window.

The littlebone yawned obliviously. “Are you . . . gonna look at the stars with us?”

Error pulled a string from his socket.“With-with these four-four? Yeah no-no-no, I’ll pass,” he said, lassoing a cookie from the container.

“Aww . . .” Dream pouted.

“Don’t worry, Error, we’ll leave you to stargaze in peace,” he said, hositing Dream on his chest and standing up.

Dream leaned back in his arms. “Wait, I don’t wanna leave yet . . . Can’t we stay a little longer? Please?”

“No, Dream, we can’t,” he said firmly, ignoring the sound of Error choking behind him and muttering something about ‘stupid raisins’.

“Well . . . can we come back tomorrow?” he asked with pleading eyelights.

“No, not tomorrow.”

“But . . . soon?”

“Maybe.”

“Promise?”

“ . . . Promise.”

“Pinky promise?” Dream pressed, holding up a teeny finger.

Nightmare wrapped his own around it. “Fine, I pinkie promise.”

With his brother placated, he turned his attention to his boys and waited for the last items to be packed before nodding at Killer. The other returned it and opened the portal. He watched patiently as all four walked through, giving Dream a few more precious seconds of starlight, before glancing at where Error was currently knitting.

“It’s all yours now,” he said.

The glitch paused and gave him a quick thumbs up, not looking up from his puppet.

“Bye Roro,” Dream waved as he carried him through the portal.

“See ya-ya-ya,” Error shouted.

Once the portal zipped shut behind them, Nightmare let his tentacles drop to his feet.

They were home.

They were safe.

Dream was safe.

And aside from a few minor and ultimately harmless hiccups, everything had gone according to plan, just as he intended. Honestly, he felt a little silly for being so paranoid, but he'd learned the hard way it's always better to be safe than sorry. Now though, he could fully lower his guard and really relax.

But as he went to set Dream down to do just that, little arms abruptly flung themselves around his neck and squeezed.

“Thank you brother, this was the bestest day ever,” Dream whispered intensely.

Nightmare gave a chuckle as he petted the tiny head on his shoulder.

“You know what, Dream . . . I think you're right about that.”

Chapter Text

“Do you see the ball?” the girl asked. Her soulless eyes stared unblinking at him through the screen.

Dream stared unblinkingly back.

. . .

. . .

. . .

“You’re right, there it is!” she shouted, breaking the awkward silence and startling his zoned out eyelights into focus. “Let’s go get the ball!”

As the cartoon child ran towards the tree right behind her, Dream slumped against the couch cushion like melting ice cream sliding down a cone.

“Ughhhhh,” he groaned, wishing he could eat some ice cream.

Or go play with the toys in his room. Or draw more pictures for the fridge. Or do literally anything else besides watching this boring movie.

He had never seen it, so he didn’t know it was going to be boring. If he had, he would’ve told Nightmare to pick a different one. But he hadn’t, so Nightmare picked this one, and now here he was - watching a boring movie while everybody else was gone again without him.

He let out a very loud and very unhappy sigh.

But it was pointless; there was no one around to hear it! Even those on the TV who acted like they could see and hear him didn’t react to his sigh. They ignored him and started singing another boring song that wasn’t actually boring, he was just too busy moping to enjoy it.

Dream frowned and titled his skull sideways, thinking maybe it would look less boring now.

It did not.

So he leaned all the way until he was lying flat on the couch.

Mmmmmnope, nothing changed.

He then tried sitting upside-down, propping his feet up and hanging his head over the edge of the seat.

It did look different, but it was still boring, just upside-down boring.

It was so boring, that he would rather watch Roro’s TV, even though it was kinda static-y and only played that one movie where the monsters talk funny and cry a lot.

He couldn’t though, because Nightmare said he can’t visit Roro today.

When he’d asked why, Nightmare said ‘Error is busy’ and ‘besides, you’re old enough to be left alone for an hour.’ Which was fine . . . until Nightmare also added that he couldn’t leave this room while they were gone. When he pouted and pleaded and promised that he wouldn’t go outside again, Nightmare said he wouldn’t get a surprise if he didn’t obey.

But Nightmare didn’t say that he had to keep watching this boring movie . . .

Dream’s frown turned upside down as the rest of him turned right side up, sending a rush of magic to his crown. Shaking off the dizziness, he scooted off the couch and skipped over to the TV. He pushed the button to make the DVD come out and set the silver disc to the side.

Sorry Core the boring Explorer, but he was done exploring with you today.

Instead, he pulled out his little box of movies the guys got just for him. There was a lot to choose from. Some he didn’t like, but most of them he loved (especially “Lava Boy and Shark Girl”). But as he dumped all of them onto the floor and picked one up after another, all of them looked boring.

Dream “humphed” and crossed his arms. This wasn’t fair, he just wanted to watch something new! Something cool and exciting and . . . and . . .

His eyelights drifted over to the row of movies underneath the TV.

He heard a voice inside his head remind him that these movies were not to be touched. That Nightmare said they were “too scary” and that “he’s not old enough to watch them yet.” Watching one could get him in BIG trouble.

But then . . . Dream heard another voice . . .

This voice told him that Nightmare wouldn’t find out. And even if he did, it would be okay. If he was old enough to stay home all by himself, then he was old enough to watch these movies too, right?

Right!

Now confident there would be no consequences for his actions, Dream sat on his knees and studied his new choices, holding a knuckle to his chin like he’d seen Nightmare do.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, pulling one out.

The picture had a bunch of fire and cars with humans standing seriously in front. Dream had never seen a real car, but Rory told him they were really loud and made his head hurt. So he frowned at the movie and put it back on the shelf.

He pulled out the one beside it and read the title. “Silence of the lambs?”

This one had a white human face and a moth, but no sheep on it, which was confusing. But the moth was pretty, so he decided he would watch it if he couldn’t find anything else. Placing it aside, he reached for another movie.

“Oh!” he gasped, his eyelights dilating.

This one had a cave with humans crawling through it. There weren’t any pretty stones like the ones he’d found in Outertale, but it was waaaay bigger and had cool rocks in it. Dream grinned as he held the movie out.

This was the one!

He placed the much cooler cave movie in the TV and hastily put everything else back the way it was so no one would know. Then he grabbed the remote and hopped back onto the couch. He made sure to cross his legs, just like the guys did sometimes, and then pushed play.

The screen faded from black to a forest, showing images of stumps, and mushrooms, the tree canopy, and even a little river stream. It was kind of foggy too, but it was a nice, bright fog, like the kind you get in the morning. Soft, low music played in the background as name after name flashed briefly in the air.

Dream leaned back and let out another sigh, a happy one this time.

He didn’t know why Nightmare said he couldn’t watch this - it wasn’t scary at all!

Rocks fall with a thunderous, echoing, deafening crash. The light flickers, barely breaking through the dusty darkness. The humans huddle together with their hands over their necks. One of them is screaming and the awful music keeps getting louder and louder until -

. . . it all stops, the dust settles, and the humans shine their light behind them to see now that the tunnel is blocked.

Dream released the breath he’d been holding, but he didn’t release the legs he’d pulled tightly to his chest. His breathing returned, shallow and shaky, as he stared with shrunken eyelights at the screen.

“Guess we’ll need to find a new way out,” says one of the humans.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!” yells another.

“S-stop - don’t start fighting, please, you’re just going to make it worse!” the one who screamed whines.

“She’s right,” says the leader of the group, “Let’s stop talking and get crawling.”

Dream watched as the humans crawled and crawled and crawled deeper into the cave. None of them spoke very much except for when the scream-y one screamed again at the bug that fell on her face. She got it off, but the poor bug got squished by one of the humans with a rock.

He almost turned the movie off then, but he really really wanted to see if the humans made it out of the cave or not.

Finally, after more crawling and grown up talk that he didn’t really understand, the scream-y human stopped and screamed again, but this time it was because of a hole above her head. The group stops as she tells them she wants to go through it.

”It’s too small,” argues one of the humans, “you’ll never fit.”

“I have to try! What if it’s our only way out?” she shoots back.

The leader calmly replies, “No Amber, you could get stuck, it’s too risky. We need to keep moving, I’m sure there’s another exit.”

“No! I can’t keep going! If I stay underground any longer I’m going to go insane,” the blonde human cries hysterically. “I’m going, don’t any of you dare try to stop me!”

“No, don’t do it!” Dream yells even though he knows that, unlike the boring movie, the people in this one can’t hear him.

Amber didn’t listen to him or her human friends. She even kicked one in the face when they tried to grab her. As she pushed herself into the tiny hole and through the narrow tunnel, Dream squeezed his arms around himself even tighter.

He didn’t know why, but something about it was making his ribcage feel small, like there wasn’t enough air in it.

But right as he was about to look away, unable to watch anymore, her head popped out of the rocky floor on the other side. Once she got her arms out too she stopped. The light shining from her head filled the small space she was in as she looked around.

”Amber? Amber, are you okay?” a muffled voice calls.

“Did you find the way out?” asks another.

“No . . . it’s just a . . . small room,” Amber replies, “but I think I see another tunnel in the wall. I’m gonna check it out.”

“No, don’t!”

“Yeah, what did we say about splitting up!”

“I’m just gonna look, chill out,” she huffs and pushes herself up.

Only she didn’t move. And after a moment of her pushing and pushing and not moving, Dream realized with horror that Amber was stuck! Amber realized it too and started flailing, knocking her headlamp off her head.

But as she and the other humans shouted at each other, a sudden low growl caused her to freeze.

”Guys . . .” she whispers shakily. “. . . I think I see something . . .”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s . . . it’s some sort of animal or - or cave creature thing . . . it’s coming through the other hole . . .”

“Can you see it?”

“We’re hundreds of miles below surface level, how -”

“Shh! I think it’s looking at me. Oh god . . . oh god, oh god, h-help! Get me out!” she shrieks.

And that’s when Dream saw it - the cave creature.

It was hard to make out in the dim light, but it’s body looked kind of human, only it had no clothes or hair and its ears were really big and pointy. Its glowing white eyes were fixed on Amber as it crawled on all fours out of the hole.

His hands flew to his sockets in terror . . . his fingers splitting apart in curiosity.

“God . . . please . . . no . . .” Her lip quiveres as she stares at the creature, unaware of the cries of her friends below.

The creature stareds back, sickly skin paler than bones, and opens its mouth to reveal two long fangs.

Then, with a high pitched screech, it lunges across at her, it’s jaws unhinged to -

“Stop - give it back!”

“You snooze you loose.”

“Nightmare!”

Dream’s soul jumped to his throat as he gasped sharply.

With it humming loudly in his head, he scrambled for the remote and pressed the power button, silencing the screams and turning the screen back to black.

A second later the door behind him opened.

“I’m done dealing with your petty arguments today, settle it yourselves,” he heard Nightmare impatiently say before he added in a more concerned tone, “Dream? Are you in here?”

He sprung from the couch and dashed around it. “Nightmare!” he cried, crashing into the already outstretched arms.

“What’s wrong, Dream? Are you alright?” his brother asked anxiously but calmly as he was lifted up.

“It was so so so scary, Nighty!” he said, hugging his neck and shutting his sockets tight. But it was no use, he could still see that horrible horrible creature attacking him.

“What was so scary?”

. . .

Dream didn’t know what to say. If he told him the truth, he’d get into big trouble for sure. So all he did was hide his face in the soft safety of his brother’s hoodie.

“Were you scared of being left alone again? Was that it?” Nightmare pushed and, again, he didn’t answer.

Dream felt his brother’s chest quickly rise and fall as he started moving forward. He wasn’t sure why until he was being pulled away (against his wishes) and placed on the back of the couch. He looked down at his dangling feet as shame slowly seeped into his soul.

“Dream, look at me.” The tone was firm, but not angry, so he glanced up with his head still hanging.

“It’s alright to be scared,” Nightmare said, using his gentle grown up voice. His sympathetic look made Dream feel both better and worse. “Fear is a natural emotion. Everyone experiences it at times.”

He picked at his gloves for a moment as he thought of what to say. “Do . . . do you still get scared?”

Nightmare gave a chuckle. “Of course.”

“Really? What are you scared of?” Dream asked, as he couldn’t imagine what would scare his strong, brave, older sibling.

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” was the vague answer.

“Like . . . like a big, scary creature that wants to eat you?” he suggested for no obvious reason.

Nightmare tilted his head with an amused smirk. “Now, what would ever want to eat me? I’m completely covered in negative magic. Whatever tried to eat me would spit me right back out.”

Dream wrinkled his nose. “Ew, that’s gross.”

“Yes it is, but getting back on topic -” a tentacle tapped Dream’s forehead “- there’s no shame in feeling afraid sometimes.”

He looked away, feeling even more shame sink into his soul for a totally different reason, before the same tentacle cupped his chin and lifted it back to Nightmare’s steady gaze.

“But you can’t let fear control you either. You need to face your fears. It’s a part of growing up,” he said, sounding smart like he always does.

Dream hoped that didn’t mean he had to watch more scary movies; even thinking about the one he just watched made him want to curl up under his cape forever.

“By staying all alone in here while we were gone today, you faced that fear of yours, didn’t you?” continued Nightmare.

“Mmmhmm,” he nodded, not sure what else to say.

“And for that, I am proud of you,” his brother said, giving him a very rare, proud smile.

His mouth opened as his eyelights doubled in size. “Really?”.

“Yes, really,” Nightmare nodded as the tentacle patted his head. He then reached into his hoodie pocket. “Which is why you’re getting a special surprise today.”

Dream clasped his hands, his face shining with hope. “Is it a puppy? Oh please please say it’s a puppy!”

Nightmare’s smile fell a bit as his hand stopped. “No, it’s not a puppy.”

“Is it a kitty then?” he asked, dipping his head a little in disappointment. “Or - or a baby bird? Or -”

“We’re not having this conversation again, Dream,” Nightmare deadpanned, his smile now gone. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

His shoulders slumped. “But -”

“Don’t argue with me. You’re not old enough to be responsible for another being’s survival, and that’s final,” he said, using the bossy grown up voice that he hates.

“Yes I am! I’m old enough to watch - to - to stay here all by myself!” he stammered, just barely catching the truth from slipping out.

“Watching the television while we’re gone and caring for another creature twenty-four-seven are two very different things, little brother,” said Nightmare with another pat on the head, only this time Dream didn’t like it and showed it by crossing his arms.

He was sick of being told he’s “old enough to do this” but “not old enough to do that” - he couldn’t wait until he was old enough to do everything!

But before he could get too pouty about it, Nightmare added, “that said, if you continue to prove yourself responsible, then perhaps I’ll consider getting a fish or something of that sort.”

And like that, Dream was all smiles again, already imagining what his pet fish would look like and what to name it.

“Anyway, now that you’re sorely disappointed, I’m sure you won’t want this now . . .” said Nightmare as he slowly pulled his hand from his pocket.

His sockets widened in awe at the small, tube-shaped toy. “Ooooh . . . what is it?”

“It’s a kaleidoscope,” Nightmare said, holding it out to him. “You look into it and move this part here, see?”

He did as directed, lifting one end to his socket and peering inside, while his hand twisted the ring.
He let out a tiny gasp of delight as the colorful patterns suddenly changed as he moved it. It was like a dancing rainbow!

“I take it you like it?” Nightmare chuckled again.

“I love it!” he said as he lowered the cal-i-dee-scope. Sure, it wasn't as great as a puppy, but it was still really cool. Plus, it came from his brother, so naturally he loved it. Dream stretched out his arms. “Thanks, Nighty!”

Nightmare swept him off the couch and gave him a small squeeze. “Of course.”

When his feet touched the floor, Dream smiled and pointed at the kitchen door, “I’m gonna go show it to them!”

“You do that,” his brother nodded.

He then rushed for the door, pushing it open with an excited shout of, “Guys, guys! Look! Nighty got me a cal-i-dee-scope!”

“Kaleidoscope,” he heard Nightmare call out behind him.

Crossy paused from reaching up into a cabinet with a can of food in hand to smile down at him. “That’s really cool, bud.”

“Here, look inside, it’s even cooler!” Dream beamed back, bounding over and holding it out.

Crossy set the can inside and took the toy. “Oh, you’re right, it is cooler,” he confirmed as he handed it back.

Dream turned to the next nearest skeleton, who happened to be Kiki. “Do you want to try it too?” he asked, presenting his precious new prize.

Kiki looked up from his phone and scoffed, “What, that thing? Yeah, no, I’m not a babybone.”

“But it’s really cool!” he insisted, holding it higher.

Kiki rolled his head back. “Ugh, fine,” he said and swiped the cal-i-dee-scope from his palm.

Dream rocked on his feet with his hands clasped behind him. “Do you like it?” he asked after a moment passed.

“Eh, it’s just a dumb toy . . . I don’t get it . . .” Kiki replied, still staring through his cal-i-dee-scope.

Dusty walked over and tried to take it, but Kiki slapped his hand away like Rory does sometimes when he tries to sneak a cookie before they’re cooled off.

“Stop, it’s not your turn,” Kiki snapped. Dusty just chuckled.

Dream glanced over at the counter table. “Do you want a turn too, Rory?”

Said skeleton turned from his sandy-colored sack and smiled. “No thanks . . . I’m good . . .”

Dream titled his head at the bag and asked instead, “Do you want any help?”

“If you’re offerin’ . . .”

“Yeah! I can help!” he chirped and eagerly ran up beside him, forgetting about the cal-i-dee-scope being currently fought over by two skeletons.

He might not get to go on cool adventures with them, but he could at least help them when they got back!

Placing his hands on the table edge, he peered over it at what goodies he could see. “That’s a lot of food . . .”

“Here, this . . . goes in the pantry . . .” said Rory as he held a bag of flour over Dream’s head.

“O-Kay!” he said, opening his arms.

He let out a little “oof” once he caught it, but he didn’t drop the unexpectedly heavy bag. Rory gave him a pat on the head, then resumed removing stuff from the sack. Dream took that as his cue and marched dutifully off to the pantry to place his parcel on the shelf.

That teensy-weensy bit of guilt he’d felt earlier was gone now. As were all memories of the movie, like when they got trapped and scared and attacked by the ugly, mean, scary cave creature. Yeeeep, all of it was totally gone!

. . .

It . . . it wasn’t even that scary anyway . . .

With a cacophonous crack, lighting illuminated the room for a few seconds before vanishing with a roar that rumbled through Nightmare’s very soul.

Said skeleton drew in a deep, meditative breath. He held it for a moment more, then released it slowly, enjoying the feeling of his body sinking into the mattress beneath him. Folding his hands over his chest, he let his socket droop shut.

As his mind started to slow, Nightmare idly ran through the events of the day.

It had been a rather stiff morning of rummaging through reports and cycling through the endless paperwork. Though his productivity was hindered several times by both his brother and boys. All five of them had a knack for interrupting him with their shenanigans during the times he needed to focus most.

He’d eventually given it up as a lost cause and took the boys out for an errand run during the afternoon to work out some of their energy. Dream had stayed behind with no incident, though he had gotten a little spooked being left alone. Still, he had handled it very well in his opinion.

In fact, he might not even need to drop Dream off with Error anymore . . .

Ah . . . but then came the worst part of his day, or at least the most tiresome. He’d detected a new AU while they were out and investigated it later on his own, only to run into the most annoying four foot skeleton Nightmare had the displeasure of knowing. His scuffling with Ink had lasted longer than he’d liked, but he had returned in time for dinner without a scratch, just spent.

The boys invited him to watch a movie but he had excused himself for the night with Dream in tow to get him ready for bed. But that turned out to be a headache too, because Dream just couldn’t keep the soapy water in the bathtub for some stars forsaken reason. So as soon as Dream was dressed in his star-and-moon-printed pajama set, he lashed out his frustration onto the floor via a mop.

Only after three bedtime stories more than usual, as well as two glasses of water and four lost-then-found toys, did Dream eventually fall asleep (something he seemed unusually keen on avoiding, but, ah, well - children will be children, correct?)

He all but dragged his tentacles into bed, forgoing his typical nightly reading for the sweet release of sleep. That’s when the thunderstorm moved in above them, drenching his home in its downpour.

And what a delightfully dreadful storm it was - just what his drained soul needed.

There’s nothing quite like deafening, drumming noise to drown out all the stress thrumming through his sore bones.

Honestly, it had been far too long since a storm like this had come. Definitely before Dream’s de-aging, a good two months, maybe three. But a good thunderstorm was worth waiting for, and this one was certainly one of the better of its kind, its pulse strong and steady.

As Nightmare teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, he wondered if Dream was managing to sleep through it. But his sleep-addled mind dismissed the stray thought - of course he was. His brother and boys were all sleeping safe and soundly through the storm, leaving him to rest in his roomy, luxurious bed as the rumbling roars and rippling rain rocked him to sleep.

Slowly, and oh so softly, Nightmare slipped under the nightly spell, the sounds that lulled him under muffled and distant to him until at last, silent.

For ten precious minutes, that is.

Even in the deeper stage of sleep, Nightmare could still be stirred by a close spike of negativity due to his enhanced empathic abilities.

The feeling wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. It was like being spritzed in the face with water, chilling and startling, but harmless. This particular rush of negativity, however, drenched him to the point he choked as he jerked awake.

Subconsciously, he sensed out the source, and subconsciously, he assumed it was one of the boys having a nightmare or worse.

But his assumption was proven wrong when he traced the spike to Dream’s room.

After a thorough sweep of the castle produced nothing, he exhaled some of the tenseness through his body, concluding that Dream probably had a nightmare, or was having one.

Either way, he was far too tired and comfortable to go and coddle him. It wasn’t like Dream would start hurting himself or his room like the others. And besides, if he really needed some comfort, he’d seek it out anyway.

Having come up with enough excuses to put his mind at ease, Nightmare let his socket slip shut again, and -

-BOOM went another clap of thunder so deep, it sent a shiver through his body. But Nightmare didn’t have a second to relish in it before he felt another, even sharper spike of panic/terror/dread from down the hall.

Nightmare’s socket lifted half way this time as he regretfully realized what he had to do and should have done to begin with.

But no sooner had he heaved himself upright than he heard a door slamming above the discordant symphony of the storm. He grimaced, hoping the sound wouldn’t awaken the others. But that hope died the moment he heard more banging and Dream shouting -

“Guys - guys - get up!! Get up, get up!! Dusty!! Cro - crossy!! Wake up, W-wake up, we got to get out!! Rory! Rory, get out, we got to go-! Kiki -”

As the yelling continued, growing louder as Dream neared, all four tentacles sharpened instinctively in response to the unforeseen threat.

Yet there was no threat, Nightmare was sure of it, especially after the second sweep he just did. But then why was Dream in such a panic to wake everyone up? What danger were they all apparently in?

Pushing the paranoid possibilities to the back of his mind, he tore across his room for answers. But before he could even reach his door Dream was already banging on it, still screaming in terror.

“Night - nightmare, nightmare, get up!! Wake up, wake up, we got to get out, we got to-!”

Without a second thought Nightmare yanked his door open, which if he’d had a second thought, he would’ve realized was not the best idea, as Dream dove head first for the floor. But his reflexes had yet to fail him and Dream fell only a few inches before large hands hooked under his arms.

“Dream?!” His razor-thin eyelight frantically searched for injuries, but his brother seemed fine apart from his emotional distress. “Why are you screaming, what -”

“Night - nightmare!” Dream wetly gasped. His tiny eyelights flickered with relief before it was replaced with renewed panic. Dream scrambled upright and began tugging his arm faster than he could react. “Come on, come - come on! We gotta go, hurry -!”

In his surprise, Nightmare stumbled into the hall, but he quickly collected himself and stood firm. This did not deter Dream from his frantic pulling. Rather he doubled his efforts, tugging with both hands and scrunching his face as he screamed, “Nightmare, come on! It’s falling-”

“What’s going on?” a scratchy voice demanded, causing Dream to jump and Nightmare’s attention to snap to it.

All four of his boys were standing in the hall now. Dust and Horror stood outside their bedroom doors with their glowing blaster and gleaming ax respectively, while Killer and Cross were a yard or two in front of him with their weapons also drawn.

“What’s wrong?” Cross asked a beat after Killer, his tone more concerned.

Dream paused his pulling if only to cry hysterically at them, “It’s-it’s-it’s falling! The-the castle, the ceiling! Didn’t you hear it? We’re going to-to get trapped, and-and-and the cave creature! It’s going to eat - we-we need to get out now! Now! We -”

A reverberating boom of thunder cut Dream’s rambling short and sent him squeaking into Nightmare’s silky shirt.

While Nightmare sensed that the others’ concern and confusion had doubled, he was able to put two and two together to find the truth, as exasperating as it was. Sighing softly, he scooped his trembling twin up and held him against his chest, which Dream clung to with a whimper, all thoughts of escaping their impending doom abandoned in the safety of his hold.

“Now now, it’s alright, Dream,” he said gently, baritone voice still husky with sleep. “The castle is fine. What you’re hearing is just noise from the storm, it can’t hurt us.”

Dream sniffled, lifting his tiny, teary eyelights timidly. “R . . . really?”

“Really,” he repeated, stroking the back of his skull with a tentacle. “And there’s nothing here that can harm you either. Whatever you saw, it was just a nightmare.”

Dream’s fuzzy eyelights expanded and wobbled for a second, then the dam broke, tears streaming out the sides of his shut sockets.

“Oh Nighty - it was aw-ful-ul-ul-” he wailed, burying his face into his shoulder. Between the sobs he gasped out, “There-there was rocks falling everywhere and-and I-I-I couldn’t get to you-you. And-and-and the cave-cave creature dragged all you guys away-y-y and-and I got s-stuck, I couldn’t move, I-I couldn’t-”

“Shhhh, you’re fine,” Nightmare shushed soothingly as he rubbed his back, “it was only your subconscious playing tricks on you, it wasn’t real.”

Still, Dream continued to cry wordlessly, his shoulders shaking with the severity of his sobs, so Nightmare continued to rub wordlessly, pity now smoothing over the prior prickle of annoyance. He glanced up at the boys, intending to tell them to go back to bed, when Cross de-summoned his sword and stepped forward.

“Um . . . hey, Dream?“ he prodded hesitantly.

With several shuddering gasps, Dream slowly peeked over his shoulder at him. Cross continued, “What did, uh, what did it look like? The uh, creature?”

“U-uhm, it-it was big . . .” Dream stuttered wetly while rubbing his face. “Very - v-very big . . . and - and white . . . and had scary te-e-eth . . .”

“Have you seen it before? Like in a mo-”

“-Cross,” Nightmare hissed for him to cease, feeling Dream’s distress rise. “What is the point of this interrogation? Do you want to upset him more?”

Cross shrunk into his shoulders like a scolded puppy. “No - no, sorry, I wasn’t trying to, I was just . . . what he said, it uh, sounds similar to the movie we found in the TV earlier. I was just curious, ’s all. Probably just a coincidence . . .”

While this raised his suspicions, Nightmare would have let the matter be . . . if Dream hadn’t all but confirmed them by stiffening in his arms.

He narrowed his socket at the cowering child, but kept his tone level and unthreatening as he said, “Dream . . . did you watch the movie Cross is referring to? Answer me truthfully.”

Aside from his shaky breathing, Dream was unnaturally quiet for a moment, but Nightmare could sense the conflicting battle of guilt, shame, and fear loud and clear. In the end, his secondary trait of integrity won and he nervously looked up.

“Uhm-m . . . a little . . .” Dream dropped his gaze to his shirt. “But I - I didn’t watch all of it . . .”

“Hmmm . . . I see,” Nightmare sighed, sounding like a sagging oak as his frustration fizzled into steam. Lacking the energy to lecture Dream properly, he settled for, “Now you understand why you were forbidden from watching such movies, don’t you?”

Once he received a nod he added, “And as a result of you breaking this rule, you won’t be allowed to watch any more TV for a week. Am I clear?”

“Yeah . . .” mumbled Dream, one finger plucking at the buttons in front of him.

Not a very repentant response, but the regret he sensed satisfied Nightmare enough to consider the matter resolved.

“So that's it? Kid just got freaked out by a dumb horror flick he saw?” Killer groused, earning him a half-hearted glare from Nightmare.

“And the storm,” Cross added in Dream’s defense, slipping the sniffling skeleton a sympathetic look.

Killer huffed back, stashing his knives away and slurring something under his breath that Nightmare didn’t care to catch. Then, contrary to his expectations, Killer shoved past him and stomped down the hall, away from his bedroom.

“Where’re you going?” Cross called as Horror quietly walked up behind him, also squinting suspiciously (though more subtly so) at the other.

“Gettin’ a drink, eff off,” Killer saltily shot over his shoulder.

“You better not touch my milk again,” Cross scowled. When he was ignored, he shouted, “Killer!”

When that too did nothing, Cross started to head after him. Unfortunately for him, Horror was a swift skeleton despite being a slower speaker and caught him by the scruff of his collar before he was out of arm's reach. He pulled the confused and startled Cross to his cheek.

“Better not . . . make a mess . . .” he emphasized the gravelly growl with a flash of his eyelight, bathing them both in its threatening red glow.

But Cross ignored the warning and struggled in his hold, huffing impatiently, “Yeah, I know, let me go so I can make sure he won’ t-”

Horror did so, but not without a grunt of displeasure as the younger skeleton left. Nightmare watched him leave but made no move to stop him; his hands were already full (literally) dealing with his brother. He hoped they’d at least leave him out of their inevitable mischief.

It was a very miniscule and foolish hope, but there it was.

Once Cross was out of sight, Horror went back into his room, his head bowed and his ax swinging limply at his side. As soon as his door shut, Nightmare turned his attention to Dust, who stared back unblinking and unimpressed.

His stare remained unbroken as the door slowly creaked closed until it clicked shut, leaving him alone in the corridor with his quietly sniffling sibling.

“Alright, Dream, it’s time for you to go back to bed,” he said, stifling the urge to yawn.

Dream abruptly snapped his head up and clutched his shirt. “Wait, can-can I sleep with you? Please? I - I don’t want to sleep alone,” he pleaded frantically, his voice choking up at the end with the threat of more tears.

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep,” he tried to compromise.

But Dream shook his head. “But-but I might have a bad dream again. Please Nighty? Just - just for tonight, pleaseee?”

Apparently, being exhausted made him soft. At least, that’s what Nightmare concluded as his soul caved to his little brother’s begging. He knew that if he gave Dream an inch here he would take a mile, but he didn’t have it in him to deny him the comfort he so desperately needed.

“Fine,” he said resignedly, turning back toward his room. “But only for tonight.”

“O-okay . . . thanks, Nighty,” said Dream as he melted into his hold, assuring Nightmare that he had made the right decision.

He swiped at the door with his tentacle, which didn’t quite shut, but he was too tired to care and left it cracked. Shuffling over to his bed, he peeled Dream off (ignoring the little petulant whine) and transitioned him to the hold of a tentacle. Once he laid back against his propped pillows in the middle of the mattress, he lowered Dream at his side.

But before he could pull the weighted covers over them, a crackle of lightning and thunder combined to light up the room.

Dream jolted and gasped, staring terrified at the windows, then dove to his side and hooked tiny claws onto his ribcage like a shivering kitten.

Nightmare blinked from his brother to the still raging storm outside.

Ah . . . yes . . . . he should probably address that before sleeping.

“It’s only thunder, Dream, there’s no need to be frightened of it, it won’t hurt you,” he said as comfortingly as he could while smoothing the blanket over Dream’s rattling form.

“Will it go away soon?” came Dream’s muffled plea.

“It will leave in time,” he answered, placing an arm around his brother’s back. “Storms like this usually don’t last more than a couple hours at most.”

Dream whimpered at the news. “But it’s so loud . . . why is it so loud . . .”

So Nightmare, of course, told him in a tired, but matter-of-fact way, “Oh, well . . . you see, when lightning strikes, the temperatur e-”

“Lightning? You mean, the bright light?” Dream said, tilting his head to look at him.

“Yes, that’s lightning. It’s a high-voltage electrical discharge, hence the immense heat it gives off when it strikes.”

“Oh,” Dream hummed as if he understood (which Nightmare highly doubted). “And that’s why it’s so loud?”

“Mmm, yes and no . . .” he replied. He tried to think of a more simple way of explaining the thermodynamics of a thunderstorm. “When lightning flashes, it heats the air so incredibly hot, even hotter than the sun, that -”

“Hotter than the sun?!” Dream exclaimed, jerking upright to stare wide-eyed at him.

He nodded seriously, fighting off a smirk at his reaction, “Oh yes, up to five times hotter. And that heat causes the air around it to rapidly expand and collapse, creating the sound you hear.”

When Dream blinked blankly at him, Nightmare added, “It’s similar to clapping your hands. You swing them apart and quickly slap them together which makes a small, sharp sound,” to illustrate the idea.

“Oh!” said Dream, now with genuine understanding. He released his death grip on his shirt and clapped his hands together. “So it’s like that?”

“Mmmhmm. Now, imagine the stormcloud has giant hands -” Dream chuckled, giving his first small smile of the night, to which Nightmare gave a half-smile in return. “- I mean, truly ginormous ones. And when the lightning flashes, they clap -“

CRSHHH-KA-BOOOOOM

“ . . . like so,” Nightmare dryly finished his point, once the theatrical storm had finished making its own frankly annoying one.

At least Dream reacted somewhat better this time. He still flinched and sunk back to his side again, peering over his chest to stare warily at the windows. But his distress was lesser, no doubt due to his distracting deconstruction of the storm.

“Mmmm . . .” Dream whined worriedly as the thunder’s echoes faded. “. . . I still don’t like it. It sounds angry.”

Nightmare snorted at his childish description. “I suppose it does . . .”

Dream glanced up at him again. “Are you angry?”

“Am I angry? Do you mean, angry at you for watching that movie?” He raised a brow at his sibling and upon receiving a hesitant nod, he sighed, “No, Dream, I’m not angry. . .”

Annoyed still? A little. But he did not have the energy to spare for anything more.

Dream dropped his gaze and started fiddling with one of his buttons again. “So . . . does that mean I can still have a fish?” he asked meekly.

Nightmare sighed more heavily as he removed Dream’s hand from his shirt. “We’ll discuss it in the morning. It’s time to sleep now. That’s what you wanted to do, right? To sleep with me?” Dream hummed affirmatively. “Good, then go to sleep.”

“I will,” Dream smiled, snuggling and stretching his short arm over him. “Sleep tight, Night-Night!”

“Goodnight, Dream,” he replied, resting one hand on his chest and the other behind his head. Only to be poked harmlessly on his sternum.

“No, Nighty, you’ve got to say it right!”

“What?” Nightmare frowned, squinting down at him.

“You know, what we used to say before going to sleep . . .” Dream trailed off and raised his head, staring at him with a sad, concerned expression. “You remember, right?”

He paused, digging through dim memories for the one Dream was referring to, then clicked his mouth once he found it. “Ah, yes, I remember now.”

He was rewarded with a bright smile made even brighter by the glow of Dream’s eyelights in the dark.

“Okay, let’s do it again,” he said, shifting back into his original position. “Sleep tight, Night-Night!”

“Sweet . . .” Nightmare yawned slowly, “ . . . sweet dreams, Dream.”

The littlebone exhaled a content little hum of his own, nuzzling his cheek against his chest, and finally stayed silent. The storm stayed silent as well, save for the harrowing downpour and howling wind, neither of which disturbed their peace. After several deep, long breaths, Nightmare sunk back into a relaxed doze.

He would have fallen deeper into a more restful sleep, if only Dream would have stopped moving.

He brushed it off the first time as his brother simply adjusting. It was a bit chilly in here after all, so pulling the blanket closer to his face made sense. Once Dream stilled, Nightmare expected him to doze off as well, now warm and cozy.

He did not, as a few moments later he shifted onto his back, sighed, then stilled again.

A minute or more passed before he did it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

“Dream . . .”

. . .

. . . and again.

“Dream . . . lie still . . .” he muttered, sleep dulling the stern edge of his tone.

“Sorry,” Dream whispered back.

But Nightmare held his breath, and not a second later, an elbow found its way into his ribcage.

“Dream.”

“I’m trying.”

Reluctantly, Nightmare looked down at him again. “What’s wrong? Are you too cold? Do you need another pillow?”

Dream wriggled again, unwilling to meet his gaze. “No . . . I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

“Hmm . . . ” Peering at the little soul, he found a small knot of apprehension that he hadn’t noticed before. “Afraid of having another nightmare?” he presumed.

Dream ducked his nose under the blanket. “Mmm . . . maybe . . .”

“It’s alright, Dream, you have nothing to fear while I’m here,” he said, moving a hand to his little head. “I’ll keep you safe. Just go to sleep,”

Those must have been the magic words, because the knot instantly loosed, as did his tense, tiny bones.

“Can you sing the lullaby? Please?” Dream sweetly asked, looking up to give him those big, innocent eyelights.

Nightmare didn’t feel much like singing but, well, he supposed desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I will, but only if you lie very, very still,” he said.

“Okay!” Dream eagerly agreed to his terms and excitedly cuddled closer.

And in spite of how tired he was, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards briefly at his brother’s enthusiasm.

“Stars go down . . . and we are here together . . .” he softly began, slowly rubbing circles on the back of Dream’s skull. ”Fireflies . . . glow like a thousand charms . . .”

His voice was rather rough with sleep, but still strong. Dream held up his end of the deal and moved no more than a pinky through the first chorus and verse. He wasn’t asleep, no, but Nightmare knew he’d slip away to dreamland eventually, so he continued to gently lull him there as the rain added its rhythm to his song.

Unfortunately, just as he was cycling through the song a second time, something other than the storm caught his ear.

Something that sounded like voices hissing outside his cracked door.

Nightmare stopped singing in order to better make out what they were saying. But while he had excellent night vision, his hearing was still average and he could only catch a few words over the relentless rain.

Words such as “ . . . he . . . drink . . . . will” and “mine . . . no! . . . er, stop-!”

Obviously an argument, though over what, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter anyway. The only thing that mattered to him was that they kept their little spat outside his room and leave him undisturbed.

Which was exactly why not two seconds later the door swung open and two skeletons stumbled in, as was his cursed luck.

His tentacles twitched as he stared through a slitted socket at the predictable pair of hooligans. They both stared back frozen in awkward positions: Killer with one arm on Cross’ shoulder and the other reaching out, and Cross with his hand on Killer’s face and the other holding his cup of unknown liquid in the air.

Killer grunted as Cross recovered first and shoved him off, to which the latter shushed him back from a safer distance two feet away.

Then Cross turned his attention across the room to him. “Sorry, sorry!” he whispered.

Unfortunately, his attempt to be quiet was pointless, as Dream slowly sat up and rubbed his socket. “Mmm . . . Crossy? Kiki?” he asked in a drowsy, curious voice.

“What do you two want,” Nightmare added, his own tone short and strained.

“Uh, nothing!” Cross whispered again, holding his other hand up in surrender before scratching his neck with it. “I just - I thought Dream might want something to drink too. He wasn’t in his room, so when I saw your door was open, I thought . . .” he trailed off, but Nightmare could fill in the rest.

“What is it?” Dream asked, not sounding the least bit sleepy now.

Cross answered, “It’s chocolate milk.”

“Oh, I want that!” said Dream before remembering to add a, “Please!”

Cross hesitated and glanced at Nightmare, to which he nodded back. “Go ahead . . .”

The sooner all parties got what they wanted, the sooner he could go back to sleep.

Cross carefully made his way through what, from his perspective, was a pitch black room and over to them, using their eyelights as a guide.

“Here you are, buddy,” he smiled once at the bedside.

“Thanks Crossy,” Dream chirped, taking the glass and guzzling it down with abandon.

Then, just as Nightmare was about to shoo the two midnight miscreants from his room, Killer, who had been leaning against the doorframe, slouched forward and shuffled towards the bed. Distrustfully, Nightmare narrowed his socket at the other’s bored, lidded ones.

A bored Killer was an unlit match.

“So . . . you two havin’ a slumber party or somethin’?” he drawled as he drew up to the foot of the bed.

Before he could speak, Dream lowered his glass and asked, “What’s a ‘slumber party’?”

“Oh, it’s a thing friends do,” Cross answered. “They spend the night together watching movies and eating snacks -”

“- and sleeping, which is what all of you should be doing,” Nightmare interjected before Dream could get any ideas.

But it seemed he was too late, as Dream suddenly declared, “Yeah, you should sleep with us!”

He stared sternly at his sibling. “No, that’s not -”

“- That’s a great idea, squirt,” Killer cut in with a cheshire grin. Then he just casually flopped onto the bed and started stretching like he was actually going to sleep there.

Nightmare glared and prodded him onto his side with a tentacle. “Get up, Killer, it’s too late for your antics.”

“But it’s a slumber party, Nighty,” said Dream, grabbing onto his arm. “Why can’t he stay?”

He stopped short of pushing the fool onto the floor to reply, “Because he has his own bed to sleep in.”

“But there’s room on your bed -” Dream started to argue, but Cross spoke up.

“It’s okay buddy, we can have a slumber party another time,” he offered placatingly.

Dream fixed his puppy-eyes on Cross instead. “But . . . but the storm, it’s so loud. What if - what if something bad happened and we can’t hear? You’ll be safe here with Nightmare and me! Please stay . . .”

Nightmare watched as Cross crumbled, his more sensitive soul easy prey to his brother’s sad, sweet tactics, which were, as usual, successful.

Though to his credit, Cross did hesitate. “Uh, I . . . don’t know. Night?” he said, his eyelights pleading with him - whether to bail him out or let Dream have his way, Nightmare wasn’t sure.

Regardless, he put his foot down and shoved Killer off the bed to his feet. “Go back to bed, both of you,” he said, waving his tentacle.

Cross’ shoulders drooped, but he obediently turned away. “‘Kay. Goodnight guys.”

“Tch’, buzzkill,” Killer mumbled, shoulders hunched as he followed the other.

“But . . . wait . . .” Dream called out.

“They’ll be fine, Dream,” Nightmare said, taking the empty glass from him and leaning away to set it on a nearby surface.

As he leaned back, he felt Dream grab his arm again. He glanced down, expecting an angry pout or perhaps more begging puppy-eyes. What he did not expect was the teary-eyed look of fear on his face, or the way his voice broke as he said, “Please Nighty . . . please let them stay . . .”

Nightmare stared at him, speechless for a second.

Was . . . was Dream still so shaken over his bad dream? Or the storm? Or both?

As the guardian of negativity he knew the answer was yes, the sensation of fear was genuine, which made his next words all the more embarrassingly soft.

Hmph . . . soft . . . more like mushy.

. . .

“Cross, Killer, stop.”

The two immediately halted just a step from the door, Cross’ hand already on the knob, and turned toward him with questioning looks.

His own expression was flat as he forced himself to say, “I’ve changed my mind. You two may sleep here if you wish.”

“Really?!” Dream gasped, squeezing the arm in his grasp,“Thank you, thank you!”

Nightmare grunted irately, brushing off his brother’s gratitude.

He had hoped giving them the choice to leave would encourage them to do so, but to his dismay, both perked up as well.

Though Cross still looked a bit unsure. “Really? Because I -”

“Yeah Crossy, come on!” Dream excitedly patted the space beside him. “You can sleep here!”

Cross shot Nightmare another look asking for permission, but he remained silent and stoic, letting the skeleton take it as he wanted. He was not surprised, only slightly miffed, when Cross chose to stiffly shrug at his sibling.

“Okay, if you really want me to . . .“ he said, slowly returning to the bed with Killer on his heels.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Dream confidently chanted as he pulled the blanket back for him. “You’ll like the bed, it’s suuuuper nice!”

“Heh, I’m sure it is,” Cross chuckled, but his smile didn’t quite reach his sockets.

He started to awkwardly slide onto the bed, keeping to the edge as much as possible, but Dream would have none of it. Before his head even hit the pillow, the small child snagged his shirt and snuggled him closer. Cross started in surprise, but he quickly relaxed, as did his smile.

“Comfy Crossy?” Dream asked.

“Yep,” said Cross, pulling the blanket over him as well as he could with tiny arms trapping him. He sat back against the pillows. “You?”

“Yep!” Dream echoed.

“Hey, whatta’ ‘bout me?”

Nightmare glanced along with the other two at Killer, who stood in front of them with his arms crossed.

“Where ‘m I sleepin’?” he huffed.

“You already claimed your spot earlier,” Nightmare responded dryly, flicking his eyelight at the foot of the bed.

Killer raised a brow bone. “Really? Not even gonna give me a -”

A pillow smacked his face, cutting him off. Nightmare hadn’t been aiming for that when he'd thrown it, but it was satisfying all the same. Cathartic, even.

“Gee, thanks,” Killer said sarcastically as he tossed the pillow near Cross’ end of the bed.

“If you don’t find the accommodations acceptable, you are welcome to leave,” Nightmare said haughtily.

But Killer was already laying on the blanket like a lazy roof-top cat, one foot dangling over the edge and his arms folded behind his head. A cheeky grin stretched up his face as he closed his sockets. “Nah, it’s not too bad. ‘sides, you were so generous to offer.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” said Nightmare he had enough regrets for one night.

Sinking back into his pillow, he closed his socket and continued, “Now, I expect you all to lie still and go to sleep.”

“Psh - that’s no fun.”

“I mean it, Killer,” he said curtly, leaving no room for argument. “I’d better not hear a single sound -”

As the last word left his mouth, another thunderclap overlapped his voice, along with another strike of lightning. Nightmare opened his socket to glare darkly at the windows. For as much as he loved storms, this one was really grating his already frayed nerves.

Beside him, he felt Dream flinch, his breath hitching more in surprise than fear.

But Cross couldn’t sense emotions like he could, so he said, “Ah gee, the storm still scare you, buddy?”

Dream crossed his arms, accidentally elbowing his ribs again, and replied, “No, it doesn’t. I just don’t like it . . .”

“That’s okay, lots of people don’t like thunderstorms,” Cross squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s actually a pretty common thing to be scared of.”

“Really? Are you scared of thunderstorms?” Dream asked.

“Eh, I used to be when I was your age. They don’t scare me anymore, though.”

“Oh. So what are you scared of?”

Nightmare instantly glared at Killer’s closed sockets.

Don’t you dare bring up the cows.

“What am I scared of? Oh, uh, well -”

“- he’s scared’a cows,” Killer butted in matter-of-factly.

Nightmare rolled his eyelight.

Aaaand he brought up the cows.

“- other stuff too!” Cross tried to save (his slightly purpled) face, but Dream was already giggling.

“Cows aren’t scary, Crossy, they’re nice!”

“Well they are to me,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster.

“But that’s silly,” the littlebone laughed.

“Well yeah, there’s lots of stuff that’s silly to be scared of. Cows. Mirrors. Colors. Thunderstorms,” he emphasized his point with a boop to Dream’s nose, coaxing another chuckle.

“What are you scared of, Kiki?” Dream asked, like they were all in a group therapy session to discuss their phobias instead of in bed trying to sleep.

Apparently none of them got the correct memo, as the conversation continued.

Continued to wear his patience thin, more like . . .

“Hmm? Me?” hummed Killer as he cracked one socket open. “Ah . . . I’m not scared of nothin’.”

“Is that true . .. ” Nightmare mused with a challenging air, “so that wasn’t fear I sensed that time a spider landed on your face?”

Cross smirked at the turned table and added teasingly, “Ooooh, that was you? I thought it was Dream screaming.”

Killer leaned upright on one elbow to scowl at him, but his expression did little to mask the embarrassment prickling beneath it.

“Ha, ha. Lemme throw a spider at your face ’n we’ll see how loud you scream,” he taunted.

Nightmare paid the taunt little heed, however, as his attention had been diverted to the figure standing in the shadows.

It was easy for him to see Horror, but the others seemed unaware of his presence, most likely due to his eyelight being extinguished. Nightmare assumed that was the skeleton’s intention; for what reason, he could only guess. Although the mildly malicious intent he sensed was a strong hint toward shenaniganry.

As was the fact that the seventh sense he’d gained since assimilating the boys was tingling.

Call him a glutton for punishment, but he made no move to speak, nor to stop Horror as he slowly stalked toward the bed.

It wasn’t very often that the more mild-mannered skeleton got up to mischief, and when he did, it was usually for a valid reason (and not just to pick a fight, like Killer). So Nightmare chose to remain silent despite his better judgment.

“Pfft - I’m not scared of a little spider,” Cross said, still oblivious to their surprise visitor.

“Who said it was gonna be little,” Killer threatened as Horror loomed behind him.

Cross stiffened, finally catching sight of the statue in the shadows. Horror slowly lifted a finger to his borderline sinister smile, his sockets still empty. Cross seemed to get the memo of mischief and stayed quiet, same as he.

Dream, on the other hand, squinted and started to say, “Is that -” before Cross clamped a hand over his mouth.

“- Is that spider on your head little?” he quickly asked, setting Horror up for a predictable prank.

Well, predictable to everyone but the victim, of course, who scoffed back, “Heh, you really think I’m gonna fall for thaAAAT sHiiiiiT-”

Horror yanked his curled, crawling claw from Killer’s cranium as the arms swiped at him, then stepped back as the panicked skeleton flailed himself onto the floor.

Cross burst out laughing and uncovered Dream’s mouth to slap the bed, in tears. The now freed littlebone frowned and informed him how mean that was to scare poor Killer, but Cross just kept on laughing. Horror chuckled once or twice himself.

Even Nightmare gave an amused hum, finding Killer’s karma to be rather gratifying.

Naturally, Killer did not see the humor in it as they did, and pulled himself to his feet with a pained grunt to bare his teeth at Horror.

“Oh you are so gonna pay for that . . .'' he said coldly, grabbing a fistful of Horror’s shirt.

”Killer.”

The tear-streaked skeleton turned to Nightmare, saw that he was two seconds from being tossed out of the ‘slumber party’, and released his grip.

Horror grimly glared at him, socket to socket. “Don’t . . . make a mess . . . in the kitchen . . .”

“Tch’ . . . whatever . . .” was Killer’s sour response as he slunk back onto the bed.

Horror then set his laser stare on Cross, causing the ex-guard to instantly straighten up. “I told you . . .” he said in a tone that was both disappointed and disgruntled.

“Ah, yeah . . . sorry about that,” Cross sheepishly apologized.

Nightmare pressed back the building headache with his fingers. This petty prank was simply over some mess made by these two immature idiots?

Stars give him patience, because he was rapidly reaching the end of his.

Still, at the very least, he could take solace in the fact that now the shenanigan was done, meaning Horror would return to his room and leave them to resume sleeping through the storm -

“Hey Rory, do you wanna join our slumber party?”

Nightmare groaned into his hand. “Not everyone needs to sleep in here, Dream,” he said, changing his prayer from patience to mercy.

Not that he expected to be granted either in the end . . .

“Is there even any room left?” Cross asked.

“He’s not takin’ my spot,” said Killer

Dream suddenly sat up and leaned across Nightmare’s chest, but before he could sputter out a syllable, Dream patted the empty space on his other side and said, “Here, Rory! You can sleep here!”

“Dream . . .” he started to say, but as he lifted his little sibling off him, he perceived Horror approaching in his peripheral and narrowly eyed the smirking skeleton. “. . . and what do you think it is you’re doing?”

“Goin’ to bed . . .” Horror replied bluntly.

Nightmare wanted to gawk at the utter gall of him - of all of them. Waltzing without hesitation into his room, breaching the peace and quiet of his personal bubble, taking advantage of his fatigued state to shove their weight around.

While he might have a soft side, he was not a pushover.

“I believe you mean your bed,” he asserted.

“Yeah . . . your bed . . .” Horror said, picking up the blanket.

He bristled at such pure impudence, his tendrils reactively rising from the now bare spot to point at him like riled snakes.

“There’s not enough room for you. Go back to your room,” he demanded, flicking a tentacle at the door.

But the stubborn skeleton brazenly perhaps even bravely said, “I’ll fit . . .” and slid onto the bed. He scooted under the blanket, looking very snug and very smug. “ . . . see?”

Nightmare did see, even better than he could, that he did in fact fit (though it was with little room to spare). But any thought of arguing, of throwing him out and barring the door, was snuffed out by the weight of his exhaustion.

As irritating and infuriating as it was . . . he was too weary and weak-willed to keep putting up what was a pathetically pitiful fight anymore.

So with a hiss through his nose, Nightmare let it go. Though he still warned cryptically, “Fine, I’ll allow it, but you shall reap what you sow.”

Dream gasped. “You mean we’re going to plant a garden?”

“No, I mean we’re cleaning out all the junk that’s collected in the castle tomorrow.”

Moans of despair and regret from the three filled the air, as did a disappointed whine from Dream, soothing his well-worn nerves like a chorus of sweet music.

“I suggest trying to get as much sleep as you can,” he continued in a tone that sounded like it wasn’t really a suggestion.

Only for Dream to spring upright and shout, “Wait! What about Dusty?!”

“What about him,” Cross yawned.

“We can’t leave him out there all alone!” Dream said and started squirming out of the blanket as if planning to drag the skeleton here himself, which Nightmare had no doubt he would.

Wrapping an arm around his torso, he pulled his brother back to his side and held him firm despite his feeble struggle. “It’s alright Dream, Dust is perfectly safe. There’s no need to disturb him. I’m sure he’s sleeping just fine -”

“Hey guys.”

Everyone screamed as a flash of lighting and thunder followed the flat, disembodied voice.

Well, everyone but Nightmare, that is - he merely rolled his eyelight at the others’ overly dramatic reactions.

“Dusty!” Dream cried in delight, wriggling free of Nightmare’s grasp to sit up again.

Sure enough, Dust was standing at the end of the bed, giving a grain of truth to the phrase speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Nightmare wondered if there was a second part that told how to make the devil disappear too.

“What the hell, dude!” Killer cursed, which Nightmare did not have the energy to correct him for.

“What are you doing here?” asked Cross.

Dust turned his typical, but tired, grin to him. “The storm scared Cyanide,” he mumbled, holding out his cupped hands where the bald pink rat he kept as a pet lay nestled in his sentimental scarf.

“Okay? And?” Killer snapped.

“Thought he might feel safer sleepin’ in here,” he said, petting the rather content-looking rodent.

“Yeah, you guys can sleep in here with us, we’re having a slumber party!” Dream invited him immediately, because of course he did.

As if the three and a half rats already nesting in his bed weren’t enough.

Thankfully, Cross pointed out how, “He can’t, there’s no room left.”

“Well, maybe if we scoot closer he can,” Dream argued.

But Dust turned around and said, “Don’t worry, kid, it’s okay . . .”

And for a split second, Nightmare dared to hope that he was leaving, only to hear whatever greater power mocking him for doing such a thing when Dust walked over to his reading chair instead. To add insult to injury, the hoodless skeleton then dragged it over to the bed.

Nightmare didn’t even care to stop him, his spirit stretched and beaten into apathy

“I’ll sleep here,” said Dust, not even bothering to ask first; but again, Nightmare didn’t care, he just wanted to sleep please, for the love of stars -

“In a chair?” Dream frowned. “Won’t that be hard to sleep on?”

“I’m pretty sure he can fall asleep anywhere,” Cross chuckled.

“One time . . . I found him . . . in the hamper. . . snoozing away,” added Horror.

“Pfft - why?” Killer asked.

“Was waitin’ on my scarf to dry,” answered Dust as he sat down in the chair, adjusting Cyanide onto his chest and his feet onto the bed near Killer.

Killer scowled and slapped the slippers away, snarling, “Get those outta my face.”

“‘m not touchin’ you,” Dust said, pushing his feet back.

”Boys, enough . . “ Nightmare groggily growled, wrapping a tentacle around Dust’s ankles and Killer’s wrist. “Go to sleep . . . all of you . . ”

“O . . . okay . . .” Dream yawned, stretching his elbows out before slumping over, blinking slowly. Then, looking down at Cross, he said in his sweet, lamb-like voice, “Goodnight Crossy.”

“Goodnight buddy.”

“Goodnight Dusty.”

“Goodnight kid.”

“Goodnight Kiki.”

“G‘night squirt.”

“Goodnight Rory.”

“Goodnight . . . li’l chef . . .”

As it came to his turn, Dream laid back, curled against his brother’s side once more, his little hand reclaiming his shirt. “Goodnight . . . Nighty . . .”

“Goodnight Dream, sleep well,” he murmured, resting his hand atop his skull again.

Silence, blessed and balmy, settled naturally over the room, pleasantly filled with the sound of the still pouring storm outside. There was an occasional grunt or sigh or creak as the boys tossed and twisted in bed, but not a peep from them otherwise. Even the rat was as quiet as, well, a rat he supposed.

After a minute or two, when all of them were as still as statues with nary a snore, Nightmare sighed a wordless whisper of gratitude.

Finally . . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

Hmm . . . now that was strange . . .

Instead of dozing off as swiftly as the rest had, he found himself hyper aware (as much as his sleep-addled mind could be) of the humming souls surrounding him. Perhaps, because he had transitioned so suddenly from sleeping solo to sleeping in a pile of skeletons, he was simply processing it now that he was alone with his thoughts.

But what was even stranger than that, was how he felt. And what he felt, with one of his tentacles curled loosely around each of his boys and his brother tucked securely under his arm, was . . .

Protective.

It was a mere spark of a feeling, but it was there, and it led him to subtly squeeze his grip on his friends, his brother, his family.

When it came down to it, they were the only good thing he had in his life. He had no real home in this multiverse; there were a dime-a-dozen castles in a dime-a-dozen universes. He had no real purpose, either; that had long been taken from him, leaving him with ultimately meaningless goals besides just existing.

But his boys . . . they were irreplaceable. They meant something. They kept him grounded to reality and drove him to keep going, despite the darkness that lingered at his doorstep.

The thought of losing them . . . of losing his now little brother again . . . it sparked a much colder, more suffocating feeling.

Nightmare quickly smothered it, laughed at it even. Because the idea he’d lose any of them was laughable. There was no reason to fear it.

Not that he was afraid. Of course he wasn’t. It was simply a fact.

And honestly, he was too tired to think further than that, or to think at all.

So at last, his tether on consciousness snapped, and he drifted away.

Meanwhile, the storm rumbled overhead, keeping watch of the six slumbering skeletons snuggled together for the night.

Chapter Text

Sitting cross-legged on top of the coiled tentacle acting like a lumpy beanbag, Dream listlessly scribbled in the coloring book on his lap. His yellow marker bled outside the lines of his kitten and into the butterfly it was chasing, but he didn’t care.

He just scribbled and scribbled and scribbled . . .

. . . until he couldn’t take any more scribbling and snapped, tossing the book and marker onto the floor with the rest of his coloring supplies.

Then with something between a heavy huff and high pitched whine, he flopped flat on his back, flailing his feet out and his arms behind his head.

“I’m boreeeeeeed,” he bemoaned to the world.

There was no reply, only the slow click . . . click . . . clicking sound that had been filling the silence since, well, since forever.

Dream used considerable effort and willpower to pull himself upright again and grumpily glared at the hunched skeleton in the chair beside him.

“Nightmaaaree, I’m boreeeeed.”

“Mhmm . . .” came a throaty grunt from Nightmare, his head angled down at the desk.

Dream tried again, saying more directly this time, “I don’t wanna color anymore.”

And this time, Nightmare used words: “Then do something else.”

Which weren’t words Dream wanted to hear.

So he slumped and whined exasperatedly back, “Do what?”

“I don’t care . . .” Click - click - click - “. . . go play with your toys . . .” click - click.

“But I don’t wanna play with toys,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Then either stop whining, or leave,” Nightmare said shortly, finally an edge to his distant, distracted tone.

Dream was tempted to groan again, but huffing and puffing was getting him nothing. Instead, he scooted out of the tentacle nest and stood next to his sibling, placing his gloved hands on the desk’s edge. He stared curiously at the funny phone-looking thing that Nightmare was tapping.

“What are you doing?” he asked, glancing up at his brother.

Nightmare continued to stare down at the bright phone, his eyelight flicking down to his fingers each time he pressed a button. “I’m trying . . . to type . . .”

“Oh,” said Dream, his mouth stuck in its “o” shape as he watched him “type”.

It seemed that “type” meant pressing the tiny black buttons beneath the big phone. When Nightmare pressed one of them, a letter would appear. And then another, and another, until there was an entire word, just like when he “typed” on the small phone.

Dream’s dilated eyelights drifted back down to the shiny black buttons.

“Can I try to type?” he asked, even though he was already reaching out one little finger.

But before he could touch one, Nightmare’s hand caught his own like a frog catches a bug.

“No, this is not a toy,” he answered as he finally looked down at him with an irritated frown.

Dream started to protest, but a tentacle shoved at his face, forcing him to back up a step with an indignant “Hey!”

“Go play with some of your own toys and let me work in peace,” Nightmare went on with his annoying grown up voice, the tentacle now blocking Dream’s view of the big phone. “If you don’t leave me alone I won't finish, and then I’ll have to keep working until I do. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Noooo,” he whined.

“Then go play somewhere else,” said Nightmare, turning back to “type”.

Dream slouched forward and sighed, “Fiiiiiiine.”

Stepping over the coloring supplies still on the floor, he mopped his way across the room, head hung off to the side as the click-clicks continued behind him. When he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder at Nightmare. But Nightmare was too busy type - type - typing to look at him.

With a ‘Hmph!’, Dream trudged down the empty hallway, now super-duper bored with no idea what to do.

That is, until he heard laughter coming from Crossy’s room.

Instantly he perked up and raced eagerly towards the sound, his cape fluttering behind him.

Pushing his way through the cracked door, he skidded to a stop as he took in the scene. On the edge of the bed near the pillows sat Cross and Kiki, both of them grinning at the phone in Crossy’s hand and neither of them noticing his entrance.

“Hi Crossy! Hi Kiki! What are you doing?” he greeted with a bright smile.

But that smile fell a little when the two didn’t respond. Dream wasn’t sure if they still hadn’t noticed him (like Nightmare) or if they were ignoring him on purpose (also like Nightmare). Dream decided it was probably the former as he walked over to them.

Once in front of the monochrome skeleton, he chirped, “Crossy?”

Finally Crossy looked at him, his sockets widening with surprise. “Oh, hey buddy! What is it?”

“Can you play with me?” he asked sweetly, swaying cutely with his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, sure, just give me one sec,” said Crossy as he looked at his phone again.

Dream stood on his tippy toes at Crossy’s side and tried to see what was so important that he had to wait “a sec”.

“What are you looking at?” he frowned, not quite able to make out the picture.

“Uhhhh, grown-up stuff, sorry bud, hold on,” said Crossy, pushing him away just like Nightmare had a minute ago.

Kiki barked out another laugh and Crossy chuckled along with him, which made Dream frown even more.

“What’s so funny?” he pouted, hoping they’d at least tell him if they wouldn’t show him.

Kiki snorted. “Nothin’.”

But if Dream was one thing, it was stubborn, and right now, he was both stubborn and bored. So there was no way he was leaving without finding out what was so funny, no matter what they said!

Filled with determination, Dream dropped to the floor, glad for once that both skeletons weren’t paying him any attention. He slunk under the bed, crawling on his elbows and knees and coming out on the other side, a little dusty but successful. Then ever so slowly, he stood up and peeked over the edge.

It looked like Crossy and Kiki were still focused on the phone. Perfect! Now for part two of his super sneaky plan!

This was the hardest part, but he confidently grabbed the blanket and pulled himself up without a sound.

. . . okay, well, the bed might have squeaked a little and a small grunt did escape his puffed up cheeks, but neither one seemed to notice. So far so good!

Emboldened, he carefully crawled closer . . . and closer . . . and closer . . . until he was right behind them. Still, he couldn’t quite see the phone, so he lifted his chin up to peer between their shoulders.

Unfortunately, he was so focused on the phone that he didn’t catch Kiki’s arm moving until it was too late. Something soft smacked against his head, and suddenly he was stuck with his face shoved down into the mattress.

“Nice try, pipsqueak,” Dream heard Kiki snicker, and while he couldn’t see his face, he knew Kiki was smirking.

Dream pushed up against the pillow holding him down but Kiki was just too strong, so he switched to scooting backwards. After a bit of a struggle, he finally popped free with a gasp.

He scowled at Kiki, but Kiki just chuckled and went back to looking at Crossy’s phone.

In a sudden rush of petty fury, Dream looked down at the pillow, picked up the pillow, and without a second thought, he smacked Kiki’s head with the pillow.

“Ah-! Hey-!” the older skeleton exclaimed, even though he didn’t hit him that hard.

Kiki twisted around and snatched the pillow back before Dream could react. “You’re gonna regret that, squirt.”

Dream gulped as Kiki raised the pillow into the air. He barely had enough time to instinctively grab another pillow for a shield before Kiki’s pillow slammed into him. He let out an “oof” as he fell on his tailbone.

Was this . . . a game?

It felt like one. It felt like a nerf gun fight, but with pillows. A pillow fight!

And he was determined to win it.

Grinning with growing giddiness, he sprung right back up and swung again at Kiki, who blocked it with his arm.

“Hey! Cut it out, guys,” said Crossy, who stood and stared them down with an adult ‘no-fun-frown’. “Stop messing up my bed.”

But Dream was too busy trying to scramble away from Kiki and slap him with his pillow at the same time to listen to Crossy’s complaint.

“Eh, come on, it’s not a big deal,” Kiki said, suddenly swinging his pillow at Crossy.

Thankfully Crossy managed to duck the attack in time and it missed.

Dream stood up. “I’ll save you, Crossy!” he declared with renewed determination as he raised his pillow high.

“Pfft, we’ll see about that,” Kiki smirked and started swinging at him again.

As Dream shielded himself from the fluffy white weapon, he squinted and saw Crossy dive to the floor and rise with one of the knocked off pillows.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” he shouted, smacking Kiki’s skull hard enough to cause him to stumble onto the bed.

Kiki grunted as pushed himself back up. “Fine, you asked for it -”

With Kiki’s back now turned, Dream took his chance and clumsily swung his weapon at him as he wobbled on the unsteady bedspread.

“Show him no mercy, Dream!” Crossy laughed.

“Hey! Don’t attack just me, that’s not fair,” said Kiki after enough blows had him hunching into himself.

Dream stopped, seeing that he had a point, and swiftly jumped onto the floor to run behind Crossy.

As he started slapping his legs, Crossy glanced down and yelled, “Oh no! I’ve been betrayed! How could you, Dream!”

He just giggled and slapped his shins even harder.

But Crossy didn’t fall over like he’d hoped; instead, he whirled around and smiled mischievously. “Alright, now it’s your turn.”

Dream’s sockets widened as the two towering adults raised their pillows to pummel him. With a squeak, he dashed for the bed, feeling pillows brush his back and bonk his head, before he finally dove underneath it.

He scuttled as far out of their reach as he could, panting a little - they’ll never get him under here!

“Dang it, we lost him- oOF!”

Dream jolted as Crossy fell to the floor. Right as he thought about leaving his hiding spot to help, a pillow slammed down on the skeleton. Or, it would have, if Crossy hadn’t rolled away the second he did.

“Dude, that was dirty,” Crossy grumbled as he stood up.

Dream giggled into his pillow as he saw their feet shuffle and stumble and heard their taunts and grunts from the safety of the darkness. But after a moment, it started to get boring. Eager to rejoin the fun, he scooted out from under the bed opposite of the two fighting.

Throwing his pillow onto the mattress, he pulled himself up after it and stood, his grin widening as he watched the fight.

At least, he tried to. They were swinging so fast their pillows were a blur! But he could make out their smiles, especially when one of them got a good hit.

“Get him, Crossy! Get him, Kiki!” He cheered as he bounced, bounced, bounced on the bed.

Kiki glanced over at him with a smirk. “Back for more?” he taunted.

Then he charged him, but Dream was prepared this time and dodged to the side, using Kiki’s closeness to smack him on the skull - success!

Crossy joined in, attacking both Kiki and him, until eventually they were just randomly attacking each other. Dream did his best to hit and dodge and dodge and hit, all while bouncing and rolling and laughing on the now messed up bed.

He didn’t know who was winning but he didn’t care, he was having the most fun he’d had all day!

But of course, all good things must come to an end . . .

Poor Dream . . . everything was such a whirl of white and breathless blows that he didn’t see it coming, much less see who did it. All he saw was darkness as the pillow smacked him in the face, sending him stumbling backwards on the springy bed and off the edge.

Dream wasn’t scared of falling.

He’d fallen lots and lots of times from the low branches of their Tree and the tops of big boulders. And each time he landed on a soft turf of dirt and grass, he walked away a bit sore, maybe bruised, but okay.

But this time, the ground was not soft with dirt and grass - it was hard, solid rock.

And the next thing Dream knew, he was lying face down on the floor, in so so so much pain.

He thought he heard someone, maybe someones, shout something, but he couldn’t quite catch it because of the ringing in his skull.

Despite being dazed and dizzy, Dream slowly pushed himself onto his hands and knees, grimacing and gasping as the pain in his body, in his head, in his face grew worse and worse as the seconds passed.

A hand touched his back, another grabbed his shoulder, and more muffled words were spoken near his skull, but his mouth hurt too much to answer.

Without thinking, Dream touched where it hurt the most ( ow ow ow, bad idea, bad idea!) and forced his sockets open.

When his eyelights focused, they immediately shrunk, stunned and shaking as they stared down at the floor.

There . . . right there . . . was a tooth.

His tooth.

“Shit, shit, shit, shiiiiit-”

“Oh, buddy . . .”

At their words, the tooth began to blur.

Then out came a few sniffles, which turned into a high-pitched whine, which turned into wailing in pain and fear and more pain.

“No, no, no, it’s okay Dream! You’re okay!” he heard Crossy frantically say as he felt himself being picked up and pressed close to a soft, thick sweater. A hand began to rub his head as the skeleton holding him rocked back and forth. “You’re okay, shhh, shhh, it’s okay . . .”

‘It hurts,’ Dream wanted to whine, but he couldn’t stop crying long enough to speak, so he gripped the furry coat and cried even harder into it.

“Ugh - come on, shut him up before Nightmare hears,” a voice above him hissed.

“You shut up,” the voice in the chest hissed back, “you’re the one that hit him!”

“That was an accident!”

“Yeah well, you could have caught him.”

“So could you!”

“There was a pillow in my face!”

Dream howled a louder, longer sob as his distress peaked, and their upsetting bickering paused for a moment.

“ . . . whatever, just sit there and keep him quiet. I’ll go grab a candy.”

“Candy won’t fix this.”

“I know that! You got a better idea?”

“Nightmare might know how-”

“- no, we don’t need him, we can fix this on our own.”

“And fix it you will, whatever it is you’ve done.”

Dream’s head instantly swiveled around at his brother’s voice. “Nigh-eee-igh-tyyyy,” he sniveled pitifully, reaching out to him.

Through his tears he saw Nightmare’s flat frown fall in frustration and something like a wince. After a sigh, a tentacle swooped towards him and he felt it securely wrap around his waist. Dream shuddered and sobbed, though a bit more quietly now, as he was lifted from Crossy’s arms and into his brother’s tight, protective ones.

“Now . . . how did this happen, pray tell?” he felt more than heard Nightmare ask as he continued crying into the cold, comforting hoodie.

There was a short pause and then Crossy said, “We um, we were having a pillow fight and I knocked him off the bed -”

“No, no ya didn’t . . . it was me. ‘n I started it, too.”

“Be that as it may, you both chose to engage in the fight despite knowing such activities are prohibited.”

“We tried to be careful . . .”

“Not careful enough, it seems.”

“Sorry, Nightmare, sir.”

“Yeah, sorry . . .”’

“Your apologies are accepted. However, you are both to remain at the hideout for the remainder of the day -”

“Ugh, really . . .” Kiki mumbled.

“-and I will be confiscating your weapons.”

“But we weren’t even using them!” Cross cried out.

“And yet your actions were irresponsible, so until you can prove to me again that you can act like responsible adults, I will be keeping them.”

Choking wetly, Dream curiously peeked over at Crossy and Kiki in time to see them hand over their big and small knives to the tentacles waiting for them. Crossy held his hands behind his back and bowed his head, while Kiki crossed his arms and frowned at the floor.

“All of them, Killer,” Nighty said in a firm voice.

Kiki mumbled something Dream couldn’t hear as he pulled more knives out of his jacket and shorts and even his socks, and handed them to Nightmare.

“Thank you. Now you may go and retrieve the candy.”

Kiki nodded and with a pop of magic, he was gone.

“Alright then, let’s see here . . .”

Dream whined as the hand on his back pulled him away from Nightmare’s chest. He glanced up teary-eyed and sniffling to see him staring at his mouth.

“Is it - is it, b-bad?” he hiccuped fearfully.

Nightmare placed his other hand on his cheek and rubbed near his mouth, which still really really hurt, causing him to whimper. “No Dream, it’s not bad. You’re alright.”

“But, my-my tooth is gone!” he cried, his eyelights wobbling again.

“I see that, but don’t worry, you’ll live.”

“Is there really no way we can fix it?” Crossy piped up.

“None that I know of,” replied Nightmare, but then he hummed, “Hmm . . . unless . . .”

Letting go of Dream’s face, Nightmare reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, flipping it open.

“Who are you calling?” asked Crossy.

“Sci. He might have a solution for this.”

Dream sniffled and rubbed his sockets as he waited for Nightmare to talk. But he didn’t, and his frown got deeper and deeper, until finally he sighed and flipped the phone shut.

“Wh-what’s wrong, Nighty?” Dream said softly.

“He’s not answering his calls,” replied Nightmare. He turned to Crossy. “Here, take him. I’ll go speak with Sci in person.”

“Nighty . . .” he whined as he reluctantly let go of his brother and went limply into Crossy’s arms.

Nightmare opened a swirly black portal with one hand and glanced over his shoulder with his comforting cyan eyelight. “I’ll be back soon, Dream.”

As soon as his brother disappeared, Kiki popped up next to Crossy with a flash, now holding a little pink ball in one hand.

“I got the - uh, where did Night go?” he asked, raising a brow.

The arms around Dream squished him higher up against Crossy’s chest. “He went to see if Sci had anything to fix Dream’s tooth.”

“Oh. Huh. That’s a good idea.”

“Told you he would know what to do.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Kiki rolled his eyelights, or, well, sockets, and looked down at Dream, holding out his hand. “Here ya go, squirt.”

Dream sniffled dryly and eagerly took the candy. “Thank you Kiki,” he said sadly, popping it into his mouth.

The sweet but slightly funny tasting strawberry flavor filled his mouth and slowly soothed the terrible, terrible pain away.

Kiki gave him a nicer-than-normal pat on the head. “Of course, kid.”

“What Killer means is he’s sorry,” said Crossy.

“Pff - yeah, whatever,” Kiki mumbled with a shrug.

Crossy rolled his eyelights before smiling down at Dream. “Do you wanna watch a movie while we wait for Nightmare, buddy?”

“Mmhmm,” Dream nodded his head and snuggled into the soft fluffy coat again, no longer hurting but still very much sad over his lost tooth.

“Okay,” said Crossy, holding him a little tighter as he began walking, “let's go watch a movie.”

As if Nightmare wasn’t frustrated enough by the boys’ carelessness causing consequences for his poor little brother and stress to be added to his already stressful afternoon that insufferable device is more trouble than it’s worth the sight before him set his socket twitching.

Across the room, at his desk, feet propped up on stained reports and chair leaning back off the floor, was the scientist. An empty carton of some kind perched upon his chest drooled grease down his shirt. But it seemed Sci was too busy snoring to notice.

Too busy to notice his phone ringing either, apparently.

With an equally disgusted and disappointed sneer, Nightmare crossed the chilly tiles to loom over the sleeping skeleton.

“Sci, wake up,” he commanded in a firm, level tone, despite the twitchy tentacles behind him.

When Sci didn’t stir in the slightest, Nightmare was left with no choice but to grab the chair with a tendril and rip it out from under him, spilling the skeleton onto the floor.

To his increasing ire, Sci continued snoring face down on the ground in an almost baffling display of exhaustion.

Nightmare glared, unimpressed, as he lifted the ragdoll monster like a soggy, soiled napkin.

“Wake up, you slobbering. Slothful. Skeleton!” he demanded in a booming voice, giving him a good shake with each descriptor.

It took at least three more shakes to actually get Sci’s sockets to blink open out of sync. Eyelights appeared behind his crooked glasses shortly after, fuzzy and oblivious. When they finally did focus on the glower in front of them, Sci’s brow furrowed.

“Nightmare?” he said groggily, then squinted down at the tentacle wrapped around his waist. “Uh . . . did I miss something?”

“You missed . . . my call,” Nightmare said, words dripping with restrained anger as he released his hold.

Sci did react to landing on the floor this time, exhaling a groan of pain that brought Nightmare some small amount of satisfaction. He crossed his arms and watched the scientist pull himself up using his disgraceful desk.

“Ah -” he gasped, righting his eyewear, “sorry ‘bout that.” He didn’t sound very sorry, but Nightmare overlooked it for the sake of time. “What d’ya need me for?”

At least he got to the point, Nightmare appreciated that. “Dream has had an accident.”

Sci, the chronically slouched skeleton, straightened upright. “What happened?” he questioned with an edge of concern.

“It’s nothing too serious -” Nightmare started.

“Well yeah, I figured that,” Sci cut him off, shoving his hands into his lab coat pockets. “You’d be carrying him in your arms if it were.”

As irritating as it was, Nightmare couldn't argue with Sci’s assumption.

After all, he’d done the very same with Dust over half a year ago.

But the thought of doing so with his little brother . . . unconscious and bleeding . . . made him particularly grateful it wasn’t more serious.

Pushing that sickening thought aside, Nightmare continued. “There was no need for that. He merely broke a tooth.”

“How’d that happen?” Sci drawled.

“Killer and Cross thought it was appropriate to fight each other with pillows and it seems Dream was injured in the crossfire,” he huffed.

Then rolling his eyelight, he added, “Honestly, it’s a miracle something like this hasn’t happened sooner. I’ve reminded them I don’t know how many times not to fight around him like that, but it all spills out of their skulls. They’d better remember that rule from now on, or else there’s going to be much more dire consequences.”

He finished his tangent with a flick of his tentacle; meanwhile Sci just stood there blinking blankly at him.

“Uh . . . . . yeah, so . . . I guess you want me to fix his tooth then.”

“Obviously.”

Sci scratched his chin. “Hmm . . . . I suppose I could try modifying a G-MX elixir to accelerate the growth of a new tooth . . .”

“Excellent,” said Nightmare, pleased this meeting wasn’t pointless. “I want -”

“- but,” Sci stopped him again, fixing him with a dead serious stare, “I can’t guarantee it will work, not with how suppressed Dream’s magic is. That might inhibit it from working.”

Nightmare nodded just as seriously, “I understand. However, if you believe there is a chance it will work, I’m willing to try.”

The scientist shrugged. “Okay, if you say so. It shouldn’t take me too long to whip something up if you just want to hang out here,” he said as he walked past him.

Nightmare side-eyed the toppled chair lying in a puddle of greasy juice. “I believe your kitchen area will suffice.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead. No one’s here tonight but me, so it’s all yours,” Sci said nonchalantly as he opened the door.

But then he paused and added over his shoulder, “And hey, if this doesn’t work, at least you won’t have to worry about the tooth for long.”

Nightmare narrowed his socket suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’m almost done with Dream’s magic enhancer.”

For a split second, Nightmare stared at him in confusion.

Magic enhancer? What is he talking about? Why would Dream . . .

. . .

. . . oh.

“Oh. I . . . see.”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, it just . . . slipped out. Just like how his expression slipped off, leaving his face slackened and solemn. Just like how every other thought slipped out of his mind, leaving him with just the one.

“Yeah. It shouldn’t take more than another week or so, just got to run some final tests,” Sci continued casually. “Might not be worth fixing his tooth now, if you think about it . . .”

His words snapped Nightmare out of his stupor enough to look up and frown at the skeleton.

“That is for me to decide and I have not changed my mind,” he said, only realizing after he spoke just how heavy his voice sounded.

For some inexplicable reason it felt . . . inappropriate to be speaking.

“‘kay, it’s no skin off my nose, heh. Be back in a jiffy.”

At that, Sci let the door close behind him, leaving Nightmare standing in an empty room with an empty feeling gnawing through his corrupted core.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on his next task. Once confident he had sufficiently collected his composure, he opened a portal not to Sci’s kitchen, but his own.

Stepping inside, he spotted Cross, his hooded jacket gone, standing over a bowl of ice cream with his hand raised to add another scoop.

“Oh wow, that was fast!” Cross said startled, not noticing the strawberry treat slipping off his spoon. “Did you get anything from Sci?”

“Not yet. He is in the process of making Dream . . . something to fix his tooth. I only came back for something to drink while I wait. He said it wouldn’t take too long,” Nightmare explained, walking over to the cabinet as casually as he could.

After acquiring a tea bag and mug, he turned back to Cross and eyed the bowl of ice cream again.

“Hmm, treating a broken tooth by appealing to the sweet tooth, I see,” he said dryly, though the corner of his mouth quirked up a bit.

Cross stopped spraying the whipped cream and hesitantly looked over at him. “Uh, yeah . . . is that okay?”

It was after lunch and not too close to dinner, so he nodded, “I suppose so. How is he doing now?”

“Well, he’s not crying anymore, the candy took care of the pain I think,” said Cross as he dumped out several cherries, “but he’s still pretty upset. He’s watching one of his movies right now.”

Knowing that, Nightmare glanced at the door to the living room. His brother was probably curled up in Cross’ clothing at the moment, staring up at the television with entranced eyelights. The image instilled a small drop of warmth to his hollow soul.

Only for Sci’s earlier words to worm their way back in and snuff it out.

’I’m almost done with Dream’s magic enhancer.’

Which meant . . .

No more excessively sugary bowls of strawberry ice cream.

No more watching movies late at night with the littlebone dropping popcorn on his lap.

No more annoying movies with annoying songs that get stuck in Dream’s skull and inevitably make their way into his.

That basket of cheerful-colored dvd cases will be forevermore untouched . . .

“Nightmare?”

The goopy skeleton lifted his head to see Cross frowning at him with the ice cream bowl in hand. “Are you . . . okay?”

Was it that obvious?

Nightmare covered whatever countenance had concerned Cross with an unbothered one. “I’m fine. Just a little lost in thought, I suppose.”

“Bad . . . thoughts?” Cross pressed.

“None that would concern you,” he lied with a forced lightness in his tone.

If Cross knew that the little skeleton he’d grown so attached to would be turned back to normal in a short time, he’d surely become distressed, and Nightmare didn’t want to deal with that on top of his own.

Thankfully, Cross bought it, albeit with a defeated sigh. “Okay . . . I’m going to give this to Dream.”

“You do that,” he called after him. “I’ll be back shortly.”

As soon as the door swung shut, Nightmare summoned yet another portal, his tentacles sagging slightly lower than normal.

On the other side, he quickly located the lab’s dirty sink and set to work, pouring water into his mug before sticking it into the microwave for a few minutes. It was sacrilegious and most likely unsanitary, but strangely enough, Nightmare didn’t care. He simply stood there, staring lifelessly at the machine as it whirred, working its low-effort magic.

When it had a minute left, he decided to open his tea bag, only to stop in surprise upon seeing it was a packet of chamomile lavender.

The kind that Dream had made him all those weeks and weeks ago, when he was still known as Midnight.

Dream had been so affectionate and kind to him back then, even though he hadn’t been all that friendly in return. But that never dimmed the sparkle in his eyelights or doused the warmth in his smile.

That big, unapologetic, almost obnoxiously bright smile . . .

. . .

How many times did he have left to see that smile?

Nightmare couldn’t answer the question for the magic coalescing in his throat.

Tea.

He needed tea.

That would clear it and hopefully trickle down to melt the frosty dread creeping up his soul.

Nightmare looked up to see the microwave had finished heating his water already, flashing so in green letters.

He hadn’t heard it stop.

Pulling the mug out, he dunked in his tea bag to let it steep for a few minutes.

Which was a few minutes too long to be alone with his thoughts, so he pulled out his phone. He’d been meaning to check up on the other boys earlier, now was the perfect time to do so. Fortunately, he had a new message from Dust that needed his attention.

Unfortunately, it was just a report, short and straight to the point, that didn’t require a reply. But right as he was about to close the chat, his eyelight caught sight of a picture peeking out from the top of his screen.

Sometimes the boys liked to send him pictures they took. Often these were in lieu of an actual message, because why tell him that Killer got himself pinned under a boulder in Waterfall when one can show him via a ‘selfie’ and a very serious ‘peace sign’.

But this old photo wasn’t one of the boys getting themselves injured or one of those rare but idiotic “me-mes”.

This was a picture of Killer, Cross, Horror, and Dream in the castle hallway, all trying several methods to catch the frog that his animal-loving brother had tried to smuggle inside after playing in the rain.

Nightmare was grateful that he’d been absent at the time, and that Dust had tipped him off so he could give Dream a stern talking to about bringing creatures inside his home.

Although . . . looking at it now, in hindsight and sans the headache (pardon the pun), he couldn’t help the small amused smirk that formed on his mouth. Sure, it was muddy chaos, but there was a certain charm about it.

There was never a dull moment with Dream around.

. . .

The smirk on his face slowly fell.

. . .

It’ll be a bit quieter once Dream . . . . once he returns back to . . .

. . .

Sighing wearily, Nightmare rubbed his face and put his phone away. Then he tossed the tea bag from his rather dark drink and took a long, deep sip, drowning out the depressing thoughts with its subtly acidic flavor.

He stared down at his mug, calculated it would only take a minute or two to finish, and glanced around the room for another distraction as he waited. After a moment his eyelight fell on a small table in the corner.

A sudoku puzzle book lay atop a stack of magazines with a pen beside it.

Perfect - an activity that required a sharp, focused mind.

The metal chair was hardly comfortable, but he crossed his legs and made the best of it. Taking another sip of tea, he opened the book and turned to a clean page. Then he got to work, crowding out the negative thoughts with numbers and patterns.

Just as he was about to solve the last one on the page, he heard the door open, followed by dull footsteps on squeaky linoleum.

“‘kay, got one tooth-fixer-elixir here for the king of negativity.”

Nightmare didn’t raise his head. Instead, he raised his mug for a sip of his mostly depleted drink.

“Uh . . . Nightmare?”

“One moment,” he murmured, working out the last number and jotting it down.

Finally, he lifted his gaze to see Sci standing a few few away, looking unimpressed, still holding out the antidote -

No.

No, not the antidote . . . this was for Dream’s tooth.

Which he knew, of course.

“It won’t bite, you know.”

Nightmare wiped away whatever expression had been on his face with a scowl. Slowly, almost pettily, he laid the book and pen aside, and transferred his mug to a tentacle. Then he stood up, and without a word, he took the vial from Sci.

Unlike the liquid that had started this all, this one was clear green, not milky white.

“It should take about fourteen hours for it to kick in. If it doesn’t work within twenty-four hours, then I’m afraid Dream will be stuck with that missing tooth until I can finish up the other one for you.”

Nightmare lowered the liquid from his inspection to frown at the scientist. “Speaking of which, why did you not tell me how close you were to finishing it?”

Sci shrugged. “You never asked.”

Nightmare tilted his skull up and sniffed. “Perhaps it was an error on my part to assume you would know better. No matter. From now on, I expect to be given regular reports on the progress you make with it.”

“You got it, boss,” Sci said with a hint of mockery, despite the lack of a mischievous smile that was usually seen with such a tone.

Nightmare kept his glare on the skeleton as he summoned a portal next to him. “You’ve tested my patience enough already, Sans the scientist. Do not test your luck as well.”

“I’m a scientist,” said Sci with a lazy grin, “testing’s kinda what I do.”

“Indeed,” Nightmare retorted, then lifted up the vial. “I hope for your sake you do not fail any more in the future.”

Satisfied with that ominous and lightly veiled threat, Nightmare vanished through the portal, missing the way Sci rolled his eyelights behind his bifocals.

Emerging into the living room, he found Dream sitting on the couch bundled in Cross’ coat, just like he’d assumed. The ice cream bowl was licked clean and lying lopsided next to the littlebone.

“Hi Nighty!” chirped Dream, flashing his typical cheerful smile, save for the missing tooth.

Nightmare glanced down at the vial in his hand as a dangerous thought entered his head.

If this really was the antidote . . . would he be able to erase that smile from existence?

. . .

. . . would he want to?

“Nightmare? Are you okay?”

Nightmare blinked and looked up to see Dream’s smile had been replaced with a concerned frown.

Softening his own, he replied, “Yes Dream, I’m alright. How are you feeling now?”

Dream lifted a hand to his mouth and replied thoughtfully, “It still feels funny, but it doesn’t hurt too bad anymore.”

“That’s good,” Nightmare nodded, walking over to his sibling.

Said sibling finally noticed the vial and titled his head. “Hey, what’s that?”

“This,” Nightmare held the vial up (but out of reach) for Dream to see clearly, “is medicine for your tooth.”

Dream’s face scrunched, his curiosity souring into suspicion. “Medicine? Like the stuff Dusty gave me when I got sick?”

“Not the exact same, but the principle is close enough,” Nightmare answered as he unscrewed the lid and handed it down to his sibling. “Here, drink up.”

Instead of taking it, Dream shrunk back and pulled Cross’ coat tighter around himself, hiding his mouth in the faux fur.

“Nooooo, it’s gonna taste yucky,” was his muffled protest, eyelights pleading for him to reconsider.

Nightmare rolled his own in return. “If you drink it quickly, you won’t taste a thing. Now take it.”

But of course, Dream stubbornly refused with an adamant, “Mm-mm!”

“If you don’t drink it, then your mouth will stay like that,” Nightmare argued, his tone gentle as he smiled knowingly. “And you don’t want that, do you?”

Dream shook his head. “My mouth is fine!”

“I don’t care if it is, you’re still taking this,” he frowned, switching to a more stern tone.

“Mmm.”

“Dream.”

“MmmMmmMmmMmm-mm-mm-MM!”

“Dreamscape, stop acting like a babybones and drink this, or so help me . . .”

But even the vague threat couldn’t get Dream to cave, much to Nightmare’s displeasure. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought his small, positive brother was aggravating him on purpose.

Well, no matter, Nightmare had another trick up his sleeve, that being bribery.

Or he did, until one side-glance at the empty bowl had him doubting its effectiveness. Besides, Dream had consumed a large amount of sugar - and stars help him if he went overboard.

Nightmare struggled to think of another solution.

After all, he very well couldn’t force Dream to drink the medicine, now could he . . .

. . .

A tentacle opened the potion while another opened his brother’s mouth. The skeleton struggled, trying to break free, but he couldn't. There’s nothing he could do to escape his impending doom and he knew it, his eyelights shrinking.

“N-no, no wait, wait Nightmare, stop please - please I! I - I - Don’t! S-stop!” Dream cried as he raised the vial closer and closer.

Finally, the tube tipped a steady stream down the gagging, whimpering throat.

“Drink up, Dream~”

. . .

. . . no.

No, he couldn’t.

. . . but . . . then again . . .

. . . there were other types of physical persuasion.

Nightmare faked a frown as he screwed the lid back onto the vial with a sigh, noting the way Dream visibly relaxed at that.

“Fine, if this is how you’re going to act, you leave me no choice,” he said, passing the vial to a tentacle.

Dream instantly tensed again, eyes wide and wary for his next move.

Sharp instincts, dear sibling, but they shall prove ultimately useless for you.

Nightmare clasped his hands and bowed his head, saying somberly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for help from . . .”

. . . pause for dramatic effect . . .

“ . . . the Tickling Monster!” he cried, unclasping his hands and holding them up like claws with a sinister smile.

“Eep!” Dream squeaked, scrambling for the floor and dragging Cross’ clothing onto it in the process.

Foolish brother, thinking he could escape his fate . . .

Nightmare decided to show him some mercy and saved him the effort of a chase, scooping him up from behind. He smoothly turned around in the same movement, falling onto the couch with his baby brother on his lap.

“Noooo, no tickling monster!” Dream shouted as he pushed at the arms trapping him.

“Are you going to drink your medicine?” Nightmare asked, giving him one more chance.

But his predictably stubborn sibling grunted, “No, I don’t want to!”

“Then the tickling monster it is,” he said, releasing one hand to tease his cervical vertebrae.

“No, no-O-oh-oh! Not f-fa-a-a-air-ah-ha-ha!” Dream half whined, half giggled, hunching his shoulders to shield against the attack.

“Just tell the tickling monster you’ll take the medicine and he’ll stop,” Nightmare informed him calmly, moving in front to scratch under his chin.

“Eh-heh-hee-hee!” Dream laughed, his hands trying to push Nightmare’s away. “Nigh-ha-ha-ha! Nigh-ha-HA! Nighty-y-ee-ee-hee-hee!”

“I’m sorry, Dream, but that’s not the right answer . . .” he said with mock-remorse.

With Dream's hands out of the way, Nightmare engaged in a full attack on his brother’s side, poking his most ticklish ribs. Dream countered with ‘the fish’: a move that involved flailing and wriggling like a sea specimen, all while squealing with laughter.

(It was more of a reaction than a tactical move, but it was amusing to watch either way.)

Nightmare grinned as Dream kicked and squirmed on to his back, his face now turned up to him as he continued to squirm.

His smile was wide and his brow furrowed and his cheeks - no, his whole face was aglow with his enjoyment and the exertion of his escape attempts. And his laughter - his sweet, innocent, boyish laughter.

Nightmare wished now more than ever that he could capture the pure sound to listen to when his soul needed something to hold onto.

. . .

But of course, all good things must come to an end . . .

“O - okay - ! Hahahaha . . . . okay . . . I’ll - I’ll do it . . . I’ll DO IT!” Dream wheezed.

As reluctant as Nightmare was to stop this precious moment of sibling bonding, he honored his word and ceased his assault.

“Hmmm . . . alright, the tickling monster believes you,” he said fondly as he picked Dream up and sat him by his side.

Then he opened the vial and waited for Dream’s gasping breaths to slow back down to normal. When they did, he held it out in front of Dream, keeping one hand on his shoulder, just in case. After a moment's hesitation, Dream heaved a great sigh and took it.

“Drink it quickly now,” Nightmare advised once again.

Dream grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, and jerked his head back, pouring the medicine into his mouth so fast that for a second Nightmare worried he would choke. Thankfully though it went down without any sputtering or coughing. Once it was empty, Dream lowered the vial and exhaled.

Hearing no disgusted gagging noises, Nightmare smirked down at him and said, “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

With a pouty face, Dream handed him the vial and huffed, “It didn’t taste good . . .”

Nightmare snorted, “Well, it is medicine, not ice cream.”

Speaking of which, Nightmare spotted the dirty bowl at his feet, no doubt knocked down during their silly game. Being the responsible skeleton he was, he bent over to pick it up. But no sooner did he sit upright again then Dream suddenly lunged at him.

“Oof!” he grunted, instinctively holding the fragile items out of Dream’s reach. “Careful, Dream, I could have -”

“It’s your turn, Nighty!” Dream exclaimed, eyelights shining with mischief. “Tickle, tickle!”

Before Nightmare could stop him not that he would have tried to, the little fingers started tickling his neck.

Well, in action at least. The ticklish sensation Dream was expecting to provoke was (unfortunately for him) dulled to an unnoticeable point by the goopy layer of magic covering Nightmare’s body.

Despite this, Nightmare couldn’t bring himself to spoil Dream’s revenge, so he pretended it did tickle, twisting his head around as he lightly batted his hands away.

“Ha ha, no please, spare me, ha ha ha,” he warmly chuckled.

Dream only grinned wider, doubling his efforts as he giggled even more, which in turn made it easier for him to laugh along.

“Nope! You can’t escape the tickling monster either, hee hee!” Dream snickered oh-so-evilly.

So Nightmare didn’t try to escape - he just sat there and laughed genuinely, without any fear of judgment.

And for a minute, he wasn’t Nightmare, king of fear and lord of negativity. He was Nighty, Dream’s brother, playfully engaged in a childish tickling fight with his tiny twin.

Eventually, he felt enough time had passed and started to “tire”, his movements slowing as his breathing grew heavy.

“Eh heh heh . . . have mercy or I shall perish!” he bemoaned.

“Perish! Perish!” Dream yelled back enthusiastically.

Suddenly, Nightmare stopped laughing and choked, his socket widening. Dream recoiled instantly, his smile dropping in surprise. Before he could recover, Nightmare snatched him under the arms and twisted himself around to fall horizontally onto the couch.

When his head hit the cushion, he dropped Dream onto his chest, closed his socket, and let one arm fall limply over the edge of the couch.

For a second, all was perfectly quiet . . .

. . . then, a finger poked his cheek. Twice.

“Nighty? You okay?”

“I can’t hear you, Dream, I have perished,” Nightmare replied with the utmost seriousness, still closing his socket.

Two little hands slapped onto his cheeks and squished them. “I un-perish you! And because I won, I get to pick the next game.”

His socket cracked open. “Oh? And what game would that be?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Dream answered innocently. He released his face and sat back on his knees, leaning his hands on his collar bone. “We can plaaaaaay . . . hide and seek? Or read a book. Oh! Or do another puzzle! What do you want to do, Nighty?”

Nightmare didn’t answer right away as he stared up into the excited, expectant eyelights above him.

A small, nagging voice reminded him of the paperwork waiting for him on that stars-damned laptop. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. Anything but that arduous task was quite alluring at the moment.

Besides . . . if Dream was going to be returned to normal in a short time, he should take advantage of the time he had left, shouldn’t he?

Nightmare smiled up at his brother. “I believe I have an idea in mind . . .”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember the piano, the one on the fourth floor?”

Dream brightened. “You mean the one you said you’d teach me how to play?”

“That’s the one. Do you still want to learn?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please!” Dream exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on his chest. “Oh! Can you give me a ride there? Please please please?”

“Haven’t you had enough horse-playing today?” Nightmare groused half-heartedly as held Dream and sat up. “What if you fall and break another tooth?”

His brother looked up at him fearlessly, full of trust. “I won’t! You’ll catch me!”

Nightmare sighed with a smile. “Ah, you have me there. Well . . alright, I suppose you can.”

“Yay!” Dream cheered as Nightmare set him on his shoulders.

“Hold on now,” he warned, even though he had his hands around his ankles securely and his tentacles sharp and alert. “Ready?”

“Ready!” said Dream, arms resting atop his skull as he shifted excitedly.

And so Nightmare started for the fourth floor to teach the jittery littlebone how to play the refined instrument.

It went about as well as one might expect.

After learning the scale, Dream refused to learn anything else and just played the same six keys over and over.The only time he sat still and listened was when Nightmare showed him how to really play the piano, his tarry fingers flying over the ivory keys. Even then, there was an occasional sour note added to his otherwise flawless piece.

But between you and me, there was no other way Nightmare would have rather spent the rest of his afternoon.

Chapter Text

The crackling fireplace flame filled the silence with its frequent pops and pleasant hisses. Its relaxing warmth tickled Nightmare’s blind side. But he paid it no mind, his full focus centered on the chess table before him.

He reclined as still as a statue in his armchair, elbows propped, fingers laced and arched under his nasal bone. Not even a tentacle twitched. Only his eyelight flickered, roaming from piece to piece as he planned out his next move.

He wasn’t losing, per se. But the odds were stacked against his favor at the moment, and he needed to make his next choice carefully if he wanted to beat them. One wrong move could cost him this entire game.

Nightmare had deliberated down to two moves. Either he could capture one of his opponent’s pieces, or he could kick one of the other’s knights with his pawn. Neither were great, but they would buy him some time. Now it was just a matter of which to choose . . .

Perhaps out of hesitancy, perhaps for a hint, Nightmare took a moment to glance up at his opponent.

It would be all too easy to read his emotions. So, Nightmare doesn’t. It was a self-imposed rule that he strictly followed whenever he played chess. Instead, he kept the game fair by only reading expressions.

Which is exactly why Dust was such a challenging opponent.

In truth, he was Nightmare’s only challenging opponent.

Cross, while skilled, sweats far too easily under his gaze, and Killer, while unflappable, never spends enough time thinking through his moves. As for Horror, he took almost too long, usually overthinking every little move.

And Dream was as challenging as one might expect a babybone to be, that is, not at all.

(Although it was still adorable to watch him try- even if he often got bored and started playing with the knights like toy horses.)

Dust, on the other hand, was not only highly analytical and perceptive, but a master of the poker face with his empty, static smile.

That grin, irritatingly, never cracked. Even when Dust lost, the most Nightmare received was a mildly disappointed shrug. It was like playing against a brick wall of apathy and stoicism that rivaled his own stony expression.

Still, Nightmare scrutinized Dust, searching for a crack in the mortar through which to peek inside his head.

Dust stared back under the shadow of his hood, nary a thought behind those empty eyelights.

Neither blinked. Neither breathed. Neither broke the intense, intimidating eye contact.

It was an unspoken challenge. Who would cave first? And it was a challenge Nightmare was determined to win. So the seconds ticked by, silently, breathlessly . . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

-Bzzzzzzt-

The phone in Nightmare’s pocket hummed sharply over the clashing of their steel gazes.

. . .

. . .

“You gonna get that?” Dust asked without so much of a flicker of his eyelights. When Nightmare didn’t answer, he added in his monotone voice, “Could be important.”

. . .

. . . ugh.

It had better be, or else the sender should start begging the stars for mercy, as they certainly won’t receive any from him . . .

As he inwardly groused, Nightmare pulled out his phone, maintaining his intimidating stare at Dust. The other stared back, expression unchanged. Then, as much as it pained him, he flipped it open and glared down at whatever imbecile had the audacity to text him at a time like-

-Nightmare’s eyelight shrunk, his brow twitching.

. . .

It was Sci.

The scientist had sent several updates following his visit last week as instructed. Some weren’t even concerning the antidote, that cheeky, overconfident-! However, when the updates became too depressing grating on his nerves, he told Sci to text him again only when the antidote was finished. So Nightmare had a strong suspicion of what to expect as he opened the message.

That didn’t make reading “It’s done” any easier . . .

If anything, those two words resounded in his skull like a death knell, foreboding and final, followed by a chill that seeped into his marrow, one which fire couldn’t touch.

It’s done.

Nightmare struggled, but swallowed the words, feeling them slip into his chest and sink to the bottom of his soul. Then he considered how he should reply, because if he didn’t reply now, then he might never, and that wouldn’t reflect well on his character, now would it? After a moment or two, maybe three, he typed a simple reply.

I’ll be there shortly.

Not this very second, not in two days. Just until he finished this chess game, which by his estimation, wouldn’t last much longer.

He’ll finish it, and then he’ll retrieve the antidote to change Dream back to normal . . .

Forever.

“That was Sci, wasn’t it.”

Nightmare raised his head, meeting Dust’s still unblinking sockets.

“Yes . . . as a matter of fact, it was . . .” he said slowly, slightly suspicious, as he slipped his phone away.

Dust placed a pointer finger on the tip of one of the pawns he'd captured and casually tipped it back and forth. “He told you the antidote’s done then, huh?”

Nightmare almost did a double take.

He was aware of Dust’s amicable relationship with the scientist. Of how they’d bonded over their interest in chemistry and metaphysics ever since Dust’s near-death experience. Therefore, it made sense that Dust would know of the antidote’s progress.

All the same, he arched a brow dubiously as he asked, “Am I to assume you’ve been helping him?”

“Nah,” said Dust, tipping the piece over and picking it back up. “Not my thing . . . he keeps me updated on it, though.”

Nightmare huffed through his nose at that. “Well, at least one of us was being informed,” he said somewhat sourly as he picked up a piece of his own.

He rubbed his thumb over it, watching the way the fire light glowed on its smooth surface. He knew where to place the pawn, and yet, he stalled. It was just so . . . shiny. He didn’t want to let it go.

“So.”

Nightmare continued rubbing it thoughtfully.

“Are you gonna do it?”

He stopped.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you gonna turn him back?” Dust bluntly said.

Nightmare’s fingers tightened. “I would not have had Sci make an antidote if that was not my intention,” he replied, his tone level but firm as he captured Dust’s pawn.

“I’m not questioning you,” Dust shrugged. “Just curious.”

Nightmare wasn’t quite sure if he believed him, but he didn’t sense anything that would suggest otherwise, so he accepted the answer.

Another moment passed. Dust picked up his own pawn and moved it instantly, methodically, with no hesitation.

“When are you gonna tell them?” he asked, also without hesitation.

While Nightmare suspected this little interrogation was meant to distract him from the game, he answered anyway as he selected his next piece. “Later tonight. Once Dream is asleep.”

“Hmm,” Dust hummed noncommittally.

Nightmare was satisfied with the short sound, signifying the end of their conversation. Or he would have been . . . if questions of his own didn’t trickle in as he thought out his next move. Questions which greatly hampered his concentration.

Hmph . . . perhaps it was time he turned the tables.

“Have you discussed the antidote with the others recently?” he baited, nonchalantly placing his knight on D6.

“Not really,” Dust replied, eyeing the board, but not making a move yet.

Nightmare pressed his fingertips together and tipped the tent to his teeth- time for the trap.

“I see. Tell me, how do you think they’ll react to the news?”

Just as he’d hoped, Dust glanced up at that, his ever-observant eyelights twitching in their sockets.

“You mean who will take it the hardest?” Dust asked, and while that’s not what Nightmare meant specifically though, perhaps, he had wondered it, the other continued without letting him reply. “It’s a tie between Cross and Horror. Killer will be Killer, but he cares about the kid too.”

It was not the answer he’d been looking for. Not that he’d been looking for a specific one, as this was just a ploy to distract Dust, but it was interesting all the same. And it begged another question he couldn’t resist asking. To keep Dust distracted, of course.

“Is that so,” Nightmare hummed, playing another pawn without much thought beyond the move. “And . . . as for you? What are your feelings on the matter?”

Nevermind that he could sense them easily if he cared to; he wasn't about to break his rule.

Dust picked up a pawn. “Me, huh? Eh, well . . .”

“You may speak candidly,” Nightmare assured him.

“It’s been nice having the little guy around. Reminds me of Pap sometimes. When he was young. I think he reminds us all, in a way. And it was hard losing Pap. Ya know?”

Oh, Nightmare knew alright- hard was an understatement. Losing their respective brothers broke two of them completely, and very nearly broke the other two.

Dust’s vulnerable admission was difficult to digest, as a raw question of his own rose in his mouth and slipped out before he could stop it.

“Do you think . . . I am making the wrong decision?” It was low and lacking any edge that would indicate incredulity or indignation. It was honest. Too honest.

“Can’t say, Boss,” Dust replied quietly as he continued to study the chess piece between his fingers. “Not my brother. Not my decision.”

Then he paused, lifted his eyelights, and stared straight into Nightmare’s soul.

“But if it was my brother . . . and it was my decision . . . I don’t think I could lose him again.”

. . .

Nightmare’s eyelight faltered and fell to the board.

“I understand.” He meant it to sound sympathetic, not empathetic, but . . .

“‘course, like I said, ain’t my choice,” Dust said, voice back to his normal volume, which wasn’t much louder. “I’m sure you’ll make the right one,” he added, as if Nightmare hadn’t already decided; as if he needed assurance.

Sometimes, Dust was too perceptive for his own good.

Nightmare took it anyway for what it was worth, muttering, “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“No prob’,” said Dust.

Then he knocked over Nightmare’s king piece.

“Checkmate.”

Nightmare stared at the board, and then at the subtly smug skeleton leaning back in his chair.

“Checkmate indeed,” he sighed, accepting his defeat. Grabbing the arms of his chair, he slowly pushed himself to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

He stepped to the side as Dust spoke up. “You gonna miss dinner? It’s taco night.”

“I’m afraid I shall have to,” he said, repulsed by the thought of food. “Tell Horror not to worry about saving any for me.”

“Got it,” Dust nodded, sweeping the chess pieces into their container.

While Nightmare constructed a portal, he added, “Oh, and inform them of the meeting later, but do not mention the antidote.” He would hate to spoil their appetites as well.

As soon as Dust affirmed he would, Nightmare traded his office for the all-too-familiar lab, his tentacles trailing listlessly behind him.

The game was finished. The king had fallen. Time to pay the piper.

Nightmare stared down at the door handle.

He could see streaks of his black body reflected in the polished metal, but not his face. Not that he wanted to see his face. If anything, he was relieved he couldn’t. Would be a shameful sight, for sure.

Nightmare continued to stare, hands clenched at his sides.

Once he opened this door, there was no turning back.

He had decided. Now, he had to commit.

He had to . . . he had to.

He had to.

. . .

So, Nightmare straightened his shoulders, set his jaw, stared squarely ahead . . . and opened the door.

In a corner of the room was Sci, typing away at a machine. Nightmare shut the door and stood there, waiting for him to turn around. When several seconds passed and he didn’t, he considered coughing to catch his attention.

But before he could, Sci finally noticed him as he reached for a coffee pot perched precariously on the machine. “Oh, Hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, lazily leaning with one hand in his coat pocket. “No dramatic entrances this time?” he took a sloppy swig of coffee.

“Not today, Sci,” Nightmare warned him testily, hands clasped behind his back. “You said it’s ready?”

“That I did,” he sighed, setting the pot aside. As he took his sweet time shuffling towards the fridge, he yawned, “ . . . sorry it took so long. Had to make sure it wouldn’t dust the little guy, you know.”

If Nightmare winced, Sci didn’t see it.

The door of the refrigerator swung open with a kssssh. “But hey, at least the nightmare is over now, heh,” Sci punned, and Nightmare didn’t even have it in him to glare at him for it. “Suppose it’ll be back to business as usual, huh?”

Nightmare didn’t answer, his gaze distant and mind occupied with thoughts of the past, and soon to be present, thanks to the antidote.

“Nightmare?”

At his name his eyelight sharpened at Sci, who was now facing him with a vaguely curious expression. “Hm?” he hummed, lacking the motivation for anything more.

Sci blinked, then shook his head, his expression returning to its bored, lidded look. “Eh, nothin’ . . .”

Nightmare tensed, bracing himself, as the scientist approached and carelessly held out a hand.

“Here ya go,” he drawled.

Solemnly, Nightmare took the offered antidote and stared down at the cold, caramel gold vial in his palm.

. . .

Three months.

Three months ago he stood in this very room, with a very different vial in hand.

One that would grant him the peace and catharsis he craved; one that would change everything.

Nightmare recalled how powerful he felt then, almost giddy with anticipation. Now he felt . . .

Empty. Sick.

Numb. Dread.

Resigned. Powerless.