Chapter Text
Screams echoed through the prison. Again. At this point Sam was used to hearing them. Still it didn't make it any easier. No matter how many days he has spent listening to them he still wanted to cover his ears, to do anything to block out that horrible sound. Dream is a monster, he deserves this ... right? It was times like these, when the prisoner's desperate screams filled the air that Sam found himself hesitating.
He deserves it.
Another scream.
He killed Tommy.
Another scream, followed by the rattling of chains and what he assumed to be the cracking of a whip.
He hurt everyone. And Sam had to make sure he won't have a chance to hurt anyone again. He had to keep the server safe. This was alright, this was justice. Dream was locked up and no one was getting hurt
except for Dream.
Suddenly, there were no more screams, just cruel laughter of the duck hybrid.
Sam remembers the early days on the server. Remembers Dream's laughter when he messed around with George and Sapnap. Remembers the warm feeling in his chest as he watched his friends.
Sam shook his head, clearing it of those thoughts. Those days were long gone. The Dream he once cared about, loved as a brother even, was long gone. Replaced by a cruel manipulative man Sam doesn’t recognize. His Dream was long dead. The monster in the cell wasn't him, it couldn't be.
"Sam! I'm done here!"
Quackity's voice made Sam turn his head towards the wall of lava. Without much thought he lowered it. It was a familiar process, he didn't even have to look at his hands when he pulled the levers. Slowly, the lava came down and revealed two figures. The prisoner's body hung limply, only held up by the chains connecting his wrists to the ceiling. It didn't appear like Quackity planned on unchaining him. The duck himself stood by the lava, even from this distance Sam could see the blood on him and his smile sent shivers down Sam's spine. Quackity wasn’t supposed to enjoy this, but he did.
There was a monster in that cell. One Sam swore to protect everyone from.
There were two people in that cell, one of them a monster.
But with every passing day Sam became more and more unsure of which one of them it was.
Everything hurt, but it always hurt so it was fine. Dream was used to it. Pain became a constant in his life. He couldn't remember the last time something didn't hurt. Even before Q-sir's visits, things hurt. And after sir started to visit ... a shiver wrecked Dream's body just at the thought of it. He was thirsty, but there was no strength left in him to stand up and go to the cauldron. He didn't even have enough energy to stand. So he stayed lying on the harsh obsidian floor, trying not to think about the last time he had eaten. It had to be several days.
He knew he deserved it. All of it. He hurt everyone, and they hated him for it. And they were right, they should hate him. He was terrible. A monster. And monsters needed to be caged. And tamed.
He needed to be tamed, to learn how to behave. Because there were rules for monsters, rules they had to follow if they didn't want to be punished. And he was trying. He really was! But he just wasn't good enough. That was why sir had to punish him. But it hurt. It hurt so much, he just wants it to stop! Please just for one day ...
The clicking of redstone mechanisms cut his line of thought. Sir’s here. Ignoring all of the pain and the broken bones, Dream pushed to his knees. He had to greet sir properly. That was a rule. He could be good and follow the rules. Maybe then sir won't need to punish him too badly.
The lava lowered. Sir was here. He focused on his breathing, keeping it as quiet as possible. Sir didn't like it when he was loud. He wanted to curl up into a corner as far from sir as possible but he knew he wasn't allowed to do that. Sir demands Dream to greet him properly, so Dream'll be good and do it.
He could hear the footsteps against obsidian. He knew them by heart by now, they meant pain. Everything in him screamed to run, to take cover but he stayed still. Kneeling with his hands resting on the ground, palms up. The footsteps stopped but Dream didn't dare to raise his head. He didn't have the right to look at sir. Not without permission. Sir taught him that.
"W-welcome sir, I-I’m hap-py to see you a-again."
Dream's voice was barely above a whisper, but fortunately sir didn't seem to mind.
"Hi Dreamie, did you miss me?"
Knowing what answer sir wants, Dream nodded.
"Answer me, mutt."
There was a sharp edge to sir's voice and Dream flinched.
"Y-yes, s-sir."
"Good."
Sir seemed to be pleased by him. Maybe he was a good boy today.
"Now, what should we do?"
Dream's whole body shivered violently but he didn't dare make a sound or tear his eyes from the ground when sir approached him.
When a sharp blade dug into his shoulder he whined but didn't move away. He wasn't allowed to pull away. So he sat quietly and prayed for it all to be over soon. Prayed for sir to just please, please leave him alone at least for one day. But that wasn't going to happen, he knew.
It was only when sir brought the knife to his face, to his eye that Dream flinched back. A scared whimper escaping his lips. He realized his mistake immediately, but it was too late.
"I'm s-sor-rry sir, I-I-I didn't mea-mean to!"
Sir looked down at him, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment. Sir must be so upset with him, he couldn't even follow simple rules. He was so useless. Stupid mutt as sir called him.
"Who gave you permission to speak?"
Dream's eyes widened in fear. No. Nononononononono. He knew what the punishment for speaking without permission was.
"N-no sir, p-please, not the m-muzzle ... p-please -"
No, nonono he did it again. He spoke without permission again. That was bad, that was so bad. He shut his mouth the second he realized, but it was too late. The damage was done. Sir shook his head.
"Oh Dreamy, don't you know you aren't supposed to talk without permission? And here I thought you were doing so good."
Sir's voice was filled with disappointment and Dream shrunk in on himself, whining. He was so stupid. Now because of his stupidity sir had to punish him. So he'll learn. He didn't fight against sir when he chained him to the ceiling. He deserved this.
The whip connected with his back and despite all of his effort, Dream screamed. And again.
"You know you deserve this right?"
He does.
"Everyone is so much happier since you're here. They all agree with this. They all say you deserve this."
Dream screamed in pain again. But sir's words were much worse. He knows, he knows they hate him. Sir has told him so, oh so many times, sometimes when he brought new tools he even told Dream who suggested them. How it was Sapnap's idea to burn Sir's significant smile into Dream's skin. How George was the one who suggested using poisons on him. How Bad, always kind Bad, told him about the most painful spots to dig his knife into. How Sam asked him to use a muzzle on him as punishment for speaking out of line ... the list went on. He knows he deserves it. They were all right, but it still hurt to hear it. Because he still cared. He cared about them, but they didn't care about him.
He had no idea how long it went on. His throat hurt from all the screaming and black dots danced in his vision. At some point tears rolled down his cheeks, but he didn't care. Eventually sir stopped whipping him. And soon after two polished shoes appeared in Dream’s field of vision. His head was yanked up by a hand gripping his hair. He tried to ignore how the motion sent his head spinning and instead focused on sir. He had to be ready if sir gave him orders.
"Now then, time to move to your other punishment."
Dream froze when he saw the muzzle in sir’s hand. He hated the muzzle. Sir tended to leave it on him for days and it just made everything so much worse! But this was his punishment and he could do nothing about it except sob silently while sir secured the muzzle on him, tightening it as much as he could. It hurt. Everything hurt. Sir laughed at the sight of him and patted his cheek.
"Good boy. I'll see you tomorrow. Who knows maybe I'll bring someone else as well. I'm sure they'd love to see the progress we're making"
Dream whined. He didn't want that to happen. Anything but that. Please. There were more black dots in his vision.
"Sam! I'm done here!"
Everything faded to black.
George couldn't sleep.
No, that wasn't quite it. He had no trouble falling asleep. The problem were his dreams. He used to like them. The memories of the early days on the server. Back when everything was fine. Now he hated those dreams.
He doesn’t remember when but at some point they became bitter. Or maybe it was waking up that was bitter. Maybe if he could stay in those dreams forever then it'd be fine. But no matter how much he wished, he always woke up just to be reminded that those days are past. That Dream’s in prison, that Sam is the one keeping him there, that Sapnap promised to kill him if he ever breaks out. And that Dream changed. The Dream in his dreams was kind and caring, not cold and manipulative. He missed the old Dream.
So he couldn't sleep, because every time he did he was reminded of what he lost.
Before he realized it, he was on his feet. He didn't know where he was going, he just needed to move. It was only when the black silhouette of the prison came into view that he realized where he had wandered.
He wanted to turn around and leave but something stopped him. Dream was in that prison. All alone, held in a single obsidian cage. It had been many months but George never visited. He wanted to, but he always backed out, scared of what he'd find. The person inside of the prison wasn't his Dream, not anymore.
When they last saw each other, Dream hurt him. And who was to say it won't happen again? George's heart was already too broken for him to risk it.
But somehow his legs still carried him closer to the tall obsidian walls.
Quackity had left a few hours ago and Sam avoided the main cell like a plague. He hadn’t been in there since the early days of Quackity's visits. It was because of security he told himself. It was so the prisoner had less chances to trick him, to try to escape. Deep down he knew he just didn't want to face the consequences of his own actions. It was easier to let the torture go on when he didn't see how bad it was.
But now he had to go. The dispenser broke a few days ago and if he didn't want his prisoner to die he could no longer wait to fix it, he must give him some food.
If raw potatoes could be called food.
And maybe, just maybe it had something to do with the picture of Dream's limp body hanging in chains, that he couldn't get from behind his eyelids.
So with a deep breath, Sam threw the ender pearl and found himself inside of the cell.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was awful, even with his mask on. It made him want to throw up.
The second thing was the blood. It was everywhere. Sure, he knew Quackity wasn't holding back in his visits but this was worse than what he could have ever imagined. Walls that were supposed to be black and violet were mostly brown and red. He could even see some blood on the ceiling. He didn't even want to know how it got there.
And the worst thing was Dream. He was still unconscious, which Sam was thankful for. It made things much easier. But the sight of the man made Sam nauseous all over again. His whole body was filled with wounds in various stages of healing. Some were still fresh dripping with blood, others were already scarred over. He could even see several infected ones. There was almost no visible place that wasn't scared or at least bruised. All of the prisoner’s ribs were visible because he was way too thin, some of them were even broken. It was Sam's fault.
The prisoner deserved this.
No one deserved this.
Sam carefully avoided looking at Dream's face and moved to the dispenser. It wasn't a hard fix. Just a few minutes.
He was done and turned to leave but his eyes wandered to Dream again. It must be painful hanging like that and it was just a matter of time till his shoulders would pop out.
Sam had the key to the cuffs. Of course he had it. He gave these chains to Quackity himself.
For fuck's sake he could as well be the one to chain Dream like this.
Impulsively he stepped towards Dream, looking at his face for the first time. His head hung low and long strands of tangled hair covered most part of it but Sam could clearly make out ...
oh gods ... it can't be ...
no matter how much he stared, nothing changed. There was a fucking muzzle on Dream. Quackity put a muzzle on him, like he was some dog. The idea made bile rise in Sam's throat. Sure, Dream did some sick shit but this ...?
Before he knew it Sam was unclipping the muzzle and carefully removing it from Dream's mouth. He couldn't have had it on for that long, but the harsh leather still left angry red marks on his cheeks. Upon closer inspection, Sam realized that there were older friction burns undoubtedly caused by this very muzzle. This wasn't the first time Dream was forced to wear it. Sam didn't know why he was surprised. Of course it wasn't.
Sam pondered for a second, but then he moved to remove the chains off Dream's wrists. He winced when Dream hit the floor like a rag doll and whined in pain. He almost apologized, but then he stopped himself. The prisoner didn't deserve his apology.
Dream whined again. He was waking up, Sam should leave. He wanted to leave.
"'ank you 'am."
The words were so silent that he almost didn't hear them. Dream's voice was rough, probably from disuse and maybe dehydration if his cracked dry lips were any indication. Sam froze in spot at it. What was Dream thanking him for? Was this a trick. Manipulation? Was he trying to gain Sam's pity? How long has he been awake?
Before Sam could spiral into his thoughts, a gasp from Dream got his attention. The younger under him seemed to wake a bit more and curled in on himself shaking uncontrollably.
"'m s'rry, p-please w-warden! I-I didn't mean to p-please I-I won't ... I-I'll be g-good p-please. Don't h-hurt me. I- I can't ... no m-more ple-please!"
Tears were streaming down his face and Sam was frozen. What the hell? He knew Dream was a great actor but this? Dream was truly frightened and it was that kind of fear Sam didn't believe could be faked. Frightened of him, Sam realized when Dream tried to push farther away from him only to be stopped by the chains still tying his ankles. Once he realized that he was trapped, panic formed his expression.
Dream's breaths became short and shallow. He was beginning to hyperventilate Sam realized. That was less than ideal. He couldn't leave now. But this could be a trick. Just another one of the monster’s many ploys. He rid his voice of all emotions, he was a warden, he didn't need those. He just needed to get him to stop.
"Prisoner -"
Suddenly Dream's mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened as if he realized something. Next thing Sam knew, Dream's head bumped against the obsidian floor. Sam stared in shock as Dream hit himself against the obsidian again and again. Without thinking again, he stepped forward.
"Dream stop!"
Dream flinched at the sudden shout, but he stopped moving. Completely. Sam could swear he even stopped breathing. Upon closer look he realized that, really, Dream did in fact stop breathing.
"Fuck. Okay ... Dream breath with me alright?"
He had no idea what he was doing but Dream's earlier state reminded him of Tommy's panic attacks. And he had experience with those.
Upon hearing him, Dream stiffened, if that was even possible with how still he already was. But he followed Sam's lead, taking breaths in at the same time Sam did. It took a few minutes before Sam was sure he wouldn’t hurt himself or spiral into panic again. Still he was worried when he noticed the blood pooling under Dream from numerous wounds. Some old that reopened, some new.
Sam had no idea how he ended up here being worried about Dream of all people. Dream was a monster. He didn't deserve Sam's worry. But seeing him like this, trembling on the floor, trying to cower from Sam ... it was hard to see a monster. All Sam could see was a broken man.
A man he helped to break.
With a sigh he crouched down next to Dream's feet, trying to ignore the way the younger's breath hitched and how he desperately tried to pull away only to be stopped by the chains again.
"I'm going to unchain you, stay still."
Dream stilled but thankfully this time he kept breathing. The moment the cuffs were off his ankles he brought his knees close to his chest making himself as small as possible. Sam sighed, he should really leave now. But .... ah screw it.
He stepped towards Dream who drew back before stopping himself and holding still. Sam pulled out a healing potion from his inventory. Dream’s eyes widened at the sign of it but he remained still. After a quick check he decided that Dream's back was currently the most pressing issue. With the way Dream was positioned it wasn't hard to dump it over his back.
Dream gasped when the biggest gashes on his back closed. A relieved sigh escaped his lips when a few more wounds closed. It wasn't enough to fix everything, Sam doubted that every potion he had in this whole prison would be enough to fix everything. But it was all he had. Besides, he had spent way too long in this cell. With this ... with Dream.
He pulled out an ender pearl and got ready to throw it.
"T-thank you, t-thank y-you."
Sam could hear the gratefulness in Dream's voice. It made him sick. He shouldn't thank him. Not when Sam was the one who let this happen. Without sparing his prisoner another glance he pearled across the lava, not able to spend another minute in that cell.
He returned to the lobby and checked all of the cameras, avoiding the ones in the main cell. And while he sat there, he decided. Dream wasn’t a good person but he didn't deserve this. And Sam didn't want to play a part in it, in torture , any longer.
Because there were monsters in this prison ... and Dream wasn't one of them.