Chapter Text
Sam knew Dream back when he was a fidgety teenager with an unsettled daemon. He was already traveling with Sapnap and George back then, on Bad’s server. While Sapnap was off making rounds in the arena, Dream and George were more often than not dogging Sam’s footsteps, doing what Sam himself was doing in those days: teaching themselves magic.
Sam remembers Dream as he was: cocky, impulsive. Smart as a whip but easily frustrated. He already wore a mask most of the time, even then: a cloth thing that slid around his face as he and Hope ran, jumped, clambered up walls, tackled a friend or an enemy, flopped onto the grass. But he took the mask off sometimes too, for convenience, or around his friends, and Sam would see his wide eyes and his bright, goofy grin. Hope was less physically active but still couldn’t stay still – she’d be a bat, a leopard, a cormorant, an axolotl, all one after the other, minute by minute.
The trio were beloved of Bad, if they menaced and exasperated him as well, and Sam found it hard not to like them too. They weren’t freaked out by Cam, or if they were, they got over it quickly. Sam supposes that already being on Bad’s server filters for an acceptance of nonstandard daemon situations – but surely, most players there didn’t even know Bad, and the Dream Team were even then unusually nonchalant about it. After clumsily checking that he didn’t mind, Dream even asked questions about it, about the process of making her. Dream and Hope peered at her exposed circuits, starry-eyed, while she talked about the stuff she was made of.
Sam and Dream stayed in touch, even after they left the server. They talked about technical things: magic and redstone, mostly. Sam had always been an engineer more than a developer, and he knew that Dream and George were primarily interested in worldgen magic. A lot of kids were fascinated by worldgen but dreamt bigger than they could instantiate. Dream was cleverer by half than most of the programmers that Sam had met before. He was curious just to see what the kid would do.
Their correspondence got patchy, for a while.
And then Dream sends Sam a message asking if he wants to join Dream’s new server. So Dream figured it out after all.
When Sam spawns into a pine forest in a new SMP, Dream chases him around and kills him with an iron axe, and then a rock, and then hugs him and drags him by the hand to the community house. This new Dream has a sweeping green cloak and a fitted, sturdy mask of enchanted who-knows-what, wood or bone or something, that he keeps on all the time. He’s exactly as fidgety but better described as confident than cocky. He’s quieter. More thoughtful. Hope stays hidden most of the time.
It’s a relief to see that George and Sapnap are still with him, still treat him like family. Just so Sam knows the kid hasn’t changed too much, and he has people on his side. Dream points out some of Cam’s upgrades, and gushes over them. Later, almost shyly, he shows Sam his own daemonic parlor trick: Hope, now settled as a small but handsome green lizard, dashes clear across a meadow and practically out of render distance.
“Whoa. How did you do that?” asks Sam. He didn’t even know that was possible. He can go away from Cam, but because of the way their dust linkup works, too far and they lose communication until they re-enter range. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just clunky. The daemon linkup is a lot more convoluted and less malleable for baseline humans, obviously.
Dream just chuckles. Hope does little lizard push-ups on his arm. “You have your secrets and we’ll have ours,” she says.
Sam is not a human being. He doesn’t know what separation means for them, or why Arctura and Rednamalas are still apparently tied to their humans if it’s possible not to be. Or why Dream only shows Sam this talent self-consciously, late at night when they’re alone. It doesn’t match up with the rest of him. It’s very cool, though. Sam tells him as much.
Way down the line, the prison is cool too. Sam has so much fun with getting into the redstone of it and Dream always shows up to their meetings promptly.
Sam has worked with Dream before. Dream doesn’t show up for things on time, reliably, not ever. But maybe that was the old Dream, too. New Dream is prompt and full of ideas, and tactical and devoted. Occasionally he’s spacey or twitchy, but Sam’s no stranger to sleepless nights during a big project. And Dream has big plans. Sam just doesn’t know what they are.
“Who’s the prison for?” Sam asks.
“Well,” says Dream, and Sam can hear and imagine his uncomfortable smile. “There are… certain powerful people… on the server. It’s just – in case they become threats. Not like Tommy – he’s exiled, so he’s fine – but, like. Powerful people.”
“Like who?”
“I don’t really want to say.”
Fair enough, Sam supposes.
“Hey Sam,” says Dream, mining a hole through his roof. He repairs it once he’s through, at least. “You got any food on you?”
“I have a door,” Sam points out. “What happened to you? I saw a death message in chat.”
“I was an idiot,” Dream laughs. “And my food blew up.”
“Oh,” says Sam, laughing too. He plonks down a few handpies in front of Dream.
“Thanks,” says Dream, whisking them away into his inventory.
“No problem, boss.” Sam waits, but Dream doesn’t eat. So Sam goes on with his idea about the rail lines.
He needs more paper and hears Fran whining downstairs, so excuses himself to get some and to let her out. When he comes back upstairs, he hears messy eating, and comes back to see Dream hurriedly pulling his mask down over his face.
“Dude,” says Sam mildly, “If you need privacy to eat, you can just tell me.”
“Mm,” says Dream, “Don’t worry about it.”
Whatever, Sam thinks. It’s weird. Sam’s seen Dream’s face before. Dream can’t have forgotten. And he wouldn’t have even had to take the mask all the way off to eat. But – new Dream, right. Humans don’t age without bumps on the way. Hangups, or just quirks. Maybe Old Dream was never comfortable without it and he’s only now figured out how to make it work full-time. Good for him.
In any case, it’s how New Dream is, and if the way he wants to present himself is hiding his humanity under something a little guarded and unrelatable –
– well, Sam’s kind of in exactly the opposite position, but he’d be lying if he said he couldn’t sympathize.
The prison is almost done. Sam hasn’t heard from Dream in days, but that’s no reason to stop work; he knows what he’s doing.
Bad and Ives come to hang out with him for part of it. Ives is lynx-shaped and jumps around the machinery while Sam makes spare armor for the guards. He appreciates the company – normally even this might be a little sensitive, but Bad has special clearance for the prison, as declared by Dream himself. And it would be impractical to give Bad special access but not Ives, to Bad and Skeppy both must be trustworthy. Dream probably wouldn’t have roped Sam in on the project if he didn’t trust the members of the Badlands, but Sam still likes the security, knowing that his people are sound.
“L’Manberg is gearing up for war,” Ives tells him.
“Who are they fighting?”
“You haven’t heard?” Bad ask, bright as usual. “Dream and Techno. Tommy blew up the community house.”
“He what ?”
“I know. Go and look at it. It’s all gone.”
“I can’t believe they would do that,” says Sam, aghast.
“He says he didn’t,” says Ives, “but – you know.”
“Yeah,” says Sam, “I mean. Who else would have? I mean. We stayed in that house, when we got here. You and me. That was our house. ”
“We can always rebuild it,” says Ives. “But it’s like, come on.” She bats at Cam’s hanging grasping arms. Cam wobbles, beeps, and grasps at Ives’ ears. They chase each other around the room. Sam glances up and snickers at their antics.
He tests a joint on the boots. You can do armor boots without joints, but it holds up and moves better with, and Sam is a professional. “So he’s attacking L’Manberg? What’s Techno doing there?”
“I think he just doesn’t like governments,” Bad explains. “And also Tommy turned on him and went back to L’Manberg.”
“Huh,” says Sam. “Well, at least he’s not exiled any more. Do you think this’ll mean anything for the Badlands?”
Bad fidgets. He picks up a piece of gold that Sam has lying on the floor and tosses it back and forth between his hands. “Well, having some stability other than L’Manberg will be nice. I think this is gonna be a big one, though."
“Yeah? Hm.” Sam is happy with the ankle joint now on the first boot. He starts on the second one.
“Do you think it’s weird,” says Bad, idly, balancing the gold between his dark fingers, “that Dream is fine with the Badlands but not L’Manberg?”
“Not really,” says Sam. “I mean, the Badlands weren’t threatening the SMP or anything.”
“Was L’Manberg threatening the SMP? We’re kind of claiming an infinite amount of land.”
“Well, okay, but – we’re not blowing stuff up.”
“Tommy wasn’t in L’Manburg when he did it. I just – I mean, do you think Dream might be overreacting? I’m not gonna bring it up with him but he’s really invested in bringing L’Manberg down. It seems kind of extreme.”
Sam shrugs. “I think he just wants things to be less chaotic.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I do. I know he’s, he’s excitable, but – you know Dream, Bad.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Bad’s fanged grin is, as ever, more endearing than it should be. Ives trots back and looks at Sam’s work.
“Will you be there?” she asks.
“Nah,” says Sam. “I’ll be too busy here. Dream wants this done soon and I’m already behind. … What about you?”
“Nah,” says Bad. “Nah, no reason to. Might stick our heads in once the dust settles.”
“Yeah,” says Sam. “Yeah. For sure.”
Sam is there to wave off Tommy and Tubbo, as they go to finish their little argument with Dream. Two kids with big big hearts. He hopes Dream gives them their discs back without too much trouble.
After they leave, the air on the Prime Path is like a broken storm. There’s dark humor. Sam doesn’t think he’s seen Niki and Puffy in the same place in a long time, or everyone just hanging out, or… Punz isn’t here, which is strange because Punz suggested they do this. Sam drapes himself over Ponk’s shoulders and looks around, and overall people are… happy. The specter of this conflict has been looming over everyone for much, running longer and deeper than he realized. People like Niki and Jack look bone-deep tired; have since the destruction of L’Manberg. But they’re smiling now. This shadow that’s been cast, with any luck, it’s on its way out.
A loud bird screech makes the conversation stop. Everyone looks up, slowly, a silence falling. Punz is sprinting, sprinting down the prime path, heralded by a white hawk – Zerk – flapping ahead. Punz's netherite is not well-donned – they must have done it by hand – and their axe is thrown over their shoulder, bouncing against it. They’re pale and panting. Zerk screeches again to summon the crowd's attention.
“He’s going to kill them," Punz says loudly. "Dream is going to kill them. Come with me. If you – if you don’t want that to happen, you need to come with me right now.”
Sam has no reason to think Dream would do that. But he has no reason not to trust Punz either. In the face of doubt, he goes.
The hallway is worse than anything Sam could have imagined. Tommy and Tubbo look terrified out of their minds. The storm is actually breaking here and now in, in Sam’s mind. He’d helped Dream out – befriended him, supported him, enabled him. He’d built this prison for Dream and scarcely asked what it was for.
Dream’s been playing all of them all along. Playing Tommy, playing the server, playing Sam. But he isn’t going to win.
Hope isn’t here, he’s nearly certain. That’s fine – they can deal with that later. The man was going to kill two children and couldn’t bear for his soul to be there. That’s almost reassuring – maybe Hope has some of their conscience in her. Sam looks at Dream and remembers the boy Dream was, the curious kid who couldn’t stay out of trouble. And he sees the thing Dream has grown into, the way he’s talking now, the way he’s silent, the way he looks at Tommy through his cracked mask. The way he’s alone.
They can’t kill him while he has the revival book but what they do have is Sam, and Sam’s prison.
Nobody else can handle this. Nobody else has the tools and the ability. It has to be Sam.
“I'll lock him in the prison,” he announces. Cam circles him, lending him authority. They are speaking with all of themselves. They must become something indubitable.
Dream looks up at him, one fierce eye visible through the mask. He doesn’t say anything. Good. Starting now, Sam is unassailable.