Work Text:
Sam stands in front of the closed prison portal carrying Fran in his arms. He's not even sure how he got there. The last thing he remembers is standing before Ponk down by the egg, her eyes a bright and unnatural red as she grins a wicked, sadistic grin and uses both of her hands to hold her limp body and let the blood-
She's going to be okay. She's going to be fine.
Fran's body is cooling in his arms.
He stands listlessly in front of the prison portal, setting Fran down gently on the floor and pulling out his communicator. His hands are shaking too much to type (he'll go ignored if his texts are illegible) so he opens his contacts and makes a phone call.
It rings once. Twice. Three times.
On the fourth ring, someone on the other end picks up. Sam instinctively flinches at the exasperated voice that comes through the speaker.
"Sam? What are you-"
"I need help, it's-"
"You know how I feel about being interrupted, Sam." Sam winces.
"Sorry, I know, It's just…" Sam takes a shaky breath in a failed attempt to keep his voice steady. "Can you let me in? Please?"
The voice on the other end sighs dramatically. "Fine , I'll let you in, this better be urgent. You're lucky I'm not busy right now…" The portal clicks on. Sam picks up Fran again, putting himself on speaker. He steps back through once he's given the affirmative. He still can't shake the dreamlike feeling, like none of this is real, as if in a matter of moments he'll wake up to Fran licking his face and this will all be a horrible nightmare, when he steps into the stagnant, lukewarm air of the prison. Dream looks at Sam from where he's seated, feet casually propped up on the front desk. When he sees what Sam is holding his eyes widen in surprisingly genuine shock.
"I- I know what you said, um, about pets, and the revive book…" His voice catches and wavers as he speaks, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him in that moment, "But I just thought you could try, y'know?"
"Oh god…" Dream gets up, practically climbing over the front desk to make his way over to Sam, who continues to ramble.
"I just- this is fixable, right? She- she's not just gone, she can't- she can't…" Sam's voice cracks, thick with tears threatening to fall but he won't cry, not yet.
“Hey, hey, c’mon- walk with me, okay?” Dream keeps a steady, comforting hand on Sam’s back as he takes Sam further into the prison. Sam just keeps rambling, whatever he can about Fran, to keep himself from crying until they reach the extra cells. It looks like Dream tore down a wall to connect two cells, outfitting them to become his new sleeping quarters. Dream directs Sam to set Fran down on the floor and sit with him on the bed.
"Sam, breathe, okay?" He hadn't even noticed he wasn't. Sam takes a deep, shuddering breath at Dream’s behest before Dream continues. "Now, can you explain how this happened?"
"The Egg came back. Ponk got involved with it again, and she- she says she made a deal with it… they said that in return for the deal, the egg wanted a sacrifice, and-" Sam looks down at Fran's bloodstained body on the floor and quickly looks away, fighting the urge to break down right then and there. "I thought if I bring her to you, I don't know… I just wanna see for myself if it works or not?" Dream gives him a look and Sam holds his hands up as if to placate Dream preemptively "Not- not that I don't trust your word I just- I need to see you try it, please."
Dream sighs. "Alright. But I'm telling you, it's not going to work, Sam-"
"Thank you so much, if it really doesn't work, I'll- I’ll do something for you to make up for wasting your time-"
"It's fine, Sam, calm down," Dream says, exasperated. Sam takes that as his cue to shut up as Dream takes a book out of the chest at the end of the bed and begins to write. Once he's done, he taps the book against Fran's head and…
Nothing.
Sam feels his heart sink into the cold obsidian floor beneath him.
Dream motions with his hands towards Fran’s body with an exasperated expression. "See? I told you-"
"Try it again." Dream raises an eyebrow, but ultimately gives into the request, tapping Fran with the book once more.
Nothing.
Before Dream can react, Sam snatches the book away from him. He gapes at him, genuinely shocked by his impulsivity before his words catch up with his brain. "Sam?? What the hell are you-?"
"C'mon," Sam whimpers, pressing the book into Fran's side desperately, again and again, "C'mon , girl, please wake up, please…"
"Sammy…" Dream pleads with him, kneeling down next to him and trying to grab the book from him again.
Sam babbles hysterically, fighting back tears. "N-no, I can do it, I- I can fix it, she'll wake up-"
"SAM! That's enough " Dream wrenches the book from Sam's iron grip on it. Sam wails , a wordless cry of grief, attempting to get it back but Dream grabs his face in his hands to get Sam to face him, their foreheads nearly touching. “Look at me!” Sam flinches. “I can’t revive the dog, Sam. There’s nothing I can do.”
Sam shakes his head in protest, wrenching himself away. “No, no no no no this can’t be it, I can’t lose her, she’s all I have!”
“Sam-”
“M- maybe you need to try it again, or- or you wrote it down wrong- here,” Sam gets up to root around in Dream’s chest for another book but Dream grabs him by the arm firmly.
“Sam-”
“I’m just getting you another book, we can try again, It- its gonna-”
“Stop this , Sam she’s dea-”
“Stop it!” Sam covers his ears with his shaking hands, as if not being able to hear the words would make them any less true. It’s childish, but it’s all he has. “Sh- she’s not- she’s just- you have to try again-”
Dream grabs both his arms to pull them away from his ears, clearly growing frustrated with Sam's breakdown. “Sam. I have tried this before , It’s not going to just- magically work for you because you want it badly enough!”
“You’re lying! SHUT UP-” Dream lets go as Sam is pulling away, causing him to nearly fall over before Dream’s hand connects with his face hard enough to send him to the floor.
“YOU DON’T TELL ME TO SHUT UP!” Dream screams at him. Sam tries to back away from him, heart pounding a mile a minute with instant regret but Dream just follows him, effectively backing him into a corner. “Get a fucking grip, Sam. Your dog is dead. I can’t bring the damn thing back. I tried to be nice, to give you peace of mind, like a good friend. For fuck's sake, do you want me to hurt you?!"
“N- no, M’sorry, m's- sorry-” Sam hiccups and sniffles like a child, curled up into a ball with his head down and his back pressed hard against the wall.
Dream kicks Sam in the side and he yelps. “You look at me when I talk to you!” Sam’s head snaps up, his entire body shaking. “Don’t you ever tell me to ‘shut up’ again. Do you understand?” Sam nods fearfully. Dream suddenly kicks him once again, forcing a pained sob out of Sam's throat that he tried to hold back. “Use your words, Sam.”
“Y- Yes sir,” Sam forces out, bracing himself for another blow in case it isn’t enough to reaffirm Dream's role as his warden, but it never comes. Instead, Dream slowly gets down on his level, like he's a skittish animal, and sits down next to him. Sam suppresses a flinch when Dream reaches out for him.
"C'mere, Sammy…" he says, pulling him close to his side. Sam winces slightly at the contact – Dream definitely bruised a rib, he thinks – but leans in nonetheless. He stares at the furry body lying in the center of the room, as if he is willing her to snap out of it and get up, run around, lick his hand and follow him home so they can both forget this nightmare. He can't see the bloodstains down her front from this angle, he could almost believe she really is sleeping. His chest aches in a hollow way the longer he looks at her too-still body. He opens and clenches his fists, longing to feel her warm fur again but knowing that if he reaches out and touches her, he'll only shatter that already flimsy "just sleeping" illusion.
He needs Fran, to ground him back to reality, to feel right again.
Fran lays lifeless on the floor across the room.
Sam feels Dream squeeze his arm comfortingly through the fog and he lets out something between a whimper and a sob. "It's alright," Dream soothes, "just let it out," which Sam takes as permission to cry into Dream's shoulder as he pats his back softly, coaxing the emotion out of him.
“Why?” He weeps, “wh- why her? She didn’t do anything wrong, she-”
“I know, Sammy, I know,” Dream coos, hand softly stroking his tangled, messy hair as Sam continues through his sobs.
”She- she didn't deserve this!” Sam wails. “She’s good and smart a- and she’s all I got left from before everything went wrong! She was supposed to make it!” His gut wrenching sobs tear through him and leave him raw, open, vulnerable. An unspoken It should've been me is implicit in his broken sobs.
"I- I'm gonna be honest Sam, I know you and Ponk had your issues but…" Dream's voice is uncharacteristically shaky. "I'm- this is- Jesus Christ , Sam, What did you do?!?" Sam flinches hard. "Shit- look, I don't-" Dream stammers out and sighs. "Don't be like that, you know what I meant… why would she even do this?"
He hadn't known Dream didn’t mean it like that, but his ribs still sting too much to start another argument. Sam is quiet for a long time, but Dream is patient with him. Sam is thankful for that. "Y'know the… 'friend' who stole the keycards I told you about? The one I cut the arm off of?"
"You. That was Ponk, then, wasn't it?" Sam nods. "Christ… I, Yeah, that makes sense. That does explain some things."
"I told her-'' Sam's breath hitches as tears threaten to spill again, "I- I told her that she could kill me instead, because I know I deserve it but- but she didn't want to," he sniffs, voice wobbling pathetically, "she said I didn't get to ch- choose," he shudders, "It wouldn't be k- karma if I wanted it-"
"Oh god, Sammy…" he says, sounding horrified as Sam buries his head back into Dream's shoulder, feeling another sobbing fit coming on but trying desperately to keep it at bay. He doesn't want to annoy Dream any more than he already has. Dream lets him and strokes his hair comfortingly again, however, and Sam leans into it against his better judgment. "Sam, this is… cruel. I mean… Yeah, you kinda let me get tortured, but that's over now. We're even, I killed you, now we can be friends again. This is… excessively harsh to me." Sam just listens as Dream rambles on. He's jostled a bit as Dream begins talking with his hands as he gets more heated, but the movements help Sam stay focused and engaged in the conversation. "And is she seriously calling this Karma?! I swear, she has always been obsessed with karma, but it's not karma if you're the one doing it, it's revenge! It's like she acts like calling it karma makes her version of it ‘better’ somehow, it's such bullshit."
"Y-yeah… you got a point…"
"Of course I do, I'm always right!" Dream says, in a playfully self congratulatory way that reminds Sam of a time long past, before exiles or prisons, before anything went wrong, and Sam smiles despite himself. “Hey, there you go!” Dream says, having taken notice. “Look at that smile! Haven’t seen that face in a long time…”
Sam could almost forget that it was Dream who was mostly the reason for that.
Almost.
Sam’s ribs still sting.
Suddenly he wants to push Dream away, to tell him that he’s the reason Sam has felt nothing but misery for so long, he’s the reason Sam doesn’t even know who he is anymore without this cold prison, that he sold his soul for a measly stack of diamond blocks to the devil.
His ribs still sting.
Sam should be grateful. Thankful that somebody looks at him with anything other than disdain. After everything he's done, he shouldn’t be picky when it comes to friends. He really doesn’t deserve any , especially not his prisoner. Dream could have laughed in his face at his misfortune but instead he tried to help him, comfort him. And he wanted to throw that all away just because he got hurt?
His ribs still sting.
“You still with me, Sammy?” Dream jolts Sam out of his thoughts with a concerned tone, and Sam realizes he’s been quiet for a long time. He nods, struggling to form the word “sorry,” only managing a frustrated hum in response. “Ah, talking hard?” Sam nods again. “It’s okay, you had an awful day buddy…” Dream sympathizes, scratching Sam’s head affectionately. Sam leans into his hand, and if Dream notices he doesn't comment on it. It all feels so surreal, sitting in silence as Dream gives him the time to come back to formulating words again. A kindness that had not been extended to him for the longest time, from the most unlikely source.
It hurts that it hadn't always been so unlikely.
“Miss when we were friends…” Sam finally says wistfully.
“What happened to make it stop?” Dream asks, tone genuine.
Sam wades through his muddled memories for an answer. “You got… mean,” Sam answers simply. “You get scary when you're mean.”
“I’m… sorry then. For getting mean.” Sam wants to believe him. “I miss being friends too.”
They both stay quiet for a long time.
“I… I think I want to bury her.” Sam says softly.
“Well, there's a beautiful courtyard a short walk from here-”
“Please, not here,” He interrupts, “just- anywhere but here.” He winces, bracing for Dream's disapproval, but it never comes.
“No, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry.” Dream gets up off the floor. He offers a hand to Sam, and he hesitates a bit before taking it, letting Dream help him off the floor. “Anywhere in particular you want to take her?”
Sam pauses. His first instinct says the island, but he can't even feel safe there anymore after how easily he was found there. Maybe near his base, but it's been run down and barely feels like a home anymore, let alone his. When was the last time he had slept in his own bed ? He asks himself, before suddenly remembering why that bed had started to feel so empty and cold he'd rather sleep at his desk, and he immediately regrets it.
“Home… don’t know… where’s home ?” Sam whimpers out pathetically, like an abandoned dog. He has no home. He has no home and it’s so profoundly upsetting he doesn’t want to cry again but he can’t help the tears in his eyes threatening to fall and stain his face once more. He feels arms envelop him.
“I dunno either, bud…” Sam lets the tears fall silently. “…It’s okay.”
They both sit in the silence between Sam’s occasional sniffle. Dream doesn’t mock him, just hugs him tighter. Sam hates how this is the most genuine comfort he has received in years, but he knows damn well how much he has needed it. He cannot afford to reject it, cannot afford to push him away. So he leans in.
They end up burying Fran in the courtyard anyway. It’s not what Sam wants, but he doesn't have any better ideas. Dream wraps her carefully in some cloth so Sam can’t see the blood as they lay her in the ground, which is nice. There's a marker in the dirt for her headstone, until Sam can bring himself to make a proper one for her. He barely made it through the burial process as is, but Dream isn't pushing him to do anything more until he's ready. Dream is being uncharacteristically kind, but Sam is too scared to question it, like bringing attention to it will make it go away. Sam goes along with Dream, mostly unresponsive unless given a direct command. He’s too tired to think. Too tired in general. Dream doesn’t force him to talk either, doesn’t make him use his words like when he was stuck in the prison with Dream as his warden. For a while he's confused and it makes his head spin, but when Sam finally musters the courage to ask Dream about it he just shrugs.
"You're not being punished anymore, we're good now." And that was that.
He’s safe, for now at least. He can at least pretend Dream is safe again, until it feels real. Dream lets him live with him in the prison; it’s not like he has anywhere else to go. No one else would want to take him in, after all.
Dream is all he has left.