Archive of Our Own

The door slams shut.

Bad listens as the hundreds – thousands – of locks click back into place. The lava falls down, the cogs of Sam’s incredibly complex machine turn, and Bad hears the bridge retract. There are more mechanical sounds until, finally, there’s nothing but silence.

Bad is alone.

Or rather, he is alone with Dream.

He refuses to turn to look at the fallen God. He feels Dream’s eyes on his back – curious, judging maybe – and the gaze burns. He doesn’t comment, though, refuses to speak to his old friend – his former friend. He is too angry at him, angrier than he is at the rest of the world.

And Gods, is he angry. None of them had understood. Bad had tried everything. He’d tried kindness, he’d tried gentle coaxing, he’d tried giving them a choice to join the Egg. But they had all refused, they’d called him crazy, when all he wanted was for them to be with him, within the Egg.

He’d grown desperate when they had refused to heed his words. The Egg was demanding more people to control, more souls to turn Red, and Bad had tried so impossibly hard to meet its demands. He had to. He had to follow the Egg’s orders so Skeppy would be returned to him.

But they hadn’t understood, they had refused to understand. They had called him crazy, and possessed, and power-hungry. And so, he’d resulted to violence rather than words. If they wouldn’t choose the Egg, then Bad would choose for them. It was the right choice, at the end of the day. The only way for them to have their desires granted, and the only way for Bad to be reunited with Skeppy.

But Bad’s violence had been met with their protests, with their resistance, with their plans to overthrow him, and overthrow the Egg. And they’d taken Punz and Ant from him – from the Egg – but Bad had continued fighting. And then they’d taken Skeppy too, and Bad had gone wild – feral. He had been unstoppable. He had made all of those sacrifices for his best friend, only for him to be taken away again .

And finally, they’d cornered him, in the Egg room, in the room where it had all started. Skeppy – Blue Skeppy, kind Skeppy, mischievous Skeppy, Bad’s Skeppy – had spoken, hurried reassurances, pleas for Bad to return to them, while the others had burned the Egg down. And Bad had been so transfigured by the return of his Skeppy and by the raw pain the Egg was feeling that he hadn’t protested when Punz and Sapnap had approached him and tied his hands back and taken his armor and his weapons.

He had tried to look for Skeppy for help, for explanations, but his best friend was ushered away by a worried Puffy and a grim Technoblade. And Bad had been forced to meet Sam’s serious eyes, filled with a mix of determination and guilt.

And Bad’s friend – the co-founder of the Badlands – had taken the mask of the Warden and had locked him away.

And now Sam is gone – fully gone, though he had also been unresponsive and un-Sam-like when they had walked through the dark corridors of the vault. Sam is fully gone, and Bad is alone with Dream.

The God is still staring at him, Bad can tell, still observing him, maybe laughing at his downfall. The eyes burn through Bad’s cloak.

“Stop looking at me,” he snarls, not turning to face Dream. He hears a chuckle.

“There’s not much else to look at.” Bad growls.

“Figure something out,” he orders, teeth gritted together. He hears Dream hums and there’s movement behind him. Pacing. Dream is quiet for a while and Bad thinks that – maybe – the God has heeded his warning.

“You’re white,” Dream comments, “Not red. How comes?”

Bad takes his head in his hands and lets out an angry throaty sound. “I don’t want to talk to you,” he hisses.

Dream laughs, low and gentle, and Bad hates him so much.

Dream is a monster. A monster who betrayed his closest friends – George, Sapnap, Ant, Bad – and worked to put them all under his control. He gave up on friendships for the sake of power. He tried to imprison Skeppy. He tried to lock Skeppy away from Bad . He manipulated people – children . He spoke into their ears, a soft and velvety voice convincing them that they were all alone.

And when the manipulation failed, Dream resulted to violence. He tried to kill some of them. He tried to assert his dominance through stealing and blackmailing and pure violence. He relied on his own power to subjugate the others and bring the entire server under his control. As a big, happy, united family.

Bad despises him.

They have nothing in common, and he shouldn’t be locked in this cell with him.

“You will eventually,” Dream says, soft and gentle. There’s almost something like compassion in his voice, and it makes Bad want to jump at him and punch the confident smile out of his face. “It gets very lonely in here.”

Bad knows that loneliness would be much better than this.

***

Loneliness would be better than this.

Bad becomes more and more certain of that fact as day passes. He isn’t certain if they really do, but he and Dream stare at the clock on the wall and they see it turn and move, and they count the days.

Well, Bad does. He isn’t certain what Dream is scribbling in his notebook. It’s too fast and he spends much too long on it for it to simply be the number of days he has been locked in the stomach of Pandora’s Vault. Whatever he is writing, though, Bad doesn’t care.

He doesn’t want to know. He despises Dream, detests him, wishes to be away from him. Every time Sam comes to offer the potatoes they get for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Bad begs him to be moved, promises that he will not attempt to escape, even if he is placed in a lower-security cell. Sam always hums and says that he will think of it. But he doesn’t, because he never comes back with a positive answer.

Bad hates it. He hates it, he hates sharing his days with Dream, especially because the God has started speaking , a few days ago.

He speaks of the server, shares with Bad what little news he has, and asks Bad for his knowledge, never protesting when Bad doesn’t reply.

He speaks of Tommy and Tubbo and his Collection Room, and how funny it had been to see them react to it, how horrified they had been. Bad thinks of punching him.

He speaks of the betrayal he’d felt when Sapnap had been the one to accompany him to the vault. He asks Bad if he felt the same way. Bad clenches his jaw and looks away.

And then, as if speaking of Sapnap allowed him to build himself a momentum, Dream speaks of the Dream Team, and how he had lost them when he’d dethroned George in favor of Eret. He talks about how he had to lose everything in order to win everything, and Gods does Bad want to punch him.

He does, actually, and Sam has to come rushing to separate them.

Dream laughs, high and happy, while Bad’s chest heaves with rage and he tries to struggle out of Sam’s hold to go punch the hysterical man and make him stop laughing .

Dream laughs because he knows he’s won. He’s gotten Bad’s attention.

***

Bad glares for days and pretends not to see Dream’s satisfied smirk as the God waits for him to crack.

He doesn’t speak anymore, which is a relief until it’s not.

The silence is worse than Dream’s constant chatter. At least, when the God refused to stop talking, Bad didn’t have time to consider his own actions under the influence of the Egg.

And he didn’t have time to think about how much he misses Skeppy.

He asks for him every time Sam comes to bring their meal. He never stops: “Can Skeppy visit today?”

Every time, it’s a different answer: he is playing some sort of game with Puffy, he and Technoblade are hanging out, he is asleep at the mansion, he is solving a particularly hard puzzle…

Every time, it’s the same answer: no, Skeppy is not coming.

Bad feels like he is going crazy.

Dream comments on it, one day:

“You know he is probably lying, right?” he comments from the cot where he is writing in yet another journal. Bad glares at him. “Sam, I mean,” Dream continues, “Skeppy’s most likely asking for you as much as you are for him.”

“Sam wouldn’t lie,” Bad says, and he almost regrets the words when he sees Dream’s victorious smile. They are speaking.

“Of course, he would,” Dream replies easily, “In my first few days, he kept me calm by promising that George and Sap would visit.” He chuckles bitterly, “He doesn’t lie well. I know better: George and Sap want nothing to do with me.”

Bad scowl at him. “I don’t want to hear about how you miss your friends again,” he growls, “You abandoned u- them. You abandoned them all.” Dream shrugs easily, does not mention Bad’s stutter.

“That wasn’t my point anyway,” he agrees, “My point was that Skeppy is definitely asking to visit you.”

“How would you know?” Dream gives him a look .

“If I had wanted to control Skeppy, I would just have had to build you a small cell, just like the one I was planning for him.” Bad snarls at the memory but Dream continues easily, as if the topic was so much lighter than it is: “It would have been useless, though, to have you both locked up. So I chose the one who was most useful to have under my control.” Bad wants to punch him so incredibly much.

“I would not have obeyed you.” Dream smiles.

“Oh, but you would have. You would do anything for this boy, wouldn’t you, Bad?” Bad glowers. “Look at you, you let an alien, monstrous thing take control of your body, and you tried to destroy the server, just for a chance to get your friend back.” Dream laughs. “Trust me, you would have done exactly what I wanted.”

“Until I got him back,” Bad hisses, “And the moment I did, I would have ripped you apart.” Dream nods in agreement, as if he wasn’t bothered by the promises of violence in Bad’s voice.

“That’s beside my point again, Bad,” he scolds teasingly, “We have to stay on topic.” Bad glares again and he thinks that maybe, this time, if he punches hard enough, Sam will decide that it’s too dangerous to leave them in the same cell.  

“I hate you,” he says.

“No, you don’t,” Dream counteracts easily, as if it were that easy, as if Bad hadn’t spent sleepless nights thinking about his relationship to one of his oldest friends and trying to convince himself that he hated him.

For once, Dream is merciful, and he spares Bad from having to answer that affirmation. He seems very adamant on talking about Skeppy instead.

“Skeppy’s asking for you,” he states again, “And Sam is forbidding him from entering the Vault.” Bad furrows his eyebrows. Sam is his friend, whatever has happened between them. Sam would never hurt him. He told him as such, while they were walking to the cell, before Sam locked him in there, with the fallen God.

“Why would he do that?” Bad asks, and he hates himself for indulging Dream, but he wants to know. If Skeppy is outside, missing Bad as much as Bad is missing him, Bad needs to know.

Dream chuckles and gives him a look . “You’re white,” he says, “And still very much controlled by the Egg. You’re way more violent than usual.” Bad wants to punch him again, but he doesn’t, because that would prove him right.

“I wouldn’t hurt Skeppy,” he says – he pouts, “I did it all for him.”

“You wouldn’t hurt him physically,” Dream corrects, “But seeing you like this would hurt him.” He pauses. “Sam knows it.”

Bad wants to cry because he knows that Dream is right, and he hates it. He doesn’t want to remember Skeppy’s lost face and his scared pleas for Bad to come back to them - to him. He doesn’t want to remember the look they had exchanged as Technoblade had taken him away.

“You’re wrong,” he says – he lies. Dream laughs.

“Tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night.”

***

They have a visitor.

Dream sits up on his cot, looking so incredibly excited while the lava recedes, and Bad immediately knows that Sam is not alone.

He stares at the lava as it slowly falls and tries to ignore the way his heart drop when Skeppy is not the one standing in front of them.

It’s Tommy.

Bad remembers having tried to kill him and he looks away in shame. Dream probably remembers the same thing but, instead of letting himself feel guilty, he gets to his feet and rushes to the child.

“I’ve written the books!” he claims quickly, before Tommy has the time to say anything. The child forces himself to laugh.

“Have you?” he asks, “Jeez, I didn’t know you were that desperate!” Bad expects Dream to step back at the clearly insulting tone but the man shrugs and makes a soft apologetic smile.

“You said you would consider forgiving me.” Tommy’s fake smile falls a little and he looks at the journals littering the floor.

“Yeah, it’s gonna take a little more than that,” he sighs, and Bad notices the way Dream flinches, “You tried to kill Tubbo.”

“So, did Bad,” Dream says, like some kid trying to throw the blame onto someone else, “And he tried to kill you too.”

Tommy looks up to him like he only has noticed that Bad was in the room. Bad gives him a hesitant smile and does not come closer. He doesn’t think he could take it if Tommy were to step away from him, cower from him, the way he had when Bad had tried to capture him and sacrifice him to the Egg, before the others put an end to it.

“Hey Bad,” Tommy says calmly. He looks so grown-up, Bad notices now that the Egg isn’t fogging his vision, grown-up and yet still so fragile. There are dark bruises under his eyes and Bad briefly wonders if he or Dream causes more of the nightmares that wake the kid up and prevent him from falling back to sleep.

He runs from this thought as fast as he does the thoughts about Skeppy never being allowed to visit, or Ant and Punz never forgiving him for bringing them down with him.

“Hey Tommy,” he says, his tone apologetic, “How are you?”

“Tired,” the kid admits, “You left a lot of dumb red shit to clean up, and Sam is adamant that I have to do my part too.”

Bad should scold him for his language. He should. He really should; that would be the normal thing to do. But he thinks of Tommy’s cries as Bad had grabbed him by the neck and tried to present him to the Egg, as an ultimate sacrifice. Maybe, then, the Egg would have given him Skeppy back and- Bad shakes that thought away. He refuses to consider it.

He tried to kill a child.

Oh Gods, he tried to kill a child.

He thinks about all of the reasons he picked to hate Dream: the God has manipulated people, attempted to take over the server, tried to kill children.

Bad realizes that he is like Dream, and he feels sick.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it is clear that he is not just apologizing for the red vines they all have to clean up.

Dream chuckles. “I tried that one the first time he came too. He won’t let you out.”

Tommy presses two fingers to each of his temples as if he were fighting a particularly tenacious headache. Or trying to ignore Dream’s self-satisfied voice.

“Shut up, green boy,” he says, and Bad almost laughs. He doesn’t though, because Tommy’s blue eyes turn back to him. “How are you?” he asks, “How is Sam treating you?” Bad shrugs and tries to look away from the boy’s piercing gaze. Has he always had this spark of knowledge in his eyes? Has it always felt like the boy could tell what he was thinking?

“Good,” Bad says, “Better than I deserve.”

He doesn’t want to look but his eyes move without his agreement and suddenly he is staring at Tommy’s neck. Gods, he can see the bruises his claws made on the kid’s neck. He feels sick. He presses a hand against his mouth, for fear that he might actually throw up.

Tommy must see it – maybe? – because he tries to go for humor. “What about rooming with him ?” he asks, gesturing to Dream, “I know how it feels. I had to stand his presence for days on end when I was in Logstedshire. Almost drove me crazy, the fucker.”

“Language,” Bad says weakly, and Tommy grins.

“For real!” he insists, “I don’t know how you can stand being in the same room as him twenty-four-seven! I wouldn’t. Seeing him every day in Logsted was enough of a punishment for burning down George’s house.” He seems to hesitate before he continues: “You came, my first day,” he comments more quietly, “You gave me a disk.”

Bad’s breath hitches. “I did,” he says, “I still- I probably still have it at the mansion.” Tommy nods.

“I’ll ask Skeppy to look for it,” he declares, “Or you can give it to me when you get out.”

Bad blinks. “When I get out?” he repeats, “Tommy, I tried to kill you.” Tommy shrugs and lets out a little laugh. It isn’t as boisterous as Tommy’s usual laughs, but at least the kid seems somewhat happy.

“Who hasn’t?” he asks with a smirk, “You’re not special, BadBoyHalo.”

The teasing brings a small smile to Bad’s lips and he feels a certain sense of hope flutter back in his chest. Tommy doesn’t hate him. And if Tommy doesn’t hate him, maybe Skeppy won’t either.

“Besides,” Tommy says, and he bumps Bad’s shoulder with his, “You’re looking a bit more pink, already.”

Bad doesn’t have the time to question his words. Tommy turns back to Dream.

“Hey bitch boy,” he says, and the God looks back at him.

“What is it, Tommy?” Dream sounds tired now. Maybe jealous that Tommy spent most of his visit talking to Bad.

“The books are no good,” the boy says, “Write them again.” Dream waits a beat.

“You haven’t read them yet.” Tommy shrugs and laughs.

“I know they’re shit. Write them again.” Dream stares at the dozens of books on the ground – the books Bad saw him write for hours – and he is quiet for a long time before he nods.

“Very well.”

They watch in silence as Tommy waits for Sam to come back to the cell and accompany him back outside. The lava flows back down, and Bad feels a little less alone.

***

The second visit is nowhere as pleasant.

It has been a few days since Tommy came, and Dream has been frantically working on rewriting each of the books, and Bad isn’t sure why he bothers.

They’ve committed crimes, the both of them, and good behavior is not going to get them out.

He isn’t sure if anything is going to get them out, or if Bad will just have to learn to live with Dream’s constant chatter.

Every day, when Sam comes to bring them the same boiled potatoes, Bad asks about Skeppy. And every day, Sam finds another excuse. Dream was right, they are excuses. They don’t ring true to Bad’s ears anymore, but he doesn’t question them. Questioning Sam would not bring Skeppy to him.

This morning though, while Sam handed them the plates of potatoes, he has promised that they would have a visitor. Bad cannot quieten his excitement, and he knows that Dream cannot either. They’re both staring at the lava, willing it to recede.

Eventually, after what feels like hours – maybe it is hours, Bad isn’t sure, Dream hogs the clock – the lava starts falling and Bad listens to the familiar clicks of the locks.

His excited smile falls at the expression from their visitor.

Puffy looks so tired, so conflicted, and her face moves between Bad and Dream. Between her former friend and the man she used to call her son.

Sam presses a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezes lightly.

“Let me know when you want to get out,” he says, “I’ll be there.” Puffy nods, as if Sam words are helping her feel braver. Bad tries not to remember how he and Sam had held Badlands meetings to determine whether to give her citizenship within their faction. Sam takes his leave at Puffy’s nod and the room falls into silence.

Puffy sighs lowly and she looks at the two of them. Dream had risen up from his cot, but the sight of Puffy’s face has forced him back on the mattress. They both wait for her to say something. Anything.

She doesn’t.

Her eyes just continuously fly from one face to the other, like she is trying to reconcile the image she has of her friends with the grim vision of them two, locked in the most secure cell of Sam’s prison. She laughs, a little hysterical, as if she were wondering what she is doing there.

Bad stares at the ground. He doesn’t want to meet Puffy’s eyes, doesn’t want to remember the way she had been the first one to call him out on his obsession with the Egg, much before Sam had finally realized that things had gone wrong. He doesn’t want to think about poor Puffy, brave Puffy, who had stood up to Bad, Punz, and Ant, and told them that what they were doing was crazy. He doesn’t want to realize that he had pressured one of his best friends until she’d cracked and started pretended to like the Egg, just so she wouldn’t be all alone.

He hears Dream gulp from the other side of the cell.

“I heard you burned down the house you made me,” the God says. Puffy doesn’t reply but she lets out a tiny little sound – a mix of a laugh and a cry – “It’s a shame. I didn’t even get to visit it.”

Puffy doesn’t respond and Bad is reminded of himself, when he’d spent days refusing to interact with Dream. Now, though, he wishes that Puffy would respond. Anything rather than this oppressing silence.

“I didn’t make a section for you in the Collection Room,” Dream adds quietly, “I figured that you would end up joining me when you realized that I was acting for the good of the server.”

Not for the first time, Bad wants to punch Dream. For the first time, though, Bad wants to punch Dream because of the pain he causes someone else. Not him.

He looks up to Puffy, sees the pain on her face, and he clenches his fists together. If Dream continues speaking, he will make him stop.

Dream chooses to be smart, for once, and he doesn’t. Puffy doesn’t speak either, and Bad doesn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t know where to begin an attempt at an apology, not when Puffy has been so hurt by his actions. Not when she had to watch as all of her friends either fall under the Egg’s control or get hurt fighting it. By Bad’s fault. Bad thinks of Puffy’s vindictive rage when she had learned that Bad intended to sacrifice Tommy to the Egg. He thinks of her screams, of her pleas for Bad – for her friend – to come back.

He doesn’t know how to atone.

He wonders if Puffy is with Skeppy. He hopes she is; he hopes she has taken advantage of the guest room at the mansion, and that they are staying together. He wants to see Skeppy, but if he cannot, he knows that Puffy is the next best person to take care of him. And he knows that Skeppy will help her grieve and heal.

He wants to cry.

Puffy breathes in deeply and takes a step forward. Both Dream and Bad look up to her. That seems to be too much, though, because she immediately moves back.

“Sam!” she calls, “Sam, I want out.”

Bad opens his mouth to protest – he still wants to talk to her, even if he doesn’t know what to say, but before he can formulate how terribly sorry he is, Sam is back, a stable, comforting hand on Puffy’s shoulder, and they leave the cell.

Bad looks at Dream; Dream looks back at him. They don’t say a word, but they both know that they share the same feeling upon seeing Puffy leave. Relief.

Loneliness is better than guilt.

***

Bad is starting to feel better. More like himself.

He doesn’t have a mirror, of course, Sam is too afraid that they might break it and use the shards to hurt each other (or themselves, but Sam doesn’t say that). But even without the mirror, Bad notices the way Dream observes him and nods to himself. He is becoming a little more pink – a little more red – every day, he knows.

Slowly but surely, he is fighting off the Egg’s control, gaining his colours back.

But the changes are not just physical. The most painful ones are psychological.

Bad’s anger fades, and it lets place to profound regret. He no longer resents the others for stopping him. He stops thinking about the Egg’s whispers and promises and instead he thinks of Sam desperately trying to convince him of how crazy this all was. He doesn’t feel rage anymore. He feels guilty, and grateful that they stopped him before he could do more harm.

He sniffles on his cot and cries silently, and he feels grateful that Dream doesn’t mention it. The God doesn’t ask about the dry sobs, and he doesn’t raise Bad’s puffy eyes the next morning.

Bad doesn’t even feel angry at Dream anymore. He somewhat wishes that he would, because anger would be better than the emptiness in his chest. He knows that Dream is a monster, that Dream hurt a lot of people – the same way Bad did – but he can’t make himself hate Dream anymore.

He stares at the fallen God as he plays with the clock. He notes Dream’s concentration as the God scribbles in the diaries Sam continues to provide him. He absentmindedly listens to Dream reminiscing the building of the Community house – the house he burnt down – and he gives small nods and ‘hm’s when Dream pauses.

Dream is pathetic, Bad thinks. Not in the frequent meaning of the word, not in its insulting sense. Rather, Dream invokes pity. He seems so incredibly lost, so incredibly lonely, and Bad can’t help but feel compassion toward him.

He asks Sam if they could get a chessboard in the cell. Or a plant. Or a set of cards. Anything that would bring Dream out of this eery depressive state he finds himself in. Sam avoids those requests even harder than he does the incessant demands for Skeppy to visit.

So they stay alone, with nothing to do but stare at the clock, eat their potatoes, and exchange stories.

Playing tic-tac-toe on the pages of the diaries becomes boring very quickly. They try to play hangman, but Sam notices their behaviour and he confiscates the journals. They are not here to have fun, he reminds them.

It takes Bad begging and Dream refusing to eat for three days for the warden to return the books and quill.

They don’t try to play anymore.

Dream keeps the books, scribbles in them furiously, and Bad stares at the clock.

Sometimes when they lay on the cots, each on one side of the room, staring at the dark ceiling that is as dark as the walls, as dark as the floor, as dark as everything they know, their tongues loosen.

Dream speaks of George and Sapnap and his voice cracks a little when he evokes his favourite memories with them. Bad responds in kind. He speaks of Skeppy and he wonders, with Dream, what his best friend might be doing. He hopes he is okay.

They talk about the Manhunts, they talk about all the games they used to play. They talk about pranks, and teasing, and laughing until their stomachs hurt. They speak of George and Sapnap and Ant, and they wonder if the Dream team will be reunited one day. They wonder if they deserve forgiveness.

Bad tells Dream about what the Egg would whisper to him. He talks about the feeling of raw power, he talks about how high and invincible he had felt when he’d let the Egg control his every movement, his every thought. He talks about the dark thoughts, the Egg’s orders. He mentions the sacrifices, and he describes the constant murmur reminding him that he had to Feed the Egg. That he had to kill Tommy.

When it’s dark and quiet, Dream talks about Tommy too. He describes the deserted island of Logstedshire, and he relates Tommy’s vulnerability. He speaks of destroying the material Tommy would spend hours collecting, and he mentions Tommy’s crestfallen expression. He laughs quietly at the memory, and Bad wishes he still felt anger. He doesn’t want to punch him anymore. He is just sad.

He doesn’t know how to help Dream, and he doesn’t know how to atone for his own sins, for all the harm and grief he caused Tommy.

It’s even worse now that he knows what Dream put the kid through. Not only did Bad attack a child and try to kill him, he did so when Tommy was at his weakest point, having been betrayed and abandoned by every adult he trusted. And Bad- Bad had grabbed him by the neck, he’d squeezed hard, and he’d tried to make Tommy bleed, to feed the Egg, to give it the Red it craved.

Bad doesn’t sleep anymore, because sleeping results in nightmares, and Bad isn’t certain how to deal with those. Dream cannot help him, and Bad doesn’t know how long he will be able to stand hearing Tommy’s cries in his sleep.

He starts relying on the sleeping potions Sam gives him once a day. At first, he was grateful, but the potions do not prevent the dreams. Bad wakes up with a start every night, heart beating way too fast, his entire body shaking, and a plea for Skeppy not to leave on his lips. He doesn’t know which ones he hates the most between the dreams of Skeppy leaving or the nightmares of Tommy dying.

He refuses to drink the next few times, and Sam sighs, his eyebrows furrowed and a small worried crease above his nose, and he forces Bad to gulp down the potion. He doesn’t hurt him, not really – Sam would never – but his hold is firm, and Bad knows that this is not a negotiable situation. He struggles the first few times, but he soon becomes subdued again.

Dream asks about the nightmares a few times, but Bad withdraws into silence. If he speaks of them, it will make them more real. He feels like he is going to go crazy in this cell.

“Do you regret it?” Bad asks one day – one night; who knows? He doesn’t. He isn’t sure that they can trust the clock, and every meal is the same anyway.

“Regret what?” Dream replies from his side of the room.

Bad rolls on himself so he can lay on the side and look at Dream from his cot. The God looks small and powerless. He is playing with the clock as if keeping track of time would somehow help them. Bad has stopped trying.

“Hurting him,” he says, “Hurting them. Hurting everyone.” Dream shrugs.

“It was bound to happen,” he comments coldly, almost emotionlessly, “People get hurt eventually.”

“But it didn’t have to be you,” Bad protests weakly, “It didn’t have to be us.”

Dream pauses at the words and he drops the clock on the desk. He turns to look at Bad. “Bad,” he says quietly, “The amount of harm you did is nothing compared to what I did.”

“I didn’t-”

“You were controlled by the Egg,” Dream continues, “Whatever the fuck it was, it controlled you. It made you do it.” He smiles below his mask, self-deprecating and maybe accepting of his own fate, “I chose to do everything I did.”

Bad frowns. “But you-”

“I chose to harm them,” the God interrupts, “I’m smart, Bad, wouldn’t you agree?” – Bad nods – “I planned it all. I got in Wilbur’s head until he felt like everyone was against him, and I gave him the munitions to destroy L’Manberg and to destroy himself. I manipulated Tubbo until he trusted me and feared me enough to exile his best friend. I visited Tommy every day and played with him until he was reliant on me. I convinced Techno and Philza to help me destroy L’Manberg a second time.” He laughs, and Bad doesn’t dare speaking. “I had my Collection Room, Bad. I was ready to manipulate you all. I had planned for it. I was going to throw Tommy in this very cell, and then force you all to recognize my authority.” He looks at Bad. “For you, it was going to be by threatening Skeppy’s life.”

Bad lets out a shaky exhale. He wants to hate Dream. He wants to tell the God that he despises him. That he regrets ever being friends with him.

He doesn’t though, because he doesn’t hate Dream. As much as he wishes he did, he doesn’t.

He just feels sorry for him.

“Do you regret it?” he asks again. Dream shrugs.

“Does it matter?”

Bad bites his lower lip. “To me, it does.” Dream laughs, low and unhappy.

“I don’t think I do,” he confesses, “It was too much fun for me to regret it. Maybe one day I will.”

Bad hopes that day will come sooner than later.

***

It might have been months since Puffy’s visit. It feels like years.

Bad isn’t sure. He’s stopped counting the days.

Sam says it has been a couple of weeks only, but Bad feels like they have been alone for an eternity.

Sam comes, three times a day, as precise as a metronome. He puts two plates of potatoes on the ground, he checks the journals quietly, he replaces the clock on the wall. If it’s night-time (or whatever that really means), Sam also hands Bad a sleeping potion and does not look away until Bad has drunk it all. He ignores Bad’s pleas for Skeppy to visit, and he asks Dream whether he will need more ink or books soon. Then he retreats back in the lava, and he leaves them alone again.

This time though, Sam doesn’t leave them alone. He puts the bowls on the floor, and he looks up at them.

“You have a visitor,” he says, “Will you two behave?”

Bad isn’t sure why he asks. They have been nothing but subdued for weeks. Still, he nods, and he sees Dream do the same.

“Is it Skeppy?” Bad asks, jumping up and flicking his tail excitedly.

“Sorry to disappoint,” a voice comes. The lava recedes, and Bad meets Ant’s mirthful eyes. He lets out a delighted sound and almost runs to his friend before the barrier is down. Ant chuckles when Bad embraces him and he is quick to circle his arms around him as well.  

“You look good,” he comments as he pulls away. Bad devours his friend with his eyes, commits every detail to memory. Ant’s eyes are so incredibly blue , so much like Skeppy, and Bad’s heart clenches with pure yearning. “I’m glad to see you,” he adds, “Even if you wanted to see Skeppy more. Simp.”

The word’s a joke, it’s thrown with so much fondness that Bad cannot help but smile. And then, there’s also how natural the conversation sounds. It feels like they are in the Badlands or at the mansion, rather than locked in Pandora’s Vault, with Dream as their only companion.

Dream.

Bad turns back to look at him, and he sees Ant follow his gaze. The hybrid narrows his eyes ever so slightly, and there’s a flash of something like pain or anger in his eyes.

“Dream,” he greets coldly. The God shifts on his bed, but he makes no attempt to stand.

“Ant,” he says, “I’m-”

“Save it,” the man cuts him short, “I don’t want to hear it.” Dream flinches and looks away and Bad’s chest hurts for the fallen God.

“Ant,” he tries softly, “He’s sorry.” Ant glares in Dream’s direction.

“Is he?” he asks very coldly, “Is he sorry that he is in jail, or sorry that he betrayed us all?” Bad swallows loudly.

“Ant,” he insists weakly. His friend shakes his head.

“I didn’t come here for him,” he replies in a tone devoid of emotion. He purposely moves so that his back is to Dream. Bad bites his tongue slightly.

“No one comes for him,” he says, attempting to soften the hybrid. Ant gives him a bitter smile.

“And who’s fault is that?” he asks, “He pushed us all away. He rejected George and Sap’s attempt to help him. He never even visited the Badlands.”

“He’s sorry!”

“Bad, cut it,” Ant orders. His tone is very serious, and the affection is gone from his eyes. “I came for you. Not him.” Bad flinches and he looks away. That seems to soften Ant, because he moves to press a hand on Bad’s shoulder, searching his face.

“How are you?” he asks a bit more gently. Bad shrugs.

“I’m tired,” he responds vaguely.

“Yeah,” Ant says, “Sam said that you’ve been having problems sleeping.” Bad looks into Ant’s worried eyes.

“Does he speak about us a lot?”

Ant shrugs. “To those who ask.”

Bad is scared to continue on that path – scared of the potential answer – but the question is burning is lips:

“Who does?” Ant’s gentle blue eyes smile reassuringly at him.

“Don’t look so afraid,” he chides, “It’s not going to be bad, I promise.” He squeezes Bad’s shoulder. “Well, let me see. There’s Puffy, and Punz, and George and Sap, who all ask pretty regularly. And Skeppy’s asking every single day. Several times a day. I think Sam is starting to avoid him.” He laughs, “And a lot of others too. They miss you, Bad.”

Bad feels like he is going to cry.

“How’s Skeppy?” he asks in a quiet voice. Ant chuckles and mutters something that sounds a little too close to ‘simp.’

“He misses you,” he says, his tone soft and caring, “He’s really worried for you.” There’s a lump in Bad’s throat; it threatens to prevent him from breathing.

“Then why isn’t he coming?” he chokes out. Ant looks so incredibly gentle and caring. His blue eyes – blue like Skeppy – are shining with kindness.

“Oh Bad,” he says gently, “We didn’t think it was a good idea… Not when you were still…” He gestures vaguely and Dream snickers from the back of the cell.

“White?” he proposes. Ant glares at him.

“Shut up,” he snaps, and he turns back to Bad. It’s incredible, the way his entire demeanour switches between the ways he acts towards Dream and Bad. He gives Bad an apologetic smile. “You were still under the Egg’s control. Somehow…” He hesitates. “Me and Punz- They watched over us for a while, but the Prime water really helped. But you… Sam said you were still off .” He shifts awkwardly. “Skeppy really wanted to see you, but we… We didn’t want…” He shrugs, and Bad shudders.

“I understand,” he breathes – he doesn’t, not really, but he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. He misses Skeppy so much. “Can he come?” he asks – begs. Ant smiles.

“Soon,” he says, “Look at you. You’re almost back to being fully red.”

The conversation shifts on less dangerous territory after that. Ant speaks of the happenings in the server. He describes Tommy’s new hotel, and Puffy’s therapy office, and Tubbo’s improved guardian farm. He talks about the statue room they are finally finishing, now that the Egg is gone. He tells Bad of Technoblade coming to town more often, officially to collect some material, but everyone knows that he is checking on Skeppy. This almost lands them into dangerous waters again, and Ant is quick to stir the discussion back to the Badlands. He talks about his and Sam’s new building project. He mentions George and Sapnap and Quackity at El Rapids, and talks about the pranks they are planning.

Bad feels better by the time Ant stands up to leave. He follows the hybrid to the lava wall, and Ant pulls him to his chest and hugs him tight while they listen to the clicks of the machine.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Ant promises as Sam appears behind the lava. “I’ll see you soon, okay, Bad?”

Bad nods and, even as Ant disappears, the smile remains on his face.

He still misses his friends, he still feels guilty, but his chest doesn’t feel as hollow.

***

Their next visitor is not a visitor. It’s visitors.

Bad’s a little confused at the sight of Technoblade and Philza. For two reasons. One, he is certain that Sam said something about only having one visitor at a time. Two – and more importantly – there is no reason for the two men to visit him.

He turns to Dream and remembers the three men uniting to destroy L’Manberg. He remembers the servant of the Blood God, the Angel of Death, and Dream, the God of the server, joining forces to go on a destructive spree. Putting the city-state to fire and the sword. He sighs.

Maybe they are Dream’s first real visitors. He was almost certain that Technoblade and Dream had no unfinished business left between them, but he might be wrong. Maybe they were more than simply destruction partners.

“Dream,” he calls to the sleeping God, “You’ve got visitors.”

Technoblade blinks. “Um, what?” Philza looks as confused.

“We’re not here for Dream, mate,” he says in what sounds like a kind voice. Bad isn’t sure. He’s barely ever spoken to the man.

“Yeah, we didn’t come all this way for the homeless green man,” Technoblade agrees, “Hey Dream,” he calls, “Finally got a house, I see!”

Dream makes a chuckle that sounds a bit like a growl, but Technoblade and Philza deliberately avoid looking at him.

“We’re here to see you, mate,” Philza clarifies, meeting Bad’s eyes.

This makes no sense. Bad looks between them, unsure what to think. It makes no sense for them to visit. Bad doesn’t know Philza, and he and Technoblade are only linked by their friendship to Skeppy.

Wait. Skeppy.

“Skeppy?” he asks lowly.

“… is safe,” Technoblade completes, “No need to fret. I just came to check something out.” Philza nudges his companion in the side and looks at Bad with what seems like amusement, like he wants to share a joke with him.

“Someone,” he says, “-was too afraid to come on their own.”

“Phil,” Technoblade rumbles – a threat, but Philza chuckles easily.

“Come on,” the older man says, “This is too funny. You didn’t expect me to just… not mention it? ‘Oh but Phil, it’s the demon, he is Skeppy’s friend, but he is so powerful.’” He mimics Technoblade’s voice gleefully before letting out an amused laugh. “This is priceless !”

“Phil!” the Piglin says, a bit louder, and Bad notices that he is avoiding looking at him. Is he- Is he actually afraid of him? It would be funny if Bad wasn’t so confused as to the reason for their visit.

“You’re not afraid of Dream, a literal God, but you’re afraid of Skeppy’s friend, who couldn’t hurt a fly!” Technoblade growls in his throat and he shakes his head.

“He tried to kill Tommy, Phil.” Philza’s smile falls, and his hilarity subsides.

“Yeah,” the older man agrees, “He did do that.” Bad looks down and he clenches his fists.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I don’t know- If there’s a way to fix it, I’ll-”

“Woah, woah, woah, mate, calm down!” Philza interrupts, looking a little panicked, “Techno tried to kill Tommy last week, and I’m not angry.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did so.” They exchange a look, and Philza’s eyes are full of mirth again, and Technoblade looks mildly disgruntled but he doesn’t make any movement to hurt Phil. There’s a hint of fondness in the Piglin’s red eyes.

“Maybe I shook him up a little,” Technoblade admits, “But he had stolen my golden apples again.” Philza laughs.

“You just gotta learn to share, mate.”

Bad is so incredibly confused. Why are they here? Why are they here, for him?

“They’re always like that,” Dream offers (un)helpfully from the cot where he is sitting, “It was a headache to bring them both up to L’Manberg. They wouldn’t stop cracking jokes with each other. I almost lost track of Techno because he was following Phil around and-” He cuts himself short.

Philza is smiling at the God, a very calm and cold smile, and Dream drops his gaze immediately. Technoblade snorts.

“Oooh, he got Dad-looked,” he mocks, and Philza nudges him again, with a different look. A much fonder, less threatening one.

“Behave,” he chides, “Besides, you came here for a reason, didn’t you?”

Bad barely has the time to process the fact that Philza is apparently powerful enough to compel a God into silence with a simple look, because now he has to worry about Technoblade’s reason . Gods.

Technoblade hums and he moves closer to Bad. He doesn’t look directly into Bad’s eyes but, apart from that, he scrutinizes him pretty carefully.

“Sam says you’ve been on good behaviour,” he says, voice gruff. Bad chuckles nervously.

“I guess I have been,” he responds. He feels so incredibly uneasy under the Piglin’s gaze. Philza watches from a few steps away, arms crossed.

Technoblade hums in response and he starts turning around Bad. He observes him from behind, walks around the cell. He looks around the room, ignores Dream’s books, picks up one of the empty vials by Bad’s cot. He brings it to his nose and sniffs.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks. Bad bites his lip, unsure he wants to reveal that vulnerability. At the same time, though, he is almost certain that Sam would tell them, if they asked.

“Nightmares,” he says. Technoblade nods.

“I can imagine,” he comments and there’s something like genuine compassion in his voice. Does Technoblade also get nightmares like Bad’s? Some that are too real for waking up to be a relief? Some that are simply memories of the mistakes he made? Bad doesn’t ask.

Technoblade doesn’t volunteer that information either, but Bad notices the way Philza tenses a little at the conversation. There’s something there that he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, but he can pretty accurately guess what it is about.

Technoblade remains quiet for a long time. He walks around Bad in complete silence, simply giving small nods. He exchanges looks with Philza, but Bad cannot decrypt them. Eventually, the Piglin lets out a sigh.

“Okay,” he declares, “How do you feel about omelets?”

Bad isn’t sure if he should laugh.

“They’re… good?” he asks more than he answers. Technoblade smiles and he claps him on the shoulder.

“He is ready,” he tells Phil.

***

Bad hadn’t been sure what he was ready for, and neither of the two men had bothered answering his questions. They’d called for Sam, laughed together at some inside joke Bad hadn’t understood, and they’d bid Bad goodbye.

Philza had given him a reassuring look, his eyes sparkling with mirth, and Technoblade had grunted something that sounded like a promise to see him again.

And Bad hadn’t gotten his answer.

What was he ready for?

He had asked Dream, but the God had shaken his head mutely, visibly in one of his less agreeable moods, when he refuses to speak to Bad, turns his nose up at food, and throws the books on the floor when Sam tries to hand them to him. Bad hadn’t been sure if Dream was still upset about Philza, or if something else had caused this sudden episode. It could have been nothing too. Dream’s mood swings up and down, and Sam says it is because of the prolonged isolation.

But still, Bad hadn’t known what he was ready for.

He still doesn’t know.

But the lava is receding, and the mechanical clicks of Sam’s machine are resonating around the cell, and Bad stares.

It’s not dinner time yet, he knows it.

Dream doesn’t make a movement to even look up, already knowing that the visitor isn’t for him.

He is Bad’s.

Oh, Gods, he is Bad’s .

Bad stops breathing at the sight of his best friend’s face.

He is frozen on the spot, but Skeppy isn’t and, as soon as the barrier goes down, the man takes three large strides and envelopes Bad in his arms.

His arms are strong and safe, and he smells like home .

Bad hears words being whispered in his ears but he cannot focus on their meaning because Skeppy is here, Skeppy is holding him, Skeppy whom he had missed so so much, and Skeppy for whom he had sacrificed everything.

“Skeppy,” he chokes up. His best friend hushes him gently, and tender hands come up to his cheeks, wipe his tears away.

“I missed you, Bad,” he says, and Bad’s heart feels so incredibly full at the sight of the sunshine smile he loves so much. “It’s been a while.” Bad lets out an incredulous laugh that sounds more like a sob.

“You never visited,” he whispers. It’s not a reproach, it’s just an observation. Just a way to tell Skeppy that he noticed his absence, and that he missed him so incredibly much.

Skeppy’s laugh is a bit more strained. “Yeah, Techno was being a bit of a mother-hen,” he explains, “And Sam wouldn’t hear me out either. I think they were in cahoots together or something.” He smiles at Bad, his mischievous smile that Bad loves so much, “We should prank them in retaliation.” Bad blinks.

“Prank them?” he repeats, “But Geppy, I’m in-”

Skeppy raises an eyebrow, “In prison? Nah, fuck that.”

Bad would scold him for his language, but he is too shocked by Skeppy’s words to think about it.

“I- what?”

“You’re free,” Skeppy says, “I miss you, I’m tired of being alone at the mansion, and Techno said you’re ready.”

Oh.

That kind of ready.

“But I- The Egg-”

“- is gone,” Skeppy interrupts before Bad can continue protesting, “And you, Bad, paid enough for its crimes.”

“I tried to kill-” Skeppy clamps a hand against his mouth.

“No protest,” he says, “Techno said you’re ready, and Sam said so too.”

Bad’s speech is muffled against Skeppy’s hand but he keeps trying until his friend removes his hand. He doesn’t fully pull away though, instead, his hand finds Bad’s, and their fingers intertwine.

“Skeppy, I tried to enslave the entire server to get you back,” Bad says quickly. Skeppy has to see that this is hysterical, that he shouldn’t get freed. That he has to spend the rest of his eternity with Dream, to expiate his crimes.

“Yeah, we’ll have to have a long, serious talk about that,” Skeppy says lightly, “But somewhere else. This place suuuucks!” He draws the ‘u’ in a way that normally would make Bad laughs. Bad doesn’t.

“Skeppy,” he tries again, “I don’t-”

His friend lets go of his hand and he cups his face in his hand, staring deep into his eyes. He looks so serious, so concerned, but also so full of genuine care and affection.

He is blue, and blue is Bad’s favourite colour.

“Bad,” Skeppy says, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “You’re free. I promise.”

Bad exhales, the way he hadn’t ever since he entered the walls of Pandora’s Vault. Skeppy is back. Skeppy is back, and he is back to himself.

He hesitates before turning to look at the God, listless on his cot.

“What about Dream?” he asks.

Skeppy laughs. “Fuck him.”

“Language!” Skeppy laughs harder, happy to see that his best friend is back.

“No for real,” Skeppy says, “Puffy said he had this little jail cell for me.” He gestures with his hands to show an approximation of the size of the cell. Bad scrunches his nose at the memory. “She said he wanted to control you by keeping me hostage or some shit.” – he ignores Bad’s second protest of ‘Language!’ “Techno wanted to kill him for it, but Sam had to convince him otherwise.” Bad bites his lip. Dream did do a lot of harm.

“He is sorry,” he tries, the same way he had with Ant. Skeppy chuckles and shrugs.

“Not my problem, not my judgement to make,” he declares. He looks at Bad, and his eyes are shining with affection. Their hands find each other again. “I came here to get you.” He smiles, a little softer this time. “Come on, Bad. Let’s go home.”

Bad softens at the words. Home. It sounds wonderful. He holds Skeppy’s hand a little tighter as he takes in the cell.

He looks at the black walls, the black ceiling, the black floor. He looks at their small cots, on each side of the room. He looks at the tiny desk he and Dream had shared, and the books scattered around it. He looks at the clock that Dream had spent weeks hogging, that Bad had stopped watching when time had seemed not to make sense anymore.

He looks at Dream.

The God is curled on his cot. He hasn’t moved ever since Skeppy entered, hasn’t pronounced a word to acknowledge his presence. But Bad has spent so long with him in this cell. He isn’t sure if it was days, or weeks, or months, but it felt like an eternity. He can tell by the way Dream is breathing that he isn’t asleep. He is listening attentively, catching every last detail of their conversation. Bad is certain his eyes are wide open under the mask.

He wishes, once again, that he could feel angry at the God, for all the pain he has caused. For everything he’s done, for all the grief he has created. He doesn’t. He feels sorry.

He promises himself that he will come visit him.

“Bye Dream,” he says, and the God doesn’t answer but Bad can tell by the way his breath has hitched ever so slightly that he has heard him.

Skeppy tugs on his hand and Bad refocuses his entire attention on his best friend, who is now calling for Sam.

When the man appears, it is not the eyes of the Warden that Bad meets. These are his friend's eyes. The kind, intelligent, and mirthful eyes.

“Hey, Bad,” Sam says warmly, “Glad to have you back.” Bad smiles at him.

Skeppy tugs a little more insistently and Bad feels a giggle rise to his lips and escape to freedom, while he lets his best friend drag him away from the cell that had become his entire world.

He is free, he thinks as he steps out of the cell. The Egg is gone, and Skeppy is back.

Sam trails a little behind them, likely checking on Dream, but he eventually makes his appearance. He smiles at Bad, warm and reassuring, and he presses a button on his monitor.

The lava recedes behind them, hiding the cell from their view, and Bad holds Skeppy’s hand a bit tighter. He is no longer alone. He turns his back on the cell and they start walking away.

The door slams shut.