Chapter Text
Tommy wasn't shocked when he saw Wilbur in the shop. Niki was finally back, but she looked tired. Tommy almost wanted to ask if she was okay—but that wasn't his place. Techno—Wilbur’s friend?—was there again too. Both of them were seated as if they were on guard for Niki, in the back of his mind somewhere, Tommy thinks he felt relieved. Niki gasped when she saw him, and Tommy quickly looked behind him to see if someone had come inside to warrant such a reaction.
“Tommy!”
He blinked, and she looked horrified.
“What?! Are you okay—”
Niki was in front of him, suddenly investigating his eye. His eyes? Oh shit. He had training with Sapnap today; the recent loss was weighing on him. There was definitely swelling; he's not sure how long it's been since Sapnap decked him across the face, so he's not sure if there's a bruise. If she were to look at his body more, she'd find that there were burns along his wrists. Those would be hard to explain.
“Niki—” He began, an excuse on his tongue.
“Sit down! I have a med-kit somewhere in the back.”
His gut churned. They'd be wasting medical supplies.
“No, Niki, it's okay!” He tried again.
He heard a low whistle from where Techno and Wilbur were sitting. Techno was pinching his brow, and Wilbur was nowhere to be seen. Until the brown haired man had his hands inspecting his face. He wanted to run away, but his body was locked in place. It had been such a long time since he had felt anything without the promise of pain behind it. Wilburs' hands were rough and calloused like Dreams were, but they held a warmth and gentleness that Dream could never replicate. It was this gentleness that made him not fight whatever this was.
“This looks bad, Tommy. Who did this?” Wilbur asks, and his hands are tilting his head to get a closer look, and Tommy realizes almost every scar he has will be on display; the one from his autopsy is carefully covered, thankfully, but the one across his neck? Not so much. Wilbur’s eyes danced around the scar on his neck. He found his hand coming to cover it. Wilbur looked guilty for a second, like a child does when they're caught doing something they shouldn't.
“It's nothing, don't worry about it.”
They'd barely spoken; they were strangers, and yet—yet Wilbur looked hurt that Tommy wouldn't say who did this. What was he meant to say? ‘My boss’s coworker likes to use me as a punching bag. ’
His wrist was aching more now, and he realized he felt more lightheaded than he should have. He tries to run over how that fight went—
Sapnap is crying. Aithalos is crying. The cracks on his skin were sparking bits of ash that were falling into Tommy's contorted body. He had a knife pressed to his back—which he did not know where Sapnap had hidden that—and this silence that had never come up in these “training” sessions. His tears were like molten lava; in fact, they might actually be lava. Tommy wasn't entirely sure what to do. Dream had never taught him to be kind.
“Do you want to—talk about it?” He tried, and Sapnap snapped up, seemingly remembering where he was and who he was with. He expected the fighting to resume; instead, Subpoena yelped and dropped the knife…into his arm. Tommy hissed. The metal was hot because of Sapnaps' powers, and he didn't want the wound to cauterize while it was still inside his body. He tugged the knife out, and Sapnap made some type of gagging sound.
“I'm sorry—”
What?
“What?” Tommy repeated, This had never happened before. Not once had Sapnap ever felt the need to apologise. What was happening? This must be some type of test. Tommy wanted to run, but to run was to be a coward, and Tommy was not a coward. He took a step forward, ignoring the blood dripping from his arm and the growing numb feeling that was spreading.
“Aithalos?” He questioned, and the hero across from him flinched. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, to plead with Tommy to believe him about something, and Tommy didn't know what.
The door hissed open, and Dream walked in. Tommy straightened right away. At the scene before him, Dream took pause, without even looking at him, and he let out a command.
“Leave,”
Tommy, with shaky feet, had left to the store because he didnt know where else to go.
“Tommy!” He barely caught the panicked voice of Wilbur before he passed out. He hadn't taken the time to check on his arm.
When Tommy woke up, he was still in the shop with Wilbur, Techno, and Niki. His arm was wrapped, and panic seized him the moment that clarity dawned on him. These practical strangers had possibly seen the amount of scars and assumed that he was a hero. Dream was going to kill him.
“Tommy, hey! Breathe,” Someone said to him; he thinks it was Wilbur. His hands on his shoulders were grounding, but at the same time entirely too much for Tommy. Touch had never been something gentle for him. Everyone but Dream was always seeking to harm him—and yet…and yet Wilbur made no moves for his wings bound behind his back, he made no moves to reach for a feather. It was…confusing. Dream had always been very clear with Tommy about what the world was like.
The world was cruel, it was never gentle, and it was never kind for no reason. These people had gone against every single message and lesson that Dream had drilled into his head.
“Tommy? Can you please tell us who did this?” Wilbur sounded desperate.
Tommy didn't know what to do. There's no way that he could blame all of his injuries on himself. He decided the best thing to do was to treat this like any other undercover mission.
“I—my older brother gets mad sometimes”
Wilbur's eyes darken, and Tommy, for a moment, thinks that he knows Tommy's lying, that they can see right through him. He hears Dream's voice in his head, reminding him to stay calm, to act like the perfect victim.
“It's not this bad normally!” Tommy rushes to say, “It was just bad today.”
“Do you have somewhere safe to stay?” Wilbur says, and Tommy blanks. Does he have somewhere safe to stay? No, no, no. Dream was safe. Dream was his home! Why is he doubting this now? Why is he being ungrateful for everything that the man has done for him—
Dream stares at the child who sobs mindlessly. Crisp blond hair and bright tiny wings. Dream saved that boy from his shouting father and crying mother. He picks up the boy in the same way that his father does, grabs him by the wrist, and tells him to shut up. For once, Tommy doesn't start crying harder. Dream asks him what his powers are, and Tommy says he doesn't know. Because that's always what his mother told him to say.
Dream tells him he doesn't believe him, and that if he didn't know, then no one would have come to kill his parents. Tommy tells him the truth. Dream seems happy. Something in Tommy's brain swells with pride.
No one ever really explained instincts to him. His mother was never able to get the words out, and his father never bothered. He didnt know that his brain needed flock to survive, and he didnt know that with the death of his mother and father, his brain was vulnerable to accepting anyone as flock.
Dream never takes the time to explain his instincts beyond the fact that they are annoying. Tommy doesnt blame him. The constant chirping (that he, of course, learned to shut down), the flapping of his wings, which knocked things over( the only solution was to bind his wings!), and his tail, which would wrap around things (it makes sense that it needed to be cut off after each revival, of course.)
When he is old enough, Dream says that he's ready to be more useful. Of course, the first time Dream tore his feathers out, Tommy was too weak to know that it didnt matter what happened to him as long as he could help others.
He didnt understand why they needed him to die. He didnt understand why it always had to be him. When he had asked Dream, he’d sent him to Sapnap. He realized then that asking questions was a bad idea. Sapnap was always confusing; it always seemed like he was somewhere else, like he was trapped in some kind of delusion. Tommy never voiced that, lest he was killed by him again in some violent in cruel way—one that would make his body hurt for weeks after he revived.
He dies over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and overoveroveroveroveroveroveroveroveroverhelphelphelphelphelpmehelpmestopidontwanttodiepleaseletmediealreadydontbringmebackagainstopleavemedeadkillmekillmeKILLMEKILLME—
He finally breaks and begs Dream to kill him for real. He doesn't know how many times he's died now; he stopped keeping count. He doesnt really see the point of keeping count if he's simply going to die again. Dream tells him he can't die. That Dream can't be the one to kill him. Tommy is hopeless.
“Who?” Tommy begs, “Who can kill me. Tell me, please.”
Dream stares at him, like he's considering something. Dream is always unknown; Tommy may have memorized every sign of his mood, but even so, he never fully knows what may come next.
“Why should I tell you, Tommy? You're being selfish trying to get out of helping other people.”
“I don't care!” Tommy wails, grabbing onto Dream despite the harsh slap that knocks him away. “I can't do this anymore!”
Dream looks at him with disgust. Like he's nothing more than dirt under his shoe, and maybe he's right. Maybe Tommy is nothing without what he can give. He can't do this. He can't take this. So he begs.
“I will do anything, I will give as many feathers as you want!”
“Would you kill someone for it?”
Tommy froze.
“I—what?”
“I said, would you kill for it. You said you’d do anything, right?”
Dream grips his hair and tugs his head forward with such intensity that tears threaten to spill from his eyes. He bites back the cry he wants to let out. Would he? Would he kill for it? Would he risk his morals for the sake of death? He was meant to be a hero; he was meant to save people. And yet…and yet the longer he thought about it, the more dread he felt about the fact that he didnt really find himself being opposed to the idea. He swallowed roughly.
“I'd kill for it.” Tommy pushes out, and Dream grins. He drops Tommy and turns around.
“He's called the Angel of Death. They say he tricked the Goddess of Death into loving him, into making him her angel. They say he is a cruel man who will murder anyone for profit. Or revenge.”
Tommy sucked in a breath
“Do you remember Ranboo?”
Tommy's heart sank.
“There have been rumours that after he defected, they joined the SBI. The Angel is very protective of those under his wing, Tommy. Do you understand what I'm asking you to do?”
“You…You want me to kill Ranboo?”
Dream smiles, Tommy wishes he could say he hated the feeling of pride that it gave him.
“I'm saying that if you do, the Angel will kill you. He will save you.”
“I don't know.” He finally answers. The worst part is that he really didn't know. Wilbur doesn't look upset with him. In some odd way, he looks like he understands exactly what Tommy meant.
“Can I have your phone?” Wilbur asks, and Tommy, confused, hands it to him. He taps violently on something and hands it back to him. Tommy finds three new numbers in his contacts.
“Wilbur,” “Techno,” and “Phil”
He doesnt know who Phil is.
“He's our dad,” Wilbur explains after a moment, and Tommy nods. “If you ever need help call us. We will come and get you and keep you safe.”
Tommy's heart ached, and he nodded.
“Seriously, kid,” Techno spoke, “We'll be there.”
He didnt know what to do. This wasn't normal. This wasn't how the world worked, and yet—and yet they were being so kind to him. Tommy stood, slowly brushing the dust off his clothing.
“Thank you,” Tommy said quietly. He was shocked at the fact that he really meant it, despite everything that he had been told. He was thanking someone. “I have to go—I'm late for work.”
Wilbur nodded his head, but there was a look of anxiety left on his face. Tommy didnt understand why his gut twisted in guilt for lying to the three who seemed to care.
When he got back to the base, Dream was furious with him, but wouldn't hurt him more than Sapnap did. He sent him out on patrol officially. Unofficially, it was punishment since he would be out all night.
Oziys ignored the burn in his arms that had spread again. He could do this. Everything was going to be okay.
“Hey mate.”
Oziys flipped around, and he felt his heart drop. The Angel. Zephyr. He nodded his head in greeting.
“Are you aware that you've willingly engaged with a hero?”
Zephyr let out a hum; there was something underneath it that Oziys couldn't decipher. Anger? Hate? He couldn't tell…he couldn't tell for all of two seconds before he was being slammed into a wall.
“Stop fighting!” George had said, tugging back his wings so that they would lie closer together than they should have been.
“It hurts!” He sobbed, trying his best to run. Sapnap’s too-warm hands were pushing him back.
“Ozyis” Dream had said, “This is for your own good. Stop fighting it.”
Tommy heaved, tears running down his face as he felt the bindings wrap around his wings and press them flat to his back. It didnt matter if he was damaged, as long as the feathers remained intact.
He couldn't help it; he let out a call of distress. The Angel, being an avian, made it that much easier to give in to the instincts he thought Dream had thoroughly beaten out of him. Only when Zephyr let go in horror did he realize the mistake he had made. He made a distress call. A distress call only baby birds could make. Even through the veil, Oziys could see how shocked the Angel was. He released Tommy, staggering back.
“You—”
Tommy couldn't breathe. He gave away information. He let the enemy know something about him, even a minor mistake like that, and now the angel knew he was some form of Avian. He would kidnap him, he would steal Tommy away, and use him like Dream said they would. He needed to run, and he needed to run fast. Without another thought, he bolted upwards and dashed through the winding alleyways. He heard the angel call after him
“Theseus!”
Theseus? Tommy thinks while he runs,
“Stop running! Please let me talk to you!”
Zephyr sounds desperate. For a second, Tommy almost doesn't believe that this will be the man to kill him. But then he recalls the anger with which he shoved Oziys into the wall, and knew that Dream had not lied. This would be the man to kill Tommy. He could feel the ache in his back, his wings, which begged to be used. He ignored it.
He took a sharp turn down a corner and felt a sense of relief at the fact that he couldn't see the Angel. Until he felt himself get hit with the flatside of an axe. A feeling which he was very familiar with already. Tommy didn't make a sound, although he's convinced that his jaw might have been knocked out of place. Xiphos stands towering over him, anger clearly sensed. Tommy was drowning in the emotion, and it blocked out any chance that he had to look for anything else.
He heard the flap of wings, and dread filled his stomach again. He hadn't lost Zephyr. He'd gotten caught, actually, and this was possibly the worst night of his entire life, because he knew that whatever these villains did would be a thousand times more merciful than Dream.
Then something even worse happened. Aglaope stepped into view.
Tommy thinks that if he could still cry, he would. Aglaope was the same height as Xiphos, and he realized why, despite Aglaope not being the best fighter, he was such a major threat. He kneeled down in front of Tommy, and the traitorous part of him wanted to run away and hide. Dream had done it once; maybe it was okay if he did it too? Just once? No, no, he knew that wasn't right.
“Hello, Theseus,” Aglaope said after Zephyr had landed behind them.
“Aglaope.” He replied, dont ever let them see how afraid you are
Aglaope tilted his head as if signaling something to the others. Xiphos raised his arm as if he was going to punch Tommy before Zephyr stopped him.
“No. He-”
“You are worth no one's pity.”
“Don't pity me,” he found himself snapping. He was losing control, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
“It's not pity!” Zephyr sounded offended, “It's because you made a noise only chicks could make!”
“What?” Xiphos and Aglaope said in sync.