Chapter Text
Sam hummed a light tune as he made his way over to Dream’s cell, tapping his short nails on the keycard in his hand to match the rhythm.
He inserted the key into a small slit in the wall, flicked the switch to stop the lava flow, and was met with the strangest sound he expected to hear from the prison cell: crying.
As the bubbling lavafall slowly drained, Sam felt his eye twitch at the sight of… absolutely nothing.
“DREAM!” he yelled, adrenaline rushing as he started the bridge over. The stupid technology couldn't have moved any slower as he hopped from foot to foot, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he gripped his weapon. He jumped the last foot over, ignoring the burning air from the still-retreating lava, and frantically searched the cell, screaming Dream’s name.
The sobs grew louder.
Sam froze as he stood near the chest, noticing a particular detail that he hadn't been able to see from across the lava river. The wails sounded muffled, and he was able to pinpoint their location as from his left.
He edged over, uncertain as to why he suddenly was filled with a feeling of dread. Worst comes to worst, it was a baby. He could handle kids, right?
Yeah, but why the heck would there be a kid instead of Dream in his high-security prison cell?
Ignoring his confused thoughts, Sam slowly opened the old, creaky chest to reveal a bright green hoodie. Dream’s hoodie. He lifted up the hood of the sweatshirt to unveil… a kid.
"What the-" The cries abruptly stopped at the sound of his voice.
Bright green eyes stared up at him from under a thatch of dirty blonde hair, face framed by a splash of freckles. “S-Sam?”
Sam stumbled backward, stepping on something that cracked loudly. It was Dream’s mask, now split in half and partially shattered.
It can't be… What else could it be? If it really is real… The puzzle pieces fell together. Then that means this little kid is Dream.
Phil was awakened by a loud knocking on his door. What does Techno want now? he thought, slightly annoyed at the loss of sleep but ready to assist his friend nonetheless.
“Help!” cried a small voice, much too high-pitched to be Techno.
Phil sat bolt upright. “Who is it?” he called out cautiously.
“Please!” The knocking ceased long enough for the voice to get out the single word.
Phil wearily stood up and made his way over to the door, blinking rapidly to wake up and trying not to stumble on the wooden floorboards.
“Help meeeee,” the kid wailed, pounding even harder.
Phil swung open the door to the strangest sight he'd ever seen: nothing.
"Down here!” Phil slowly turned his gaze downward, jumping at the familiar yet completely unknown sight.
“W-w-what…”
Messy, uncombed, pink hair. A crown much too large for the small head it rested upon. A large red cape, dragging on the spruce porch between Phil’s house and Techno’s.
Techno…
Phil frantically rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “T-Technoblade?”
The small pinkette bounded into Phil’s house, his robe catching on the doorframe. He grabbed one of the axes resting by the window and stumbled towards the door with a determined look, overbalancing quite a few times and nearly toppling over.
Phil yelped, snatching the weapon away from the kid and holding it out of his reach. What can he say, his parental instincts wouldn't allow any kid to manage such a dangerous item, warrior or not.
“Hey!” protested Phil’s neighbor, grabbing halfheartedly at the netherite axe.
“Techno." Phil edged around the glaring child, kicking the door shut before any mobs could make their way inside. "What the hell is going on? Why are you… a kid?”
His angry stare intensified, making a face at the older with irritated red eyes. “What? Who's Techno?”
Ghostbur was wandering through the spruce forest, vaguely aware of his proximity to Techno’s and Phil’s houses.
Maybe I should visit Phil and Techno! I haven't seen them in a while!
"What do you think, Friend?" he asked, giving his pet sheep a gentle pat. "I bet Phil wouldn't mind a friendly visit!"
Friend bleated happily, nudging his translucent leg with his fluffy blue head. Ghostbur smiled, petting the sheep's head.
Suddenly, he felt a lurching pain in his gut. It was like he'd swallowed a gallon of water, and now it was burning its way throughout his inside.
He doubled over in pain, hand yanking out of the tangles of Friend's fleece and no doubt taking a few azure curls with it. Ghostbur wrapped his arms around his stomach and fell to his knees, the thin dusting of snow on the ground burning his skin.
Friend bleated again, nuzzling his side as he collapsed on the ground and his vision grew fuzzy, fading in and out of darkness.
His legs stopped working, and he felt himself falling back, limbs sprawling awkwardly as he lost control of his body, unable to move.
The last thing he saw was the stars, glimmering thousands of miles above him in the night sky.
Psst.
“Ow.”
Psssss.
“Owwwie,” he groaned, rubbing his face.
Psssssst.
His eyes flew open at the pain blistering across his skin. A loud boom sounded, and he cried out, scared.
He reached out blindly, grasping for something to hug, to comfort him. He latched onto a fluff of wool and hugged tightly, smiling into the softness. A baaa startled him, and he lifted his head up slowly to find a blue sheep staring at him, the source of his comfort.
Friend, said the nametag around its neck.
“Hewo, Friend,” he murmured, burying his face back in the sheep’s soft blue wool that was strangely familiar and comforting.
Pssssst.
He yelped and swatted at his neck. The pain came more frequently all of a sudden, burning across exposed skin. He glanced upwards and saw dark storm clouds gathering above him, blotting out the pretty night sky.
A raindrop fell onto his hand, and the partially see-through skin turned red and blistered.
“Owie!”
The rain hurts.
Friend pushed against his side, seeming to be trying to stand him up. He obliged, climbing onto Friend’s back and praying the sheep knew how to help (don't judge his hope; he's a child, and Friend is a good, loyal friend).
The animal began to walk.
He felt himself losing consciousness from the pain, and he was barely aware of where the sheep was going as his vision went black for the second time that day.
Rain pattered on the roof as the two former friends sat in silence. Techno had fallen asleep long ago, after providing a brief summary of what had happened to him.
Basically (as far as Phil could understand), he woke up, having no idea who he was or where he was, then wandered out the door and was promptly attacked by two zombies.
Why he was a child, Phil didn't know, and if Techno knew, he wasn't surrendering the information.
So, the duo had decided to just get some rest and try to figure out answers in the morning, when both weren't sleep-deprived and even more tired from coming off an adrenaline high.
Phil was preparing to make up a bed for himself on the floor (he'd given his bed to the younger, who was much too frightened and tired to travel back to his house in the dark), when he heard a noise from outside.
There was a small thump from the door, and a tired not again crossed Phil's mind.
He heard a sheep’s bleat, then muffled sobs that sounded rather… echoey. Ghostbur.
It was raining outside.
Oh no.
Phil threw the door open, herding the sheep inside before he even registered Friend's small passenger. Much to Phil's dismay, it was a tiny Ghostbur, his ghostly skin covered with blisters from the rain. His eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on Phil's face.
“Help… me…” he whispered, lower lip trembling.
Holding the child in his left arm, Phil frantically searched through his chests for a healing potion. He found a small vial of the red liquid and poured it into the barely conscious Ghostbur’s mouth, praying that it would work.
He coughed and spluttered, his eyes flying open. The wounds on his skin slowly started vanishing, though many angry red splotches remained, and Phil knew it would take much more healing ointment and time for the injuries to fully disappear.
“W-where am I?” he stuttered. “Who are you?” He shoved at Phil's arms in an attempt to get away, but seeing as Phil was holding him, his strategy didn't really work.
"What’s going on?” murmured a small Techno, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.
Phil sighed. “I have no idea,” he muttered honestly.
Ghostbur pushed against Phil again, this time complaining, “Put me dowwwwn,” in a squeaky voice that echoed softly with each word.
Friend protested with his owner, giving a loud baa! and butting his head on Phil's knee.
Phil caved, setting down the hurt ghost gently.
“Who is he?” Ghostbur questioned once Phil had set him down, pointing towards Techno.
Techno crossed his arms and looked pointedly at Phil. “I wanna know, too.”
Phil would've laughed at the childish act if it weren't for the terror that he felt at having no idea what to do or what was happening.
“Uh Hi. My name is Philza, but you can call me Phil,” he began, sitting down criss-cross in front of the boys. “You're Technoblade, and you're Ghostbur. You guys used to be grown-ups like me. We were friends. Family.” He paused before adding quietly, “Do you really not remember anything?”
Techno snorted. “I think we've made that pretty clear, old man.”
Phil allowed himself a small chuckle. He may not remember who he was, but he is definitely still the same person.
“Where are we?” the small ghost asked softly. “Why can't I remember anything?”
Phil frowned. “This is my house. Techno’s house is right across from mine.”
The pink-haired kid’s eyes lit up. “I have my own house?”
“Not right now, you don't,” Phil said in a very paternal tone. “I am no way trusting you to live on your own.”
Techno slouched and pouted. “Hrmph.”
“And as for your memories…” Phil turned and set a hand on Ghostbur’s shoulder, doing the same to Techno. “I'm not really sure. But I promise we'll figure this out.”
Ghostbur smiled softly, then let out a huge yawn. “I'm tired, Philza.” He scooted over until he was laying in Phil's lap, head resting on his knee. He stared up at him with pleading eyes. “Can you tell us a story?”
Techno inched closer, leaning against Phil's left side. The older wrapped his arm around the younger and began his story.
“This is the tale of a nation called L'manberg...”
When the two were definitely asleep, Phil picked them up and placed the duo gently on his bed. He elected to sleep on the floor beside them as he'd originally planned with Techno, feeling Dadza instincts taking over. But before he could get any shut-eye, for the third time that night, a knock on the door sounded, paired with a somewhat familiar voice.
“Phil? I need your help…”
Phil again went over to the door, careful not to wake up the boys. He winced as it creaked open loudly.
"What's got you at my house this late at night?” he asked, reaching for a water bottle on a side table. He took a quick sip of water, trying to soothe his dry throat as he took in the face of the infamous Warden.
“Um…” Sam bit his lip, sidling to the side enough for Phil to get a view of what was behind him. He nearly choked on his drink.
There it was, a wagon full of kids appearing suspiciously similar to members of the SMP, all asleep, accompanied by a young BadBoyHalo holding a toddler version of whom Phil presumed to be Skeppy.
“Oh shit,” he muttered, earning himself a glare from Bad.
"Language!”