this world we have built is burning down around us | Dream SMP Time Travel Fic

history makes our scars (they don't stop existing with time)

Sam made a quick bound through his nether portal, swinging himself in a side arch as he launched himself over the bottom rim and hit the ground running.

He triggered his gate, rushing through the gap as soon as it was big enough, calling out a frantic panting, "Fran! Fran, here, girl!"

The aforementioned dog came sliding around a corner, the corner around Theseus's door specifically, tail wagging excitedly as she bounded over to her master and snuffled at his legs curiously. When Sam knelt down, she backed up with a whine, arching her head to look behind him, and the creeper hybrid brought his hands up to cup the sides of her head, right beneath her ears, and inhaled shakily with an ache in his chest. "Yeah, girl, I know. We're gonna find him, though, I promise. That's why I came to get you, yeah? You can find Tommy, can't you?"

Her ears straightened at the boy's name, a single bark echoing her rhetorical agreement. Sam tightened his grip on her fur for a moment, nodded, then stood and stepped back. "Alright, girl, let's do this." He reopened the gate and stepped out, Fran obediently at his heels as the door shuffled shut behind them. "Find Tommy!"

The command said and the boy's scent already memorized, Fran didn't waste any time, nose dipping to the grass and shooting off into the trees. Sam took a breath, enderpearl in hand, and gave chase.

He prayed, silently and desperately, that if he wasn't the one to find Theseus, it wasn't Dream who crossed the finish line first.

__________

Wilbur paid it no mind when the bodies at his heels nearly slammed face first into a tree, merely gliding right through himself, feet drifting above the ground and missing the roots that tripped up the younger Tommy and Tubbo, as well as his own counterpart; only Phil and Techno managed to avoid such a fate, their trained footwork and deftness allowing them to dodge without much difficulty.

"Dream's a bitch, sure, but what's he gonna do? Future me will kick his ass!"

In another time, Wilbur would have conceded to the knowledge that Tommy would have tried (most likely in vain), that Tommy would have barked and snarled and bit at Dream if the man had ever tried anything, but he recalled the abuse all too well, Dream's and his own; his own abuse that built a foundation of insecurity and fear, and Dream who took advantage of that and only reinforced every bad thing Tommy ever thought about himself. Nowadays, for all the strength Wilbur knew his little brother still had, Tommy was more inclined to whimper and tuck his tail between his legs in an effort to avoid more pain, more punishment, a constant more so than safety and happiness had ever been.

He knew the blond would continue to fight, knew he still held just as much anger and hate for Dream as he did fear and a sick sense of familiarity and intimacy (he wondered if those feelings were reflected similarly towards Wilbur himself), but he was all too aware that the fear and doubt made it harder for Tommy to fight, more difficult in a way that made it easier, oftentimes, for the boy to just lie down and take it.

Wilbur wouldn't blame him if he had, just like he'd done back then; as manipulative as he could be, he'd spoken no falsities when saying that their future held the souls of too many too tired.

"The mere sight of Dream will send Tommy into a spiral, and I can't say how good or bad it'll end." Because just as Wilbur remembered the panic attacks in a tiny tent, he also recalled the way Tommy had left bodies and blood in his wake, eyes blinded by a cold emptiness that he never thought he'd see on his baby brother; war and trauma did things to a person.