Dreaming of Demons (Dream x oc)

[20] Half-Dead

As we made our way to Dream's cell, I couldn't stop thinking about the axe Quackity had been carrying. The weapon had balanced on his shoulder so casually, I would have thought he was gathering resources for something. But I couldn't forget the blood on his shirt, and the way he had lied so effortlessly about it. I thought we were friends.

Or we had been because he seemed willing to throw that away for the sake of business.

And Sam...he also knew what Quackity was doing, and he had tried brushing me off as well. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was staring straight ahead, his expression hard-set. He hadn't spoken a word to me since we entered the prison. But that was probably a good thing because if he did, I likely wouldn't be able to refrain from criticizing him.

The lava was as slow as ever as I stood in front of the one thing separating me from the cell. I pressed my lips in a tight line and tried to relax my shoulders. What would I see on the other side? Had Quackity really used that axe in the cell, or was it just a scare tactic? I really hoped it was the latter, but as much as I wished for that, the twisting in my stomach never ceased.

I swallowed, my hand squeezing the railing. The lava was burning my eyes, so I closed them as I stood there, trying to figure out how much longer it would take.

What would I even do once I entered the cell? If Dream was really injured, I would have nothing to help him. My gaze flashed to Sam standing by the buttons and levers. He had all his armor and his trident with him, so he probably had something that could help. He had already broken a few rules, so what difference would breaking one more do?

"I need healing pots." I said, more of a demand than a request..

He narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated. "You're not using healing pots on Dream."

"And Quackity shouldn't have been using weapons in the cell, but here we are." I shot back.

Sam didn't even flinch, so I stepped closer to him, holding my hand out. "Just give me the healing pots. I know you have some."

His face screwed up in a snarl. "Fine. But if he breaks out, then I won't hesitate to hunt you down and kill you." He slapped two, thin vials of the pink liquid in my hand.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I returned to the platform. "Maybe that's the one rule you will keep."

He exhaled noisily behind me, obviously holding back some choice words, but I ignored him.

I carefully slipped the potions in my pocket as the lava popped loudly. I looked up to see it finally flowing past the large entryway to reveal the cavern it occupied.

My hand returned to clutch the railing on the platform, my eyes lowered. I studied the short cracks that had appeared after much use. It wasn't until the platform jerked forward that I looked up again.

Dream was lying motionless on the ground in the cell. His head was turned away, the white rim of his mask barely visible.

The cell, however, stole more of my attention.

It was a mess. Papers were strewn around, crumbled or ripped. The chest that held Dream's books was open upside-down on the floor. His wooden table had suffered deep cuts and was now leaning to one side while the matching chair was tipped over beside it. The whole scene made my stomach dip, and the rich, coppery scent that filled my nose wasn't helping.

As soon as I stepped off the bridge and saw the ground below me, I sucked in a breath. The dark, glistening obsidian had hidden the splatters of blood that decorated the walls and floor. Everywhere my eyes travelled, I spotted more blood. More, more, more. The obsidian cruelly covered it all.