Dream SMP oneshots (98% Dream Centric) [Closed]

Blood packt pt2

The tw's from last chapter apply.

Fuck. The kid was in a coven.

That means he wasn't alone. That means the caretaker, or worse, his sire is near. This can cause so many troubles for him. But he has to keep this guy away from the kids. The fledlings. He was not a vampire don't get him wrong. But, growing up in the system meant he had to protect the youngers. And it stuck with him even after he was cicked out from the foster home.

So, he stood in front of the younglings, being a human meatshield just until someone arrived. Just until he passed out from exhaustion until he could no longer stand. Just until then, he had to keep this guy away.

"What the hell, dude?" The other, older human, asked with fury. He was taller and healtier than Dream. But he had a comfortable bed, good clothes, he never had to fight for food. And that gave Dream the leverage he needed.

"I should be the one asking you this. You disturbed children. Were you planning on touching them?" He knew the man probably wanted to harm the two, but making him angry was probably smart. Angry people usually fight without thinking.

"What? Ew no. Why would I ever touch tose digustin-" He received a kick in the liver, which had him collapse to the ground in agony. Dream stood there, panting, on the edge of fainting. The adrenalin guided kick took a lot out of him, his wision kept blurring, and his head was killing him. And then, he felt it before he saw it. The pressure all around the three was unmistakeable, the power of an ancient. Dream only encountered one in his lifetime, only for a brief moment. But this power, the pressure you can physically feel, was unforgettable.  He paniced, and the kids seemed happier, relieved. It was either their sire or their caretaker. It was a horrible option either way. A caretaker is really protective of their coven, and a sire is just as cruel. This wasn't good. But he found himself frozen, even though his fight or flight reflex screamed at him to run. And then the human in front of him screamed in wain, a pinkett landing on top of him. A sickening crack signalled that something broke. Maybe his spine. The man passed out or died; it was hard to tell. Blood red eyes met forest green, and Dream looked away at first, his head bowed, and he took a submissive position. He hoped this would spare him some hours, or maybe they'll leave him alone so he could black out in peace. God, his head was killing him. But the power was not coming from this guy; the source came closer, anger, and concern doubling the pressure. The blond had to gather every bit of strength to not collapse in front of four vampires. That would be the worst and probably last mistake he could make.

"Dad!" The blond kid shouted, running towards the opening of the alley. So the ancient was the sire?

"Carer!" The brunett boy screamed, and Dream paled.

The sire and the coven head were the same person. Fuck. He is so fucked; there are no words for how horribly he is fucked right now. He still felt the red eyes on him. He did not dare to move and tried to minimize his breathing. Maybe they won't notice; maybe they realise he was harmless, and he gets another month to live.

Would that be worth it?

Now that he thinks about it, no.

But he's afraid to die.

It's a normal human thing, really. The will to live is in everyone, and Dream is just like other people. And when he hears footsteps and sees green enter the field of his wision, his reflexes win, and he backs away, shaking as a leaf. The alley is a dead end, the only exit shielded by vampires. Only the green man, the ancient, came closer; the two teens looked happy and cling onto the red eyed male who kept staring at him. And it's only then he sees it. Blood. Small spots on the ground. And then he feels the ache in his left feet; he probably stepped into something. Terror washes over him. He really hopes they aren't hungry. He saw how hungry vampires reacted to blood. Eventually, his back hit the wall, the end of the alley. No way out. At this point, Dream was trembling like a leaf. He was scared beyond his imagination. It was scarier than any foster parent he had ever encountered. And then he noticed. The wall was old, perfectly climbable. And he was good at climbing and parkouring in general. He could make it to the top in no time.

Yes. Yes, that was a great plan. So he started climbing, ignoring the shaking of his limbs, the aching of his head, and the black spots dancing in his vision. And then he lost his grip and fell. His last toughts before blacking out contained chain of swear words and a quick prayer for a painless and fast death. And then emptyness overtook his mind.

There it is, folk, as promised.