But Our Friend is a Dog // a Dream Team fanfiction

Chapter 8: Breakthrough

**Content warning: mentions of abuse**

*6 hours remain*

~Dream~

Springs creaked as I mounted George's bed. He shifted atop the blankets with a heavy sigh and extended a hand to stroke my ears. Deep into his research of metamorphosis on his smartphone, George ignored me while reading until I leaned forward to grip the device gently between my teeth. Careful to avoid drooling on it, I locked eyes with him.

"What is it, Dream?"

Satisfied that I held his attention, I released my hold. George knew the drill; following my paw, he watched me spell letters on the blanket beside him:

CALL MY MOM

"Why?" He frowned with confusion. "We told her last night you're coming home soon."

True, I thought, but my mother would become anxious without any further message from the only person who claimed to have seen her son since my sudden disappearance. Willing my friend to understand, I spelled my longest message yet,

SAY ILL BE LONGER I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO

"I'm worried, too, Dream," George empathized. Returning his attention to his cell phone, he decided, "I'll tell her." Placing the device on the blanket between us, he redialed the previous number.

Several rings hummed from the phone until the line picked up,

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Dream." George's greeting was smoother than during their first conversation. He explained, "I'm calling in case you're wondering how Dream is. He's not in the room right now, but he asked me to tell you he'll be away longer."

"Oh, George, it's you!" Instantly my mother fired a barrage of questions. "How much longer? Is it an emergency? Does he need money?"

"There's no emergency, he doesn't need money, and we're not sure how much longer," George answered easily.

Our confidence deflated when my mother pressed, "George, is there something you're not telling me? You sound so... rehearsed." Her quiet, pleading tone sent pain through my heart. I'm okay, Mom, don't worry, I wanted to say, but I had no lips.

To me, George gaped, mouthing urgently, "What do I say?"

Thinking fast, I spelled, ILY

"I can't tell you what's going on," George apologized honestly. "But please believe me when I say Dream is safe and not in trouble. He says he loves you."

"George, you're scaring me. Has something happened to him? Why did he make you say that? Please let me talk to him. If there's a problem, he might be willing to share with me."

"He's not here."

"I..." My mother gave up, sighing with resignation, "Okay, then. I believe you. When he comes back, tell him I love him, too. Nothing could ever change that." Even me being a dog, unable to speak?

A floor board creaked; I swiveled my head to spot Sapnap standing beyond the doorway of George's bedroom, hiding in the shadows as he listened intently. Our eyes met. When I looked back to George, the call with my mother was over. Turning off his phone with a pathetic sigh, my friend on the bed spotted the eavesdropper.

"Sapnap?"

"You called his mom without me?" He sounded betrayed.

"Dream asked me," George bristled.

"You could've brought me first," Sapnap pointed out with a shrug.

"I'm sorry." I noticed the darkness around George's bloodshot eyes. With the least sleep between us, he appeared exhausted. On cue, he rubbed one eye with a knuckle. "I didn't think about it."

"Now who's impulsive and might get someone killed?" Sapnap raised a wry eyebrow.

Whining, I dismounted the bed to stand between the two, discouraging another argument. They fight more than a strict parent and stubborn teenager, I stewed. The thought reminded me of heated discussions between my own parents and me from years ago. I remembered yearning to escape what I felt was unjustified control over my life. At the memory, a sudden idea entered my head.

LISTEN, I spelled on George's carpet. My friends hushed, patiently observing as I continued, WE NEED NEW STRATEGY.

"Are we missing something?" Sapnap inquired curiously.

Why didn't I think about this before? More people than Dr. Mendesa understood the transformation better than they communicated. Despite her zealous admiration for us, his daughter Jazzie seemed miserable under the harsh discipline of her father. Surely she would accept an opportunity to escape the abuse he likely administered behind closed doors.

DONT NEED TO FIGURE OUT HOW 2 REVERSE

SOMEONE ON INSIDE ALREADY KNOWS HOW

*5 hours remain*

~Sapnap~

While waiting for a chance to implement our plan, George, Dream, and I took turns power-napping, regaining lost strength from escaping the manhole earlier in the morning. During George's turn, he occupied half the couch beside me, curled in a fetal position with his head draping over one cushioned armrest and his toes poking my thigh.

Distracting myself, I scrolled through my smartphone, where users on social media perceived our team's mysterious absence. Reassuring myself we would return soon to quell their fears, I read news instead.

Suddenly, Dream's ears pricked, interrupting his slumber and dissipating the mellow atmosphere. Brilliant teal eyes flew open and a fluffy head lurched upwards from the dog bed near my feet. His sharp gaze pointed toward the front door.

My stomach dropped. Alarmed, I nudged George. He roused, mumbling, "Hm, what?" When his deep brown gaze focused, he caught the urgency in my expression and pressed his lips shut.

We listened intently, but heard nothing. Only Dream's sensitive ears detected whatever was coming. Slinking toward the front door, his paws thumped light as a feather until finally, George and I heard faint footsteps outside. A knock upon the door made us flinch.

"Who is it?" George's hushed whisper broke the silence. Fur rose along Dream's spine.

Standing up, I whispered, "I'll see."

"Sapnap, wait -" His warning hiss came too late as I prowled toward the back of the flat and cautiously slid open the bathroom window.

Climbing out feet-first, I landed in the soggy grass and rounded the flat. Heaving a deep breath, I peeked beyond the building's front corner to view our visitor. Our plan might work, I realized with a vivid gasp as I recognized Jazzie Mendesa.