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annaraebananawriter · 2 years ago

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Going Back the Way We’ve Come

Yelllow there everyone! I actually hadn’t planned on writing anythin g for the Dream Tournament, but here we are. I saw ‘angst potential’ and was drawn in like a moth.

Now, while not the best thing ever, I had fun writing this. I hope you have just as much fun reading it.

The Dream Tournament was hosted by @nashdoesstuff, so be sure to go and give them some love. They did a wonderful job and it was very fun!

Happy reading!!

Fandom: Undertale/UTMV

Characters: (Original) Dream (Who belongs to Joku), (One Small Dream) Nightmare, (One Small Dream) Dream (Who belong to @calcium-cat) and mentioned Ink (Who belongs to Comyet), mentioned Bad Sanses, and mentioned Blue (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce)

Warnings: No major ones that I can think of. Let me know!

Summary: “It’s the finale of the Dream Tournament. OSD!Nightmare has finally caught up to his brother. He just wants to go home, but OSD!Dream wants to finish something first. While wiating, Nightmare has a conversation with OG!Dream. (UTMV, OSD!Nightmare Sans Centric)”

Word Count: 3273

~oOo~

Nightmare gazed up at the tree, black apples on one side and golden apples on the other, both glistening in the sun. Around him, there was grass and flowers and trees, much like how there was in his childhood before the villagers arrived.

Of course…when he finally catches up, they’re back at the beginning.

How symbolic.

Gritting his teeth, he moved forward. If he found Dream soon, then they could leave without lingering; the sooner they left all of this in the past, the better. He had never wanted to come back here for as long as he lived. It felt like a nightmare to be here. He wanted to leave before he was forced to talk with the ‘original’ Dream. Depending on when he was from, it might not be too bad, but if he was from any time after the Apple Incident…

Well. They just better get home fast.

“…and then Nighty found me and re-reassued me and it was all good again.” Dream’s voice faded in, and he found himself relaxing. At least this should be the last dimension they arrive at. They can go home now.

Good. He needed a nap.

“Reassured.” A smoother, deeper voice said, making Nightmare freeze. He knew that voice like the back of his hand. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah. Nighty’s the best brother ever.”

A laugh. “I’m sure he is.”

Swallowing, he chose to ignore all the complicated feelings assigned to that voice and pressed on. He arrived at the tree and stepped around it until he encountered two figures sitting by the base of it. One young, one older.

One was his Dream. He recognized him anywhere.

The other…

Inhaling, Nightmare called, “Dream?”

Both figures looked up, but his gaze was fixed on his brother. Dream blinked, something in his hands, and then beamed.

“Nightmare!” He ran up to him, then paused a foot away. “Wait. You are my Nightmare, right?”

Laughing a bit, he knelt. “Yes, I am.”

“Nighty!” Dream exclaimed again, hugging him.

He hugged back, letting himself soak it in. Once Dream let go, he kept him close, looking him over. “Are you alright?”

Dream nodded. “Mmhmm! I’m good. And I’ve made lots of new friends, all versions of me. One was a giant mermaid. Did you see? I hope you got to meet him. He was really cool. Then there was a couple that were goopy like you are, which was also pretty cool.” Taking a breath, he pointed behind him. “And then there’s him, who’s like, the original? I think? That’s what the others called him, anyway. And we’ve been making flower crowns and talking and…”

As Dream continued his tale, Nightmare looked at the other skeleton in this world. He had wanted to just keep ignoring him until they left, but he could only ignore being stared at for so long. When he turned, the other immediately looked away, in hopes of not being caught, fiddling with his flower crown.

There he was. He looked just like Dream had before the suppressor malfunctioned, clothes and all. And yet, at the same time, he looked different. Most of it wasn’t physical, invisible things he could swear weren’t there before. Or maybe it had just been too long since he saw his brother like this. This version had the crown and cape, but his movements were quieter, trained to be blending in. He had scars across what looked like every surface of visible bone, light shadows underneath his eyes. His aura was muted, though he couldn’t tell if that was this Dream’s doing or this worlds.

Seeing him again this way brought back some shadows of the anger he had. They were only wisps of emotions, things he hadn’t had time to resolve. They wanted him to do something, to finally fulfill his word from what felt like years ago, way back in the cell.

But Nightmare pushed them away. This is not his brother, he reminded himself. He looks the same and acts the same, but he’s different. He is different. This is the original. This is not his brother and he will not treat him as such.

Perhaps they should go home now.

He cleared his throat. “Dream.”

His brother cut himself off. “Yeah?”

“Are you ready to go home?”

“Uh.” Dream turned and looked around the world as he thought. “I think so…wait. Wait!” As Nightmare waited, he ran back to where he was sitting, picked up his crown, and came back. He was frowning. “I never made you a flower crown. I was going to once I got done my current one, which is for Orie, but I’m still slow at making them so it’s taking a bit and then you got here and I got distracted.” He looked up, pleading. “Can we go home after I make your crown?”

Nightmare inhaled. He wanted to say no. He really wanted to just be home already. “I’m not sure—”

“Orie won’t mind.” Dream turned to the other Dream—Orie? Short for Original? It was…creative, that’s for sure. “Can we stay for a little bit?”

Orie looked up, blinked, and smiled. “Of course. Though, you may need to pick some more flowers. I’m afraid I used quite a bit with mine.” He did sound genuine, lifting his crown to show him.

“That’s okay. Your crown is amazing. Use all the flowers you need.” Dream reassured, happy. He handed his crown to Nightmare. “I’ll be right back.” Before he could protest, his brother ran towards the flowers across the field.

Huffing, he crossed his arms, tentacles flicking in annoyance.

“You are welcome to take a seat.” The other Dream—Orie—said, sounding hesitant. “It might be a bit before he’s back.”

He refused to look at him. “We aren’t staying long. Once his crown is finished, we’ll be out of your hair.”

Orie laughed. “I have no hair for you to get out of anyway. And I really don’t mind. You can stay for as long as you need, or want. It’s nice to have some company.”

Nightmare wavered before sighing. He sat down, one arm braced on his knee.

“The villagers…?”

“They don’t exist in this place. I don’t think this world is even my home. I’m not sure about yours. My mother was cut down during…well, you know what I mean. I think this place is a mix of both our homes, in hopes of making us both comfortable.” Falling silent, he grabbed a flower and weaved it into his crown, voice lowering. “And if the villagers had existed here, I don’t think I would like to talk to them that much.”

“Aren’t they your friends?” Nightmare wasn’t able to cut all of the bitterness out of his voice.

“They were. Remember, even though I may look like him, I am not your brother. I am a version of him, as you are a version of my brother. Your Dream mentioned a tournament of Nightmare’s, similar to this one. I’m sure you already know that. My story is different than yours is, no matter how similar they may be in text.”

Nightmare said nothing back, just watched his brother pick flowers and get distracted by something, crouching down to poke at it—an insect, probably.

“If I may?” Orie started. When Nightmare hummed, he continued, “Why is your brother a child? He gave a brief explanation, but I feel there’s more to it.” Nightmare was silent for long enough that he added, “You do not have to tell me if you do not want to.”

A beat passed.

Then, Nightmare closed his eyes. “No, it’s fine.” He sighed again, leaning back. “You’re right. There is more to it. I captured him as an adult and held him in a cell for a bit. My plan was to get a magic suppressor from Sci and have Dream drink it. It would make it so he couldn’t use his magic. Couldn’t escape. Couldn’t…fight back. I was going to torture him and make him pay for what he did to me.”

Remembering who he was saying this to, he shifted uncomfortably. Orie made no move to tell him to stop. He looked away anyway, gazing at his brother. “It didn’t go as planned.”

“Turned him into a child.”

“Yes. And he’s been living with us ever since.” Now it was his turn to hesitate. “There…I did ask Sci to make an antidote, but…”

“You are having doubts about using it, turning him back.” Orie finished for him. It seems that, different version or not, Dream always knew what he was thinking.

And he was usually right.

Nightmare quieted.

Orie followed.

From across the field, bright laughter sounded.

Orie shifted. “Nightmare,” he said. Nightmare twitched at the sound of his name, half turning. He couldn’t make himself go all the way. A hand fell onto his shoulder, and Orie continued when he made no move to shove him off. “While I cannot speak for your brother, both versions of him, as we are different people, I am still a version of him, as he is a version of me. Don’t take my words now as cement, but…I can take a guess and say that I believe your brother—the adult Dream—he would be absolutely elated to be given a second chance with you.”

Confused, Nightmare met his eyes, making Orie smile. “As said. Different worlds, maybe, but we are still versions of the same soul. It’s only a guess. But from my memories and feelings, and taking what you and the little Dream have shared with me, I believe your brother would not mind being with you again. Sure, maybe he doesn’t remember all of the hardships you put each other through, and maybe that would be a bittersweet thing, he is with you again. You are brothers again. I think that is all that would really matter to him.” His smile widened, turning into something with an emotion he couldn’t name right now. “It’s a wish fulfilled, I’m sure.”

It's a wish fulfilled.

Was that really true? Could it be true? His brother as he existed as an adult was no longer able to talk for himself. He had no way of knowing for sure. But Orie said it with such conviction, that he wanted to believe it. That if he could ask him, his brother would want to stay with him as a child, even with no memory of the past to understand how they got here. They were together again, after all—that should be the only thing that mattered.

Something in him settled. He would still take the words with a hint of doubt, but he would take them in nonetheless. He would remember them.

It’s a wish fulfilled—then he will make sure it stays that way.

“Dream said you were the original.” Nightmare tilted his head, thinking back. “In my tournament, I don’t think there was an original. There was ‘Corrupted’ and ‘Passive’, but that’s as close as it came.”

Orie hummed. “I see. Well. I suppose one of those could be my brother, or maybe both are the same person from different times. If I had to guess, I’d say corrupted stands a better chance at being the Nightmare from my world, as I look the way I do now.” He smiled again, sadder. Yearning for something. “I would’ve loved to see Passive, however, even for a second.”

Nightmare gazed at him, frowning. “You are more melancholy than my Dream was.”

Orie didn’t seem surprised. “Am I?”

“Yes. Your world…what is different, exactly?”

“Hm. Besides the obvious,” Orie said, gesturing to his Dream across the field, “not much, I think. But there are some key differences. For one, my brother would never care for me as you have for your brother should the same things happen.”

Nightmare blinked. “I doubt that. I never realized how much I cared until this happened. I’m sure your brother would realize the same thing I did.”

Orie’s smile wavered. “While a lovely thought, I doubt it.”

“I insist. It’s as you said, right? Versions of the same soul. I—”

“Would you have killed him?”

The question was delivered calmly.

Nightmare felt it pierce his soul. “…what?”

“If the suppressor had worked as intended, would you have only hurt your brother? Or would you have killed him?”

“I—Wh—”

“Would you have killed your brother?” Orie asked again, looking him in the eye. “When he was magicless and bound, would you taunt him and kill him? Would you look him in the eyes and say that his sins are far too great to apologize for? That the only way he can ever atone for them is to let you kill him.”

Orie sounded like…like he was repeating something he had heard countless times.

Nightmare stared.

Though his eyes were still on him, still on his rough smile and pained eyes—though he still saw all of it, he was no longer focused on it. He gazed through it all, turning back his memories until he was standing in the cell he held Dream in before he was turned into a child when he was sneering down at him and his pleading and his apologies.

When he was at his angriest, convinced hurting his brother was the only way to make him understand how little anything he could say would change anything, would he have gone the extra mile and actually killed him? Would he have thought that torture was too kind? Would he have dusted Dream and left him there in his cell forever, denying him a peaceful rest? If he could go back, knowing the suppressor would not work as intended, would he have eventually crossed the line?

It felt unthinkable, and yet…if the Dream next to him was the original, and if his brother hated so much as to wish death onto him, then what did that mean for Nightmare? Was the same hate there, buried deep inside him, so far that he did not yet realize it?

What would happen should he realize it? Would he…

But Dream, his Dream…

Short of breath, he looked away. He searched the field around him, each second of emptiness making his soul pound quicker, until he found the yellow cape and golden crown of his brother, chasing an insect with a bunch of flowers in his hands. Relieved, he relaxed, taking in the sight of him laughing like it was the last sign of water in an otherwise dry desert.

Feeling eyes on him, Dream looked up and waved.

He smiled to himself, waving back.

Once his brother turned back to his flowers, his smile wavered, Orie’s questions coming back to him. Feeling sick, he looked down, clenching his hands.

It was a horrifying thought, his brother dying. Even more so to imagine it as his little brother—his Dream, the one just across the field and so happy, the one it felt like he had only just gotten back—as the one lying down, wounds littering his body, slowly dusting as he gazed up at him with betrayal and hurt and forgiving in his eyes. He wanted to lock these images away, and deny they would ever happen, but how could he be sure?

If the original version of him wanted his brother dead, what did that mean for him?

No. No.

He refused to believe he would ever harm his brother. Not his version. He could never, would rather harm himself than ever give into those urges. And he knows his boys would kill him themselves or die trying than let him kill his brother. Nightmare, as himself, would never kill his brother. It was a disgusting thought to even ponder.

Sensing his conviction, Orie smiled, not saddened or envious. He nodded, brushing his fingers over his shoulder. “Then it is as I know.”

Nightmare felt sorrow as he looked at him. Maybe not his brother, maybe different stories of the same soul, but they still knew each other. He still hated the thought of a version of him ever wanting to kill their brother. He opened his mouth to say something, anything—apologize. “I—”

Orie shook his head, shushing him. “Do not apologize for the actions of another. You do not influence my brother.” Hardening, he continued, serious, “And my brother does not influence you.”

It was reassuring.

Nightmare nodded. Orie nodded back, smile returning.

He still felt responsible, wanting to give words of encouragement as Orie did for him, but he could see his counsel was not wanted. It made sense, too. If he continued to insist this Dream’s brother still cared for him, that meant opening wounds that took years to close, giving a hope that was carefully shelved new fuel. Orie has had years to understand is his brother might still care for him or not. He cannot, should not, influence that. In Orie’s words: while a lovely thought to think otherwise, he should not force his feelings onto a version of him he did not know.

But…while he could not encourage, perhaps he could…

Carefully, Nightmare reached out and brought Orie into a hug.

Orie twitched in surprise, stiff. He wondered how long it had been since he had hugged his Nightmare. It was a heartbreaking thing to think about. Orie melted into him quickly, hugging back tightly, desperately. He let him, knowing he needed it far more than Nightmare wanted it. Pulling back, he didn’t say anything as Orie Dream wiped his eyes, sniffing.

“Thank you,” Orie whispered.

Nightmare smiled. “Of course.” He didn’t say, it’s what brothers do, but he had a feeling Orie heard it anyway, the way he laughed.

“I’m back!”

They both jumped as his Dream appeared, dropping his collection between them. He sat down and start picking through them. It was…a lot of flowers. All shades of purple and blue, with some white and black and yellow ones thrown in. Nightmare frowned. Maybe too many for one flower crown.

“That’s a lot of flowers.” Nightmare said, silently asking Dream why he got so many.

“I don’t think you need that many,” Orie added, picking up one of the purple ones—a coneflower, if Nightmare remembered correctly.

“Oh, no. I don’t.” Dream said, grinning. “But I picked some for you, too.”

Orie’s sockets widened in surprise. “I’ve already finished mine.”

“I know. It looks really good. But I figured that since I’m making one for my Nightmare, you can make one for yours, too!”

Nightmare twitched.

Orie twirled the flower in his hand. “I don’t think I should…” He seemed hesitant to say why he shouldn’t.

“But it’s like you said, right? Flower crowns don’t have to be perfect because they aren’t meant to be perfect. They are built with your hands and woven with all the care you have for the person you’re making them for. You push your love into the flowers and the person will always know you are with them when they wear it.” Dream tilted his head, curious. “Why shouldn’t you make one for your brother?”

It was an innocent question.

Nightmare joined his brother in gazing at Orie. The Dream was quiet as he gazed at his flower. Then, he smiled, looking content.

“Yes…” he said, looking up. “Why shouldn’t I?”

When they finally went home, both Dreams had one flower crown from each other. And Nightmare left with two—one from his brother, and one as a gift from Orie, who knew he would appreciate it far more than his own brother would.

#my writing #my fanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot #undertale #utmv #dreamtale #dream tournament #dream sans #nightmare sans #one small dream #mentioned ink sans #mentioned blue sans #mentioned bad sanses #please let me know any warnings i missed #let me know what you think!!

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