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There’s a lot that can happen to a person in nine months.
For Sam, it was taking on the role of the warden. Being able to put on a cold and dangerous persona and carry out orders that visitors had to abide by under the penalty of death, it was thrilling. Even before Pandora’s Vault held anyone inside, Sam was elated to hear that he was chosen to run it.
Ironic enough, Dream, the one who commissioned the prison’s construction in the first place, was put inside. After the opportunity to imprison him was brought up, everyone decided it was fair punishment. At the time, Dream was too powerful to be left for dead, although that was subject to change in the coming months.
The days went by smoothly for the prison. For the most part, Dream didn’t cause too much trouble in his cell. Visitors came and went, and Sam fit his role as warden perfectly. Besides minor things like Dream’s attempts to annoy Sam, and visitors sometimes not taking security measures seriously, nothing problematic occurred.
-
It was only supposed to be one visit. Tommy’s final visit in fact, and he told Sam that he wanted closure. He wanted to finally be able to move on, to live his life in peace knowing that Dream couldn’t hurt him anymore. But nothing on the SMP can just stay at peace, can they?
Tommy ended up getting stuck with Dream after countless explosions went off on top of the prison. Since Sam couldn’t exactly find out who caused it, he had to put the place on lockdown. Pandora’s Vault had to be perfect. If even one person could have been able to set off that much TNT without him knowing, the prison’s system was flawed.
Days went by of Sam wandering around the prison without finding any clues on what had caused the explosions, eventually to the point where Sam didn’t even feel like he was in as much control as he thought he was. He was slipping, but it didn’t matter to him.
All he needed to do was find one flaw, and when the desire to rest came into his mind, the thought of seeing a disappointed and angry Tommy quickly got him back to work. No amount of rest could lessen the guilt of keeping a boy like him with Dream.
He had done everything in his power to make Tommy happy, build a helper robot to accompany him, help make his dreams come true, but now the only thing he was doing was making Tommy feel disappointed and betrayed.
At least he hoped that wasn't the case.
He heard screaming some days. Tommy’s screaming for help, an escape, for someone who was nowhere near, and was quickly quieted by Dream. But this time, the screaming was different.
It was more erratic. The two were arguing with each other, that’s all that Sam heard after all. But then it turned into punching, fists hitting forcefully against skin. Despite all of the walking he had been doing, he couldn’t push himself to just run a bit faster.
The cries of pain and desperation became louder and louder as he approached the cell. Without even thinking he carried out the procedure to lower the wall of lava that separated them. Everything went so fast, yet so slow at the same time.
But despite how fast Sam felt time going, he was too late. Once all of the lava was drained, all he could see was the prisoner standing over Tommy’s body with bloodied up fists. The boy’s face was pummeled beyond recognition, and his body laid limp on the obsidian flooring.
The worst part of that day was the laughter. The maniacal laughs coming from the prisoner that taunted him for his mistake, his carelessness. He could only stand there and let his arms go numb, dropping his trident and sword. They weren’t needed now, there was no one to protect anymore.
-
The days went by and all seemed to be at peace for the warden. Tommy was brought back to life, with the consequence of him having a newfound hatred for him. It was harsh but he was glad that Tommy was alive and well (as much as a walking, traumatized corpse could be).
Visitors were put on hold, it wasn’t like anyone wanted to see Dream anyway. Nearly every active member on the server had a negative view of him, considering his unjust crimes and behavior. Nobody cared for him, not even his closest friend, Sapnap, who threatened to take his last life if he was seen outside his cell.
That was all until Quackity came by. He convinced him that what Dream was getting wasn’t enough to pay for his actions. That he needed worse, constant and never ending torture. It was all in the name of discipline. A prisoner shouldn’t be left without consequences for brutally murdering a visitor, they couldn’t go unchecked.
So that’s what led the both of them heading to Dream’s cell. And, for the next few months, it went on like that. Quackity would come in daily to fulfill his promise of giving Dream his own personal hell, and Sam would stand by.
Not saying a word, everyday he was restraining himself to not react instinctively to Dream’s begging for mercy. Even if he was reminded of his failures by merely standing by, his position as the prison warden held him back. It hurt him to stand by and watch Quackity drive a variation of weapons into Dream’s body as he bled out every single day, but he kept that pain to himself. Even if he saw the prisoner crawling on the floor, begging for a break with only a harsh splash of a healing potion as a response, he kept the same cold and dark expression the entire time.
-
It drained him, being the warden. Days passed of him wanting to go back to how he used to be. But they all ended the same way, by him sucking it up, putting his gas mask back on, and walking into Pandora’s Vault with shame.
Some nights, he didn’t even go home. There was no point in doing so, his role was to patrol the prison at all times. He learned his lesson months ago when he let his guard down one day, and all hell broke loose.
So, instead he just ended up sleeping wherever he felt like it. Maybe it was the front desk, or next to the warm, flowing lava, some days he wouldn’t even sleep at all. He was always on site, dreaming of the day he could go home and not have to have the burden of the prison and its contents on his shoulders.
A mixture of regret and irresponsibility would fill his stomach when he pondered his position at Pandora’s vault. He chose this job, he should’ve been capable of not letting personal desires get in the way. Instead, mistakes were made, and now he was here.
-
The never-ending hallways of the prison taunted him as he walked. He had failed, so many times he had failed. He failed to keep Tommy safe, he failed to run the prison the way he wanted to, he even failed to keep his composure as the warden. In every aspect of his job, there wasn’t a place of succession to be found, at least in his eyes.
He approached the lava wall that stood between him and the cell. Pressing button after button, pulling lever after lever, the wall fell and his eyes drained of light once again. He looked ahead of him blankly as the bridge made its way over to the cell.
This visit was a lot more different compared to his other ones, his gas mask wasn’t even on. In his hands wasn’t a weapon, not this time. This time, it was a mere slice of cake laying sideways on a fragile plate. He tried to keep his hand with the plate from shaking, as well as his breathing when he stepped into the cell.
He hated this. It was so empty, so devoid of life. All except for one thing, one person, if he could even consider him one anymore.
A part of him still could.
He wanted to say something, anything to Dream. He had been waiting for so long to empty his several nights long worth of emotions and feelings about the prisoner that laid in front of him. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out. With a sigh, he gently placed the slice of cake in front of him. He turned around to leave, but finally made up his mind on what to say.
“Happy Birthday, Prisoner.”
He didn’t get a response, not like he needed one from him. He left the cell and stepped onto the bridge.
-
“Sam! Where have you been? C'mon man, we have a meeting with everyone in like five minutes.” He followed Quackity past the massive water fountain inside the towering casino. They walked next to each other as his eyes looked all around the building, still amazed at the amount of work put into it.
“You took care of our problem, right, Sam?”
“No. Not yet, Quackity.”
“You can’t keep Dream there forever, his body is gonna end up rotting in there.”
“I know, I just can’t bring myself to.”
“Don’t be all sentimental about that monster. Get rid of the body as soon as possible, I already did the hard part for you, anyway.”
“I will, he’ll be taken care of.”
“Good.”
He didn’t tell Quackity that he lied, that he didn’t get rid of Dream. He didn’t tell him about the nights he would spend with the corpse that lay dead on the floor, venting to him about his hardships. He didn’t tell him about the year after, when he visited the cell again with another piece of cake.
He didn’t let Dream leave the prison for a proper burial. As much as he wanted to mourn for him, and for everyone else to do the same, he believed Dream didn’t deserve that.
He was sure everyone else thought the same.