Days passed as they waited for news, and time was all they had. Theodore spent a lot of it simply catching up on sleep, the nature of being at a vacation home on the lake doing the trick to relax his stressed mind. Mafia brought him back to his company every now and then so Theodore could attend to whatever business required of him, but all in all he seemed almost happy. (Y/n) wasn't sure she was off the hook yet when it came to Theo's death in the older man's eyes, but the blue seemed less icy and more calm like the ocean now.
Error grew restless quickly, and (Y/n) spent most of her time with him. Well, around him. She was usually seated on the couch in the living room with a pack of ice wrapped around her chest over her ribs and Error's freshly made sweater over her body so she wouldn't get too cold. She'd been told it could take about 6 weeks to recover, so with no reason to stress the injury, she focused on healing—which meant relaxing on the couch with her medication on the end table beside her. It was hard to breathe deeply, but she made an effort to do it carefully every so often because—after making Error bring her to get pain meds—Theodore's doctor had mentioned shallow breathing could cause pneumonia.
She thought about visiting her family but settled for video chatting or texting. She sometimes had the others in the background to show they were all getting along and her family didn't need to worry—always keeping her bandaged ribs out of frame and her pills hidden. Mom was more than pleased to find out that, due to her suggestion, (Y/n) had successfully talked with Waylon and they were now on familiar terms and working together. She didn't want to see her daughter become a killer no matter if the rich man deserved it or not. Of course that didn't negate her resentment towards Waylon for putting her children's lives in danger, but their teamup made her want to kill him slightly less. Slightly.
Amidst their video calls, Mom again talked about Outer and how he was getting along with them well, and how a 'blue demon and scary demon' helped them move to a new location. Swap and Horror stayed with them for the time being but had popped by to visit (Y/n) at one point to see how her team was doing. Swap was happy to see her feeling better and Horror cuddled her on the couch while Nightmare wasn't around because he could get away with it. He was like a big dog—scary but soft—and in his jacket with his skeletal arms wrapped around her, she swore she healed faster. But Error shooed them back to their duty within a day, and even they could tell he was snippy.
Error's stress was due in no small part to Nightmare and Dream, who had come back to the lake home after waiting a whole week for Graham to attack. The attack never came—which troubled Error greatly—and the two Demon Kings were still butting heads. (Y/n) provided Error chocolate to calm his glitching and ran to the store to get him more yarn to crochet with, but there was only so much she could do. He'd told her Graham's lack of attack meant he was either planning something bigger or he knew more than they realized—both of which made her start stressing along with him.
"You're thinking something troublesome, aren't you, angelus?" Nightmare's soothing voice snapped (Y/n) back to reality, not even realizing she was reminiscing. She looked up at him with a hesitant smile, the stress obvious in even such a small action. He gently moved her to the side so he could sit on the couch with her, then pulled her back into his arms, his tentacles enveloping her like a blanket as he rested his hands under her shirt just beneath her chest. He claimed it was because his hands were frigid and she needed to ice her ribs, but when no one else was around to see, he would gently run his hands along her sides in a tender show of love she wasn't aware he was even capable of.
"Error is glitching a lot lately," (Y/n) mumbled, relaxing into his hold easily. It was like she belonged there—or at least, belonged with him.
Nightmare hummed. "Yes, well, we both know why that is."
"You're not worried about it?" She glanced back at him.
"Worrying only strengthens me," he reminded her, gently running his hands over the scars on her sternum. His touch stirred something in her, reminding her of their intimate moment not that long ago, and her face warmed. He felt her mood shift and rose a browbone, though he knew what she was thinking even if his expression didn't show it. "Dirty thoughts taint your soul," he chided softly.
"They do?" Her eyes widened, but when she felt a deep chuckle rumble in his chest, she frowned at him. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"
"You are most easy to manipulate when you are stressed," he mused, resting his head on hers. "But yes, your soul can reflect your lack of purity."
"You can see that?"
"Faintly. Your soul stays truly pure even if there are moments when your mind is dirty." She wondered how dark her soul had been when the two of them- He chuckled. "Already looking forward to the next time, summoner?" His hands slid up her sides, slowing as they reached her chest. Her heart skipped a beat, but right before he touched her, he stopped, growling lowly, "Brother." Her head whipped around in surprise, seeing Dream standing beside the table Error had been pouring over for the last who knows how long.
"It's rare to see you so affectionate, brother," Dream commented, a sly smirk on his teeth as his tentacles swayed idly.
"I am simply speeding along my summoner's recovery. A weak and injured human does not aid us, and all the stress she has been under only slows her recovery." Nightmare's words were crisp, clean, and cutthroat. He always had an excuse ready to make his actions seem anything but intimate, but (Y/n) was starting to realize he only said that stuff to make others think he held no compassion for anyone or anything—like his whole evil persona was a facade hiding a much more caring demon beneath.
"So you do not care for her?" Dream asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the table. His attitude seemed more teasing than snarky, like he was only pestering Nightmare for the fun of it.
Nightmare glared at him. "Why are you bothering us?"
"Because that is what brothers are for." Dream smirked, meeting Nightmare's cold glare with no hint of backing down.
"Now you suddenly want to act like a brother?" Nightmare's voice was cold, and (Y/n) swore the room's temperature dropped a couple degrees.
Dream rose a browbone, a tentacle flicking restlessly. "Do you not remember how I was there for you when no one else was? How I held you while you cried?" (Y/n)'s eyes widened. Nightmare crying? Impossible.
Nightmare growled. "While you did nothing but fill my head with pointless hope? While you promised me that it would all get better, that I just needed to look on the bright side?" His hands gripped her sides tightly and she winced. He quickly removed his hands so he could fold his arms instead, his tentacles writhing around him. "Your forced positivity made it all the more painful when-"
"How was I to predict their ill will when I was only ever adored because of my positivity?!" Dream snapped, his voice cracking as his eyelights dampened. "I was forced to be positive every waking moment of my life! But I was a child, just as you were. I was blind to their hearts. How was I to know...?" The words trickled off, and silence fell on the room like a fog. (Y/n)'s heart broke for the brothers even though she wasn't quite sure what exactly happened, the mystery of their past almost as thick as the fog.
"I thought you wanted me gone just as much as them," Nightmare said softly, his gaze falling to the floor.
Dream's expression broke for just a moment, the King of Positivity showing pure despair. "I could never hate my own brother."
"But I tried to kill you." Nightmare looked up at Dream, the smallest flicker of emotion crossing his skull. He looked pained, like all the memories this conversation stirred up were more than just passing nightmares to him.
Dream's expression seemed to fall all the more because of it, his normally stoic brother feeling anything at all shaking him to the core. "But you failed," he said with a small, broken smile.
Nightmare glared at him, though the anger wasn't directed at his brother. "I was not trying to fail, I was trying to-"
"Are you sure?" Silence met Dream's question, and Nightmare couldn't find the words to answer. "That passive part of you is still in there, brother. You still care for me, and that is why you failed to kill me." Nightmare's mouth opened but nothing came out. Dream's flickering eyelights landed on (Y/n). "Do you recall when I told you my brother needed a good influence to bring the good in him out?" She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. "I knew this because—despite how he tries to hide it—his corruption was not complete." One of his tentacles pulled a crown from behind his back, and she felt Nightmare freeze under her.
"Where did you get that?" he asked quietly, looking like he'd seen a ghost. The band was a soft golden color, similar to Dream's but with a crescent moon engraved onto the front.
Dream's tentacle played with the crown, his eyelights following its movements with a soft, pained smile on his teeth. "I told you your crown always looked too big on you," Dream said softly, his gaze far off. "But it showed how big your heart was, like it was a reflection of your soul made of gold." The tentacle moved slowly, extending the crown out to Nightmare as Dream pulled his gaze back to his brother. "I wonder...does it fit now?" Hesitantly, Nightmare reached for the golden band, and after a long moment of silent debate, his phalanges wrapped around it. He looked at it for a minute, gazing at his corrupted reflection—though he swore for a moment he saw the uncorrupted, passive version of himself—before he placed it on his head. It fit him perfectly.
"Why are you smiling, summoner?" Nightmare asked quietly, his expression blank as he looked down at (Y/n). She hadn't even realized she was smiling.
"It looks like it belongs there," she said, her eyes alight with a soft warmth. The golden band was the only light thing on him, the only thing breaking the cold, hard exterior of his black goop-covered body. It was small, but it shone brightly all the same. Dream's smile mirrored her own, and for just a moment, his eyelights took on a familiar golden hue as his own golden crown seemed to shine just as brightly as Nightmare's.
"How long have you had my crown?" Nightmare's gaze slowly rose to his brother.
"Since the corruption stole it from you." Dream's posture was more relaxed now, and it almost seemed like the corruption affecting both of them had disappeared, revealing the brothers they'd once been. The tentacles on his back idly wiggled around, but occasionally they would almost reach for Nightmare. Nightmare kept his gaze on (Y/n) as he thought, but even his tentacles reached for his brother subtly.
"Does my soul look as golden as you once thought it did?" he asked, his eyelight sweeping up to Dream. Dream took a minute to answer, his gaze resting on (Y/n) for nearly half that time with a small smile before he looked back at Nightmare.
"It never changed, Nighty." The nickname struck a chord with the King of Negativity, and after a moment of hesitation, he gently moved (Y/n) off of him so he could stand to his full height beside his brother, looking straight at Dream with barely a flicker of emotion. They stared at each other, words passing between them without a single sound escaping their teeth. Their tentacles almost seemed to play with each other, gently batting at each other and wrapping around the other. Then Nightmare's hand reached out a single inch and Dream instantly pulled Nightmare into a hug, making the Negativity King wrap his arms around his brother just as tightly. The light from the sun streaming in through the window reflected off their golden crowns, casting them both in an almost angelic glow. Neither of them moved. Neither of them said a word. But they didn't have to, the emotions they could both feel from the other saying more than either of them could ever put into words.
They'd lost a lot the day Nightmare was corrupted, and while they'd never be their old, uncorrupted selves ever again, for just that one moment, (Y/n) swore she saw the old Dream hugging a demon with purple eyelights and purple clothes in place of Nightmare.