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It took Sam three days to retrieve Tommy’s corpse from Dream’s cell. By then, the decomposition process had already started, and most of his organs were no longer functional. Of course, Tubbo wouldn’t let such a minor complication discourage him from doing what needed to be done.
Certain substitutes were easier to find than others. Piglins’ hearts and kidneys were plenty compatible. As long as he was careful with the specimen he selected, the chances of Tommy’s body rejecting them were rather low. The most annoying part was to make sure they didn’t carry any strange illness from their Hellish land of origin. Overworlders couldn’t catch most of those, but some viral strands were highly adaptable, like that of the zombie virus. And, while technically infecting his best friend with that would get his body moving again, he had no interest in keeping him around without his personality.
Lungs and liver were the main hurdles for him.
Most people on the server, unfortunately, happened to be hybrids. He was among them; otherwise, he would have been more than happy to volunteer a piece of his own liver for Tommy's sake. After all, that was the one… donation… that didn’t need to be fatal. Pure humans were rare in that day and age. Wilbur would likely have been suitable enough (although he was a heavy smoker, so the condition of his lungs probably wasn't the best), but he had long since rotted in the grave he'd dug for himself. Punz was one too, but finding the mercenary was already hard; taking him on in a one-on-one fight on top of that would have been near impossible. And Tubbo couldn’t revive his friend if he was dead.
That left him with only one option: Dream.
Sam already hadn’t been too happy to break his stupid fucking protocol to retrieve Tommy’s body. He’d insisted that there was no point to it. They could wait to give him a proper burial until the prison was secured once more. He didn’t understand why Tubbo was in such a hurry. Convincing him to release his one prisoner with nothing but words and perhaps an appeal to his compassion would not work. He’d been sucked into his own creation and was no longer the lovable father figure he’d once been to plenty of the kids around. He was just the Warden now.
Getting rid of him ended up being surprisingly easy. Tubbo staged a break-in on the roof of the prison (in Tommy’s honor, he built a flaming netherrack dick up there, and waited for the sensors to alert the Warden that something was wrong), and equipped himself with a poisoned sword of his own making. His weapons of choice were usually more explosive than that, but he didn’t want to run the risk of destroying the key cards he needed to navigate Pandora’s Vault or damage the armor he intended to steal off of the Warden’s dead body.
He stood there watching as the Warden convulsed on the ground. One tiny cut from his blade had been all it took. He felt nothing.
Once his target stopped jerking around as much, Tubbo proceeded to retrieve his sturdy netherite armor and check his pockets for all he needed. Thankfully, he always had everything on him, easily accessible. He managed to retrieve everything well before the body started fading away, light particles rushing to wherever his respawn point was. It was unfortunate that he wasn’t on his last life; it meant that he’d be a problem in the future. Although hopefully, after their confrontation that day, he wouldn’t be too inclined to risk getting his revenge.
Even wearing all of the Warden’s armor and still holding tight onto his poisoned blade, he felt some fear creeping into his bones when the lava fell and revealed Dream’s eerie smile. The bastard was standing when he arrived. Waiting. He didn’t express any surprise at seeing Tubbo, but did arch an eyebrow at him.
Tubbo didn’t see it necessary to answer his implicit question.
He stepped onto the moving platform and then into the madman's cage, all without a word. It was only once his feet hit the obsidian floor of the cell that he turned his attention to his latest subject. “You’re coming with me” he ordered. He was surprised by how flat his own voice sounded. Admittedly, he hadn’t been able to sleep since he’d learned of Tommy’s death. For three days, he’d done nothing but pace around his cottage in Snowchester, waiting for his best friend to come home. And then, once he’d been secured, he’d done his best to get everything he needed set up in a timely manner. But it had still taken him some time. Two weeks had passed, and he honestly was surprised he could still stand. He was certain that anyone less determined than he would have crumbled already.
So much for being nothing but a yes man and a follower!
“You were nowhere near the list of people I expected to eventually break me out” amusement rang clear in Dream's voice. He was eyeing Tubbo’s sword, probably trying to calculate how to most efficiently disarm him. His smug smirk as he did so was even more insufferable now that he could see it.
Tubbo sighed. “The blade is coated with a deadly poison. If it touches your skin, you will die, and that would be awfully inconvenient for me” he mumbled flatly. He hadn’t meant it as a threat, not really. A truthful warning at most. But, regardless, it got him his intended result. Dream froze in place, eyes now wary.
“Inconvenient…?” Dream questioned, finally understanding the seriousness of the situation he was in and taking a step back, further into his cell.
“Lungs are only viable for four to six hours after death. And carrying your heavy ass all the way to Snowchester, getting everything set up and sterile… it would take longer than that. And then you’d just be a useless pile of meat. I've got plenty of those already, I don’t need another one” he explained with a tired sigh.
Once Tommy was back from the dead, he would drag him off for a proper nap. He deserved that as a treat for all of his hard work.
Understanding and horror dawned on Dream’s face. He was so easy to read without that stupid old porcelain mask of his. Maybe that was why he’d always been so attached to it. In a way, it protected him. It certainly would have prevented Tubbo from smelling his fear. After a few seconds of tense silence, the green bastard let out an incredulous chuckle. “What? You can’t be serious!”.
Tubbo mutely met his eyes, and whatever Dream found there was enough to shut him up.
He marched Dream back to Snowchester, pointing a sword at his back the entire time. He made sure not to accidentally scratch him, and, to his credit, his prisoner remained careful as well, avoiding any abrupt stops and shifts, and keeping his pace consistent. Sure, it was probably because he was hoping to eventually find a way out of his situation and not get killed, but, hey, Tubbo wasn’t in the business of complaining about things that benefited him!
Tommy’s corpse was lying open and ready on a metal bed in one of his highest towers. The reason Tubbo had chosen that day in particular to carry out his plan was that a huge thunderstorm had hit Snowchester, which gave him all the access to electricity that he could have ever possibly needed. What he planned to do wasn’t necessarily scientific… he’d read about it once in an ancient novel. That was all he was basing himself on. But, well, as far as he knew, there were no tried and tested methods to bring people back from the dead. He assumed that, otherwise, Phil (who was old enough and well-traveled enough to know about all kinds of crazy things) would have already gotten his son back. His crimes wouldn't have been as unforgivable.
When they reached his best friend’s chamber, he tied Dream up to a fence post and then took a moment to caress Tommy’s cheek and assure him that they’d almost managed it. They were almost done. He just had to hang on a few more hours, and then he'd be coming home.
“W-wait, did you bring me here for him?! Tubbo, I can bring him back to life! I just need a book and a flint and steel. You don’t need all of this!” he did his best to gesture at the room they were in with his hands bound as they were. He was pleading. He’d never heard Dream be so desperate before. Not even back in the Attachment Vault when Tommy had been pressing the Axe of Peace to his neck. He'd sounded somewhat smug then. As if he'd known all along that the ace he'd been hiding up his sleeve would work to ensure his safety.
“… was that what Tommy sounded like when you killed him?”. For the first time in two weeks, Tubbo allowed himself to properly feel his grief. He allowed his mind to wander to that day. How scared had his best friend been, trapped with his abuser, while the only person who could have done anything to save him refused to move a muscle in fear of breaking his stupid rules? Had he called out for help? Had he called out for him? Had his pleas been met with anger, mockery, or silence?
What mercy could his butcher possibly expect from Tubbo?
How believable did he think his claims were when he hadn’t managed to bring Tommy back in the three days he’d been so mercifully given?
Why did the adults in that damn place always expect him to be the bigger person? Why did they think he didn’t have a breaking point? That he wouldn’t let anger consume him, given the chance? Why did they think that they could just keep taking from him until less than nothing was left and face no consequences?
His ire must have been palpable because Dream hesitated before spewing more lies. “If I’m gone and Tommy dies again… he’s gonna be gone forever”. That was always his trump card, wasn’t it? He’d used Wilbur’s life to get to Tubbo’s best friend back in the Attachment Vault, too. And yet, Wilbur still laid in his open grave. Still, like the corpse that he was. Wild animals had feasted on his carcass, leaving behind only his bones and some scraps of fabric. And, even those had started molding.
“That’s not true. Punz’s organs are still untouched” he pointed out coldly.
All remaining color drained from Dream’s face.
There was nothing left for them to discuss. Dream still tried to plead for his useless life. He tried to bargain and promise Tubbo all the power he could ever desire. All the riches, all the strength. And even an eternity by Tommy’s side. That last one was the most alluring of the options, and not even that one got him to lower his scalpel. He knew that his best friend would have never forgiven him if he forced immortality on him. Not yet.
There was time. He could change Tommy's mind eventually. And then… then Tubbo would figure out how to do it by himself. No handouts.
Kidneys, liver, lungs, and heart. That was the order he’d needed the organs in.
Dream squealed more than the piglin he’d gotten when his turn came to get on the operating table. Useless babble kept falling from his lips until the very end, but Tubbo paid it no mind. He tried to fight too, unfortunately for him, a diet of only raw potatoes, and the lack of physical activity he’d been permitted while in prison had left him weak. He was far easier to subdue than Punz would have been. Tubbo had made the right decision in that regard, without a doubt.
His hands were trembling as he stitched Tommy closed. He felt woozy with anxiety (and probably also the lack of sleep) as he flicked the lever that raised the bed his best friend was strapped down to into the air and waited. Electricity tended to take the path of least resistance, and that high metal platform worked like a charm. It didn’t take long at all until it was hit by lightning. Tubbo lowered it immediately after.
The skin of his best friend was slightly singed, but it had regained a healthier shade, too. Tubbo didn’t dare approach him to check his heartbeat; he was too busy being choked to death by his own frantically beating heart. What felt like an eternity went by in complete and utter silence. The wait was maddening. It was worse than those three days he’d spent in a limbo, wondering if Sam would ever fulfill his request. He was nauseous, his head was spinning, he couldn’t breathe, and he was sure that he was dying.
And then Tommy’s eyes shot open, and he sat up with a gasp. He was looking around, frantically, clearly frazzled by the life now coursing through his veins. Tubbo didn’t give him the time to get acclimated to it all; he just threw himself at him, hugging him tight and crying all the tears he’d refused to shed before. His best friend’s movements were uncertain as he hugged him back, but he had still reciprocated his affection, and that’s all he’d needed.
“You’re back! It worked!” he found himself cheering.
Tommy was still silent. Among his jubilant celebrations, it took a moment for Tubbo to register that. When he did, he looked up and found the blond staring in horror at the mangled corpses in the room. Especially at Dream’s. He cringed. Admittedly, he probably should have cleaned that up. He could imagine that the face of the guy who’d murdered him wouldn’t be a great thing to see as soon as he got revived.
He moved to get himself between Tommy and Dream’s body and obstruct his line of sight. “Let’s go home” he offered with a bright smile.
Tommy was shaking. His eyes were full of unshed tears (he’d always been too prideful to let himself cry in front of others). His breathing was ragged (which indicated that the lungs were working correctly! At least Dream had contributed one useful thing to their lives!). “D-did you do that?” he asked, shakily.
Tubbo quickly nodded and puffed out his chest proudly. “For you”. That answer didn’t please his friend as much as he thought it would have. It actually did the opposite. Tommy inhaled sharply and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, throwing his head back and groaning in that way he always did when he was distressed. “… if it makes you feel any better, it worked first try. So I didn’t have to use Punz too”.
“You would have?!” Tommy screeched. “Tubbo! Please, please tell me you’re never gonna do something like this ever again. I don’t- I can’t have more deaths on my hands. This- this is… it’s too much. My life isn’t worth that of others-”. Tubbo interrupted his miserable spiel by slapping a hand over his mouth.
He made sure not to drop his smile. He didn’t want his friend to think he was upset at him, after all. Although for some reason, his cheery expression only seemed to scare him further. “Boss Man, this is not on you. You couldn’t have stopped me, even if you’d been alive to try! Besides, I will not accept anyone claiming that your life isn’t worth more than Dream’s. Not. Even. You. Understood?”.
Tommy’s pupils shrank. They were merely pinpricks at that point. Tubbo didn’t enjoy seeing him afraid. Even less so knowing he’d been the one to cause that. However… if it got him what he wanted, well… he wasn’t the type to complain about that. And his best friend did eventually nod, so all was well that ended well.
Maybe he had to move up his plans to discover immortality. If they did have eternity together, his best friend would have all the time he needed to learn to forgive him. But remained firm on wanting to discover how to do so himself. He already had one impressive success to his name; what was one more?