(ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE CREATORS)

"I heard you had a plan," Killer said. "What kind of plan?"

Nightmare sighed. "None of your business. I don't intend to have anything to do with you after this."

"Oh really? You're not going to leave little old me in here alone, are you?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Meanie."

Nightmare rolled his eyes at the childish, black-teared skeleton. His dull purple gaze turned to the prison outside of his cell. Various guards patrolled the halls, making sure that no prisoner stepped out of line. Nightmare wanted to scoff. Just yesterday he had been targeted by a gang. He had obviously been the victor in that fight, but he had sustained a nasty wound to the cheekbone. Regardless, nobody would be picking fights with him for some time.

Nightmare glanced down at his wrist bands. He had plenty of time to read and study during his sentence. The bands were made of an anti-magic material and another, much more stable material. Too much anti-magic metal could kill a monster, but just enough would devoid them of their magic. He cursed them for taking away his preferred form. He hated appearing so vulnerable.

A guard approached the cell. "Nightmare, you have a visitor."

Nightmare raised a bonebrow. "I'm not scheduled for another month."

"The dates have been adjusted. Come along now."

Nightmare sat down at the visitation table. His golden brother sat across from him. The emotions radiating off him were not what Nightmare was accustomed to feeling from him. He always expecting some positivity, some shred of light. This time, his brother felt empty.

"Hey," Nightmare started, not expecting himself to sound so unnerved.

"Hey Nightmare." Dream's voice was quiet. Too quiet, and too sorrowful.

"Why is it, exactly, that we are meeting this early?"

"Well, um..." Dream paused, placing a large book onto the table. "I realised it was close to your birthday, and uh... I thought I'd get you something."

Nightmare slowly reached out and pulled the book closer to him. He skimmed over the blurb before glancing back at Dream.

"It just seemed like something you'd enjoy."

"Mhm." Nightmare took the book and placed it on his lap. "I heard Cross got into an accident."

Dream nodded slightly. "A car crash."

"What's his condition?"

"He's recovering. They're letting him come home in a couple days."

There was silence. Dream took in a deep breath, holding his head in his hands. Nightmare didn't move.

"I'm so sorry," Dream murmured. "I wish so badly that things could be the way they were before. That we could be happy, and safe, and free..."

A spark of hate went off in Nightmare. His calm gaze became an angry glare. "You've realised nothing, have you?"

Dream appeared rather stunned. "I don't understand... Don't you wish the same sometimes?"

"No," he replied firmly. "Your wish is selfish. Completely selfish."

"You keep saying that, but I still don't see how it is, Nightmare."

"Because you were the only one who was happy. I was miserable, Dream, absolutely miserable. You play dumb now but back then you knew how pitiful I was. I was alone, you knew that, and you chose to help those who could be perfectly happy on their own- the ones that were the easiest to satisfy."

"That's not-"

"Shut up. I'm not finished." Nightmare's tone was like a growl. "You know how I felt when I was corrupted? I felt powerful, strong, like I had some kind of purpose. I may not have been happy, but I was so much better then back then. And what do you do? You go on and on about how you wish everything would go back to that miserable time again!" Nightmare stopped, feeling the eyes of the guards on him.

Dream had nothing to say. He had to process Nightmare's words, think them through. With every moment he seemed more frustrated, yet more confused. Before Dream could speak his mind, Nightmare got up.

"This meeting is over," he hissed. "Go home, Dream. Go home and don't come here again."