"PLEASE TOMMY, I DON'T WANT TO DIE"
Ghostbur screamed, despair and fear permeated his voice and Dream could see Tommy run around in panic.
"No, no. your not gonna die" the child tried to calm his friend, who begged for his life.
"Ghostbur, count to ten. Count to ten, Ghostbur"
Sam also said something, but Dream ignored him.
Much more interesting was the ghost in front of his eyes, which looked at Tommy for help.
"One, with me: One..." The boy, plagued by aggression, started counting.
His soon-to-be victim joined in, his voice thin and almost broken. 
"Two, three... we are not going to die," the annoying child continued.
"Four... fi- its fine, its alright.. six, think of the blue, seven.. eight... nine, ten. It's gonna be okay-" "Stop counting!"
Sam interrupted them.
He was definitely angry and rightly so: The little troublemaker had once again had to disregard every single rule and break into prison.
Tommy was breathing frantically.
"It is going to be okay.." he said more to himself.
"Ghostbur is a ghost!" drew Sam the attention to the most obvious thing.
The good one still didn't seem to believe that Dream could revive people. Hadn't the 16-year-old been proof enough for him?
"Send me over! You... you don't know what dr- how are you this fu- you are the-" cursed Tommy. It was almost touching how he always played the great hero.
But he was just a small doll, held by threads.
One of the many game pieces, carefully adjusted by Dream on the game board.
A miserable boy with an inferiority complex, seeking recognition from others; nothing more. "Sam. I- let me out" Dream understood this would be one of the few opportunities he would get. Maybe he could trade Ghostbur for his freedom?
"I am not letting you out, Dream!" he should have reckoned with Sam's answer.
"Dream you fucking sick bastard..." now brought the child itself back into the conversation.
The little one really had a problem with swearing.
"Fine." Dream had had enough; this pointless back and forth in front of his cell.
If Sam didn't believe him that he could bring people back to life, he had to prove it to him again. "Back up, Tommy. Back up"
Dream laughed into his fist when he saw how perfectly the prison guard played into his plans.
"Go back to the bed!"
"No, no no no! But he is there! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND SAM!"
A last desperate attempt to save his dead friend.
Tommy should know better, Dream was almost disappointed.
The boy should know that he always got what he wanted and in this case it was Ghostbur's revival.
"Tommy, you promised it would be okay..." the voice of the spirit was depressed, almost as if he knew what was coming.
When the lava fell down in the distance and blocked the view to the cell, Dream pulled out his most important possession.
The book was wrapped in a dark brown leather cover and green flourishes stretched across the cover.
He had always detested how similar it looked to Karl's book.
The damn time traveler with his god complex should have sat here, not himself.
He patterned Ghostbur and leafed through the worn pages before slowly raising his hand. 

He pointed to the father of his former fiancé and spoke the meaningful words softly. They left his mouth with difficulty and a load seemed to push out of one shoulder, threatening to crush him. As soon as he was finished, he closed the book and took a deep breath; the invisible force was gone and with it Ghostbur. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them clearly.
The deaths of those he once called friends. Beloved.
The only cause his blind ignorance and hunger for power and control.
All the suffering and their screaming. All this death, all these losses.
Losses of a senseless war against a crazy parasite who was none other than himself.
When he looked back, what was all this worth?
A ruler was nothing without his subordinates and without a country to rule.
A God was not a God without people who worshiped him.
He was none of that anyways.
Neither a glorious king nor a powerful being; he was just a tick who had drawn all the life out of their once so peaceful community.
Their faces now seemed so distant and blurry.
Their voices no longer sounded in his ears, their laughter had not illuminated the country for a long time.
He looked at the scrap of paper in his hand and sighed.
It was an old photo he found in the ruins of Kinoko Kingdom, George must have kept it until the very end.
It showed them three.
The dream team.
God, as he wished, he could turn back time.
Embrace George once again and one last time crack stupid jokes with Sapnap.
Tears dripped onto the already swollen wooden floorboards and he crouched down, the photo pressed firmly to his chest.
Fuck.
What a hideous person he was.
If you could even call him that. He was no longer a human being, just a monster who fed on others.
How could he have become like that?
What happened that he was so ruthless with his loved ones?
 How could he ever treat them so badly?
Pitiful.