#extra scenes

His hands and shoulders smelled distinctly of human; a familiar scent that she associated with a man she knew during Doomsday.  A human with something smooth and white where a face should be-- stone, maybe?-- whose hands used to linger in the dog’s fur when Techno and Phil weren’t looking.  

His hand was bruised, but there was a spot of blood on Techno’s sleeve that wasn’t his.

Techno surrendered his hands to her, rotating them so she could reach the crevices of his palms.  He had a slight smile on his face, and although his eyes seemed sunken and exhausted, they were alight with intelligence and knowing.  “What do you smell, girl?”  He asked her, and she couldn’t answer.

---

Later, Technoblade would come home again with something bundled in his arms.  It had a weak heartbeat, and it smelled like stone, sweat, blood, and potatoes.

She’d learn later that it was a human.  Techno and Phil seemed insistent on getting that scent off of him as quickly as possible; they fed him, bathed him, burned the clothes that hung from him.  He smelled almost exactly like Philza by the end of the night, save a few spots of blood around his hands, legs, and face.  Those spots were strikingly similar to a scent that she associated with a man she knew during Doomsday.

But there was no way this was the same human.  This one could barely lift himself off his bed, and he winced and cried and trembled.  Sometimes he would release an odd scent and his heartbeat would flutter, and then he would collapse to the ground and seize.  Phil would use that ‘sorry’ word again, and she still didn’t know why.

But, just like before, his hands lingered in her fur when no one was looking.  Em raised pups before and she remembered how it worked-- if they were crying, sometimes all they needed was to be placed a little closer to their mother.  Maybe they were lost, maybe they were scared, or maybe they just needed some attention.  When this human cried, she did the same thing.

He talked to her sometimes, using a low and honest tone.  She understood more of his language than he gave her credit for.  She knew ‘hurts’ and ‘fight,’ and she even knew that ‘fight back’ meant something completely different.  And, of course, she knew ‘sorry.’  She’d hear him say it sometimes, when his heartbeat soared so quickly she thought it might burst, and he’d mumble it into her fur as he pressed his face into her.  She still didn’t know why.

Watching this human was technically an assignment, sure, but it felt like second nature.  Any mother would step in when she hears a pup whimper.  As she watched Phil coat this boy in his own scent, she figured that he felt the same.

---

Raising her nose to the air, Em caught a whiff of stone, sweat, blood, and potatoes.  Feeling fear rise in her chest, she clamped her jaw around Dream’s sleeve and brought him to a halt.

She was nervous when she saw Dream packing up some of his belongings, and she even tried to get in his way a few times.  He laughed at her, which was a good sign.  If he was trying to sneak away or do something reckless, he probably wouldn’t be laughing, and he definitely wouldn’t be doing it within Phil and Techno’s line of sight.  Techno held her face and whispered, “Make sure he comes back,” before allowing her to leave with him.

He took her to a giant, dark building in the sea.

“Sorry, Em,” he told her, “I can’t take you the full way inside.  It’s dangerous, okay?  I need you to stay here.”

‘Sorry’ was quickly becoming her least favorite word.  She tugged at his sleeve again, taking him backwards a full step.

“Em,” he said, “Please.”

She knew nothing about this scent.  She only knew that the last time she smelled it, her human couldn’t walk.  

“I’m sorry.  You’ll be safe right here, I promise.  I’ll-- I’ll be back to get you, I wouldn’t just leave you here.”

“Philza.  Phil.”  Technoblade followed Phil into the kitchen, where he was taking the tray and a number of other supplies, “I’m worried about you, man.  Talk to me.”

“What do I do with this?” Philza whispered in a rush of breath, his gaze on the finger.

Techno took the tray from his hands and placed it on a nearby counter.  “I’m goin’ to put it in the ground, somewhere in the forest.”  The sooner he could get it out of Phil’s view, the better.  

“Thanks, mate.  Bury the towels, too, while you’re at it.”

Despite the tourniquet, there was still some bleeding, and they used towels to clean the mess.  One was laid across Dream’s torso to protect his blanket and clothes, and that one took the majority of the carnage.  But it was just blood, and it could be cleaned.  The Voices screamed something incomprehensible at him every time he laid eyes on them, but he could put up with it a little longer.  “I can wash ‘em, if you want,” Techno offered.

“No.  Toss them.”

Phil dropped himself onto a kitchen chair, torso slouched forward as he rested his elbows on his thighs.  He seemed pale.  Techno crouched in front of him, having to drop a knee to the ground to get close to Phil’s eye-level, and grabbed one of his hands.  “Listen,” Techno said, “Dream’s a practical guy, alright?  He’s gonna be a little upset, because losing a finger sucks, right?  But he’s gonna see that you saved the rest of his hand.  And maybe his life.  He’ll be okay.”

“Who’s ‘sir,’ Techno?”

“Uh,” he replied, “Can’t say I know any of those.  ‘Sir’ isn’t exactly a concept I subscribe to.”

“Tech…” Phil finally met his eyes for the first time since the amputation began, “When I found him, I-- He was still running.  He tried to fight me, just for a little bit.  I... I didn’t know what else to do, I had to make him stop moving before he hurt himself even more.  I held him down.”  Phil swallowed.  “He went still under me.  He apologized and called me ‘sir.’  Who is that?”

The Voices raged.

“Quackity.” Techno answered in a low voice,  “Has to be.  I saw him with Sam, and he never… said that.”

Phil pulled his hand away from Techno’s grasp and raised it to his face instead, burying himself in his palm.  

“Philza…”

“He called me ‘sir,’” Phil said, his voice muffled, “and I took his finger.”

The cottage felt far too quiet.  Barely within sight from the kitchen, Dream lay quietly on the couch, chest rising and falling with each gentle breath, his hands folded delicately on his stomach.  If not for the new bandages around his shoulder and hand, he looked just the same as those quiet afternoons that he’d nap in the living room.  

“You know it’s not the same, Phil.”

“Will he know that?”

“He will.”

If nothing else, Dream understood what it meant to sacrifice for the bigger picture.  Of course he’d understand.  He never lost his grip on reality, even if it became blurry to him at times.  Even in the depths of panic, he’d eventually look the two of them in the face and know who they are.  Every time.  Noticing Techno’s confidence, Phil looked at him and nodded.

Technoblade stood, his hooves clacking on the floor, and straightened his back.  It seemed like he had some work to do.  “He can’t defend himself, huh?” he asked solemnly.

“No.  He would’ve died out there.”

Techno was quick and efficient with the shears, tossing the sheep into various positions and holding them there between his lower legs as he made long, sweeping cuts.   It was positively terrifying to watch.  Dream would far rather be doing this job himself, but between his trembling hands and the way his heart pounded in his chest when he so much as looked at shears, this was a task for Techno instead.

“Oh my-- Techno.”  Dream scolded, trying to relax his posture so he didn’t look so nervous, “You’re so fast, just-- just… watch her tail.”

“Everything's cool.  Look, she’s very relaxed, and I’m very, very aware of her body parts.”

“Well, she’s-- Listen, she’s one of the nervous ones, so she might get scared.  She could flinch.”

It was one of the smaller sheep, who sported a fully black face and a thick layer of white wool over the rest of her body.  She quietly endured as Techno pulled her backside upwards so he could reach around, and although she didn’t seem bothered by the manhandling, the position surely didn’t seem comfortable.  Or dignified, for that matter.

Em, who was sniffing the barn wall nearby, walked over and placed herself directly in front of Dream, blocking his view of the scene behind the wall of her white fur.  Dream simply scoffed at her before picking up his log and moving it two feet to the right, sitting down again.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Techno agreed with her.  “Dude,” he said, “you gotta stop watchin’.  The only reason the sheep would get scared is if they look over and see that you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Dream replied, flatly, as Em moved back to him and nuzzled her head under his chin.  Her fur tickled his neck, and her nose was wet at the edge of his jaw.  

The pile of wool beside Techno was building, looking a bit like dirtied snow as it peeled away from the sheep’s skin.  Some of the snow already melted, including a large spot next to where Dream was sitting.  The nights were still extremely cold, but the weather was more amicable than it was just a few weeks ago.  The seasons were changing.

He would try to relax and enjoy it if the consistent snip of shears wasn’t about to drive him to madness.  

Em pushed her snout against the side of his face, forcing his gaze away.  He felt a chuckle bubble in his throat as he raised his hands to her head, scratching along the base of her ears and quietly telling her how ridiculous she was.

“If you need somethin’ else to do, I got plenty of ideas.” Techno said, “There’s a water tub for the cows in the barn attic that’s all dusty and gross, you could clean it out so I can replace the old one.”

“No, I’ll... I’ll feel better if I’m nearby until you’re done.  Really.”

“Doubtful, but alright.”

In a patch of open ground, unveiled by the melting snow, was a short and sturdy stick.  Its edges were evenly cut; it must’ve been a piece of kindling that dropped from someone’s hands, or maybe it fell out of the wheelbarrow when it was on its way to storage.  Em stepped away from him for only long enough to scoop it into her mouth and then return to him, dropping it enthusiastically onto his lap, dark eyes shining.

“What, you wanna play fetch?” Dream asked her.

Her tongue fell from her mouth as she started panting.

“Fine, fine, you win, okay?  But I’m staying here.”

“He didn’t sleep like this in the prison,” Techno said.

“I believe it.”  Phil sat on the edge of the mattress and took hold of Dream’s wrist, gently turning it and placing two fingers there, feeling his pulse.  Dream didn’t stir or react.  “He’s exhausted.  I was almost putting him to sleep in the bath, did you see that?”

“I did see that.”

“This is probably the most comfortable he’s been in months, I guess it’s not surprising that he’s sleeping so… so deeply.”  Brows furrowed, Phil switched to feeling the pulsepoint on Dream’s neck instead.  “He’s just making me nervous.”

Techno crossed his arms across his chest.  His body cast a long shadow over the mattress, dwarfing the other two men.  Both Philza and Dream were so damn small.  So much for hibernating, he supposed; he should be awake to protect them.  “Think he’ll make it?”

“Oh, he’ll be alright, mate.  Don’t you worry.  He survived this long with very minimal care; he’ll thrive with good food and some careful treatment. If we sent him out into the wilderness, I think he would’ve dropped by now.  But he’ll be fine here.”

The dogs were curious about Dream.  Many of them stopped in, sniffed at him, and then went about their way, while others investigated the worst of his injuries, undoubtedly smelling blood there.  Some welcomed themselves to his bed and laid alongside him, thankfully avoiding his wounds.  All the commotion still didn’t wake him, and he didn’t even move much in response.  Even his hair, which Phil tucked behind his ear during their last check-in, didn’t budge.

One dog was keeping a diligent eye on Dream since only a few minutes after he fell asleep.  One of Techno’s biggest pups-- a survivor who endured Doomsday and all of the many battles that followed.  She didn’t hop onto the mattress, but instead opted to sit like a statue near the nightstand.  Her eyes, dark and observant, watched Phil’s hands as he quickly examined the bandages that were within reach.

Techno smiled.  She was going to do this whether or not he asked her to, so he might as well make it official.  “Come up here, Em,” he said, patting the mattress.

She obeyed, jumping up and sitting exactly where she was instructed.  Techno took one of Dream’s hands in his own and displayed his palm to her.  “This is Dream, okay?  I dunno if you remember him or not, he was pretty different when you last saw him.  He’s hurt right now, see?”

Em sniffed at his hand, nose lingering at the missing finger, long black eyelashes fluttering.

“He’s yours.  Watch him.  Make sure he doesn’t do anythin’ stupid, and if he needs somethin’, tell me or Phil.  Probably Phil.”

Risking a glance at Philza, he saw his old friend smiling.

“This is gonna be a tough job, alright?  This guy is stubborn, and he pushes too far.”  Em traced her nose up Dream’s arm, nestling it into his neck as she sniffed at him.  She lifted his jaw a bit in her investigation, and his next exhale came as a sigh.  “This is the last thing I’ll ever ask of you.  I’ve put you through enough.  Sound like a deal?”

Without any further complaint or suggestion, Em laid down and placed her head directly in the center of Dream’s chest.  A protective and reassuring position-- and, of course, it put her ears directly on top of both his lungs and heart.

Phil chuckled beside him.  One of those low, throaty chuckles he did when he was using those mind-reading powers that Techno could never get him to admit to.

“What is it, Philza?”