He knew he was asleep. He didn't know how or why, but he just knew. Ponyboy screamed at himself, willing to wake himself up. Nothing he said, nothing he did helped. As the dream in front of him progressed, he was forced to accept it as a reality.

Darry was in front of him, walking home from the grocery store. Ponyboy was nothing more than a fly on the wall, an observer to the world around him. He didn't questioned why Darry was walking home from the store when he could've easily drove. Simple details of everyday life were lost in this dream world.

As Darry turned the corner into the neighborhood, Ponyboy felt his chest tightened with fear.

A Soc, Ponyboy believed, came out of nowhere. A knife flashed in the Soc's hand, driving it deep into Darry's side.

Darry gave a rasp of pain, dropping the groceries on the ground. Blood quickly stained his white shirt.

Giving no time to let Darry recover from the shock of the wound, the Soc threw himself upon Ponyboy's older brother, shoving the knife into Darry chest. Both of them fell over, landing on the eggs and milk carton.

No! Ponyboy could feel himself mouthing the words. Stop! Leave him alone!

Ponyboy could not move. He could not speak. He could only watch as this faceless Soc kneel over his fallen brother, bringing the knife down over and over again.

Finally after what it seemed like an eternity, the Soc stood up from Darry's lifeless body. The unknown murderer turned and left, leaving the weapon sticking up out of Darry's chest.

"No…" Ponyboy finally heard himself speak. He stumbled forward, lifting Darry's head into his arms. "No," He began sobbing. Anguish he had not felt since his parent's death washed over him, breaking his heart in two. He clutched Darry closer to him, all the while crying out, "No, no, no, no, no…"

Ponyboy opened his eyes. Tears were still streaming down his face and he was unbelievably hot. It took a few seconds for him to realize where he was. In his bed, in his room, in his house. "A dream…" He muttered, his throat thick with saliva. "Just a dream."

Tears still fell from his eyes, that tightening feeling wrapped around his heart not leaving. He recalled the dream, the vividness of it, and he had to cup his mouth to stop the sob that threatened to escape.

He shoved the blankets off of him, getting up. Soda had not stirred and for that, Ponyboy was grateful. Frankly he was getting sick and tired of waking up the house with his stupid dreams.

Shakily he pushed himself up from his bed and clumsily made his way towards the hallway bathroom. There, he turned on the cold water full blast and washed his face.

Still the tears fell.

"Damn it," Ponyboy muttered, brushing them away angrily. Darry is fine! Everybody is fine! Nothing happened!

He was being hurt and I could not help him. He needed my help and I was unable to.

Ponyboy took in a shuddering breath. Knowing was not enough. He had to see Darry with his own eyes.

As immature as he thought he was being, checking up on his older brother, he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until he was a hundred percent sure that Darry is alive and well.

He went to Darry's room (Once their parent's room. Darry moved in about a half a month later after their deaths. He needed the space and calm.) and slowly opened the door. The briefest of light echoed through, illuminating Darry's sleeping form on the bed.

Ponyboy shuffled quietly to the bed and peered down at his brother.

Darry looks so much younger when he's asleep. His eyes didn't carry the heavy responsibility of taking care of two boys. His shoulders were not hunched from dragging roofing tools all day long. He is alive and well. And that is all Ponyboy needed.

He was a halfway out the door when a sleepy voice called out, "Ponyboy…? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," He said. He knew such an answer wasn't going to stop Darry from getting up, so he added. "I had a dream."

From where he stood, Ponyboy could see Darry frowning at this. They both knew when Ponyboy had a nightmare, the person who usually comforted him was Soda. So for him to go to Darry in the middle of the night was…unusual.

Still, it did not mean Darry was going to push him away.

He flung the blankets open. "Hop in," He muttered.

Fifteen years old, many people would think Ponyboy is too old to be sleeping with one of his brothers. At that moment though, neither party hesitated. The youngest Curtis brother jumped into the bed, allowing himself to steal blanket and pillows.

Ponyboy snuggled in closer to Darry, pressing his ear against his chest. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-

Yawning, Darry asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Ponyboy said, satisfied after hearing twenty-three heartbeats. "I'm fine."

"Good. Now go to sleep. I got work tomorrow."

He doesn't have to tell him twice. Making himself more comfortable, Ponyboy drifted off. He did not dream for the rest of the night.

The end.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A/N: Last night, I did actually have a disturbing dream involving my little sister. So I know how this feels like. (If anybody asks, this is non-slash.)