Disclaimer: Neither Bleach nor any of its characters belong to me

Hope you enjoy

Not quite sure I like this one as much as my others, but I'll let you be the judge

I stood there, completely frozen, unable to move, unable to cry out, as I watched my brother pierce the heart of the man I loved. Everything stopped. Strong, unfamiliar arms held me back, kept me from running to his side. I struggled to breathe as I watched his amber eyes widen in shock, watched him pull the blade out of his chest, watched him fall to his knees and cough up blood. I screamed his name and tried to see past the tears blinding my vision. My brother just stood there, his face placid and emotionless; the anger inside me grew as I continued to try to kick free of my restraints, fighting with my entire soul. I was so angry I started to shake. His face smashed into the dirt as I broke free. I sprinted towards him, not able to run fast enough. I finally reached his body and turned him over.

His beautiful face was covered in dirt, and I attempted to brush it clean, only the dirt clung to the sweat that had been beading his face. I pulled his head into my lap and applied pressure to the wound over his heart; I screamed for a medic, for help, but didn't know if anyone had heard me. I barely recognized my own voice.

"Get up, get up right now! You are fine!" I yelled at him, trying to keep him conscious, keep him with me. "You're so stupid! What were you thinking?"

His eyes were closed, but he smiled slightly before grimacing in pain. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. "I-I told you," he coughed, "I'd rescue you. Now be quiet, Midget, and...let...me save...you." He coughed some more. Blood poured from the wound under my hand. I could feel his heartbeat slowing beneath my touch.

My tears fell into his unkempt orange hair, and I was attempting to wipe them away when he grabbed my hand. "Hey...don't you do that," he demanded, trying to sound strong. "Don't worry about me. I am fine." But with that last sentence he clutched his chest and his back arched in what I could only assume was sheer, unbelievable pain. I-I didn't know what to do! I shook uncontrollably as I held him, rocked him gently in my arms, but his life force was leaving him, his soul was slipping out of his body, and I was completely powerless to stop it!

"You're stronger than this!" I yelled, "Don't let him beat you. Don't-don't give up on me now! You have worked t-to h-hard..." Again, tears clouded my vision. The only thing I could see was his strong jaw, his tightened lip, his eyes, sealed shut, his hair, his...

Blood stopped flowing out between my fingers. His heart had stopped beating. I screamed for help...no one came. I wanted to glare at those around me, those who stood and watched this man die and did nothing, but I couldn't tear my gaze off his seemingly slumbering face, his handsome face. Pain took over my body and I began to shut down. I didn't know pain like that existed! I pulled him into me, into my chest, held him tight, and buried my head in his shoulder. I sat there and cried for what felt like hours, rocking him, holding him. My wails echoed around me, and still, no one came...for him or for me. My heart died when he slipped away, and I screamed his name at the sky as what was left of my soul shattered, but when I opened my eyes, the room was dark and my sheets were soaked with perspiration.

I was in my room.

I had been asleep.

I had been dreaming.

I looked around my room in my brother's house; all was normal. I shook my head and shuddered. Was that all...Had that all really been just a dream...? I didn't believe it. It had felt so real. I looked at my hands, certain they were stained with blood, with his blood...but they were not. I rubbed my eyes groggily, convinced this was my dream, and I'd wake up to my bloody reality in a moment...but I did not. Sweat beaded my upper lip, my forehead, the small of my back, and I shuddered again when I felt the coolness of night. Tears still slipped from my eyes, and I wiped at them. It had been a dream. Then I remembered and lay back down.

It hadn't even been a week since my friends had rescued me--rescued everyone, really--and returned home. I'd said goodbye to them at the gate, not telling them I'd be reuniting with them soon.

I'd said goodbye to him--the orange-haired boy of my dreams who'd died in my arms--and saw him return home safely. He was okay. He was alive. I sighed in relief.

Though I hadn't seen him fight my brother, I'd heard about it. I knew my brother: he had not held back during that fight. In truth, he should have won; my dream should have been reality. But, thankfully, the outcome had been...a happier one. And for that, my heart rejoiced.

I saw a light approach beyond the screen of my door, then the shadow of my brother. Had my scream been...out loud?!

He called my name quietly, and then asked, "Are you all right?" I could hear the sincere concern in his voice.

I closed my eyes and sighed again. My brother had not killed him...

"Yes, I'm all right now, Brother. Thank you. Just a...bad dream," I answered softly.

He paused before gently saying, "Go back to sleep." Then his light disappeared.

I turned over and pressed my head into the softness of my pillow. I started to feel restless; I now wanted to return and see he was all right for myself, again, to see him--his smile--with my own eyes, again. Before falling back asleep, I resolved to get my strength back even faster than I had planned, so I could get back to him, no matter what--or who's--command I had to break to do it.

He was alive, and that truth allowed my heart peace for tonight.

Her scream had started me awake. It had pierced the silence of the night. She was screaming his name.

Surely she must've been dreaming, but I got up, worried, to check on her anyway. As I made my way across the house, towards her room, I struggled to keep my pain at bay. Most of my body was still wrapped in bandages, and I was told I shouldn't move much, but if she needed me, I could endure anything.

When I reached her door, I hesitated a moment. I had hurt her--in many ways--too many times lately. I'd allowed my stubbornness to cloud my judgment...and she nearly died because of it, because of me. That-that child, impertinent as he was, had made me see my oversight, my mistake.

I called out to her, asked if she was all right. She answered she was. Not knowing what to say next, if I should offer her comfort, I told her to go back to sleep, but instead of returning to my room, I put out the lantern and listened at her door. Her breathing was labored, as if she were gasping for air. She sniffed occasionally as well. She'd sounded fine, but had she been crying?

Though I hated to admit it, my heart tightened in contrition. I had caused her, my little sister, so much pain, and I fought back self-loathing. I had promised my wife I'd take care of her, and I'd failed her.

Now, as I stood outside my sister's door, I swore to myself never to let any harm befall her again...although, my oaths hadn't done me any good lately. But as I listened to her breathing settle and regulate in sleep, I understood why that insolent, orange-headed child had fought so hard: to save the raven-headed, violet-eyed child, the one so like my beloved wife, now sleeping peacefully in the room next to me.

The night was cold and a bitter breeze rattled the trees, whistled into the darkness. I turned back towards my room, but stopped halfway there. My memory drifted back to the day I'd fought him. He'd asked me why I would not save my own sister, and, even as I answered him, I heard my wife's voice, asking me to protect her sister. My hubris had shamed my wife's memory, and, as the wind howled around me, I vowed to give anything--even my life--to never do so again.