It started as another sleepy morning in the Curtis household. Sodapop was laying on the couch, watching Mickey Mouse with Two Bit, the gang had stayed over that night, and Darry was getting ready to leave for work. The sun wasn't even up yet, but that was normal for the colder times of year. Soda was about to fall asleep when something startled the three boys, abruptly putting an end to their lazing about.

Ponyboy woke up screaming. It was another nightmare; although a common occurrence, they frightened him every time. He sat straight up in bed and tried his best to hold back tears. It was the same nightmare every night. He told his concerned older brothers that he didn't remember what it was he had been dreaming about, but that was a lie. He knew. He didn't want to know. But he knew.

His brothers worried enough about him as it was. After what had happened last year, with Johnny and Dally barely making it out alive, and Darry and Pony finally seeing eye to eye, the three brothers had become closer than ever… and the two eldest developed a fierce overprotectiveness that exasperated Ponyboy. Pony was fifteen years old; he could take care of himself.

Darry opened the door quickly and it hit the wall with a bang as he came rushing to the foot of Pony's bed, Sodapop following close behind him.

"Sorry. Just another nightmare." Pony said, looking away.

Soda and Darry shared a concerned look.

"Pony…." Darry started, then sighed, turning and running a hand through his hair. This was becoming an all too familiar occurrence in the Curtis household.

"I'm okay Dare. I'mma go take a shower real fast before I head to school."

He didn't wait for a response, just grabbed his clothing and headed into the bathroom. He relaxed into the hot water, letting the tears escape his eyes silently. As he was trying unsuccessfully to dry his hair with a wet towel, a knock came from the door.

"No school today, kiddo. Soda and I have canceled work; we're snowed in."

Pony sighed. That meant he was going to be stuck indoors with the gang all day. It wasn't that he minded being stuck with the gang as much as he minded being stuck indoors. Pony could only take so much time sitting still and rereading books. He had found that out at the Church. Oh well. At least he wouldn't be lonely.

Pony got dressed into some sweats and a black wifebeater. He figured that he might as well be comfortable if he had to lay around all day. Not bothering to comb his hair (which was now back to it's original tuff color and style) he dumped his pajamas in the hamper and went to join the gang for breakfast.

When he went into the living room he was greeted with a strange sight. Dally, Two-Bit, Soda, Johnny, and Steve were all crowded onto the two cushion couch watching Mickey Mouse. He laughed at the sight; Two-Bit was sitting on the back of the couch with his feet on either side of steve and his elbows on Steve's shoulders, Dally and Soda were on either side of Steve, and Johnny was laying across their laps. Darry was in the kitchen, making breakfast.

Pony dramatically pushed laundry and books off of the two chairs and raised his eyebrows. The others ignored him.

"Hey Pony." Johnny greeted him with a smile that lit up the room.

"Hey yourself. You look comfy." He didn't look the slightest bit comfortable at all.

Johnny laughed.

"What's up with the screaming this early in the mornin' Pones?" Two-Bit put in.

Pony blushed. "Nightmare." he said, looking away.

"What about?" Steve asked, looking not the least bit interested.

"Can't remember. Never can." Pony said, chewing his lip and darting his eyes across the room to the kitchen. He assumed the conversation was over and went to help Darry with breakfast, but paused as Johnny's next words made him just about jump out of his skin.

"Bullshit Pony."

The room froze.

Pony turned to look at Johnny.

"What do you mean?" He asked, dumbstruck and holding his breath. He hoped to God that Johnny didn't know… but that was ridiculous. How could he? Maybe Pony talked in his sleep….

"Just what I said. Pony, I know you. You're lyin'. What was the dream about?"

Pony was beginning to panic. That was a lot for Johnny to say at one time. Johnny was usually quiet. When Johnny talked, people listened. Simple as that.

Darry and Sodapop were both frozen, staring at Pony.

"I…" Pony ran a hand through his hair, abruptly turned 180 degrees, and went to his room, locking the door behind him. He sat with his back to the door, breathing as slowly as he could. He had been on the verge of a panic attack, so he sat still and quiet, closing his eyes.

In the meantime, Darry and Soda were talking to the gang.

"He's had the nightmares since Mom and Dad died. He never remembers what happens in them… or at least that's how he tells it. He always wakes up screaming. We took him to the Doctor but they couldn't do nothin' for him."

Johnny untangled himself from the gang.

"I'll go talk to him."

He knocked on Pony's door.

"Pony, it's Johnny."

Silence.
"Pony…"

After a few moments, Johnny sat down, staring at the door.

"You alone?" Came Ponyboy's muffled voice. It sounded hoarse, like he had been crying.

"Yeah, it's just me."

The door unlocked, but didn't open. That was all the invitation Johnny needed. He opened the door and found Pony sitting on his bed, smoking, in the dark. Johnny was concerned, to say the least. Pony had given up smoking months ago.

Johnny sat beside him, careful to avoid touching him in case he was frightened.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I used to be afraid of storms."

Pony looked up, startled and stared at Johnny. He had assumed that Johnny was there to push for information on his dreams. Darry and Soda couldn't be happy that Pony had lied to them…

"I'd be locked out of the house on stormy nights and I'd never consider moving from under the bench in the park. I'd curl up there with my coat covering me as best as it could, and wait for the storm to go away. Dally found me like that once. He never tried to pull me away from the bench, but from then on, whenever there was a storm, he'd come and sit beside the bench with me, not talking at all. Just bein' there.

"Then my dad beat me up pretty good the night of a big storm. When I didn't show up at the bench, Dally came looking for me. That's one of the only times I've ever seen him so worried. He found me bleeding on my porch He didn't say anything, but when I went to the park and tried to go crawl under the bench he stopped me. Without saying a thing, he managed to let me know how stupid I was being and marched me on over to Tim Shepard's place where he was crashing and helped stitch me up. From then on, whenever there was a storm, I went wherever Dally was. I still do.

"I'm not so afraid of thunder as I used to be. But now I know that when I've got somethin' that I need help with, I got people to go to."

They sat in silence again once Johnny was done.

"Weren't you guilty that he was worrying about you? What if he was already doing so much for you and you didn't want to put something else on his chest?" Pony asked quietly.

"Don't be dumb, Pony. They're family." Johnny had dropped the pretenses. "They care about you and you can't go around keeping stuff like this from them. It's their job to worry, heck, if a family had a job description, that would be the number one thing on it."

"You sure, Johnny?"

"Yeah Pony. I'm sure."

Pony waited a few seconds, before getting up from the bed, and throwing his cigarette out the window, down into the soft snow. He watched it sizzle out. He then walked to the door, Johnny close behind him, and he stepped into the light of the living room.

Soda and Darry both stood up immediately. Soda took a step towards him and held out his arms, pulling Ponyboy in for a hug.

"We ain't mad at you Pony."

Oddly enough, that was exactly what Pony needed to hear.

He sat down on the (now unoccupied) couch and the others sat in a half circle on the floor in front of him. He didn't quite like that because when he looked down he was looking into someone's eyes not at the floor. So he slid down to the floor in front of the couch too. The others waited patiently; even Two-Bit was quiet.

"Imagine…" He started softly, "that every time you fell asleep you go into a new world. This world is almost exactly like the waking world, except for one thing; someone always dies before you wake up. Imagine that the world in your dream is so real that you forget sometimes which world is which, and it gets to the point that you're always waiting for somebody to drop dead. If you can imagine that, well, you've got my worst nightmares. Imagine, also, that you're always the one to kill them. You only know of one way to tell which world is real. When you're dreaming, nobody can touch you. Any and all physical touch just goes right through you.

"Then imagine waking up after having killed someone important to you, say one of your brothers. Imagine what it would feel like to crave touch then, just to make sure that they're alive, but not letting yourself touch anyone because it'll be suspicious and they might catch on.

"So imagine that you're constantly finding reasons to bump into someone, or to brush them on your way past. And imagine the security that comes with the fact that they aren't going to drop dead on you, but not being able to react to it when someone runs their hand through your hair or when they nudge you in the ribs, or hug you, which makes you feel by far the most safe and secure that you ever have.

"If you can imagine that…." Pony sighed and stopped talking.

He was afraid to look up, to make eye contact. He forced himself to anyways, because he was a greaser, dammit, not a wimp.

Darry, Soda, and Johnny were crying silently.

Steve and Two-Bit looked bewildered.

Dallas looked like he was doing his best to mask how horrified he was.

Pony, being self-conscious, took all of this in the wrong way. He let out a muffled sob, and stood up, cursing the fact that they were snowed in, and started for his room.

He didn't even make it two feet.

A hand came in contact with his arm. It startled him, and he turned, only to be pulled into a chest that smelled like Pine-scented soap and sawdust; smells that he recognized instantly. He stiffened, then relaxed completely. He turned into Darry's chest and let out the sobs he had been holding in for so long. He felt warm and safer than he had ever felt.

He lost track of how long Darry held him. He hadn't said a word, just silently embraced him. When Pony finally pulled away, he wiped his eyes and looked at the floor, hiding his eyes.

He was startled when another pair of arms went around his waist, this time belonging to Soda (who smelled of gasoline, new tires, and cheap cologne). When he pulled away he was pulled into Johnny's arms, then Steve's (which surprised him. He always thought Steve hated him…), then Two-Bit's. When Two-Bit was done holding him, Dally looked around, sighed and folded his arms.

He laughed at the indignant look on Steve's face. It clearly said "give the kid a hug you (insert choice words here). Then he pulled Pony into a headlock. Pony laughed as he tried to get away.

"Figures you're too good to hug a kid," Two-Bit said. Dally just raised an eyebrow and ruffled Pony's hair. When he released him he threw an arm over the kid's shoulders. Pony grinned.

When the moment was over, Darry finished cooking breakfast, or rather restarted as the food had long since burned. They sat down to the table together and Pony was getting more and more nervous. He knew what was coming next.

"Pony, we're your family. Soda already told you we're not mad that you didn't tell us, but I want to know about things like this. We can help you get through this, but we can't read your mind. Okay kiddo?"

Pony blinked. That was surprisingly gentle and not scary of Darry. Then he nodded. He hadn't met any of their eyes since he had told the story. Johnny was getting nervous that Pony had the wrong idea. How he could, Johnny didn't know. So he turned to Pony who was sitting next to him and caught his eye.

"You're not a burden." Johnny said very quietly, yet very clearly.

Pony blushed and tried to look away, but Johnny caught his chin and made him maintain eye contact.

"I mean it, Pony." He said, and after a moment, Pony nodded, and was released. The others were marveling at how well Johnny understood Pony. He knew that Pony was lying even before his own brothers knew.

"Well, dream boy, whenever you need to snuggle up, remember how much ol' Two-Bit here loves you," the wise-cracker said, laughing. The sentiment behind it was real though.

"Shuddup Two-Bit." Pony mumbled, and the table burst into laughter. Pony felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. He knew everything would be alright now.

The gang adjusted to Pony's need for attention. They could have sworn that the kid was touch-starved. Steve wondered if Pony had enough hugs as a child. The gang remembered to sit closer to him on the couch than they usually would, and Soda started sleeping in Pony's room again when he was having a prolonged nightmare streak.

One morning that Pony woke up screaming, the gang rushed into his room. Pony was crying and quivering. The gang circled around the foot of the bed. To their surprise Pony held his arm out towards Steve. He usually wanted Soda or Darry, maybe Johnny. Steve was bewildered; he always thought the kid hated him. Nevertheless, Steve crawled into bed with Pony and held him. Soda's eyes gleamed with satisfaction; he knew that the two had a rough time getting along in the past. He was glad they had put aside their differences.

Slowly, Pony's nightmares started to go away. He woke up screaming less and less. A year later, Pony hadn't had a nightmare in four months.

The gang never stopped being affectionate with him though, and he appreciated it. They understood that at a base level, all Pony really needed sometimes was a hug, or a pat on the back, or a poke in the ribs.

Pony smiled at the year's anniversary of him telling the gang about his nightmares (Yes, he marked it in his journal so he would remember the date, and no, the gang wasn't about to judge him for knowing it).

He wrote only two sentences in his journal that day.

'Johnny isn't afraid of storms anymore. I'm not afraid of dreams anymore.'