By: Serpentsrose

Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with South Park or the characters and places used in this fan fiction. They belong to Messer. Tray Parker and Matt Stone. Who in turn belong to Comedy Central.

A/N: Okay second chapters up. For those who are reading my other story Speakeasy don't worry I'm working on the fourth chapter and shall have it out soon. I got asked ages for this story and I thought I should share the answer with everyone because it is helpful to know. I'm Placing them in the age range of 14 going on 15 but depending on were I'm going it may end up being 16. I'll let you know when it becomes set in stone. I'm not one to argue much with my muse.^^

Chapter 2 Reoccurring

Stan walked down the street towards Kyle's house part of him already wishing he had taken the time back at his house to change into some thing warmer than his old pajamas. Rubbing his arms together through is coat sleeves he shivers slightly, turning down the Broflovski's front walk, he speeds into a light jog, hoping to warm himself up slightly before he reaches the door. Opening the door Stan gives a small happy sigh as the warm air rushes out to great him as he makes his way inside.

Gently closing the door behind him he kicks off his shoes and gathers them into his hand. Shelia would kill him if he managed to trail snow through her clean house. Sometimes she was a worse Nazi then Cartman was. Not that he would ever say that out loud. He liked his life every much thank you. Making his way upstairs he knocks softly on Kyle's bedroom door before entering.

Kyle was sitting on his bed, a worn paperback held close to his chest fingers marking his page. Stan steals a quick glance at its cover, it was the book he had gotten him for his birthday three years ago. Stan smiles, Kyle had wanted that book for months but couldn't get it due to the fact that that he had to save up his money for something, Stan couldn't even remember now. Kyle's hair was up in a French braid. A habit he had gotten into after showering at night, saying that it helped keep his hair out of the way when wet. Stan personally thought it was the reason Kyle had such a big Jew-fro, but just like the comment about Kyle's mother Stan knew how and when to keep his mother shut. Watching his father making an ass out of himself all these years had paid off.

Stan takes his coat off and drapes it over the back of the desk chair. It hadn't been snowing hard outside but it was enough were if he didn't hang it up correctly it would be wet in the morning. Placing his shoes next to Kyle's, he settles himself on the bed next to Kyle who shifts slightly to give him more room. Stan likes this its comfortable nothing like you would except from a teenage boys room. Kyle's room was always clean, with it was because of Shelia being a Nazi or just Kyle's natural cleanness it didn't matter. It was different then his room, it felt warmer, safer somehow. And as he closed his eyes relaxing to the light classical music coming from Kyle's speakers. He wonders if he would be able sleep the whole night through.

Kyle's Pov.

Kyle watches as Stan falls asleep seconds after his head hit's the pillows. With a fond sigh he reaches over a grabs his bookmark sliding it into place, before setting the book down on the bedside table. Getting up quickly careful not to wake Stan, Kyle turns off his bedroom light and computer before heading back to his bed. Gentle he reaches over and takes of Stan's hat placing it next to his own, before tugging the covers over his raven-haired friend. Getting in himself he snuggles close figuring that they could talk about he nightmares in the morning. Sleep was more important right now

*Stan's dream*

He was running again. He had to stop this. This time he would not fail. Stan dodges an elbow and pushes his way forward. He's breath once again coming in pained gasps. He breaks his way through and his heart sinks. He was to late always too late. His hands clench as he drops to his knees. Already he could feel the blood soaking into his knees from the ground. Robotically he gathers the broken form into his arms. Holding it closer to his chest, he buries his face into the rapidly cooling body. The blood dripping slowly from is fingers to the ground below. Slowly he raises his head, just in time to see the life fade from familiar green eyes. "Kyle…?"

*dream ends*

"Kyle!" Stan screams out as he shots from bed, his who body shaking in terror that seemed so common these last few nights. He glances around , he wasn't in his room. He looks down and see's Kyle blinking and disoriented from the sudden wake up.

"Stan?" Kyle asked in a groggy tone.

"Kyle." Stan whispers relief crashing through him. "Oh, thank God." It wasn't real. Kyle was right here in bed, next to him. Safe.

"Stan?" Kyle questions again leaning up on his elbows. The very thought that he could lose Kyle suddenly hit him, like a ton of bricks and before he could even tell what he was doing he had his arms wrapped around the red-head. His face buried in his throat.

The sudden weight cause Kyle to fall back on the bed and he blinks as he places his hands on Stan's arms gently. Glancing over Stan's head at he clock he noted that is was five o' clock. There was no way they were getting back to sleep tonight. He looks back down at Stan and notices his friend shaking. "Stan?" He asks concerned feeling moisture on his neck, it strikes him that Stan was crying. "What's wrong, was it the dream?"

Stand looked up from Kyle's neck and catches his eyes. His eyes where rimmed red and his voice shook as he spoke. "I was to late, I….I couldn't save you."

Kyle furrows his eyebrows confused. "Save me? Why would you need to save me" Shortly after asking his eye's light up in understanding. "It was me, in your dream." It was a statement, short and simple, causing Stan to take Kyle's hands in his. "I won't fail again."

"Fail wait?" Kyle asks.

"I'll keep you safe. Even if it kills me."

Kyle blinks, as if not sure what to say before saying two words. "I know."