The sky was black, the ground was black, everything was black. Except for the bodies. Those littered whatever type of ground he walked on in piles. So much so that Bucky found himself struggling to avoid stepping on them. It's not like the bodies meant anything to him and even if they did, he wouldn't know. To be honest, Bucky didn't even know where he was going. He was just walking. He had his full military attire on, he felt all his knives and guns resting in their prosper sheaths and holds.
Something tapped his shoulder and he turned around. He had to look down to see her: a little girl - maybe five or six - with pallid grey skin, and a gaping bullet hole in the middle of her eyes that leaked ink-black blood. Her polka-dot, pink dress was splattered with similar blood. as was her matted, auburn hair. Her eyes were solid black and she wore a joker-esque smile.
"Do you remember me, Bucky?" her voice was overly sweet, but echoed demonically.
He shook his head with a blank, terrified expression.
"You should," her voice deepened and behind her, a mob of pallid-skinned, ink-blooded zombies shuffled towards him, "you assassinated me. August ninth, 1953. I was the daughter of a Russian spy."
The mob advanced and the girl continued to name off dates, names, and reasons. Then a face appeared behind her.
Steve.
His hands were raised in front of him and groped for Bucky. His jaw chewed up and down aimlessly and ink-blood dripped from in between zombie Steve's teeth. Sickening moans filled the air and the zombies encircled around Bucky; their black eyes seeming to focus on him. He screamed "NO" at the top of his lungs, but there was no sound. Grey hands closed around him and he felt mouths chomping down on his flesh, teeth tearing into him, and there was a flash of white.
He was screaming.
He heard a screaming, loud and panicked, and knew exactly who it was. Immediately, Steve was up off the couch and making a mad dash for Bucky's room. When he burst in, Bucky was screaming and clawing at the sheets like his life depended on it. Steve ran over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He pried Bucky's hands from the sheets and pulled him into a sitting position.
Steve put his hands on Bucky's shoulders and gently shook him awake, "Bucky, Bucky! Wake up. It's just a nightmare...you're fine. It's just a nightmare. You're fine. Bucky..."
Bucky's eyes bolted open and he stared blankly at Steve while trying desperately to avoid hyperventilating. His breaths slowed down and he locked his eyes on Steve.
"Steve...?" he asked shakily.
Steve nodded in return, and he wanted to smile, but could bring himself to. Bucky hugged himself around his captain and started sobbing into Steve's chest. The blonde wrapped his arms around the crying friend. Sam ran up to the doorway and was about to turn on the light, but when he saw the two, he stopped and slowly backed out.
"Shh...it's okay, Bucky. I'm here," Steve whispered soothingly and rocked back and forth slowly, "I'm right here. It's okay."
"So many bodies...I killed so many people!" he choked out in between sobs, "right between the eyes...what was I doing?!"
"It wasn't your fault, Buck. Nothing's your fault. I'm just curious, and you don't have to answer...but do you remember anything else?"
"Just...just the name...that's all."
Steve gently stroked Bucky's long hair and continued to rock him and calm him down. Bucky's grip around the captain tightened and he felt the metal arm squeezing into his back, but Steve didn't care. He absentmindedly trace over the stitching scars at the base of Bucky's metal arm. The cold metal felt strangely natural to him. Before long, Bucky had stopped crying and had fallen asleep around Steve. So, the captain reached a hand under the blankets and under Bucky's knees. He picked him up, carried him into the living room bridal style, and set him down in the couch.
He pulled the blanket around Bucky and sat down next to him. Once they were both sitting, the brunette's head dropped onto Steve's shoulder and he couldn't help but smile. The two fell asleep like that.