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Donatello watched with concern while his baby brother sat bundled up on the couch next to him watching TV. He could see that Michelangelo was fighting off the sleep; his eyes would just stare into space suddenly closing, but then the orange masked turtle would just shake his head and return to watching TV. He had been awake since 12:49 in the afternoon; and it was now 2:15pm.

April had gone out to the grocery store with Casey; Leonardo, Raphael, and Master Splinter were in the barn going over training exercises…again. Master Splinter had come in an half an hour ago, asking Donatello to join them in the training. But upon seeing Michelangelo in a horrified state; the old rat allowed him to stay and watch his baby brother.

Donatello began to think about what Michelangelo told him that happened in his dream. After hearing the startling and gory details about it, the purple masked turtle was getting even more concerned.

Donatello held him as tight as he could not wanting to let go of his baby brother. April kneeled next to him, her hand on the orange masked turtle's shoulder, while he cried into Donatello's plastron. It was hard seeing Michelangelo this way; he used to be such a fun-loving person, always cracking jokes, playing pranks, and wanting to have fun with his family. But ever since the nightmares started, he has changed so much.

A sob emanated from Michelangelo, he was clinging to his older brother as if he were his only hope for survival. Donatello rubbed the back of shell, "Let's get him off the floor," he said, "it's too cold."

April nodded; Donatello outstretched Michelangelo's arms and carried him back onto the couch. Michelangelo whimpered, reaching out to Donatello when it seemed that he was going to leave him.

"Donnie!" he called desperately, "Don't…don't leave me! Please!"

Donatello put both hands on each of Michelangelo's shoulders and looked him into the eyes, "I'm not going to leave you Mikey," he answered, "I promise you."

Michelangelo hiccupped and nodded. Donatello smiled and sat down next to his brother; he lifted up his brother's wounded arm a little, and looked at the bandages. They seemed to be loosening; Donatello let out a breath and looked up to April, "April can you get me the first-aid kit?" he asked, "He needs new bandages."

"Sure thing, Donnie," April answered quickly heading into the kitchen.

Donatello watched her as she left and as she came back with the first-aid kit in her hands. She handed it to the purple masked turtle; Donatello smiled and took it in hand, "Thanks April," he said, smiling up at her.

"No problem," April answered, "Need anything else? Like help with redressing his wound?"

Donatello shook, "It's okay, I got it," he answered.

"Okay then," she said, "If you need me though, call me on my cell. I need to go to the grocery store to get a few things." April went into the kitchen and came back out with her pursed, then headed to the front door. She looked back at Donatello and Michelangelo one more time, "Take care you guys," she smiled.

Donatello nodded, soon watching her walk out the front door. The purple-banded turtle turned back to his baby brother, he saw him eying the first-aid kit nervously. "Don't worry, Mikey," he said, opening the first-aid kit, "I'm just going to change your bandages."

Donatello put the kit next to him, then taking Michelangelo's arm and lifting it up a bit. He started to undo the already loose bandages, unwrapping around and around from his arm. Michelangelo winced as each bandages slipped off and rubbed against his stitches. It still hurts even after taking the painkillers.

"Mikey," Donatello called, receiving his baby brother's attention, "Can you tell me…what happened in your dream?"

Michelangelo grimaced; he was too shaken up to even think about it.

Donatello slipped off the last bloody bandage and placed it inside the lid of the first-aid kit. He picked up a new roll of clean bandages and started wrapping Michelangelo's arm. "Y'know Mikey," he said, wrapping the bandage under his arm, "I can't help you with your dreams unless you tell me what happened."

Michelangelo's grimace grew a little bit and he whimpered. "You…you already know what's in my dreams, Donnie," he answered shakily.

"I know…and I saw," Donatello said, "But these are dreams Mikey; if you tell me then I'll be able to help you face this demon."

Michelangelo winced a bit as the bandages were tightly, yet gently placed over his stitches. He gave a shaky sigh, "Okay…," his voice filling with strain of tears, "…I'll tell you."

Donatello continued wrapping his shoulder as Michelangelo began telling his dream. "It…started differently this time. Instead of pitch-black darkness, I was in a forest," his voice was raspy as he spoke, "And…there was this girl…" his lower lip began to tremble.

Donatello looked at his younger brother with confusion, "A girl?"

Michelangelo nodded, "Yeah…a little girl," he answered, "She looked nine, ten maybe…black hair and a snow white dress…she was standing next to a patch of white roses…"

Donatello finally finished wrapping Michelangelo's shoulder. He nodded his head, "Go on," he said.

Michelangelo fell silent, his lower lip still trembling as his face turned into a grimace. He suddenly dived into his brothers arms, holding onto him for dear life. He breathed shakily, "She…she wanted…my heart…" he said, "She wanted to eat my heart!"

Donatello's eyes widened a bit from the shock of what he had just heard. He wrapped Michelangelo in an embrace, "There's more…isn't there?"

Michelangelo nodded, his head still buried into Donatello's plastron, "As soon as she said that she wanted to, eat my heart…she started changing…"He took another shaky breath, "She changed…into the demon…She is the demon…"

Donatello glared, wincing as he pictured what this demon had done to his brother. He grounded his teeth, "Damn…evil bastard…" he muttered. He soon felt warm droplets of tears fall onto his chest, and he held his brother tighter. He leaned into Michelangelo's ear, "Don't worry Mikey," he whispered, "I'll get that thing if it's the last thing I do."

Michelangelo hiccupped and looked up to Donatello, "Thanks, Donnie," he managed; for the first time in days, a weak smile.

Donatello was quickly snapped out of his gaze when hearing the sound of weak laughter. He turned to Michelangelo, and he couldn't help but smile. Michelangelo was laughing for the first time in days. It was faint, but at least he was smiling and laughing. The purple masked turtle looked to the TV, seeing that the Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy were on. He shook his head at the cartoon; it had to be the most random cartoon ever, but it was able to make Michelangelo laugh.

Donatello chuckled, "Such a weird cartoon," he said.

"But it's funny," Michelangelo answered, his tired eyes looking childishly up to Donatello.

Donatello lifted an eye-ridge with a smirk, "You need to watch more mature shows, Mikey," he said, "You're too old for this stuff."

"You can never be too old to watch cartoons," Michelangelo turned back to the TV, "It keeps you young!" He grinned, his eyes looking back at Donatello.

Donatello sighed then smiled, glad to see his little brother's old personality back. Hopefully it will stay for long…

Donatello stretched his arms and legs, "Well…" he groaned, "I'm making something to eat." He stood up from the couch, looking down at his baby brother, "And you Mikey, need to eat also."

Michelangelo frowned, "But I'm not hungry," he whined.

"Mikey, you haven't eaten properly in days," Donatello scolded, "The most food I've seen or heard you've eaten was today's breakfast."

Michelangelo's frown saddened, "That's because Raph threatened that he'll force-feed me if I didn't eat anything," he answered.

"Well at least it worked, Mikey," Donatello made his way towards the kitchen. He stopped at the doorframe, "I'm making something to eat, and you are going to have some," he went into the kitchen.

Michelangelo whined, "I don't want anything to eat!"

"Deal with it!" he heard Donatello shout from the kitchen.

Michelangelo pouted, tightening the blanket around him and sliding down on the couch. He continued to watch the cartoons on the TV, seeing the pictures move from scene to scene on the TV screen. He sighed and curled up tighter in the blanket, 'Damn, it's cold in here,' he thought to himself.

The orange masked turtle shivered, curling up tighter with the blanket. He sighed, soon noticing something rather…odd. He could see his breath; but that was impossible, the fireplace was on. Michelangelo shivered again, 'Why the hell is it so cold in here?' he thought to himself, standing up from the couch.

He breathed in easy as he felt the tingling pain rush through his shoulder, making his way to the thermostat. He came up to the device shivering harder now, his hand shaking as he opened the lid for the thermostat. Michelangelo checked the temperature; it was eighty-one degrees. The orange masked turtle lifted his eye-ridges in confusion, staring at the thermostat, "That's weird," he mumbled.

Michelangelo tightened the blanket around him, shook his head as he closed the thermostat lid, and turned around to go back to the couch. He stopped dead in his tracks when feeling something wet and cold beneath his feet. His eyes widened, and he shivered as he looked down to the floor. What he saw, was blood.

Michelangelo started panting in panic, his eyes following the trail of blood to where it was coming from. The trail of blood stopped at the TV, a large puddle continued to form from beneath it. The orange masked turtle shivered again, swallowing the lump in his throat. He came slowly up to the TV, feeling the blood drenching beneath his feet, making squishing noises as he walked. He soon came up to the screen; it was all static and no picture, making fuzzy noises.

He could have sworn he heard voices; they were faint coming from the TV. He leaned in closer to the screen. "mI…CHelA…" he heard something scream, jolting him back a bit. Michelangelo continued to hear voices as he watched the screen, "MIche….miCHELan…!"

His heart pounded with every second as he heard the voices. He soon noticed that the TV screen was flickering with picture, yet still fuzzy. The TV flickered more, suddenly showing an image perfectly in black and white. It was an image of a forest clearing, and a circular-shaped flowerbed in the middle of it. The TV flickered again, suddenly appearing a little girl, who looked all too familiar.

Michelangelo panted and slid away from the TV. He shivered, hugging his knees as he looked at the screen, "No…" he mumbled. He watched as the little girl smiled evilly at Michelangelo.

She walked slowly on the screen, as if she was walking up to the TV screen itself. She came close to the screen, reaching out a hand to it. Her hand materialized through the TV, but not of warm flesh. He arm appeared from the screen as a skeleton arm, dripping with blood and reaching out to Michelangelo.

Her smiled grew with darkness, "Give…me…your heart…" she demanded, he arm extending towards Michelangelo.

Michelangelo looked up at the screen in horror as tears sprouted from his eyes. He slid away, "No! Get away from me!"

The girl's arm extended further, "I must…have…your heart…"

"No!" Michelangelo shouted, "NO!"

The girl's eyes glowed with red, "Give it…to…me!"

"NO!" Michelangelo screamed, "NO! GET AWAY!"

"Mikey?" Donatello's worried voice came into the room.

Michelangelo looked up from the floor to see his older brother standing there with a plate of two sandwiches in his hand. Donatello placed the plate on the table next to him, and went over to his brother.

He knelt beside him, "Mikey," he said, placing his hands on Michelangelo's shoulders, "What's going on?"

Michelangelo looked back at the TV, then back to Donatello. Tears streamed from his eyes, "Th…the girl…Donnie…" he said with a sob, "The demon girl…she was in the…TV…she tried to…hurt me…"

Donatello looked at the TV; a stern expression grew on his face as he stared at the screen. It was flickering with no picture but static sound. The purple masked turtle then turned to his baby brother, not sure what to do. All he could think of was comforting him, making him feel safe.

Donatello embraced Michelangelo, the orange masked turtle sobbed quietly in his arms. The purple masked turtle rubbed the back of Michelangelo's shell, holding him tight and trying to take the pain away.

He sighed, looking down at his baby brother, "C'mon, Mikey," he said, "Let's get you some food, and then it's off to bed."

Michelangelo looked up to his older brother; he sniffed and nodded. Donatello patted him on the shell as he helped his baby brother up from the floor. Grabbing the plate of sandwiches, Donatello led Michelangelo up to his room, hoping to have a peaceful meal and a peaceful slumber.