Whew. I apologize for my inability to write cohesive dream sequences.

Read up.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

A young boy, about six or seven, ran up the hill and onto an old farm. His mother turned around and set down her watering can, her brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Her son ran up to her and handed her a small, purple flower. She smiled down at him and ruffled his silver hair—it reminded her so much of his father…

"Oh, it's beautiful! Thank you, Vaughn."

The boy blushed slightly and frowned in embarrassment. "It's purple just like your eyes, so I picked it for you."

His mother laughed. "I was thinking it was the color of your eyes! That's why I like it so much."

She bent down and gave him a tight hug, which he gratefully returned. He liked the way she smelled—it was like rain and honey. Whenever he smelled that, he felt at ease. He felt like he wasn't having a nightmare.

Suddenly, the sun was covered by a bank of darkened clouds rolling in. The farm grew dark and he could feel himself growing… He pulled away from the embrace and saw that he'd become a man, dressed in his usual work attire save for his hat. He turned to look back from his mother, but she wasn't there. He frowned in confusion as she backed away from him. Her smile faded as the wind picked up, and her hair fell out of its ponytail. Vaughn watched her in stoic silence, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. A flash of lightening illuminated the dark farm and he could see the fear in her eyes.

His feet started moving by their own accord. He didn't know what was going on, but this all felt so familiar. The rain started to pour down and a dark figure appeared at the entrance to the farm. It stumbled down the pathway and over towards his mother. Vaughn continued to walk—or was he running?—towards them. He saw the figure, now obviously male, bring his hand back to strike the woman. Vaughn let out a shout, but it went unheard. His feet moved as fast as he could make them, but he didn't seem to be getting any closer. Another flash of lightening brightened the sky and he heard a cry come from his mom. He couldn't move. The man kept stumbling around and drunkenly beating the farmer.

Vaughn had never felt more helpless than at this moment. More lightening struck in the distance and he could see her face, but it wasn't his mother anymore. Those eyes were blue. He'd seen them before, but never filled with this terror. Another strong gust of wind blew by, taking her red bandana off her head. She cried out as the man sent a slap across her face. The rain kept beating down on them in sheets, and Vaughn's silent shouts never reached that man through the rolling thunder. He could only stand back and watch as her knees gave out and she fell to the ground, mud covering her. She turned to look at Vaughn, tears streaming down her face. Her arm reached out towards him; her eyes pleaded with him. The man pulled his leg back, ready to kick her in the stomach.

"Vaughn!"

He couldn't answer her before the man's foot sent her crumpling to the ground.

Ooo

Vaughn shot up in Mirabelle's guest bed, his bare chest heaving and covered with sweat. He blinked into the dark room, trying to calm himself. It was another one of those damned dreams, and that farmer was in it again. He ran a hand through his messy hair, focusing on controlling his breathing. As soon as his heart rate seemed to dip back into the normal range, he pushed the sheets away from him and glanced at the clock. It was almost six-thirty; he'd overslept a bit. The sun was supposed to be up at around seven, what with the shorter days of winter becoming evident and all.

Sighing, he stood up and walked across the hall to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. It would be a long Thursday, he thought, as he inspected the dark circles under his eyes in the mirror. He had developed a bit of stubble over the last few days, but he couldn't be bothered to shave that morning. He just wanted to get to work. As he began to change into his work clothes, he glanced down at his side and let out a heavy sigh. The small, pink marks were still there, even after all these years. He was a fool back then for thinking he could move on.

After settling into his vest and pulling on his hat, he stepped out of the room, preparing himself for another awkward breakfast with Julia and Mirabelle.

Ooo

"Aw, c'mon, Daisy! Let me brush your head! You'll like it, I promise!"

Chelsea huffed as her calf let out a short "moo" and walked away to the other side of the barn. Sighing, she placed the brush back into her rucksack and headed over to the feed dispenser to get some fodder. She let her mind wander slightly as she dumped the hay into the feed bin.

She had never heard Vaughn laugh before yesterday. It had been such a pleasant sound—why didn't he do it more often? It did seem a bit dry, though. Was he mocking her, maybe? She didn't know. She didn't know if that meant that she was right, and he was the one in the city, or if she was so wrong that it was humorous. Although, he did say that she was perceptive, so… was she right? Shaking her head, she smiled to herself. The only thing she was certain of was that she wanted to hear that cowboy laugh again.

"Alright, Daisy! You stay inside today, I don't want you out in the snow!" Chelsea called as she walked out of the warm barn and into the lightly-falling snow. It was getting colder now that the snow was falling at a steady rate, and Chelsea wished that she'd remembered to pack something heavier for this season. Maybe she'd thought that she could've bought a coat once she got to Flowerbud Village, but as it was now, she had no place to buy one and no money to buy it with. She huddled her arms together underneath her breasts, shaking slightly. Her house wasn't the warmest place around, so she started down the path towards Mirabelle's, where she could loiter with the excuse of visiting Julia.

The exposed skin on her legs was going completely numb as she shivered down the slick road. She kept her eyes on her boots as she carefully stepped on the icy path, not wanting to slip or trip and end up in the snow. Her nose was just starting to change from a dull, stinging feeling to numbness when she ran into someone in the path and fell back onto her butt. Grimacing, she put her bare hands on the snowy ground and pushed herself up, a new wave of cold biting at her body.

"What the hell're you wearin' in this weather?" A cool voice barked at her. She rolled her eyes slightly and met his purple glare with her own blue one.

"Clothes—What else?" She scowled, not appreciating the delay. She wanted to get somewhere warm as soon as possible, and this little conversation wasn't helping much.

"You do your chores in that?" He asked, inspecting her exposed legs with a raised eyebrow. Chelsea could barely feel her cheeks heat up, relieving them of some of the cold.

"Yeah," she admitted, suddenly feeling ashamed of her lack of money. She didn't want him knowing how poorly her ranch was doing, especially during the winter when there were no crops for income. With Daisy still a calf and unable to produce milk, she had no real way for making money. All her savings from summer and fall were being eaten away—literally. She needed food.

"Why don't you wear your coat? Or pants?" He made it sound like she was doing this on purpose. Shame and anger filled her chest and she snapped at him, her jaw shaking slightly as the snow floated down and she took a step towards him.

"I don't have any, okay? I'm broke. Flat broke. I can't afford a coat. I can't afford pants. I can't even afford to eat if I want to feed my cow for the winter!"

His eyes widened slightly before he recovered his usual stoic expression. He frowned down at her, his eyes studying hers. She glared back fiercely, not backing down. Finally, he sighed and broke their eye contact. He looked like he was mentally kicking himself as he pulled off his own black coat and handed it to her. She stared at it blankly for several moments before raising her eyebrows at him.

"What do I do with this?"

"Wear it," he scowled lightly, his eye twitching in poorly concealed irritation. She flushed—or was it just the cold?—and shook her head, holding it back out to him.

"C'mon, Vaughn," she sighed, looking up at him tiredly, "this coat is yours."

"You need it more than I do."

"The hell if I need it more! It's not mine. Take it." She pushed it into his chest, but he didn't grab it. Chelsea frowned deeply up at him, but her brow was trembling. She looked down and wiped at her eyes with her frozen hands, willing herself not to cry. She didn't want to cry in front of him again. She didn't want to be weak. Vaughn watched her this whole time, bewildered. Had he done something wrong? He tried to give her his coat, and now she was standing there, starting to cry. It didn't make sense to him. He guessed that she didn't want to be a charity case, but she was going to freeze to death if she didn't put some clothes on, damn it. She couldn't even go inside to escape the cold—that run-down shack of hers was just as cold inside as it was out. He draped the coat over her shoulders and stepped back as she looked up.

He raised his eyebrow at her pout and turned to leave, saying, "You're gonna freeze. Just take it. I won't tell anyone."

She blinked at him as he walked back towards the animal shop. Once he was safely inside, she stared at the coat that fell over her figure. It smelled like hay and rain. Was this what Vaughn smelled like? Chelsea almost smirked at how creepy she was, standing in the road, sniffing a coat. She pulled the fabric closer to her and headed back to her farm, smiling slightly when she noticed how warm it already was.

Aw, how cute. In a demented way.

So, in case you don't remember, Vaughn kept mentioning his dreams. Now we get to see what he meant. If it was confusing, well, it's okay. I'm a bit confused by it, too. It should become a bit clearer as the story goes on. I hope. Eheh.

Vaughn's so chivalrous. Chelsea's so stubborn. Oh, Vaughn. Why did you suddenly become nice? It's so... random! Dx

Well, I had this whole other scene planned for this chapter, but it turns out that I hit my 1200-word goal a lot faster than I anticipate. I didn't even think to check the word count until it was already at 1700 words. So, yes, I have no doubt that this is the longest chapter. I think that the next one will kind of expand on this one a bit. This winter is going to be packed, ahaha. In fact, it makes it difficult because Vaughn's only on the island eight days a season, and we've already used up one of them! Well, I guess the only thing else I can tell you is that this little arc of the story is officially called "The Winter of Angst," okay?

Stay tuned for chapter eighteen! Er, nineteen? Whatever, chapter big-number! Tell me this: have you ever worn a guy's jacket? (And not a jacket purchased from the men's department. You know what I mean.) For me, the answer is no, but I have worn a guy's tie. xP I'm looking forward to your answers! :D

/long author's note