Authors Notes: This is kind of short but I wanted to update. I realize now I made a few mistakes with Dally and Johnnys age differences and stuff but oh well. (: New characters are introduced here, yaaay! Oh, and more background. That's always good. Even though there are some of my 'original' characters in here(created especially for this story, xD), this story WILL be focused on Johnny...and I am pretty keen on the Johnny x Dally pairing. Mmm...There needs to be more stories about these two.

Enjoy.

Future Markets, Holy Wars

Been tried ten thousand times before

If you think that God is keeping score, Hooray!

There was a wooden frame that half-stood stubbornly among the collapsed rubble and wood. Shingles from the roof were scattered around the lot. Two figures stood and watched it from the sidewalk. One, the man who looked older, shared a few characteristics of the second; Black hair, near perfect posture, peirced ears(although the first didn't wear any earrings and only sported one hole in each of his lobes), and eyes darker than the night sky. They looked similar enough to be brothers and, granted, that was what they were.

The oldest was approaching the half-burnt ruins of what used to be his house.

"Addy, come on," The younger of the two murmured, pushing his glasses up to his eyes. "It's to cold to be out. Let's at least head to a diner and get some breakfast."
The one referred to as Addy nodded, although he didn't move. His eyes, darkened with circles that gave away his insomnia, were focused on a glint of metal among the garbage. He kicked aside what used to be a cushion, walking towards it. He knelt down for a moment in the dirt, the gray of it smearing onto the already ripped knees of his jeans. His hands moved in a very orchestrated manner, waving over and under boards and turning black from all the ash.

And then the chain was gripped tightly in his fist and he lifted it infront of him. Glass beads shone blue and white in the sunlight. A small pendant baring a picture of His Blessed Mother dangled from it.

---

"Don't move," Came the gruff warning. There was a breif pause, and it brought some relief. Johnny's eyes closed tight, pressed up against the bedroom wall. At least this time he wasn't near any windows. Nobody could see him. His hands clenched and unclenched with the rhythm of it all, his teeth grinding together. He didn't expect any mercy and he never got any.
"You look just like your mother," The man half-slurred, pressing up hard against him this time. It hurt, but Johnny managed to keep quiet. If he kept quiet, there would be no accompanying beating. In his state, he could go without it. "Got 'er hair... Look at me, boy, you got her eyes too." He didn't want to but rough hands tangled into his hair and forced his head to the side. Eyes opened of their own accord. Black eyes met brown ones in a staring contest. Johnny had a sick feeling in his stomach, and having eaten nothing that day, expected to have a rather unpleasant gagging fit soon after this. His head met the wall again and his father continued in silence. It wasn't hurting as much anymore. He was getting used to it...


Through the heavy haze of memory Johnny could not recall when he had started, but he was wrong to think he could get used to it.

And then he saw her, bright as any angel. He was somewhere else, now, although he couldn't place it at first. The cream colored walls and the spiraling staircase startled him into realization. Kathy watched him from the top of the stairs. Her hair, long and chestnut colored, was falling down her back and chest. He realized suddenly she wasn't wearing any clothes, and didn't seem to notice as she approached him. The aura of innocence surrounded her, the way green vines were embracing the walls. It was very earthy here, full of plants. There was a Willow tree growing next to the stairs. The sky stared at them from the open roof.

Her smile was as warm as sunlight. He didn't move, and stay stunned as he stared into her yellow eyes that stretched into infinity.

She offered him an apple, something she had been clutching all the while. It was shiny and red and he couldn't resist, because she had touched it and she was wonderful for asking him. He was hungry. He accepted it graciously, and broke the skin with his teeth. The sweet flavor nearly drove him insane, and suddenly she was gone. She was gone and he was alone with a half eaten apple. The walls of the mansion began to burn away. A flame saw him and began to approach, hungrily licking at his shoes. The apple was gone. And Kathy, masquerading as both Eve and her snake, turned and fled up the stairs even as they broke apart.


He could feel the heat on his skin, tearing at his pant legs. God, he thinks, Oh God, Jesus, Joseph and Mary don't let me die like this. Don't let me die like this. The thoughts are so familiar he could have sworn this had happened once before --

He's shaking and scared, because he knows he's going to Hell - He wasn't in a state of Grace - He hadn't gone to confession in many a year... The fire did not seem interested in his excuses.

The flames moved to engulf him, and he tried to yell, but no sound would emerge. He was trapped in a sea of orange red, burning, the fire sending him to eternity.

---

And then he woke up.

His eyes were wide and he must have been doing something in his sleep because Dally, still chilling out beside him, was watching him with worry. He had been shaking him, too, which Johnny noticed by the way he was moving when his eyes snapped open. The vividness of the dream haunted his waking vision nonetheless, and he simply laid his head back onto his heroes chest and willed it all away. "You were mumblin', kid," The older of the two murmured, reaching up without hesitation to stroke Johnny's silken locks. "Somethin' about your old man and scales." The seventeen year old smiled sheepishly, noticing the way Dallas was careful about speaking to him about his parent. He was the only one who hadn't yet mentioned it to him, and even now, it sounded like he'd been trying to tiptoe around the mention of his father. Johnny knew he wasn't fragile, but Dally liked to think he still was. He did it out of love. He only wanted to protect him, after all...
His stomach was still doing flips. Fear was still pumping through his veins as naturally as blood, and he could even feel himself shaking slightly. It was gone but it had been so real, so vivid, that he could still feel the flames tearing at his skin ---

Dally must have noticed to, because he pressed his lips to the mess of hair atop Johnny's head and closed his eyes, as if willing himself back to sleep. Johnny instantly relaxed, taking a deep breath. This was better, much better.

He wouldn't have been this way with anyone else. Dallas Winston was tough. What would his hardcore friends say if they could see him now, cuddling up to a teenager, being so reassuring and brotherly towards him? Johnny didn't feel like musing on the topic any longer. He was to tired to think straight and to scared to allow himself back into dream. Johnny took a few deep breaths to steady himself, to slow his racing heart, and finally melted against him once again. Dally seemed to be just as tired as he was, from the looks of his eyes and the sluggishness of his movements, and Johnny nearly glanced to the clock but decided it wasn't important enough to move. This position was perfect in every sense. Who cared what the time was, he was perfectly comfortable and achingly tired. Had he looked, like Dally had, he would have known it was but five in the morning. They still had plenty of time before everyone woke up, and plenty of time to rest. Johnny realized with dissapointment that he couldn't bring himself to. He was awake, afraid of the dreams, afraid of everything. Dallys arms around him had put out the fire, but if he let himself go back to sleep he knew they would ignite again. This time, Dally wouldn't be around to save him.

In the midst of this insomnia and confusion, he found himself feeling rather daring.

His hand, the one that had been resting near Dally's hip and the floor, moved towards the bottom of the older boys shirt. If Dally had been more awake, he might have tensed. If it had been anyone else, insant reaction would have been a punch to the face. His half-lidded eyes watched Johnny in confusion and he suddenly felt the warmth of skin move from his stomach to his chest. The scars there burnt with the arrival of fingertips, which gently glided over the markings he knew would stay there forever.

It had been strange at first. Johnny had opened his eyes in the hospital with some shock. His heart had stopped. His heart had stopped. He had been transferred immediatly to a specialist in Oklahoma City upon being revived, and spent a period of five months there. A doctor had been trying desperately to repair his shattered nerves, which he lay half conscious and dying in a white bed. He had wasted nearly half a year under treatments, but they had paid off, hadn't they? He watched his legs now, moved them a little, and thought it was worth it.

When he had asked the Doctor why he kept trying, he had replied that it was his duty to a dear friend. He assured Johnny he had the best of the best working on this case. Such a show of heartache and struggle for those children, for his friend, the whole story, should not go unignored. He told Johnny that his nephew had been there, at that church in the flames, and he smiled when he did. He kept smiling through all the test, all of the fine tipped needles, all of the icepacks and bandages. It was a grin that had made Johnny uneasy.

And then, once the team of specialists had agreed they could do nothing more, they let him go home. He had been terrified of returning home.

The nurse that had offered to ride with him, get used to the wheelchair and help him on and off of the bus, was a very nice woman with hair the exact color of sapphires. Johnny remembered being suprised at this.

She left him that evening in front of his door, wishing him well before returning to the bus stop. He would never forget her expression as she surveyed the streets the Greasers lived on - Disgust first, then dissapointment, and finally sadness. An outsider feeling sorry for them. That must have meant things were really bad.

He continued to roll, then, past all of the broken homes. The hill by the lot was frightening to him, even if it wasn't too steep, and he inched down it.

He was struggling with the steps infront of the Curtis household. He could manage getting the front part of the wheels onto the first step, but the back? Forget about it. What if he fell? Nervously, he had tossed a few pebbles to the window, and thank God Darry came out to help him inside. They had all honestly thought he was dead. Nobody at the hospital would say anything because they weren't family, and such restricted information was kept in the vault. They had told them, simply, that he was not there anymore and he would not be returning.

He had heard about Dallas shortly after and the color in his face had drained. His Dally, shot by the cops? In a coma? No, they must have had it wrong. How could anyone get a bullet in Dally, the way that he moved? Ponyboy pointed out he had done it on purpose, right after he had 'died', and Johnny's heart sank into his shoes. He must have really ...really loved him. Needed him. Johnny had liked to think Dallas needed nobody, but, the first time he had seen him cold in that hospital bed everything he had learned about Dallys tough facade had flown at the window. He stayed every day, most of the day. He sang to him and talked about everything in hopes he could hear him, and when the nurse wasn't in the room he could gently rest his head against his chest, the way he was doing now as they sat curled against the couch. When Dally did open his eyes only three months after Johnny's arrival, it seemed unreal. He didn't have much strength but he could squeeze Johnny's hand and that was enough to make him happy.

Since then the bond had been stronger. It was like the accident had said a million things neither of them would have before. It reaffirmed everything they had as a friendship and Johnny didn't sink away into corners anymore when they spoke. Dally had noticed the way he was growing up, how he had been coming out of his shell since those days...

In the present, dust settled on the windowsill. Johnny and Dallas found their eyes fixed on each other.

"I want to see it," He said finally. His voice shook with the effort it took to get sound to come out of his tired throat. He found he didn't want to pull his hand from his friends chest, and for the moment Dally didn't seem to mind. Johnny thought he himself must have been raving mad, touching him this way and expecting no reprecussions, but so far he wasn't recieving any and he liked it that way.
"See what?" Dally murmured, all to aware of where Johnny's hand was. He adjusted his position to sit up a little further. Johnny leaned up to his ear, finally withdrawing his hand from the bullet scars. He responded cooly, "My house... I want to see what's left of it." He was inviting Dally along(in a subtle sort of way, because being direct had always been hard for him) although he wasn't sure why. It would be nice to not be alone. It was beautiful out, cold and white...

Oh.

Cold.

The idea lost some appeal when Johnny remembered it was Winter.

"If I have to suffer in the cold, you do, too," He joked, yawning as he reluctantly moved his head from Dallys chest. He got to his feet, noting how stiff his back had become that evening. It felt like he had slept on a board, but some walking would undo the knots. Dallas watched him from the floor with this look on his face. In a sarcastic tone, the look spoke volumes: Like I would go out there at five o'clock in the morning into the blizzard.' But when he saw the look on Johnny's face, the disbelieving way one eyebrow was raised, the slight pout of the bottom lip, the eyes pleading: 'It won't take very long, please? For me?' If Dallys words had been cruel Johnny's were even more so, because he knew exactly how to get what he wanted out of Dally by now and he was using it to his full advantage(for once) Worse still, he had chosen to do this at five o'clock in the morning, a less than ideal time to be running around in the cold.

"Alright, alright," Dally grumbled, getting to his feet. The sentence continued under his breath as he grabbed his coat from the couch, and Johnny caught a few expletives and smiled.

It took a moment for Johnny to wake up. He had grabbed his coat, rubbed his eyes, and then started for the door. All the while, sleep was still lingered in his eyes. He was tired. After all this, he intended to nap.

He opened the door and noticed the snow had mostly melted over the course of the evening. Dissapointment was quickly replaced with shock as the cold winds rushed him. Anything resembling fatigue vanished from his body. Dally smirked as he stepped out behind him, closing the door as he did so. "It ain't so nice to be out now, is it?" Johnny rolled his eyes playfully, glancing to Dally as they started to walk. He wanted to touch him again, but he was afraid he might have been pushing it. He had slept on him, and moved his hands beneath his shirt... He didn't want to make Dallas uncomfortable, but since Dally had come out of that coma they had been closer than ever before. Those little touchs, gestures of friendly affection, were becoming more and more common and it felt good to be loved. Before he could contemplate the idea any further, he felt Dallys' arm snake it's way across his shoulders as they walked, and he couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

They moved in silence. Johnny missed the way the birds used to sing in the morning now more than ever. It could have been perfect, this time with Dallas, if only it were warmer and he could hear the sweet birdsongs.

He could see the house coming up, now, a pile of black beneath the remains of the frame. There was almost nothing left. Burnt photo frames, broken bottles of glass, parts of the couch...Those were all that remained. Whoever had done this had done it right.
The grin faded slowly from his face as they got closer. Johnny wiggled out of Dallys' embrace, as much as he did not want to, and made his way to the remains. It felt like he was walking into a graveyard, the way this place of sadness and now death was weighing heavy on his heart. His eyes fell to what used to be his parents bedroom, now just a ghost of it's former glory. What was that, catching the dim light? All he could see was a sparkle among ash, and was hesitant to move closer. He had nearly forgotten all about Dally as he got to his knees, the blackness of the victims rubbing off on his pants, and leaned in for a closer look. His breath caught in his throat. It was a glass bead, blue as the sky itself, and he knew exactly what it was from, but where was the rest of it? He felt dissapointment turn his stomach.

Dally seemed to be getting worried, once again the kind of worry that Johnny was finding irritable nowadays.

"You alright over there, Johnny?" Dallas moved closer, carefully stepping around what may have once been valuable to his friend.

Johnny nodded, looking up at Dally as he clasped the bead in his hand. "I'm fine... I'm ... I'm just going to look through here to see if anything survived, and then we can go, alright?"

Dally nodded. He may not have been the brightest of the gang but he knew when he shouldn't push it. This was obviously one of those times. So, he remained quiet for another half hour, while Johnny sank back into animal instincts. He became a scavenger, picking at remains, sorting through the cold items that still smelled like smoke.

He wasn't able to come up with much. The glass bead, the frame of a photograph, and a little Mexican doll was all he could salvage. He didn't seem dissapointed now, though, as he walked towards Dally, his prizes gathered in his arms. There was a smile on his face the size of which Dallas hadn't seen in a long time. It was saying, 'Thanks'.