A Brother's Devotion

I don't own anything here but my little side plot. PLEASE don't remove this… everything belongs to S.E Hinton. But I lurvve Sodapop…
*swoons*

Swearing, and later in this story there's violence, so T to be safe…

You called me strong, you called me weak
But your secrets I will keep
You took for granted all the times I
Never let you down
You stumbled in and bumped your head, if
Not for me then you would be dead
I picked you up and put you back
On solid ground

If I go crazy then will you still
Call me Superman
If I'm alive and well will you be
There holding my hand
I'll keep you by my side with my
Superhuman might
Kryptonite

-Kryptonite, 3 doors down

Chapter 4- Don't Mess with my Family

~Soda POV~

I was alone, in the abandoned lot. It was night; the sky crushed black velvet, like the stuff that had lined our parent's sleek dark coffins. The bright moonlight cut a blazing bright path through the huge, ancient trees that lined our little neighborhood on both sides of the streets. It was very quiet, almost too quiet for my liking. It was the kind of silence you hear just before something really bad happens. I shivered in the cool breeze that ruffled my hair, flattening the long, lean grass that grew wild and untamed in the lot, in the dark corners that never quite saw full sunlight. Rubbing my arms to keep warm, I paced around, wondering what the hell I was doing here in a dream.

I sat down on the old rusty hood of the decaying car that moldered in the far right corner of the yard, by the darkest part of the fence, the section that never got full sunlight, the part we all avoided if we could. It just felt…wrong. I shuddered again, this time from fear. It was sure real creepy here alone at night. I thought of Johnny, spending so many nights here, alone when he wasn't wanted at home. Johnny was usually too prideful to walk into our home for the night, but Pony had always made sure he was sleeping on our couch when it got cold out, if things were real bad with his folks. Poor Johnny. But at least he had us, his last lifeline to love. Sadness swept through me, chilling me like the wind had. I missed talking to Ponyboy. I wish he was here with me, if only to tell me about his latest track meet or how he finally got Two-Bit in a headlock for the first time. I laughed at the last image, picturing my thin, leonine brother putting stocky, muscular Two-Bit in any sort of choke-hold. I was still chuckling when I heard my name being called so softly I could have missed it if I hadn't been listening so hard. I froze, listening intently.

"Soda…Sodapop…" I whirled around, plunging my hand in my back pocket, then flipping out a pocketknife that had suddenly appeared in my hand. I did a doubletake as I checked out the sleek, shiny knife more closely. It was a brown knife, with wood inlaid in the handle, the rich mahogany winking up at me as I tilted it this way and that, the silver metal shining in the moonlight. It was a switchblade, clearly very well taken care of. I flipped it over, running my finger along the back. I stopped when I felt an indention in the metal. Peering closely, I saw two letters: P.C. written in careful penmanship, painstakingly carved with care into the underside of the handle.

My heart sank. This blade belonged to Ponyboy. I knew this was his only knife. He kept it in his dresser drawer, in the back behind his old socks. I hadn't seen it in years, not since I had given it to him two years ago for Christmas. So why did I have it? I grasped it nevertheless, holding it away from my body, the sharp tip pointed at where I had heard the noise, my hand shaking slightly as I trembled. It's just a dream, I told myself. It can't hurt you. But I forgot. While my imagination couldn't bruise my body or break my bones, it could scar my mind, leave me broken.

A stick cracked in the darkness, the sharp snapping noise making me jump slightly. I strained my eyes, trying to see. I could barely make out a figure, leaning against a thick tree trunk in the night. "W-who's there?" I called, wishing I had night vision or something, so I could see who was about to mug me or shit. "I said who's there?" I called again, rocking slightly on the balls of my feet, getting ready to pitch myself at my attacker. But I checked myself as the faceless person stepped out of the gloom, revealing his face as the silvery light from the moon peeled away the darkness. I relaxed when I saw the familiar brown-red hair turned blond, and then gasped, my horrified cry shredding the deathly silence of the night as I saw his face.

"P-pony? Ponyboy?" I stuttered, slowly moving back until my knees hit the disintegrating tire by the car and my legs gave out, turning into water. My little brother no longer looked at me with shining green eyes; his clear, pale skin dotted with faint freckles the color of wet sand. No, he looked undead, his skin the color of a fish's underbelly. His left eye was swollen shut, the right side of his face caked with blood and dirt. His lip was swollen and bloodied, and his hair was sticking in all directions, matted with grass and gunk, only a few glimpses of the platinum blond showing through the muck . He was covered from head to toe in dirt and grass, and I could tell he was soaking wet. I could also tell by the way he walked at least a few of his ribs were broken, and he moved gingerly, like his ankle might be sprained. His shirt was ripped and torn in some places, and there were blotchy, dark stains spread across his torso. It was dark red and looked thick, and I was one-hundred percent sure it wasn't strawberry jelly. Dear god, what had happened to him? I felt tears well up in my eyes, and I reached a shaking hand out to him, searching my mind for why the world would be so cruel to show this to me.

"What happened to you?" I whispered at last, sobs ripping out of me with an alarming noise as the tears spilled over. I stood up, backing away slightly as he started toward me, what I could clearly see of his face twisted into a snarl, his eye glinting with hatred as he stalked at me, looking like a lion pacing after his prey. I shook my head slowly in denial, trying to look away but not quite bringing myself to. This, this monster wasn't my brother. My brother loved me, would never look at me the way this boy was, with such sickening anger in his eyes…

"P-pony?" I stammered, finding my voice. He looked directly at me when he heard the sound of his name, bitterness filling his eyes. He swung his arm up. I flinched slightly at the sudden movement, and then looked at his left arm, gagging as I finally turned away. Something was wrong with his arm; I knew that elbows weren't supposed to bend that way, that it should be impossible for him to twist it at that angle…

Bile filled my mouth and I leaned over, retching. Ponyboy watched me, unmoving. His eyes were black holes, angry and swirling. "Are you done?" he asked, his voice bland and uncaring. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, still bent in half as I looked at what my brother was, what my sweet sibling, my Pony had become.

"Pony, oh, Ponyboy...what the hell happened to you?" I asked again, straightening up again, my eyes fixed on Pony. He looked at me, a smirk twisting up his lip, his teeth bloody, a few dark holes in his mouth where his perfect white teeth had once been.

"You, you left me," he stated finally, his eyes that of a hurt, wounded, betrayed animal. I gasped, then shook my head adamantly, feeling my trembling hands start full-out shaking. "No," I said, my voice breaking the tension that had been growing between us like a virus. "No, no, no. I would never, ever leave you." I stated, trying to make Pony see that. It was true. Leaving Ponyboy in any sort of danger would be like letting my heart walk through a meat grinder. It was impossible. It simply couldn't happen. "Why are we here?" I asked Pony, trying to direct his attention elsewhere. He looked at me, and then smirked, letting out a low, harsh laugh. The sound grated on my nerves. I resisted the urge to clap my hands over my ears and start singing.

"Soda, we're here because I'm dead," he stated, for the first time losing the angry sound in his voice, and looking at me with real concern lacing his voice. My mind rebelled, rejecting this statement totally and completely, refusing to even think of this possibility. "No." I said, my voice flat and cold, leaving no room for arguments. "No, that's not possible. You-you can't be dead. I won't let you die. I won't! Ponyboy, I love you! Nobody is going to take my little brother away from me. Nobody!" I was now shouting, my voice echoing down the streets, then dying off, fading, my voice unsteady and wavering as tears coursed down my wind-numbed cheeks. But I couldn't wipe them away. My hands didn't work. They were just two lumps at my side. I could feel my heart dying as Pony looked at me, pity in his eyes. But I didn't want his pity. I just wanted my happy, wonderful, beautiful little brother back.

Then he cast his gaze downward, taking an unsteady breath. When he looked back up, his eyes were shining with a film of tears, looking venerable and young, my Ponyboy at last. "Those are just words. They don't mean anything. They're just letters, put together to sound pretty. Sodapop," He said softly, "You're the reason I'm dead. I've been dead since the night of the rumble. You didn't save me. You guys left me there-" and here his voice cracked- "alone. So I died, freezing, hurting, and unloved. You guys put me down there, into the cold earth. I'm all alone… not even mom and dad are there. I ended up just like I never thought I would. But Dally was right. He was right. It sucks to care. It's not worth it." He took a shuddering breath, wiping his good eye with his palm. Then he gave me a soft half-smile smile and walked back into the shadows, fading away, then gone, like the breeze that rustled through the trees. I fell to my knees and let the sobs take me, not noticing as the skies opened up, rain pouring down and soaking me. But I no longer cared. Life, meaning, gone. I was dead inside.

I woke with a sudden start, my head flying up from my arms. Disoriented, I looked around confusedly. Where in god's name was I? It was too clean to be hell, and I hadn't been that bad… It all came crashing back as I saw the prone figure lying on the bed. Pony.I shuddered as my dream came back to me, and I touched my bare chest with a shaking hand, dragging my fingers down my ribs. I was drenched in a sheen of cold sweat, and I was trembling like a leaf. I ran my fingers through my hair, which was now plastered to my head. I reached out and touched Ponyboy's arm, just to make sure he was there. I heard his steady breathing, watched his chest rise and fall slightly. Calming down, I sat back, breathing deeply. I knew I wouldn't forget my dream. I touched my cheek. My fingertips came away wet, so I swiped at my tears, taking a shuddering breath. I swore to myself that I would never, ever let anything bad happen to Ponyboy. I would die first. Life didn't have any meaning in it for me without my family.

All of a sudden I was pissed. Those stupid, dumb, good-for-nothing Socs, that rich-kid Eddie was the reason I was watching my family die slowly, falling apart, no matter how I tried to piece us back together. Damnit, I was going to fix this. My vision hazed as I struggled to keep my breathing even, to not wake Darry, who was still sleeping tiredly on the other side of the couch, his hair straggly and his mouth open, a string of drool hanging out the side. Ah, Dar. He had to grow up too fast, just like the rest of us. I watched him tiredly as I pulled myself up, sitting on the side of the couch, throwing my legs over the side and getting up at last. Peeking out the window, I frowned. It was still dark, the horizon smudged with gray. A few birds chirped weakly, but inside there was no noise but the humming of machines and whir of the air conditioning units. I ruffled my older brother's hair, and then walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.

I shuddered from the shock, shivering slightly as I looked up in the mirror through bleary eyes. Boy howdy, did I look a mess. My hair was everywhere, and I had blasted stubble covering my chin, cheeks and cheekbones. Deep circles were carved in ghastly purples under my bloodshot eyes. My black eye was mellowing into a nasty shade of yellow-green, but was still purple right around my eye. The cuts on my face were healing as well, but made me look as if I didn't know how to handle a razor properly, and had cut myself foolishly. If I faced off Eddie Holden and his little pack of pups looking like this, I wouldn't need a tire-iron. They'd split a gut laughing before I could do any damage to 'em.

Sighing, I stripped quickly, wincing at the bloodstain on the front of my shirt. Oh well. I would never wear it again anyway. It held too many memories, too many bad things for it to be of any value to me. Tossing it into the garbage, I climbed into the shower, sighing happily when the hot water hit my back. I quickly washed my hair, letting the water run down my face, washing away the blood and tears and some of the memories of the last two days. Sighing, I groped for a towel, wrapping it around my face and I used my arm to wipe away the steam that fogged up the closet-sized bathroom as I stumbled out of the shower. Grabbing a razor someone left on the counter, I grab a bar of generic soap, lathering up my face, and start to shave. I was so intent on getting every little hair that I didn't hear the blasted door creak open until I heard a voice boom behind me,

"Heya, little budd- whoops. Sorry, Pepsi-Cola. You alright?" I had jumped, making the damn blade slip, dragging it roughly across my chin, down to right above my Adam's apple. A deep well of blood appeared, stinging like a line of tiny fire. I pressed my arm against the swell of blood, feeling it run a hot path down my throat.

I had had it. I was tired, running on around five hours of sleep, cranky, and now bleeding, not to mention I dragged my knocked-out brother away from his dead friend less than a day ago. This just wasn't my week. I threw down the blade, scraping the leftover soap off my face, and grabbing a tissue to stem the blood flow from the cut.

"Aw, damn it Darry," I seethed, brushing past him to grab my socks and jeans, "Look what you made me do!" Shoving on my pants, I sat down on the rumpled couch, pushing my feet into my shoes, forcing them when they rebelled. I waved the blood-stained paper at him, glaring deeply as I wadded it up and threw it to the floor angrily. His sorry look melted, replacing itself with a glare of his own. Uh-oh.I stalked to Pony's bed, looking at my brother's pinched, thin face, instead of Darry's angry, reddened one. Darry threw his hands up in the air; expanding his mass and making him fill the room.

"What do you want me to do, Soda?" he boomed, making me cringe slightly against Pony's bed. My hand found Pony's limp one, and wormed itself into his warm, unresponsive one, curling my fingers into his palm. I squeezed once, begging him to give me strength. I stood up, Darry's head towering over mine as I looked him directly in the face, trying not to cower. I poked hard him in the chest, watching him with satisfaction as he flinched slightly. I opened my mouth, about to rip into him when I heard my name, and Dar's, so soft I could have imagined it.

"Darry…Soda." I turned around, an apology on my lips for whatever poor nurse had seen the beginnings of our little rumble. But the doorway was empty. Puzzled, I walked over, peeking out. The hallway was silent, no one in sight. Lights flickered, the hum of electricity the only noise in the hallway. I was beginning to get angry again. Did someone think they were being smart, playing a joke on us? Then I heard it again.

"Dar…Sodapop." Confused, I leaned against Pone's bed, my eyes scanning the room. Then I had an idea. Maybe it was a hope, a desperate wish. I whirled on Darry. "D'you think…that it's Ponyboy, talking?" The lines on Darry's forehead could have written a 2,000 page newspaper. I bent my head over Pony's and listened, watching his lips. They parted slightly, letting me see a glimpse of his tongue and his teeth. He murmured, "Darry…Sodapop." I was so surprised I actually did a double take. Jesus Christ, he was delirious. He was sleep talking.

"Dar, I think we got a problem." I said quietly, nudging his arm, forgetting about our fight. "He's…gone 'round the bend," I stuttered, unable to tear my eyes away from the train wreck that was my messed-up little brother. Darry muttered something, running out the door to find a doctor. I sank onto the bed, stroking his forehead, which seemed to be getting hotter by the minute.

"Stay with us, Pony. You gotta pull through….you just…you gotta." I said, trying not to yell in desperation, my voice wavering and cracking. I hated, hated being helpless. Stroking his head, I pressed my lips to his head, walking out the door, fists set.

I walked up to the Doctor's Station, slamming my fists down on the counter. The old lady behind the counter looked up, blinking in surprise. Cocking an eyebrow in a movement that reminded me of Two-Bit, she cleared her throat, speaking dryly through cherry-red lips, her mud-colored eyes looking at me through cat eye glasses that had little fake gems glued to the corners lopsidedly. I wrinkled my nose at her. Her hair was bright orange and obviously dyed. I decided right then and there her new name was Hag-Lady.

"What can I help you with?" she asked politely, her eyes flicking up and down me in a blatant once-over, pursing her lips as she came to her conclusion. In her eyes, I was a dirty greaser, a JD, a hood. Therefore, I didn't need to be treated like I mattered. She thought, so it was, in her world. "I need to speak to Ponyboy Curtis's doctor, please," I growled, folding my arms and flicking out a cigarette, clenching it gently between my teeth as I reached for my lighter. Lighting up, I blew smoke out, staring coolly at her. I knew I looked tough. I was thanking my lucky stars I hadn't bleached my hair, like Pony. Then this whole façade would be shot to pieces.

"Well, I never- really!" she stammered, clearly intimidated by me. I smirked back, blowing smoke rings lazily. Wheeling her chair around, she turned and stomped into the back. I peered around the desk. Ah, there she was. Standing on a chair, she was grabbing a thick manila folder. I could barely make out Pony's name, scribbled in cramped pen on the tab. I clenched my fists, suddenly very nervous. What if he had hurt his brain? Oh god, what it he ends up like Johnny? I stabbed out my cigarette, suddenly afraid I might throw up. Shifting my weight, I whirled when I felt a hand clamp on my shoulder.

"Hey, little buddy, are you okay? You looked mighty sick there," Darry's voice boomed. I relaxed, leaning back into him, covering his hand with my own."I'm okay," I whispered, watching the lady head back to us, her lips pressed in a thin line of obvious displeasure. Hag-lady dropped the folder, settling back in her chair as she opened it, flicking through various papers, all different colors, her long ruby red nails scratching on the sheets, making the hair on the back of my neck rise.

"Well?" I demanded, putting my palms flats on the desk, staring at her and waiting. The bitch smirked back at me, glad that she was in charge, for now. She resumed flipping slowly through the papers, looking. Loudly blowing out nosily through her lips, she pulled out a white sheet, running her finger down a column full of big words, still saying nothing, toying with me. I tried to calm my breathing and rising blood pressure as I looked at her with a blank face, trying to shove down on the anger and fright I felt rising up in the pit of my stomach. Darry placed another hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down. Darry leveled eyes with her, his lips white as he pressed them together, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. If I didn't know him as well as I did I'd say he was calm. But I could see the fear in his eyes, waiting to break through the glass-thin mask he hid behind.

"Do you have any information for us?" he asked, his voice calm and slow. I stared at him incredulously, my eyes full of shock. How could he talk that nicely to this horrid bitch when our little brother might be dying? But I lost my train of thought as she began talking.

"Well, it seems, -ah...Ponyboy has sustained some serious maladies. He is suffering from a concussed right frontal lobe, minor shock, and exhaustion. Added, he also had numerous cuts and bruises, with a fissure or two on his lower right sternum" she concluded, shuffling the papers busily, trying to fit them all back into the folder. I stared at her, watching her back as she walked away to replace the folder from whatever medical hellhole it had come from. Medical jargon made my head hurt, and reminded me why I quit school. Placing my temples between my palms and rubbing, I asked tiredly, "In English, please?" Darry looked at me, the beginnings of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Grabbing me by my elbow, he led me away from the counter to a row of gray chairs, lined up like plastic soldiers. Looking me in the eyes, he began talking in a low voice.

"Soda, it basically means that Pone hit his head really hard, and will be dizzy and probably not too happy when he wakes up. His ribs are probably bruised, and cuts are…well, cuts, and he hadn't gotten enough sleep and shit, so that didn't make him feel well," he concluded, still looking at me intently. I felt this sink in, hitting my system, and I waited for the fear to hit. But all I felt was anger. Anger at the gang, who should have looked after him better, anger at Two-Bit, who should have kept Ponyboy out of the rumble, anger at Eddie Holden, who had the nerve to throw a kid to the ground and tag-team beat him up. I was gonna bust that no-good-sonofabitch's back.

Standing up, I shrugged out of Dar's arm and began walking for the entrance, ignoring his voice behind me. I would call out them tonight. I would protect my little brother. I owed that to him, at least. They would never hurt Ponyboy again. Eddie Holden, I hope you're ready, because here I come, I thought as I walked into the cool morning air.

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Hi guys! *waves* I hope you liked it! The next chapter should be veeerrry good...*waggles eyebrows* But i can only write it for y'all if you tell me what you want! there should be a link in my profile with a poll, telling me how we should bust up Eddie Holden's pretty face ~insert evil laugh here~. If you guys have a different, better idea than my pitiful tries, PLEASE review and tell me, or PM me. I take anon reviews, just an FYI. PLEASE pretty please with a smiling, awake Ponyboy on top!!! Oh yeah....this story isn't beta'd or anything cause i can't find anyone (so if you want to help me PLEASE PM me,) so sorry and 'cuse the spelling/grammer errors...A girl can only be so perfect..*fluffs hair* lol thx guys you're the best!!! *happy dance* R&R chicos!!! *kisses*

love kait