Author's Note: So indeed, we have a nice Walsh sibling heart-to-heart this chapter, a decent chunk of conversation, but then the rest of the chapter veers into the minds of various other characters as they each struggle to fall asleep after the evening's events, and they're mostly short snippets that I tacked on to the end of Brenda and Brandon's chat. I hope they work…they were really hard to write.

I left Brandon and Brenda's thoughts to their conversation, and I left Kelly and Steve out of the process since Kelly's thoughts were shared earlier, and Steve…let's face it, he'd be passed out and not having trouble sleeping, ha.

Please, do a favor to my wounded psyche…I'm thrilled to see so many "favorite story" subscriptions in my in-box, but most of those same subscribers never show up under the reviews. Please just take a moment and tell me what you think…you'd be surprised how much the words motivate. Chances are this would have been up days ago if more people had responded to Chapter 8. Heck, you can even add your two cents as to what you'd like to see. The frame of this story is done, but I can certainly veer a storyline left or right a bit to make my readers happy!

Enjoy the chapter (thanks to U2 for the title inspiration).

Chapter 9: Wide Awake

Brenda had just finished changing into her pajamas and was diligently applying lotion to her bare legs when a flash of lights flooded her bedroom for a moment, signaling her brother had returned home. She was kind of curious to hear how the party had gone, though she doubted Brandon had the same vested interest in her evening with Dylan. Though her twin wouldn't explicitly say it, at times, Brenda got the distinct impression that Dylan McKay was not her brother's first choice for a guy for his sister.

She snapped the lid back down on the bottle of lotion and returned it to her bedside table, jumping up off her bed and darting through the bathroom to dive onto Brandon's bed. She shifted onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows to wait for him in the darkened room. She heard footsteps on the stairs, then growing nearer.

"Dammit Brenda!" The lights flicked on, and Brandon jumped visibly. "What are you doing in here?"

"Waiting for you," she smiled smugly. "That's for all the times you made me jump out of my skin as a kid."

"Not amused," he called over his shoulder as he worked the buttons of his shirt through their holes and eased it off his shoulders. He tossed it into the hamper in his closet, then turned and gave his sister a pointed look.

"Do you mind?" he asked. She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Mind what?"

"A bit of privacy, Bren. I'd like to change."

"I'll close my eyes," she replied. "I just thought we could talk for a bit."

"Tell you what?" he began, fingers poised at the hem of his t-shirt, ready to peel the garment from his upper body. "You go back to your room, I'll change and use the bathroom and stuff, and I'll come to you. We can have a little chat if that's what you want."

"Alright," she sighed, springing up from the bed and strutting past him through the connecting bathroom. Brandon shook his head and smiled to himself, pulling the t-shirt off in one swift motion, throwing it in the hamper, repeating the same process for his jeans. He crossed to his dressed and rummaged around for his favorite Minnesota North Stars t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweat shorts. After using the bathroom and brushing his teeth, he entered his sister's room, finding her lounging on her bed in the exact same position she had been in when she had been lying on his bed.

"So, you wanted to chat, little sister?" he teased, sitting down on the bed next to her. She made a face at him, but her slate-colored eyes sparkled mischievously.

"I want party gossip," she demanded, a knowing smirk on her lips. "And I don't want to wait til tomorrow morning to hear it from Kelly or Donna."

"Well," he started, "you wouldn't get much out of either one of them. They didn't stay very long." Brenda's brows furrowed in confusion.

"What happened?"

"Steve happened," Brandon explained.

"Oh no!" she gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "Poor Kelly. Was it bad?" she cringed. Brandon shrugged.

"I wasn't a direct witness to it. He basically demanded to talk to her, she agreed, they went off to talk, and a bit later, Steve came storming out, ranting about how impossible Kelly is, how she'll never learn, how he doesn't need her…" Brenda snorted.

"Yeah, right. Then why is he always obsessing over her?" She sighed. "You're friends with him. Why doesn't he finally take a hint?"

"There's something about her that he just can't let go of," Brandon theorized. "He won't admit to it, and he makes himself feel better by calling her names and trying his best to hurt her."

"He can be such a jerk," Brenda reasoned.

"I guess you have to feel a bit sorry for him," he replied, defending his friend. "It can't be easy to get over someone you still love." He paused; he couldn't speak from experience. He had had girlfriends, but he had never really been in love.

"He doesn't try that hard," she pointed out. "How was Kelly?" Her concern turned to her friend.

"She was upset, from what I could see. I don't know, though, cause I didn't really talk to her. She and Donna came over to say goodbye, which wasn't too long after the whole Steve incident. I'd say they were gone by about ten o'clock."

"I guess I'll have to get more out of her tomorrow," Brenda said, examining a fingernail and picking at a cuticle. "So anything else interesting go on?" Brandon shook his head.

"I spent most of the evening hanging out, watching Steve getting annihilated, waiting for him to finally have had enough so I could drive him home," he replied. "He had another run in with that freshman who drove him home from that party earlier this year, took swing kid, missed and fell down, but not before scaring him and his friend off."

"He did not!" Brenda exclaimed, stifling a giggle. She knew Steve's behavior was not really grounds for amusement.

"He did. Luckily for me, he didn't hurt himself, had way too much to drink by about 11:30, and I was able to convince him to leave. He fell asleep in the car on the way to his house."

"How'd you get him into the house?"

"His mom's personal assistant." Brandon smirked at the memory. Brenda looked doubtfully at her brother.

"What is Steve's mother's personal assistant still doing at their house so late at night?" she asked suspiciously. Brandon gave her a knowing look.

"He's probably more than a personal assistant, Bren. Anyway he kind of just hauled Steve into the house. I never did see his mom," he added. Yet another reason he felt more than a twinge of sympathy for his friend. Sure, Samantha Sanders seemed nice enough the only time he had met the woman, but from what he knew, Steve was usually put on the back burner when it came to her priorities. Brandon knew Steve had a father who was long-since separated from his mother, but he had yet to hear his friend say more than a fleeting word about the man. All it took was a quick look at any of the friends either he or Brenda had made in Beverly Hills, and he was that much more grateful to his own parents for the way the two of them had been raised.

"Steve's a mess," Brenda sighed. "Anyway…" she drew out the word, her voice sing-song as she did so. "Don't you want to hear about my date?"

"Not really," he admitted. His sister's happiness was important to him, but the last thing he wanted was details. Brenda wrinkled her nose at him and stuck her tongue out.

"Like I'd really tell you that kind of stuff," she retorted, reading his mind. "What I wanted to tell you was something Dylan told me tonight, and I guess I'm looking for advice."

"About?"

"Well," she sighed, sitting up and tucking her legs under her. "Dylan's basically ditching school for the whole week to go down and visit his father in Mexico." Brandon hesitated and nodded slightly.

"I know." Brenda's eyes widened, and her eyes flickered with confusion.

"How do you know?" she said accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't something I would have hid from you, Bren, but Dylan told me just a few minutes before you came downstairs to meet him for your date. I knew it was something he probably wanted to discuss with you himself, and it wasn't my place to pull you aside and tell you on your way out the door." He paused. "You understand?"

"Yeah," she exhaled. "Well, when he told you, how did you react?"

"I asked him if he thought it was a good idea to blow off school like that," he replied. Recognition dawned on Brenda's face.

"So that's what he meant by that comment," she muttered to herself, remembering Dylan's barb about her sounding like her brother. He meant it literally, she realized. "Brandon, is it wrong of me to worry about him like that? I mean," she hedged, biting her lip, "I've never been in a relationship that was getting serious as fast as I am with Dylan. Do I even have a right to be concerned about stuff like this?" Her brother smiled sympathetically at her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Bren, the way I look at it, you have every right. Heck, you might be the only voice of reason in Dylan's life. Look at his parents," he offered as Brenda nodded slowly.

"I guess that's why it's good he has a friend like you. You're a Boy Scout compared to most of these kids out here." It was Brandon's turn to make a face.

"Do you have to keep reminding me? I might have to go do something crazy to shed my disgustingly wholesome image, huh? What do you think, a tattoo maybe?" he joked. Brenda snorted.

"No one has to worry about that. You still scream like a girl when it's time for your flu shot."

"Alright, Bren," he warned, smiling. "That's enough out of you."

"Well, you did spend a night in jail, that's kind of hard core," she reminded him. He groaned.

"Let us never speak of that again." He stood up, deciding it was late, he was tired, and he was going to attempt to send Brenda the hint that he wanted to go to bed, but she looked towards her window, a thoughtful expression on her pretty face.

"What am I going to do without Dylan for a week?" she lamented.

"I think you'll manage," he replied wryly. "You're looking for sympathy from the wrong person, Bren. You have someone to be missing, remember." Brenda knitted her brows and smiled ruefully.

"Brandon, are you feeling lonely? Come on, you've dated plenty of girls since we've been in Beverly Hills. It seems like there's a new one each week."

"That's the problem," he sighed. "There's a new one because I don't like any of them enough to see them more than a few times." He shook his head. "There's just something off about the girls here, that's all. Dating was easier back in Minnesota, that's all."

"Speak for yourself," she giggled.

"I am," he shot back.

"You'll find your princess, Brandon," she promised. "She's out there somewhere." Brenda chewed on her lip and thought about her best friend. She knew Kelly Taylor would like nothing more than to be that girl for Brandon. For a moment, she even contemplated telling him about her friend's crush, then decided against it. Brandon would most likely smile politely, say that Kelly was a beautiful girl, but she wasn't his type, and it would most likely make things uncomfortable for both parties in the future. Given that Kelly seemed to spend almost as much time at the Walsh house as her own, Brenda leaned in the direction of keeping things cordial between her friend and her brother.

"What about Andrea Zuckerman?" she asked suddenly, watching her twin's face for any reaction at the mention of the name. No blushing, no fidgeting, she noticed, but she thought she saw a hint of a smile tug at Brandon's mouth.

"What about her?" Brandon replied, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, as she realized he had been slowing inching towards his own room. She ignored his not-so-subtle hint to end the conversation and instead pressed on.

"Duh, Brandon, that girl has such a crush on you," she grinned. "You're dense if you don't see it." It seemed as if every time Brenda saw the petite brunette, she was making eyes at Brandon.

"Andrea's a nice girl," he answered evasively. Brenda raised her eyebrows and swung her legs over to reach the floor, standing and crossing her arms casually.

"Oh?" she teased. "A nice girl? That's all?"

"She's a good friend," he added, his face remaining poker-straight, not betraying any kind of emotion he harbored towards Andrea. Brenda studied him carefully, looking for any tell-tale sign he was hiding something.

"She likes you, Brandon. And she's pretty, in a way that's way more what you would have seen back in Minnesota, since you were just complaining about that, and she's really smart, and she's not afraid to express her opinion, and you need someone to keep you on your toes…"

"Whoa!" Brandon interrupted her, holding up his hands in protest. "Bren, slow down. When did you become Andrea's head cheerleader?" Brenda flushed and chided herself silently for getting carrying away. She even swallowed the small lump of guilt that had worked its way into her throat, feeling as if she was betraying Kelly by championing someone else as a better match for her brother.

"I just meant, well, I guess I meant that sometimes things can be right in front of your face without you even knowing them," she finished lamely. Brandon's mouth curved slightly on the right side, and his aqua-hued eyes twinkled.

"I know Andrea has a thing for me, Bren," he replied. "I'm just not sure that's a bridge I want to cross." He raised his body from its resting place against the door, and he walked towards her. "But thanks for your concern. I guess when it comes down to it, I'm pretty lucky to have a sister like you." He flashed her a smile. "But now I'm going to tell you to shut up, because I'm tired, and as much as I love ya, I want to go to sleep." Brenda laughed and nodded.

"Okay," she agreed, leaning up to wrap her arms around her brother's neck for a quick hug. "Night Brandon."

"Night, Bren," he murmured, releasing her. "Glad you had a good date."

"Sorry your evening wasn't better," she added. He nodded.

"That makes two of us," he called over his shoulder. "Sleep tight." He closed the door to her bedroom behind him, flicking off the bathroom light as he entered his own room. He stepped out of the shorts, as he usually preferred to sleep in just his boxer shorts, and after a moment's thought, he also pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it over his desk chair. He then climbed into bed.

As he got settled under the sheets, he found himself thinking about Andrea Zuckerman. And then he found his mind wandering to Kelly Taylor, and something else Dylan McKay had said to him earlier that evening. "She's a beautiful girl, man. You couldn't really ask for more than Kelly Taylor." His brain kept jumping between the two, conjuring alternating images of the brainy brunette and the bubbly blonde.

Brandon sighed and punched at his pillow. Things were definitely easier back in Minnesota.

***

David stared at the glow-in-the dark decals sprinkled across the ceiling, his eyes settling on a perfect replication of the Big Dipper. He had stared at the very same stars every time he slept over Scott's house, being his sleeping spot on the top bunk of Scott's beds was so close to the ceiling, but for the first time, tonight he found himself growing irritated with the decals. He remembered back to the first time he had seen them, how in awe he and Scott had been of the painstakingly authentic job Scott's father had done in recreating the night sky in his young son's bedroom. David also recalled the envy he had felt, even as a seven-year-old, at the quality time the Scanlons spent with Scott and his siblings. Of course, now that quality time seemed to veer towards over-protectiveness, and David no longer felt as resentful of their family unity. He now felt lucky that his father pretty much left him alone to do whatever he wanted. How times changed.

Tonight, however, in the closed space of Scott's small bedroom, the stars belied the fact they were really so much further apart in the real night sky, and the idea of that incredible vastness got David to thinking about how much things had changed since high school had started. He was starting to feel like he was drifting away from his oldest friend, and the space that had once seemed nonexistent between them was quickly becoming a chasm.

Scott's labored snoring began again, as he must have shifted position in his sleep in the bunk below David, and David exhaled slowly, closing his eyes to block out the glowing decals, bemoaning the fact that in spite of the lights going out nearly an hour earlier, he was still wide awake.

They had left the party shortly after Kelly Taylor and her friend Donna had made their exit and their departure wasn't entirely voluntary. Even though his dream girl had left, David still wanted to make the most of the evening and stick around, maybe even have a beer or two before he and Scott needed to be back at the Scanlon house. He knew Scott would never have been able to lie to his mother and tell her they had decided to spend the night at David's, especially since she would have insisted he come home to get his inhaler. As it was, Scott had fibbed once already by telling her they had gone to a movie, and they'd be home by eleven.

He and Scott had been watching a group of seniors play some drinking game around the fire pit, a game called "I Never." It was mildly amusing to watch, and since they weren't trying to make their presences overly obvious, lingering was the best option to remain low-key. Unfortunately for them, Steve Sanders had been drinking, and the alcohol seemed to amplify his memory. The tall blonde junior had come lumbering towards them, beer clutched in hand, yelling about how David was the one who had taken his Corvette without permission and crashed it. David had hoped he had forgotten that whole incident, even though Steve had asked him to drive, and he had never specifically asked about a driver's license.

In his rant, Steve had given the boys two options. The first was to leave the party and as he put it "get the hell out of my sight." The second option was more risky: they could stay at the party, but Steve would see to it that they didn't have working legs on which to pedal their bikes home. When David had hesitated, Steve had taken a swing at him, missed, fallen down, and that was when the boys had decided it was best to just leave. David didn't want his life to end before he had a chance to fulfill his dream of dating Kelly Taylor.

As he often did, he found himself thinking about the beautiful blonde again, for what was probably the hundredth time that night.

He smirked, reviewing the plan he had hatched earlier that evening once more in his head. Scott had done him a favor, pointing out that you never really saw Kelly Taylor without Donna Martin. Sure, Brandon Walsh's sister was with them a lot too, but he had heard she was now dating Dylan McKay. Everyone knew that guy. He was a legend among boys at Palm View Middle School, where David and Scott had attended junior high. Dylan had not, but in spite of being two years older and having gone to the other middle school in West Beverly's school district, there wasn't a kid who didn't know Dylan McKay. David had heard stories that Dylan had slept with a guidance counselor, had gotten a girl pregnant and had dated Miss Teen California, all before his junior year at West Beverly. True or not, David admired the guy. There was a reason girls swooned at his feet.

To get close to Kelly Taylor, you needed to infiltrate her inner circle. Brenda Walsh was a dead end, given her status as Dylan McKay's girlfriend. No girl would willingly step down from that position. So his only option was Donna Martin. He was going to have to do his best to befriend the girl, which he knew would be a tall order, since most juniors weren't apt to socialize with freshmen. But Donna struck him as kind of ditzy, and from what he saw, she was a friendly girl, so he hoped there would be some way he could nonchalantly strike up a conversation with her, and he'd go from there. One way or another, he was going to make Kelly his.

He cringed and pulled the pillow over his ears as Scott snored loudly and waited for sleep to overtake him.

***

Donna listened to Kelly's soft, even breathing coming from above her, twisting on her side on the pull-out bed that Kelly had put up for her. Even as kids, Kelly had never done the sleeping bag thing, and she had never been one for bunk beds or trundles. Donna was always given a hotel-like cot to sleep on, one that was surprisingly comfortable by fold-out bed standards. At her house, Donna had always insisted the girls do the sleeping bag thing. It was only recently that Kelly had sniffed that sleeping bags were below them, and Donna had convinced her parents to spring for air mattresses.

She let her eyes wander around the darkened room, a shard of light escaping from under the bathroom door where Kelly had left the vanity bulbs glowing. She followed the skinny sliver along the floor until it faded into blackness.

Kelly had been sleeping soundly for the better part of the last hour. After arriving home from the party and finding her mom was still out, Kelly and Donna had raided the refrigerator and pigged out, giggling and chatting while watching Dirty Dancing for the 100th time. Both girls were surprised to find themselves nodding off by midnight, and in spite of Jackie still not arriving home, they trudged up to bed. Kelly had slipped right into slumber, but Donna was frustrated to find herself now wide-awake, with no sign of sleep tugging at her.

She thought about the movie, about Patrick Swayze, his rugged good looks and his sexy smile, and she lamented to herself why guys couldn't be more like movie stars. It seemed so easy to her, and yet, most of the guys she knew were morons or jerks. All of the guys she had dated…well, both of them fell into those two categories. One was a moron, the other a grade-A jerk. Two boyfriends was all she had to show for high school so far, and neither one of them had been worth her time.

It only made her feel slightly better that her best friend hadn't been any luckier in love than she had. Kelly's experience far outreached hers, but she was no happier for it, constantly bemoaning her poor decision-making to Donna. Donna could only smile and remind her that not having sex was the only way to avoid regrets. Kelly always bitterly replied that it was far too late for that.

Donna knew it was going to get progressively harder to stick to her morals and wait for marriage to have sex; so far, it had been a breeze, as she had yet to be even remotely challenged. She wanted a boyfriend, badly…a guy who'd sweep her off her feet and make her want to do nothing put spend every waking hour with him. Like what she saw happening to Brenda with Dylan McKay.

But even with her sights set on Tom Hartman, she knew deep down that a guy like Tom would most likely expect a girl to put out, and Donna was not prepared to say she'd give up the pledge she had made to herself years ago. Most high school guys wouldn't wait for her; she wasn't naïve.

Donna sighed and rolled onto her back, closing her eyes, waiting for the familiar lull of sleep to begin to descend on her. Heaving another frustrated sigh, she opened her eyes once more, fighting the urge to wake up Kelly for a late-night chat. She'd just have to make do with the voices in her head.

***

Andrea shoved another handful of popcorn into her mouth, chewing slowly as the flickering television bathed the darkened living room in a muted blue glow. She knew she shouldn't be snacking at nearly one in the morning, but she just couldn't ignore the growing rumblings of her stomach. Her grandmother's friends had long since gone home, Grandma Rose herself turning in well over two hours ago. Andrea had found a blanket, popped some popcorn and settled into a corner of the couch to watch old movies, as she often did on Friday evenings to try to fall asleep faster. Most nights it worked, and Grandma Rose would find her early Saturday morning, television still on, and it would always be a joke who could find Andrea's glasses first, wherever they had slipped off to during her slumber.

But tonight, she wasn't feeling the slightest bit tired, and she knew it was because her mind could not let go of Brandon Walsh. Her stomach, no longer grumbling, instead flip-flopped at the mere thought of him, and she felt embarrassed in spite of herself for having such strong feelings for him. Andrea had never been one to dwell on hopeless crushes, and she would reluctantly admit to anyone who asked that she had never really had more than a passing interest in a guy up until Brandon.

Andrea frowned, knowing that she wasn't the only girl at West Beverly that had feelings for Brandon Walsh. And it figured she had to set her sights on a guy who had also landed himself on the radar of Kelly Taylor.

She swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump of jealousy that had bubbled up as she thought about all the things that could have happened at that stupid party that Brandon was going to earlier that night, knowing Kelly was going to be there, probably dressed in some tight slutty dress, doing her best to look irresistible to the better part of the male student body that had flocked to Tom Hartman's house. She had said more than one prayer that Brandon hadn't fallen prey to her advances. She guessed she'd find out Monday morning.

A smile formed on her lips as she remembered the other thing she was going to ask Brandon about on Monday. She knew with the right amount of persuasion and coaxing, she could convince Brandon to throw his name into consideration for Student Council president. West Beverly could use someone like Brandon in charge of things, and Andrea secretly knew he'd most likely seek her advice on any number of things, so it was like running without the hassle of campaigning and subjecting herself to the ridiculous mudslinging that high-schoolers were capable of.

She already had a slogan picked out and about twenty ideas for campaign posters.

Brandon just couldn't say no.

Smile still on her face, the remote control slipped from her hand and her eyes began to close.

***

Dylan raised the small glass of amber liquid to his eye, and swirled it casually before lowering the shot to his lips and chasing it swiftly. The bourbon gave his throat a comforting burn as he swallowed it and plunked the glass down on the wet bar. What warm milk did for some was the same effect the nightcap had for him. He twisted his lips in contemplation as he studied the half-empty bottle of Jim Beam, craving another shot. The temptation had already led him to down two prior to the one he had just knocked back, but he battled the sinister voices in his head and replaced the cap on the bourbon.

He leaned back against the bar and scanned the hotel suite, marveling over the fact that in spite of being in the room for the better part of the year, it still failed to feel like home.

Home was a word that was wholly foreign to him, no thanks to his parents. It's hard to feel like you belong someplace when your mother is a nomadic hippy and your father bounces between hotel suites. Jack McKay never did strive for home ownership, and Dylan knew the lack of a permanent address had more to do with the fact his father's current residence was south of the border. Daddy dearest was not on the up and up, a fact Dylan chose to ignore rather than accept. As for his mother, Iris McKay was best left to reading tarot cards and meditating on the powdery sands of a Hawaiian beach. The less people to meddle in his affairs, the better. Dylan had essentially been on his own since he was twelve, and he liked it that way.

He shed his clothes and turned off the lights, throwing back the plush jacquard comforter and sliding between the cool satin sheets. The fabric glided over his bare flesh as he got settled, and he reluctantly acknowledged the perks of shacking up at a luxury hotel.

As he lay on his back, staring at the shadows creeping across the ceiling, he thought about the evening that he had just spent with Brenda Walsh. He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he pictured the sweet, fresh-faced girl. He loved the permanent sparkle that seemed to be in her granite-gray eyes, and the fact she looked just as beautiful as most of the overly made-up girls at West Beverly with half the effort amazed him. She was like no girl he had dated before, and it was part of the reason that he was feeling so ambivalent about their relationship. Guys like him were not supposed to be with girls like her.

He could never tell Brenda that part of the reason he was going to Mexico to visit his old man had nothing to do with his dad at all. He knew she'd never understand, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt her. He needed some time away, some time alone to reflect. Heck, he hated to admit it, but he actually needed some fatherly advice from dear old Jack.

He punched at his pillow in annoyance, wishing that love didn't have to be so complicated. It was much easier to get involved with a girl with no emotional strings attached, much like the girls in his past. The "L word" had never even skimmed the surface with any of his past conquests.

And he was falling in love with Brenda Walsh.

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P.S. Yes, I imagine Dylan slept naked. So what?