Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Hanson or the their family or management.

Writer's note: I wrote this almost two years ago, just after "Forgive". It's has turned into one of the best stories I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it.

She stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the entryway, small, arms crossed in satisfaction. She could barely see her brother on the bed the two faceless people were carrying towards the front door. His eyes were closed, the tormented look eased from his face. His hair, usually only a little darker than hers, was a brilliant, wet red. Red and blue lights reflected palely in the sunlight that leaked into the hall from the open front door. The odd procession crossed the porch, and she turned away, nodding like her mother did when something turned out right. "Good," she said to the room as she crossed the linoleum floor, "he deserves it. I hope he never comes back." She walked into the TV room, found the remote she'd discarded - then jumped as the sirens started up again. They faded; she gave that satisfied nod of her mother's, and turned the TV on. A dragon shot out of the TV and swallowed her before she could scream.

She broke into consciousness with a gasp, lunging up in bed. She could feel her heart pounding, and looked around at the familiarity of her room to calm herself.

The half-open drapes let in the moonlight, and it spilled across her sister's unmade and unoccupied bed and onto the floor. Over the head of the bed hung framed certificates around a pink board that made a shelf, along which was scattered trophies and mostly blue ribbons - her sister's awards. She glanced up at her own board, painted yellow, with one certificate, two trophies, and a second place ribbon artfully arranged and centered on it.

She looked next at the heavy, dark wood dresser that stood between their beds, and the invisible line that had divided the room into two equal halves. That line was blurred now, helped by the battered radio they shared. It slouched on the dresser, more to the other side, surrounded by CDs and tapes. Her jewelry box leaned against the wall on her side, the top open and one side ajar.

It had helped, but the eerie feeling she'd woken up with didn't dissipate. She lay back, pulling her yellow comforter up around her chin, and closed her eyes. The dragon from her dream swooped down, apparently unwilling to give up its prey, and she opened her eyes again. This wasn't working. If Jessica were here, she'd crawl in bed with her, but she wasn't; she'd gone camping to celebrate her graduation. She threw her covers off, got up and pulled her large, worn, Hanson t-shirt so it wasn't wound around her, and left her room.

The hall was dark in comparison, and in light of her dream, rather frightening. She pushed the feeling away; she knew this hall, had walked down it in this same darkness thousands of times, and after worse dreams. She took a deep breath and started.

The breeze from the air conditioner tickled her legs and chilled her; she stepped faster, hand trailing along the wall. Her left foot came into sudden and painful contact with something, and she stopped, biting her tongue to keep from waking the rest of the family with a scream of pain she desperately wanted to let out. Tears welled up and she blinked them away. Her injured toes curled into the crook of her right ankle. She peered down and saw her younger brother's roller blades, and an indignant squeak escaped her. She leaned against the wall, plotting revenge on him, until the smart faded. Then she carefully stepped over the offending footwear and continued slowly down the hall, shivering slightly.

She paused at the last door on the right, noticed it was open a little and pushed it wider, cautious. She'd nearly walked in on them once. But the bed under the window held two still logs. The moonlight came in through the gauzy under-curtains, painting a faint window of light on the wall. The clock on the bedside table on her side of the bed glowed with luminescent numbers, casting red light on her father's hair. She shuddered - it was too much like her dream - and turned her attention to navigating the floor at the foot of the bed. She stepped over papers, books, and the TV remote before reaching the plush chair that stood sentinel at the corner diagonal from the clock. She glanced at the red numbers, reading 3:37 before turning her attention back to where she walked. She touched the chair fondly; she'd spent some time in it when there was company downstairs. It was perfect for watching a movie in, if you were alone. Now, though, clothes were piled on the seat and draped over the back. She moved cautiously around it and along the side of the bed. She tucked her hair behind her ear, then reached down to shake the mummified shoulder before her.

Her mother stirred. "Mom," she whispered, shaking her shoulder again. Her mother opened her eyes, squinted, rubbed them, and squinted again. "Avery?"

"Yeah. I had a weird dream. Can you scoot over?"

"Of course." She did so, holding the covers open for her daughter to crawl in.

"Mmm. Diana? Something wrong?" Her father's gruff voice made Avery smile as she crawled into the bed and cuddled close to her mother, grateful for the warmth as much as for the arm her mother lay over her.

"Go back to sleep, Walker. Avie had a bad dream."

"Humph. If it's not babies, it's teenagers." His voice faded as he spoke, and the sentence ended with a snore. Avery closed her eyes and smiled to herself. The dragon was banished; her mother still had that much magic.

She was jolted out of sleep by a cry of pain, then her father's powerful voice. "Joshua Mackenzie Hanson! What are these doing out here?!" She sleepily looked over her mother's shoulder at the clock. 6:47.

"It's okay to punish Mackie," she muttered, "but there's no reason to punish the rest of us as well." She dropped back to the pillow with a sigh, then felt rather than heard her mother's laughter. She turned to face her, twisting the t-shirt around her.

"Morning, Avie. Feel better?"

"Yeah. Thanks. And sorry to wake you up."

Diana laughed. "Oh, it was a treat. You haven't come and gotten in bed with me in ages. I thought you'd outgrown it."

"Nope. Jess was closer." She grinned at her mother.

"I imagine so. Do you want to talk about it?"

Avery lay still a minute, then nodded. "Yes. It was really weird."

Her mother chuckled, and brushed grey-tinged blonde hair behind one ear. "You spent far too much of your youth with Taylor," she said, then rolled her eyes as her hair floated into her face again. "My braid must have come out." She glanced at her daughter. "What was so weird about it?"

Avery turned onto her stomach, untwisting the t-shirt a little, and focused on the pillow, playing idly with the edge. "Well, I was little. Really little, almost shorter than the table in the kitchen. And there were two people with no faces, and in white. And..." she paused, then glanced at her mother. "Did Ike ever have red hair?"

Diana's eyebrows went up, and a smile teased the corner of her mouth. "No, thank heaven that was one thing he never tried in all his fights to straighten those curls. Why?"

"The faceless men were carrying him out of the house, and his hair was red, and wet. They must have been from an ambulance, because I saw lights in the entryway, and heard sirens. I was glad... satisfied that they were taking him." Her voice started to shake. "I even wished he wouldn't ever come back. Then I turned on the TV, and a dragon came out and swallowed me whole."

"Oh, my," her mother gasped. Avery looked at her, puzzled. Her mother looked pale.

"Is something wrong?" Avery asked.

"No. Just surprised me, is all." Her mother sat up. "A dragon?" She laughed nervously. "How... weird." She began to pull her braid apart, then a wailing cry caused them both to glance toward the door.

"Man, I'm surprised Dad didn't wake her up," Avery said, watching her mother. Diana's fingers flew as she plaited her knee-length blonde hair.

"Would you get her? And change her, please."

Avery sighed. "I'm going to teach Zoe this so she can learn," she said, and rolled out of bed.

The nursery, right across the hall, brought back memories, most of them good. The crying stopped as soon as she appeared in the doorway, and Avery smiled at the little girl gripping the edge of the old, dark wood crib, using it to stand on the uneven mattress. Over her head danced a faded ballerina with black marks on her legs. "Good morning, Jordan. When do you think your Mommy and Daddy will be home?" She lifted the Mickey Mouse clad child and set her gently on the white changing table across the room from the crib. This wall sported a baseball diamond, more faded than the ballerina because it was in direct line with the sunlight.

Avery hummed tunelessly as she changed the little girl, finding a pink outfit for her to wear, then settled her on her hip. She pause at the window on the way out, looking out over the backyard and nearly into the tree house, like she had so many years ago. Only, she'd needed the chair that was half pulled out from the knee high table, battered from years of three-year-old children pulling it to the window. It was also guilty of the marks under the window.

Jordan grabbed a handful of Avery's hair and tried to eat it, not really interested in the tree house. Avery laughed. "Oh, no. Come on, Nana ought to have breakfast ready by now." She detached Jordan's fist from her hair, checking her mother's room. She was surprised to see her sitting on the bed, dressed, face in hands. Avery waited until she looked up, not sure if she were praying. "Mom, are you okay?"

"Yes." She smiled and took Jordan, who had reached for her, babbling. "Get dressed and get Zoe up too, please?"

"Sure." Avery headed for the shower, but slow enough that she heard her mother say "And what would your uncle think of that dream?"

"Which uncle?" Avery questioned, really confused.

She turned off the TV with an aggrieved sigh, and walked back through the kitchen, scowling. It was his fault, again. He'd just left, and her day was ruined again because of him. She climbed the stairs and came up on her mother, scrubbing at something on the hall carpet at the top of the stairs and sobbing. His fault, too, of course, had to be. She slipped past her mother, walked into her room, and wrenched the drawer open to get some socks out, like she'd been instructed. The dragon lunged out of the drawer and swallowed her whole.

She sat up, gasping for breath again, beating her alarm by mere seconds. The gesture to turn it off was automatic, then she leaned against the wall and waited for her equilibrium to be restored. Finally, she got up, straightened her old, white Hanson t-shirt, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed for the shower.

When she stepped out, the memory of her dream made her pause in the doorway to her room. She threw her laundry into her room and walked to the head of the stairs. A stain, faded from washing and wear, was right where she'd dreamed it. She scowled at it, perplexed. Did that mean her first dream was true?

"You're up early, Avie," her mom said, stopped next to her, and looking at her oddly.

"Oh, yeah. Another nightmare," she said absently. "Mom, where did this stain come from?"

"It's grape juice, I think." The unsteadiness in her mother's voice surprised her.

"No, because you were crying while you cleaned it up just before we went to the hospital...." Her voice faded as she realized that hadn't been in the dream. Then she noticed her mother's pallor. "What, Mom. Are you okay?" She reached out and took her arm.

"Yes, I'm fine." Diana looked down at the stain, then back up at Avery, and sighed. "After school, call Isaac."

Avery blinked, surprised, and let her mother go. "Ike? Why?" Her sense of distaste hadn't left her after the dream, and the aversion she felt towards her oldest brother startled her.

"Tell him about your dreams. He'll give you your answers." Her mother turned to go downstairs, and Avery grabbed her arm.

"Wait! Aren't you going to tell me what this is?"

"No, Avery. If you really want to know, call Isaac."

Avery watched her go, scowling slightly. She didn't know why she suddenly didn't like Isaac very much.

The morning dragged by, unbelievably slow. Fortunately, her mother understood, and let her go early. It was frustrating, knowing she wasn't going to answer her questions. By the time she was done, the aversion had worn off. She shot into the kitchen, snatched the phone, and quick-dialed her brother's number.

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend," Mackenzie said, sauntering into the kitchen behind her and grabbing some juice out of the fridge.

"As if.... Hi, Ike! You're home!" She sent a triumphant look at her little brother. He rolled his eyes.

"Hi, Avery. To what do I owe this honor?" She could hear amusement in his voice.

"Just a sec." She covered the mouthpiece. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"It's lunchtime," he whined.

"Want some cheese with that whine? You need to practice that," she said, setting the phone down. "Zac was better." What a thought. Where had it come from? She dashed into the study, lifted the receiver, then ran back into the kitchen to hang up that phone, then returned to the study, out of breath. "Man, privacy is not a high point in this house."

"So, you noticed." He chuckled at her. "What's up?"

She took a deep breath. "I've had a couple of really weird dreams, and Mom said to call you. It... The first one was that you were being carried out of the house, like on a bed or a stretcher. And I was really small. And then I had another dream of Mom scrubbing a stain in the hallway and crying."

"Avie, why are you calling me about this?" Isaac asked, sounding utterly confused.

Avery took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts. "I don't know, Mom said to. She said you could help me figure this out. These two men, probably from an ambulance, took you out of the house. Your hair was red, but I didn't remember you ever dying your hair. Mom said you didn't, either."

"Red?" He sounded even more perplexed.

She sighed. "Something happened that was your fault. This going to the hospital was a fitting result, and... and I hoped you never came back." She rushed through that part. "Then Mom called me upstairs to get dressed, and that was your fault, too. I wanted to see what was on TV. So I went upstairs, Mom was cleaning.... But you don't know that, you were gone!" She huffed in frustration.

"Wait. An ambulance came?"

"Yeah."

"Was I conscious?" There was dread in his voice, almost fear.

She paused a minute. "No. You looked at peace for the first time in a while." A thud over the phone startled her, and she jumped. "Ike? Isaac!" She heard what sounded like fumbling, then short breaths. "Ike? You okay?"

"Yeah, dropped the phone. You remember that?" He sounded incredulous, and somewhat out of breath.

"Remember? I dreamed it. But... it's way too clear for just a dream. And I remember things that weren't in the dream. Zac wasn't home, and that was your fault, too. I must have blamed you for everything!" She heard a gasp. "Ike, what's going on? Or what happened?"

There was silence on the line. "Tell Mom to set me a plate for dinner. I'll be there in half-an-hour, tops." She started at the dial tone. He'd sounded distracted.

"If you don't want to come," she muttered, hanging up the phone, then went to find her mother.

She was in her room, trying to concentrate on her English assignment, when she heard the front door open. She tossed the book down and moved towards the stairs.

"What if she takes it wrong?" she heard Isaac say, and paused on the top step.

"You don't have to tell her, you know," Diana responded gently.

Isaac laughed, a short bark of laughter that did not sound like him. "Three years of silent treatment is enough, thank you. Avie, you can come down now."

Flushed pink, she walked down the stairs. "How did you know?"

"Your shoes. Mom, you want to sit in on this?"

Diana sighed and threw an arm around her son. "I'd better. You're missing about two weeks."

He looked at her, surprised. "That long?"

"Yes."

He took a deep breath, and turned his attention to Avery. "Kitchen?" he asked her. She nodded and led the way into the sunlit room. After minor shuffling, they found themselves around the table, cold drinks in front of them.

"So, what do these dreams mean?" Avery asked impatiently.

Isaac took a deep breath. "It starts a bit before that," he said.