Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming [A Vampire Academy fanfiction]

Chapter III

I smelled smoke. I saw ash. I saw the fire before anyone else did. And that was when I screamed. I screamed so loud, I was pretty sure everyone could hear me.

I blinked, and opened my eyes. Sweat beaded down on every inch of my body, making me uncomfortable and hot. So, so, so hot. It was only a dream. Only a horrible nightmare. I flung the covers off immediately, needing cool air to breathe.

My two roommates, Ashley and Cass, a non-royal Moroi, were now both awake, staring at me with bewildered eyes. "Are you okay?" Cass asked, her light baby blue eyes wide. Ashley stood up and walked over to my bed, wrapping her arms around me, giving me a hug.

"Yeah," I finally managed to breathe out. "I'm okay now...it was only a bad dream," I said lightly. I took deep breaths, hoping to feel the cool air conditioning on me again, rather than the flames of an engulfing fire that wanted to take my life. But I was still so hot. Why?

Then I realized Ashley was still holding on to me. "Please...let go," I croaked out, my throat sore all of a sudden. Ashley immediately sprang away.

"Sorry," she said quickly, crawling back to her comfortable bed. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, already getting under the covers. Cass had already lay down, eyes closed, trying to sleep. Ashley knew my answer, and Cass had been used to my nightmares for a while now.

"No," I replied, and lay back down, staring straight up at the wall. I knew that I would be awake for a while. Usually, I would study or work on a project to get my mind off of the nightmare, then go back to sleep. But today, I was too tired. Too panicked because the dream had been worse than usual.

It was always the same. Me and Dante in that building while it crumpled slowly because of the horrible, gut-wrenching flames. I felt like I could feel the flames licking at my legs, tickling my fingers while me and Dante tried to find a way out of the burning building. Then my grip on Dante would be gone. I would start crying, he would start screaming, and someone would try and pull me out of there. But I always refused. I always refused.

Dante was my older brother, and yes, hearing that past tense hurt. That fire had happened 10 years ago in my Uncle's mansion. I remember the details more vividly then any math equation or Shakespeare quote.

We had been playing in the large den, near the fireplace. Dumbly enough, we had been playing camping. But we were only little kids, we didn't know any better. I was 6 and he was 7, and we were both trying to find marshmallows to roast since it was "dinnertime". And then, it happened. A piece of wood that had been on the floor rolled over because I had accidentally hit with my foot. It rolled into the fireplace, and when I tried to take it out, I dropped it, and it rolled towards the curtains. And before I knew it....the entire place was on fire.

I remember screaming and Dante running into the kitchen trying to find water to throw on it. I poured cups and cups of it on the curtains but the flames were already spreading too fast. Then we made a huge mistake and poured bleach on it in such a panic. It was terrible. It was the worst day of my life, because it had been all my fault.

The flames were eating everything up, and everyone was trying to evacuate the building. Me and Dante had tried every exit, trying to get downstairs since we didn't want to jump out of a window. I remember running down the spiraling stairs, getting so close to the door, and then I lost grip of Dante, and he fell. He fell into the fire. And I remember screaming his name, I remember crying so hard when a fireman pulled me out. But I refused to leave. I refused to let my brother die.

Of course, Dante wasn't dead, but it was like he was. Dante had been in a coma. For 10 years now. I cried everyday about it, prayed for him every time I could. The doctors had always told my parents that it was time to pull the plug already, but my parents refused and continued to pay the hospital bill. I felt so bad, because honestly, it was all my fault.

Now that there were known spirit users, I wondered if somebody could heal him. Adrian? No. I dismissed that thought immediately. I couldn't use him like that. I barely knew him. It was wrong. I continued to stare up at the ceiling, wondering when on Earth I would get some sleep. Any at all would be great. I yawned sleepily. If spirit users could heal my brother, then I suppose it's about time I became chummy with one.

It's funny. It's never actually occurred to me before, but, spirit users would be the answer to heal Dante. I had wanted Dante back all my life, and I missed him so so much.

Maybe Adrian Ivashkov wasn't so bad after all.