Fluttershy was having the nightmare again. It had happened many times since Sweetie had started spending the night, and each time remained as terrifying as the last. Heartbreaking whimpers and terrified half-screams echoed through the empty cottage and looped themselves inside Sweetie's head, getting louder and louder and worse and worse.
Sweetie could hardly stand it, and she was on the outside of the whole thing. Liquid terror sloshed, icy and painful, through her stomach as he watched in utter horror. Fluttershy's mane, tangled and slick with sweat; her hooves thrashing and fighting against the covers; her beautiful face tensed up in pain and terror; her wings thrashing with aggressive motions.
Sweetie hated nights like these. The total helplessness, seeing this wonderful mare in the throes of terror and being unable to help at all. Simply the idea that there was something so terrifying that somepony who shouted at dragons, who stared down cockatrices without fear, would reach this animalistic state of fight or flight, was unsettling.
And Fluttershy never wanted to talk about it afterwards. No matter how many times she'd asked about it, Fluttershy was able to divert her attention to something else, anything else. Beavers, the weather, local politics, but never the problem. Never the dream.
The one time Sweetie had worked up the courage to ask Rainbow Dash, she had been stonewalled for four hours, the unwilling target of a burning bloodred stare, until Dash had told her to ask Fluttershy instead if she really wanted to know.
It always felt so wrong when the nightmare came. Fluttershy was the brave one, the gentle one. She was a safe pony to be with, a gentle harbor for when life got too stormy, a warm shoulder to cry on when home life got hectic, and a loving confidant for all the fragile dreams Sweetie was too nervous to share with anypony else. Fluttershy couldn't be this hurt, this ... Damaged. A pony this caring, this patient, this gentle deserved so much better.
Sweetie remembered back all those years ago, to the time when a Cutie Mark was the biggest concern in her mind; before love or ambition or failure took her life and sent it flying into a series of blind curves and free falls. Tonight, if anything, felt worse than the other nights she'd seen. Her mind raced in search of any way she could reach across the veil of sleep and offer comfort. In the far reaches if those memories, on a night full of chickens and Stares and respect, back when she had become Fluttershy's biggest fan, she found her answer.
Sweetie pulled Fluttershy close and stroked her tense neck with smooth, even movements. And she took in a deep breath, singing as soft and sweet as she knew how...
"Hush now, quiet now, it's time to lay your sleepy head..."