Never
I jerk awake when she screams.
"Buzz?" I call, throwing off my covers and scrambling to her side. Fear rushes through me as I look down at her and see the results of yet another nightmare. "Buzz!"
She's screaming still, writhing and lashing at out nothing. Her eyes are wide open, but have that distant look in them that tells me she's somewhere else. They're filled with an enormous fear, as she struggles to escape the reality her dream had conjured up. Her wings flare out in a fight-or-flight response—and she's clearly erring the flight side, seeing as how they're flapping desperately, thumping against the bed in a vain attempt to escape—and she struggles to fly, but the blankets hamper her efforts, tangling with her limbs. She almost crashes to the floor in her struggles, but then I'm there, holding her hooves before she can successfully throw it off and try to take flight, or fall onto the floor.
"Buzz, wake up," I say urgently, my voice loud. She fights me desperately, thrashing to break free, still lost in the dream. One hoof yanks itself away and pounds on my chest repeatedly. I wince, but my grip doesn't falter as I gently take hold of it again. My chest is tender from the repeated assaults on it, but that's never stopped me, and it certainly won't now. Leaning down, I allow soft, comforting words to continue to flow from my muzzle. "It was just a nightmare. None of it was real. Wake up, Buzz, wake up."
Faintly, I can hear other ponies' hooves thudding in the hallway. The door's thrown open, but fortunately the entering ponies manage not to let it bang against the wall. A noise like that would only serve to agitate Buzz even further. Beyond that, I don't acknowledge the others, all my attention directed at my shivering sister, now curling up into a ball and shaking. She's stopped fighting me now, but her magic has washed over her once more, accompanied by an uncomfortable wave of heat. I frown, not from the magic or singed fur, but rather the implications that she fears me and my abandonment. I would've thought she would've known by now that I wouldn't turn on her, given how I've stood beside her for years on end, always there to comfort her in her times of need.
"Shh, Buzz, it's ok," I murmur to her through my sadness. I extend my wings to envelop her in their feathery warmth, and she shudders beneath me. "It's ok, you're safe. Nopony's gonna hurt you. You're safe. You're safe, Buzz. You're safe." I repeat this old mantra over and over in soft words, gently stroking her mane. The rhythmic pattern slowly lulls her to calmness, and her panicked cries give way to soft sobbing. She throws herself at me and buries her head in my chest. I, in turn, encircle her with my hooves and wings, enfolding my frightened sister into a tight hug, and rest my chin on the top of her head. She squeezes me hard, shaking and sobbing. I can feel her flinch as I touch the old scar on her back, but I simply rub it with a light touch.
I raise my eyes up over her to look at the four ponies standing in the doorway. Mom and Dad and my two older twin brothers, Steel and Iron, are there, watching with worried faces and concerned eyes. Steel takes a step forward; I shake my head gently at them, mouthing, "I can handle this." His presence would be more likely to incite her terror once again, given her current state of mind.
Dad and Iron nod, and quietly step outside, where I can hear their hoofsteps retreat down the hall as they return to their respective rooms. Mom and Steel hesitate a moment longer, but eventually dip their heads when I give them a nod. Giving Buzz one last concerned look, they too takes her leave, and I look back down at the quivering pile of fur that's my sister.
I take note of her light pink fur and red mane, frowning slightly. That wasn't how it was when I started comforting her. Sighing, I nuzzle the top of her head. Buzz has calmed down more now, and she struggles to control her breathing. Pressing my lips together, I ask her softly, "It was that dream again, wasn't it?"
Buzz nods, sniffling. Immediately, I pull her back in for another hug, rubbing her back with one hoof in a circular motion where I know that last rock had hit her, all those years ago. She returns my embrace fiercely, her tears soaking into my coat. I pay it no mind as I continue to soothe her, and her trembling slowly fades away to almost nothing.
"Oh Buzz," I whisper sadly. "I wish I could take your pain and make it my own. I wish I could take your fear and your suffering so you wouldn't have to deal with it. I wish you could've have just had a happy, carefree life." Her response is more sniffles.
When she's finally calm, we pull apart. I dip my head down to look her in the eye. She gives me a grateful look, but I can still see that fear in her eyes. Slowly, I touch her mane with one hoof. She scoots herself away, directing her gaze downwards but I grab her hoof with my free one, pulling her in close again. Too long, she's been pulling away. Some night, I hope to change that. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow night, but eventually, she won't pull away. Hopefully, eventually, she won't have these nightmares at all.
"Buzz," I whisper. Her lip trembles, signs that the tears are about to come anew. I give her a sad smile, releasing her hoof and cupping her chin so that she stares into my eyes. "You don't have to hide from me. You never have to hide from me."
A tear slips out again, and then, as I embrace her once more, there's a flash of fire, briefly illuminating the room in green light. My fur is singed again, but I pay it no mind. It doesn't matter, and it definitely doesn't rank higher in importance than Buzz.
Buzz buries herself against me, her shoulders sobbing as the tears return. I don't care that I'm stroking hard chitin instead of soft fur now. I don't care that she has insect wings and a jagged horn. I don't care that she's black instead of pink and red. All I care about is holding her, my dear sister.
"I don't want to be alone," she whispers, her voice cracking like it always does. "Please. Don't let go."
Like every night before this, I whisper back, "Never."