First oneshot of the new year! I hope that everyone had a great holiday season :) Now, onto the story. This is a redo of the scene from Age of Ultron. Instead of Tony having the dream where everyone is dead, Natasha does. This dream replaces the one about her past and how she became an assassin. It'll make sense when you start reading. So, yeah, that's about it. Leave a review if you feel like it (they are a pleasure to read) and I hope that you all like it!

I don't own Marvel. I did get a poster for Christmas, but I own nothing of the company or the characters.

Photo credit: DreamEscape1675

Natasha thought she was ready for anything. She had her weapons drawn and was using the shadows of the ship to her advantage. What she didn't account for was that the Maximoff girl in red would sneak up behind her.

Nobody snuck up behind the Black Widow. That's why when Natasha felt the red cloud closing in over her brain, shooting lightning at her memories, the only word in her mind was ,"shit."

The world slowly dipped away into blackness, the sparks from the metal hull of the ship dissipating as she slipped into whatever the witch had planned for her.

Rocks appeared underneath her feet. A bright portal was opened in front of her. Natasha realized that she was on a rock, floating through freaking space. The Chitauri warships flew around her and into the portal, which led to the Earth. Her home, the tiny bluish green dot in an infinity of blackness. Her own personal hell was on this planet, but so was her home. It was all she had.

She looked down at where she saw standing. Natasha immediately wished that her eyes had stayed strained on the portal.

A body was sitting right in front of her feet. Her black boots were in the pool of blood. His blood.

Thor's cape was charred and dirty, the silver armor that covered his chest not rising and falling with each breath. Some pieces were missing, and strands of his hair were crimson instead of blonde.

"Thor?" she asked quietly. Natasha dipped down and pressed a shaky hand to the Asgardian's neck. There was no flow of life beneath his skin. He was dead. His blue eyes were open, unmoving. That was the part that got to her the most. Natasha closed his steely eyes and stood up.

"No," she whispered and stood up, tears clouding her vision. It only got worse. On the step above Thor was Tony, his Iron Man suit dirty and not blinking with light. It was charred and sparking in places, and large portions were missing. His eyes were open, staring into the endless space that encompassed the small rock.

Natasha stepped up and around Tony's body after closing his eyes. He had died with a look of pure terror and exhaustion etched onto his still features. Her gaze caught Hulk lying on the ground, spears imbedded in his green flesh. Natasha gulped and took a shaky breath to steady herself.

"It's just a dream," she whispered to herself as she walked around Bruce's body to close his eyes. Everything had a red tinge to it, and she could remember the Maximoff girl toying with her mind. If she held onto that mentality, that none of it was real, maybe she would be okay.

But the horror of it would stay with her forever, no matter how fake it was. Never did she think that she would be the one to do this. She held out hope, some small fragment of light inside herself, that someone was alive on the barren rock. Three were dead, which left only two. The ones she cared about most. Natasha bit back a sob.

It was so cold in space. How she was breathing, or even alive, she had no idea. But she was cold. The type that seemed to reach into her chest and freeze whatever soul she had left. Maybe it was the loneliness of space, or the impending doom that the world was facing as more monsters dropped into its skies. Or it was the hopelessness that surrounded her whenever her gaze dropped to one of her dead friends.

Natasha took a deep breath and looked straight ahead, taking another step up. "It's just a dream." She reached Clint next. His hand was stuck tightly to his bow, an arrow in his other hand. He would have looked alive and ready to fight, if not for the spear lodged in his chest. Clint was the only one whose cause of death was visible. For Tony and Bruce and Thor, they were simply gone.

"Clint," she whispered, her voice wavering. "Please, no."

Natasha stooped down and pulled the spear from his chest, trying to ignore the sickening sound it made. She threw the weapon off to the side and turned her attention back to him. Clint's eyes were also open. His lifeless stare would haunt her for the remainder of her life. As Natasha brought her soot covered hand up to close them, she stopped herself. She couldn't do it. She wasn't strong enough. Closing his eyes meant that he was dead, gone.

But what else could she do? She was not present for the battle that had ended their lives. The least that she could do was respect them. With tears making wet lines down her cheeks, she closed his eyes.

"It's just a dream. Not real," she repeated to herself over and over as she stepped up to the top of the rock. This was one of the worst dreams that she had ever encountered. They were dead, and she had not been able to stop it. On top of that, she saw the carnage that was left behind and was the only one to say goodbye.

But their eyes. All of them were open. Staring into the blackness of space, or staring up at her. One final plea for her to save them, and one final failure on her part.

Her foot hit something that was not rock and she looked down, moving her boot as she did. Splintered red, white, and blue was what she saw against the black rocks. Steve's shield. It had shattered into three pieces, which were crisscrossed with fractures and bore scorch marks. Her eyes moved up a little and settled on him.

Natasha brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. The sound reverberated to the emptiness around her. A strangled gasp that echoed through the silence.

"Just a dream."

Something shot out from the rock and grabbed her leg. Natasha stumbled back before realizing that it was a hand. His hand.

She sat down and clutched Steve's bloody palm.

"Steve," she whispered, blinking more tears out of her eyes.

"Why didn't you do more?" he asked in a raspy voice, his eyes scanning over hers for the truth. "Why didn't you save us?"

His complexion was as white as newly fallen snow. The blood on his face stood out, even in the dim light of space. His hand shook in hers and she watched his chest rise and fall ever so slightly.

Major gashes were peppered all over his body, the most prominent being over his chest. The material of his uniform had flayed back, exposing the sticky red mess beneath it. Blood spilled down his side and onto the floor with each gasp he took. His left leg was bent at a strange angle beneath him. Even his brown boots were covered in black and red.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked, fear rising in the back of her throat as she looked back at his eyes. The scenery drastically changed. Natasha looked around wildly as the space melted away and they were now sitting in an old building. The other Avengers still lay dead on the floor of the now run down warehouse, the concrete painted with their blood. A small amount of sunlight trickled in through the yellow and cracked windows. It was just enough for her to see Steve and make out her dead friends.

"They came for you, Natasha," Steve hissed. "And took us instead when you were nowhere to be found. Why weren't you here to help us? It was us five versus a hundred."

His eyes looked helpless and sad, their blue discolored by the red blood vessels in them. His hand was crushing hers as his blood pooled around her boots. He was giving up. It was evident in the way his body seemed to melt into the red ground beneath him, the way that his eyes lazily blinked. Even the super serum couldn't keep up with this many injuries.

"I had no idea. But I can get you out of here. Hang on," she ordered, trying to remain strong.

"You could've done more," he whispered. Steve's hand began to go slack in hers. "You killed us."

"Steve, don't leave me!" she screamed. The light left his eyes as her tears hit the floor, mixing with his blood. His once ice blue eyes were gray and bloodshot as they unfocused and his body relaxed. "Steve!"

She forgot that none of it was real. She forgot her training. Her entire team was dead because of her past. It was all her fault.

Someone, something, had come looking for her and killed them instead. It didn't matter if they were in space or the warehouse, they were still all dead.

"Is this really a dream?" Natasha stood up from Steve's form, leaving his now gray eyes open. They stared up at the ceiling, completely motionless. His head lolled to the side and his mouth was slightly open, revealing teeth tinged with red. Thor, Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Steve all lay strewn on the floor, dead at her feet. Her friends, her family, were gone.

Natasha stumbled back, away from Steve's body, and ran a hand through her hair. But it stuck to her red curls. When she pulled it back, it was crimson with Steve's blood. It caked her once pink palm, getting under her fingernails and filling in the cracks in her hand.

Still backing up slowly, she tripped over something behind her and had to right herself. When Natasha turned around, she found that what she had tripped over was Clint's limp leg.

Natasha brought her bloodied hand up to her mouth and sunk to the ground, legs buckling beneath her. She rocked back and forth on her heels, willing the tears to stop.

"Just a dream, just a dream," she whispered, clenching her eyes shut and opening them again. She closed in, making herself as small as she possibly could. Natasha looked to her fallen friends. The entire floor of the warehouse was now coated in their blood. "It's not real, it's not real. It's a nightmare."

Steve sat in the Quinjet, staring at his hands. Peggy's touch had seemed so real, so natural. She smiled up at him with red lips and joy in her eyes. They had danced and laughed and he had held her. She had promised that they could go home. And then he had woken up, back to the cold reality that was the ship.

Now, he was still, trying to listen to the hum of the ship to forget the dream. He had lost her, all over again.

Steve turned his attention to Natasha, who was still staring off into space. Clint had found her on the ship and brought her back, but she was still stuck in a trance. The captain dropped his eyes for a second and sighed. They were all so broken. When he looked back to the spy, her eyes were vigorously searching the Quinjet. She began to shake, bring her hands up to her face so that she could look at them.

"Natasha?" Steve whispered, getting up to come closer to her. The second she lay eyes on him, she screamed.

She watched the warehouse fade away from view, taking the team with it. In an instant, she was on the Quinjet, bathed in a faint blueish black light. Natasha scanned the jet quickly, wondering what kind of a nightmare it was, what kind of emotional torture was in for her next. She brought her hands up, expecting them to be covered in blood as they had been. But they were clean, and only a small amount of dirt resided under her fingernails.

"Natasha," she heard a faint voice say.

Natasha watched Steve come over to her slowly. But this wasn't Steve. Because he was dead and it was her fault. She looked at the captain, who seemed fine and worried for her safety.

But the image of his pale skin and gray eyes and crimson flashed in her vision and then that was all she could see. A corpse coming to console her. She screamed and backed up in the chair. She could picture blood running down his chin as he echoed, "you could have saved us."

In an instant, everyone in the Quinjet turned their attention to her. She watched Clint jump up from the pilot's seat and come over to her. For a second, he looked fine. But then a hole appeared through his chest and everything was not fine. Thor looked to her with dead eyes, and Bruce turned his head to look in her direction. Tony's face was a mess of cuts and bruises.

They all stared at her, waiting for her next move. Their lips were mouthing the same line over and over again as their eyes bore into her heart.

Steve kept coming towards her, and took her hand in his. But his skin was warm, not cold and lifeless. Natasha looked to him, willed herself to see past the dead captain. However, that was the only thing that she could see.

"It's not my fault," was what she whispered through a shaky voice. Her dead teammates surrounded her. "I'm sorry."

"Natasha, sorry for what?" You're not making any sense," said Clint from behind her. She didn't dare to look at him because she knew that she wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Killing you. I killed you all. This is a nightmare and you're all dead and there's nothing that I can do about it. I closed your eyes because it was all I could do since I wasn't there," she rambled. Tears made their way down her face as her brain fought to figure out what was real and not. Images of Steve kept appearing and disappearing. He was dead for a second, covered in red, and the next he just looked tired and worried.

"You died in my arms," she said to Steve. "I'm sorry."

"It's going to be fine, Nat. Just take a breather." Clint assured her in a calm voice as she felt a sharp prick in her arm. The world swam in front of her as she watched Steve bring her to him so that she wouldn't fall over as the sedative took hold. His strong arms went around her as he ran a gentle hand through her hair. Then it all vanished.

When she awoke the next time, it was calmer. She was laying on a bed with a light sheet over her body. Natasha opened her eyes to see Laura sitting at the foot of the bed, smiling kindly at her.

"The sleeping assassin awakes," she said lightly. "How are you feeling?"

Natasha sighed and shook her head, not ready for words. At least she knew for a fact that Laura was real. There was no image of Laura's lifeless eyes staring at her, which Natasha was grateful for. Someone tapped at the door and Laura went to open it. Natasha sat up, taking off the sheet as she did. Her leather catsuit had been replaced with a light t-shirt and soft jeans.

"There's people here to see you," Laura mentioned, drawing Natasha out of her haze. Steve and Clint stepped into the room, both of them in normal, civilian clothes.

"Hey, Nat." Clint sat down gingerly on the side of the bed, not sure how she would react. The last time had not been good, and they had no idea what to expect.

Natasha felt more grounded, and the flashes of Clint's dead body were smaller and appeared less. Steve was standing next to Clint, but she wasn't ready to look at him yet.

"Hey," was what she managed.

"Are you okay? Stupid question, expecting a stupid answer," Clint replied, smirking slightly.

"Just an awful dream that the Maximoff girl put into my head."

"Want to talk about it?" Steve's voice came over her.

She looked to the super soldier, who was looking back at her with a worried gaze. His eyes were blue, complexion normal. There was no huge gash in his chest.

But still, Natasha shook her head. "Want us to stay with you?" She contemplated that for a moment. After seeing them dead and dying at her feet, indirectly by her hand, she was almost afraid to let them out of her sight ever again. But they were with her, they were alive. And all she wanted most was to be reminded of that. She nodded slightly and sighed.

"Alright, let's make this work." Clint crawled over her and sat down between her and the wall, grateful that the bed was on the bigger side. Steve did the same, but on her other side. "Laura is going to kill us for having shoes on the bed," Clint muttered.

"I think that she can make an exception this one time," was Steve's response.

Natasha rested her head lightly on his shoulder and whispered, "you died. All of you. It was my fault and there was nothing that I could do to stop it." Clint grabbed her left hand and held it in his.

"It was just a dream. We're here now. You can't get rid of us that easily," Steve joked lightly. "You'd kill us if we died anyways."

"Exactly. We're not going anywhere, Natasha. And if we ever do, it sure as hell won't be your fault," the archer chimed in.

Natasha nodded against Steve's shoulder. They were here, with her. That was all that mattered. There was no crimson or dim eyes or lifeless bodies.

There were just two strong, sturdy ones on either side of her, reminding her that this was real life. That she was not alone.