A/N: Hey, Outies, I'm back! I know you guys didn't miss me, but I'll be damned if I'm not around to annoy you guys every now and then. I took down my story In the Last Game because I decided that that really was not the best writing I'd ever done in my life and was therefore an embarrassment. Still, what FanFiction Outie can be a true FanFiction Outie without having a rewrite of Dally's death through his perspective? xD So, this story is a remake of In the Last Game, with a lot more story and a lot less typos! In fact, it's almost become like a side fic to They Call Me Spineless, so there will be some references to that. Anyway, remember, criticism and reviews are always welcome!

When I watched you kids run off into the darkness, I'd been pretty damned sure I'd just made one of the worst mistakes of my life.

I hoped you didn't take it personally, Johnny, but if you got caught (you were both smart kids, but, goddamn, could you be idiots), there was no way the popos wouldn't know I'd helped you out. I'd left traces of myself all over you, what with you toting my brand new loaded gun and Ponyboy wrapped up all nice in my leather jacket. And, dammit, that was my good leather jacket, the one I only ever wore to parties. I probably wasn't gonna get it back.

Those were just excuses, though. The real reason why I was beating myself up over this wasn't because I hadn't done a hell of a job covering myself. Every time anything happened on this side of town, the fuzz knew it had something to do with me. They'd already hauled me in yesterday and questioned me, and though they couldn't prove anything, I was sure they knew I was in on it. I wasn't really upset about the heater or the jacket, either. Both things were stolen and I could just as easily lift myself some more. But still, the fact that I had bothered to take those risks…that I had been willing to sacrifice some of my prize items…

Those things were definite problems.

I shouldn't have helped you. It was a stupid thing to do. Especially when I knew the kind of hot water it could put me in.

And, lemme tell you, the water I was in right now was near to boiling.

Freakishly muscular arms with hands clamped around the arms of the chair I was sitting in so I couldn't get away. Body like a barrier right in front of me, making sure I stayed where I was. Burning blue-green eyes drilling holes into mine. Face so close I could feel his hot breath on my own face.

Darrell Patrick Curtis the Second was not fucking around.

Dammit, Johnny, what had you gotten me into? No, wait: what had I let you get me into?

Sodapop stood a little behind Superman (who I was seeing as a bit more of a Hulk at that particular moment), just watching us. I wondered if they were going to try the good cop, bad cop routine. If so, Soda could hit me across the face with a wrench and still be the good cop, because Darry was setting the bad cop standard pretty high just by the look he was giving me.

"Where are they?" he hissed at me.

It was a wonder how smart Darry could be sometimes. Not even three days had passed. Between me being at the police station and the police being at their house, this was the first time I'd even seen him since I'd sent you two off. How was it that he had already connected the dots?

There was probably no use in denying it, but had Dallas Winston ever confessed to anything? "If you're talking about the kids, I don't know any more than you do," I replied, glaring back at him. I was too smart to take Darry on, especially with Soda there backing him up, but I wasn't going to back down like the trapped animal I knew I was. I'd rather take the beating that was probably in store for me than back down and give Darry power over me.

"Don't play dumb with me, Dallas," Darry said in a low, dangerous voice. He used my full name, something he only ever did when he was dead-serious. "You know where they are and you're gonna tell me, or so help me god I'll-"

Whenever someone was saying something I didn't want to hear, I had a tendency to tune them out - and, glory, even though I knew it was a bluff, I did not want to hear what Darry was promising to do to me. When I was certain he was through talking, I started listening again. I must have been silent a moment too long, because Darry whipped around, nearly knocking my chair down in the process. Johnny, could you please explain to me why I'd thought it would be a good idea to go to the Curtis house?

After a moment of hesitation, Sodapop took a step forward. I knew it; the cops were switching out.

Soda was holding something in his hands. It looked like a sweatshirt, and, after a moment, I realized it was. It was the sleeveless one Ponyboy had been wearing the night Johnny killed that Soc, the one he'd taken off because it had been wet and had left…at…oh, shit. So Darry hadn't put two and two together; he actually had evidence that would condemn me.

Well, damn, if I hadn't left a bread crumb trail leading right to my fucking front door…

"I went over to Buck's this morning to ask him if I could borrow a few bucks," Soda said, switching the bunched-up sweatshirt from hand to hand. His dark brown eyes, much calmer than Darry's blue-green ones but none the less serious, levelly held my gaze. "He told me I could if I went and cleaned up that pig sty you'd left of the room he'd been letting you borrow for the past few nights. I found this. Ponyboy was wearing it when…when…" He was silent a second, and a tremble ran through his body. There was a flicker in his face - a crack in his composure - and he hurled the sweatshirt to the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, obviously struggling to cool himself. "You'd better have a damn good explanation."

I didn't, and I was pretty sure all three of us knew that. I couldn't exactly explain without confessing, so I stayed silent.

"Dallas, you had better start talking," Darry warned.

He was bluffing.

His eyes narrowed.

He was bluffing.

He took a dangerous step towards me.

Jesus Christ, I hoped he was bluffing.

When I still wouldn't speak, he let out a furious yell. I have expected him to lunge at me and rip my throat out with his bare hands, but instead he whirled and slammed his fist into the wall. His hand disappeared into the drywall, and a small white cloud burst away from the wall. After a moment of silence, he yanked his hand from the freshly-made hole in the wall. He snarled something about going to ask Buck some questions (which meant he was gonna go make the poor guy fear for his life) and stormed out the door.

Soda and I both stayed silent and still, not sure what to do, not sure what to say. Finally, I decided that it wouldn't have been the worst idea to leave. As soon as I stood, though, Soda said, "Wait."

I should've just left.

But I waited.

Soda left the room, then came back a few minutes later with some money and a piece of paper. He sat down at the table in the middle of the room, picked up a teeth-mark-scarred pencil, and began to write. I was standing there for a full five minutes before Soda finally set the pencil down and folded up the piece of paper. "Give this to Ponyboy." He walked up to me and tried to give me the money and the note.

I stepped away, shaking my head. "I already told you, I don't know where-"

"Don't you get the point, Dally, we know you're lying." Soda's sudden change of tone made me realize that he was close to snapping. He was just as wound up as Darry was but was struggling to hold it in with everything he had, but I knew what would happen if I denied him this. So, when Sodapop held the money and the piece of paper towards me again, I accepted them without a word.

Stupid kids, was all I could think as I walked out the door. Stupid kids doing stupid things, getting themselves caught up in such stupid situations…

And, deep down, I knew I wasn't talking about you and Pony.

I was talking about myself.