Sweetest Blood

Sweetest Blood

By: ladygizarme

Beta’d By: ren and Houseki

Disclaimer: Don’t own Naruto, never will (that goes for Sasuke and Itachi as well… *sob*)

Additional Warnings This Chapter: Oro/Ita (non-con), suggestions of twincest (Sakon/Ukon), derogatory language (mostly Tayuya’s), suggestions of het, Itachi OOCness (again, sorry); see first chap for full story warnings

A/N: Yay! Seems you guys are likin’ it so far. Thanks for all the reviews!! ^__^ I was able to update this faster than I expected! It woulda actually been up a couple days ago, but I wanted ren to read it first. I think I’m writing this in a little bit different style than I usually write, so I wanted her to make sure it made sense and I wasn’t getting too rambly. :p It’s a lot longer than expected, too, so prepare yourself… 24 pages in Word without my header and notes. Also… Yay! Wikipedia had an image of an official manga volume cover with Sasori on it! *happy dance* So for those that don’t know: Sasori- red eyes/red hair *drools over the hotness*

Japanese/Terms:
Hajimemashite: Pleased to meet you.
golgo lines: taken from the Translator’s Note in the doujinshi Flowers Child: “golgo lines are lines that go from right under the eye to the upper part of the cheek; aka Itachi’s wrinkles. I’m not sure what the origins of the “golgo” term are. Maybe it’s related to the comic Golgo 13, since the protagonist sports those kind of wrinkles, but it could also be something related to the shape of “gorugo” in katakana.. anyways, it’s those wrinkles XD” (gotta love me referencing trans. notes from Uchihacest dj, ne? XD)

Chapter Two: A New Life, A New Family

The chain clinked and scraped on the floor as Itachi sat crouched on the small wooden stool in front of the tap, scrubbing his body. When he was covered sufficiently in soap suds, he dumped the pail that sat in front of him over his head, refilled it, and dumped it again, rinsing his body. Then he started the process again… for the third time.

He just couldn’t seem to get himself clean. He felt nauseated with himself, knowing that even if he could crawl out of his skin as he’d been sitting here contemplating, it would not change the facts of what he was and the things he had done. The things he would continue to do.

It wasn’t so much that he was now a vampire, or that he had to kill to live. It wasn’t even the blood he could still taste in his mouth and on his lips. It was that man. That vampire. His sire. His… -he clenched his jaw- master. Orochimaru.

It was the man that had taken his life; that had forced a new one on him. The man that had cursed him to spend eternity this way. It was the vampire. The vampire. The one who…

Itachi tugged a bit at the thick leather collar around his neck and the chain clinked again as he leaned to pick up the water pail.

…the one who had broken him; had claimed him; had stolen his virginity and his human life; an innocence he hadn’t even realized he’d had until it was gone. The one who then collared and chained him, locking him away in this room, to be at the snake’s disposal whenever the bastard got the craving. For his blood or his body, either way Itachi was now enslaved.

The night he’d been brought back to Orochimaru’s room, after being drained by Sasori and Deidara, Orochimaru had deposited him on the bed. The sheets had long since been changed from his experience days before, but he was too out of it to notice. Within a few minutes, Kabuto had come back with a ‘meal’ in tow. Orochimaru had met the girl at the doors, and used his weird eyes to put her under a spell before she met Itachi at the bed. With her body under the snake’s control, she had sat across from Itachi and bared her neck to him.

Weak again with hunger and mesmerized by the pounding of blood through the arteries just below the surface, Itachi bared his fangs and plunged them into her. Under Orochimaru’s spell, she didn’t struggle— didn’t even make a sound— but if he had looked into her eyes he would have seen them filled with pain and sheer terror. He hadn’t looked, though. His attention had been solely on the delicate skin breaking under his sharp fangs; the taut muscles snapping beneath his jaws; the hot liquid pulsing out into his mouth and onto his awaiting tongue; the ecstasy in fulfilling his craving.

When the girl dropped from his arms, he saw that he had dug his claws into her arms and shoulders in his earnest. Without thinking anything of it, he had dutifully sucked the blood from his claw-like nails, licking his lips afterwards and laying back into the soft bedding as exhaustion overcame him; the physical torment of his transformation and days on end of increasing hunger without sleep finally taking their toll on his body. As he gave in to the pull of sleep, he heard the low, pleased chuckle of Orochimaru approaching the bedside to take away the dying girl. Then he knew nothing more.

He awoke with a start nearly a full day later, disoriented and wondering where he was. With a few blinks, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked around, freezing when he met the yellow eyes of the vampire looming over him from beside the bed. He averted his eyes, remembering everything clearly.

“Did you sleep well, my pet?” the vampire asked him.

Ignoring his question, Itachi instead asked, “Where are Sasori and Deidara?”

“Hmm? Oh, your fledglings?” Orochimaru replied indifferently. “Do not worry about them, they are perfectly safe. They both seem to have survived the transformation and will have their first feeding soon. Now, come…” he made to pull Itachi from the bed, but the teen refused to budge.

“I want to see them,” Itachi stated firmly.

Orochimaru frowned, then his face cleared, attempting a soothing tone that sounded all-too-false in his hissing voice. “All in due time, Itachi-kun. However, right now it is time to get you cleaned up and dressed. The children are curious about my new pet, and as much as I do love this look on you, I would rather not let the others get such an eyeful.”

Itachi looked down at himself and grimaced, attempting to retreat under the shield of the covers despite Orochimaru’s hand still holding his arm. He was naked. He doubted Orochimaru had even bothered to dress him before throwing him into that stone cell where he’d spent the time of his transformation. He couldn’t remember whether he’d had clothes on the night before or not. His skin was pale— paler than it had been in life, when at least he had been the slightest bit sunkissed. Those days were over now; the sun would never touch his skin again.

Besides the utter lack of clothes and the new milky-white complexion, however, what truly made him grimace was the blood. It was all over him, dried and staining his skin. He could taste it in his mouth. Curiously, he realized he didn’t mind the actual taste, but the thought of what it was made him wish he did; he supposed the enjoyment of the taste stemmed from the craving. He ran a hand through his hair and felt blood in it, clumping the ends together. He must look ghastly. Too bad he wouldn’t be able to look in a mirror to check out the full damage.

The sudden thought sent a chill up his spine. Yet another thing that would mark him as a vampire— the lack of a reflection. He gave an involuntary shiver, and heard the snakelike vampire suck in a hissing breath. Apparently Itachi’s disgust with himself turned the other vampire on.

Reading his thoughts, as Itachi had come to realize he did, Orochimaru said, “Oh, but you are not really disgusted, Itachi-kun. You merely think that is what your reaction should be, so you tell yourself you are. You will come to see, though, my pet, your new existence is much more preferable than your old one, and far superior.”

Itachi gave no reply, and Orochimaru tightened his hold on him, leading him from the bed.

He was shown first to the toilet in an adjoining room— where he found that, even after such a long time in the cell, he still didn’t really have much need of the facilities— then to the next room containing the bath. He washed at the tap, crouched on the stool in front of the floor drain, ignoring Orochimaru’s leer dragging over his body. As he washed, he noticed that he did not have any residual pain from what his body had been through. Surely being raped and viciously bitten on both sides of his neck, along with the wrist bites he had given himself to feed his friends, would leave wounds that took time to heal. Yet, he felt fine, at least as far as pain went. And the bites on his wrists were gone. Had his body gained the power to heal with the transformation?

Orochimaru gave no answer to his thoughts.

He scrubbed all the blood off himself and out of his hair, and wordlessly accepted a plush, blood red towel once he was done. The vampire regretted to inform him there was no time for a soak in the bath. Itachi wouldn’t have wanted one even if there was time. Whether or not the snake had soaked in the tub already that day, just the thought of sharing the same water with that bastard— and relaxing— made his skin crawl.

Orochimaru led him to a small side room with a sink and handed him an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste. Even vampires get morning breath and need to keep their pearly whites.

As he walked into the room, Itachi noticed a large, gilded mirror above the sink. He gasped, realizing he would soon be faced with the hard truth of his undead existence. The mask he’d thought he’d replaced upon awaking this morning cracked and he faltered in his step.

Right now, he could still pretend he was still human. Despite what he knew had happened; despite the craving dully nagging the back of his mind, becoming increasingly insistent, that told him what he really was; he still could pretend. He didn’t feel of death as the other vampire did. He still felt slightly warm. He could feel his heart beat beneath his hand on his chest. It was slow; weak; but it was there. If he stepped in front of that mirror, he would no longer be able to pretend. There would be no reflection, nothing to prove he still had a corporeal existence. Though somewhere in his subconscious he knew he would have to come to terms with this eventually, right now he couldn’t do it. His mask had already broken, and was barely being held together now by the last threads of his resolve to stay sane. Coming face-to-no-reflection with himself now could snap those delicate threads.

Finally, his feet started moving forward again, but his head bowed to the floor, determined not to look up into that dreaded fixture. If his father could see him now, he would surely scorn the weakness of the eldest son he had formerly given all his praise to. The son he had painstakingly conditioned, through study and discipline, to be the perfect heir of the strong and proud Uchiha family. Itachi pushed the thought from his mind, squeezing his eyes shut as he reached the sink and brushed his teeth.

Orochimaru had left him when he’d entered the room, and returned when Itachi had finished and turned away from the sink and mirror. He had brought the teen clean clothes. Itachi dressed, donning the black yukata and tying his hair back into the same low ponytail he’d come to The Pulse with. Orochimaru raked his yellow eyes over the teen, the gleam in his eyes and twist of his lips showing his appreciation of the boy’s appearance. Then he led Itachi back to the bedroom.

A girl was waiting there, sitting nervously on the chaise, hands clenched in her lap. She had short, black hair that fell just under her chin, framing her face. She looked older than Itachi, but not by much; maybe a couple years, at most. Upon their entry to the room, she looked up, and Itachi watched the trepidation in her eyes lessen upon seeing him. He kept his face impassive, though his eyes hardened. She was relieved by his presence, but he knew all too well why she was here. It was nothing like what she probably thought.

“Well, now, Itachi-kun, don’t keep the girl waiting,” Orochimaru’s oily voice urged so only he could hear, squeezing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Introduce yourself.”

Itachi stayed in his spot across the room from the girl and turned narrowed eyes to the vampire beside him.

‘I won’t do it,’ he thought, knowing the snake was in his head. ‘I’ll not take another life.’

Orochimaru’s voice echoed darkly in his mind, ‘You will do it, or I will make you do it.’ Something flashed in his yellow eyes, and Itachi suddenly felt the familiar weight of control being taken over his body. Orochimaru’s voice continued in his head, ‘Do not think for a minute that just because you are of my kind now, that you are immune to my powers. I am centuries older than you, boy, and my power far exceeds anything I’ve shown you yet.’

Itachi closed his eyes— the only action he was allowed independently— and struggled against the snake’s control, to no avail. His struggle stopped and eyes opened again, for now admitting defeat.

Feeling his point had been made, Orochimaru dropped the spell. He walked across the room to the girl and gave a leering smile. Itachi followed obediently.

“Good evening. I am Orochimaru, and this boy is Itachi-kun. I trust Kabuto told you why you are here?”

Slowly, she nodded. “He said there was a boy here I needed to meet, and if my company pleased him I would be made a permanent VIP.”

“That is correct, my dear.” His fangs showed through his smirk as he spoke. “And what exactly do you think that means on your part?”

Blushing slightly, she answered, “You want me to sleep with Itachi-san, though I’m a bit at a loss as to why you would choose me. Surely Itachi-san could have his pick of any girl.”

“Ah, but you see, my Itachi-kun here is shy. And we chose you, my dear, because you are his blood type.”

She looked slightly confused at this comment but seemed to shrug it off. It wasn’t that unheard of for people to choose partners by blood type, though she never put any real stock in it. What she found odd was that they knew her blood type...

“I must ask first, though, are you a virgin, my dear?”

She blushed again, looking off to the side in embarrassment. “No, Orochimaru-san, I’m not.”

“Good, good. That will make things a little easier on Itachi-kun,” Orochimaru replied. Almost as an afterthought, and surely only to patronize the boy, he put his hand on Itachi’s shoulder again and added, “Do be gentle with him.”

Itachi kept an impassive face throughout the exchange, but inside he was seething. Idly, he realized Orochimaru was purposely avoiding calling the girl by name— he hadn’t even asked it to begin with— as if to avoid any qualms Itachi may have about feeding on someone he ‘knew’ again. The observation was fleeting, however, as his irritation with the situation in general grew. They were talking about him as if he weren’t there, and on top of that, they were discussing activities he was expected to take part in. Did Orochimaru really expect him to have sex with this girl? Well, he wasn’t interested; not in the least.

Orochimaru chuckled into his mind. ‘Whether or not you bed this girl is up to you, my pet. I’m only asking for the benefit of your feeding. Virgin blood is much stronger, especially from a female, and you are not ready for it yet.’

Itachi’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the information, but he gave no reaction more than that. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, hadn’t Sasori and Deidara been virgins? They had never told him otherwise, and usually that was the kind of thing guys would brag about to their other guy friends, wasn’t it?

Again, Orochimaru answered into his mind. ‘That was your first feeding, my pet. The same rules don’t exactly apply, when you were already in such a state. Besides, as I said, virgin female blood is usually much stronger. As for whether your fledglings were virgins or not, why don’t you ask them when next you see them, if you are so curious.’

Itachi could hear the lecherous grin in that statement. He wouldn’t dwell on it, however, for now the girl was boldly approaching him; taking the initiative to please him. He wanted to roll his eyes, or scowl, but instead he let himself be pulled gently over to the seat.

She reached up to his face, hesitantly stroking it and tucking his bangs back. He saw a bit of shock come into her curious eyes, but it quickly went away as her fingers returned to their soft, stroking exploration of his face and then lips.

She paused a moment and turned to look at Orochimaru not far away.

“Am I correct in assuming you intend to watch?”

“Do you have a problem with that, my dear?”

“…I suppose not, Orochimaru-san,” she replied hesitantly. “As… long as it pleases you and Itachi-san, I will do whatever you wish.”

He smirked appreciatively, nodding his head approvingly at her answer and motioning for her to continue as he took a seat across the room from them.

Itachi didn’t really hear the exchange. With her close proximity, he was becoming increasingly aware of the smell of her. She smelled clean, not sweaty; if she’d been taken from the club, she obviously hadn’t been there very long before she was plucked away for him. The clean scent mixed with the scent of her blood, which he could hear pumping strongly through her; her heart steadily increasing in pace as her breathing quickened and she continued to explore him— a touch he only allowed because of the distraction of a prominent pulsing on the side of her neck as it tilted to the side, the girl cocking her head at him as she ran a thumb over his lips.

He was unaware of everything outside that pulsing he could feel thrumming through him as the slightest contact with her body sent it pounding through his body as if it were his own heartbeat. Just as it was becoming too much and his instincts took over, calling for him to sink his fangs into her, she leaned forward for a kiss. Having not been paying attention to her lips, or any part of her face for that matter, he was caught off guard by the action. His hands went to her shoulders, holding her back before her mouth could make contact, and she looked up at him in surprise, her eyes locking with his.

Suddenly, Itachi was struck with a feeling he couldn’t understand or explain. It was a weird tingling that raced through his entire being in the blink of an eye, simultaneously settling somewhere in the pit of his stomach and just inside his slowly beating heart. It was familiar, yet somehow not.

Before he could examine it, he noticed the fear coming into her eyes, her body beginning to shake. Then he remembered what he’d just been about to do before she caught him off guard. His fangs were still bared and he was sure she could see the predatory look that must have been on his face.

Without thinking about it, or wondering why, he suddenly thought in earnest, ‘Calm down. It’s alright, I won’t harm you.’

To his surprise, she seemed to heed his thoughts. The fear left her face and her eyes, that had been narrowed and heavy-lidded with the beginnings of lust just moments before, widened to doe-eyed innocence. In that moment, Itachi recognized the strange feeling he had. Though he still couldn’t quite name what the feeling was, he knew why it was so familiar. With her dark brown, almost black eyes so open and trusting, her black bangs framing her face, she suddenly looked so much younger than she was. Her pale skin glowed in the candlelight and an image suddenly flashed in Itachi’s mind, of comforting Sasuke in the glow of candlelight during a power outage.

He remembered the calming words he had spoken that time. ‘Calm down, otouto, it’s alright. It’s just a storm. Aniki will stay with you until it’s over. You’ll be safe.’ Sasuke had looked up at him with such complete adoration and belief in his aniki that Itachi had felt as if he could really protect the boy from the world.

With the sudden memory, Itachi could not complete the act. He couldn’t stop seeing Sasuke in this girl’s face. He could not kill someone that looked so much like his little brother.

He let go of the girl and got up, quickly walking away. She watched him confusedly and Orochimaru gave a growl as he caught the boy’s arm in a powerful grip.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Itachi had closed his eyes as soon as he’d felt the other vampire moving towards him, hoping his theory was correct and that eye contact was needed for the controlling spell.

‘I refuse to kill her,’ he thought simply, knowing the other would hear.

Orochimaru gave another, louder growl and suddenly Itachi was thrown back across the room. He hit the wall beside the chaise and slid to the floor as the girl jumped up in alarm, eyes saucer-wide. The ancient vampire pinned Itachi to the wall with an iron grip around his throat, trapping the boy’s legs with his own as he yanked on the girl’s arm and brought her down as well. Itachi’s arms flailed and struggled to release Orochimaru’s grip, eyes still squeezed tight. He wouldn’t allow the snake to control his body to kill the girl. His theory about the eyes was correct, he was sure of it now.

Then the unmistakable smell of freshly spilling blood filled the air, along with a shrill scream, and his eyes opened involuntarily in surprise to see Orochimaru feeding on the girl. Her small hands beat uselessly against the vampire, eyes wide with horror quickly losing focus, her cries for help dying in her throat. Crimson fluid welled between Orochimaru’s lips and dripped down to his chin as his hand fisted painfully into his victim’s hair. Then he drew his mouth away and, so quickly Itachi had no time to react, plundered the boy’s mouth, forcing the blood down his throat. When Itachi had swallowed it all, Orochimaru drank from the girl again and repeated the process over and over until she was nearly dry and he finally dropped her near-lifeless body.

When he’d fed Itachi the last of the blood, Orochimaru hissed in his ear, “You feel it, don’t you? The rush of the blood lust as it spills into your mouth and floods through your veins. You cannot deny what you are, Itachi-kun, so why fight it? If you continue this insolence, I will be more than happy to feed you this way, but soon I believe you will find taking your own kills is much more satisfying.” His slimy tongue flicked at the teen’s ear before he pulled his face away.

Itachi breathed heavily, his slowly beating heart now rapidly pumping fresh blood through his system. His mind and body were swirling from sensory overload, the girl’s blood sending him into a euphoria he could neither fight nor deny. His fighting limbs had long since given up, his arms dropping to his sides limply. He could feel the blood around his mouth and dripping down to his chin and licked it up as best he could. What he couldn’t get, Orochimaru did, and then the snakelike vamp used his thumb to wipe the wetness away.

After a few minutes, Itachi felt his body calming down, though the pleasure the meal had brought still thrummed steadily through him at a more reasonable pace. He was just starting to feel almost normal again, when the collar of his yukata was pulled to the side and fangs sunk into the crook of his shoulder. He cried out sharply, but found that the pain wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been the first time. Whether it was because it wasn’t the first or because he was no longer human, he wasn’t sure, but he did not struggle. He knew it would do no good, and he would not be dying from this.

Orochimaru drank for not even a minute, then stopped the flow of blood with his special alternate saliva. Licking his lips, he hissed almost to himself, “Ahh, sooo gooood. The legends were true. Extraordinary.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Itachi wondered what that meant, but the thought did not make it to the forefront in the haze of losing some of the precious blood he’d just swallowed.

Standing himself and Itachi up, Orochimaru cleaned the boy of any remaining blood with his freakish tongue, and straightened both of their clothes. With a gentle nudge, Itachi sank onto the nearby chaise and Orochimaru retreated into an adjoining room momentarily. When he returned, he held a thick collar and what looked like a dog leash. He attached the collar around Itachi’s neck, securing it closed with another ancient locking spell. Then he looked into Itachi’s dilated eyes.

“This collar marks you as my pet and my blood slave. You are to address me as ‘master’ or ‘Orochimaru-sama’. No one else may touch or feed from you other than me. If they do, they will reap severe consequences from the spell I have locked the collar with.”

With this said, he attached the leash. “Come now, let us introduce you to your new siblings,” he added, leading Itachi from the room by the chain.

Out in the hallways, Itachi could hear the familiar thump of the music from the club overhead and the bodies dancing in it. Orochimaru brought him to a room that looked very similar to the lounge in the VIP room. The room was littered with other young people, and somehow he knew immediately that they were all vampires also. He noticed a few familiar faces from his journey through the VIP room so many days ago, and found he wasn’t surprised in the least. He recognized the little red haired girl from Deidara’s curious door-opening, as well. When he and Orochimaru stepped in, all eyes turned to them and those that weren’t already standing stood. Then, almost as one, they all greeted the ancient vampire.

“Good evening, Orochimaru-sama.”

Itachi’s eyebrow raised slightly, but was quickly schooled away as nearly everyone returned to their former positions.

“Good evening, my children. I trust Kabuto has fed you well?”

“Hai, Orochimaru-sama,” a boy with white hair parted in a zigzag pattern answered, adoration shining in his clear green eyes. He wore long black shorts past his knees, and his loose-fitting, pale purple shirt had sleeves that hung past his hands and was opened to reveal the creamy skin of his chest. Just above his breastbone was what looked like an odd tribal tattoo. He also had two red dots on his forehead and the same color red ringed underneath his eyes.

“This the new fucktoy?” the petite red haired girl asked, arms crossed over her small chest. She wore a white spaghetti-strap dress with slits up the sides to her hips, over a tight black cropped-sleeve top and skintight black shorts. A purple sash was tied around her waist, and a dark beanie on her head held her shaggy hair over the middle of her face, a stern scowl adorning it.

A tall, plump boy with a three-strip orange mini-Mohawk came up behind her and set his heavy hand on her head with a frown. “Tayuya, don’t use such language in front of Orochimaru-sama.” He wore dark sweats and a gray muscle shirt. Itachi noticed with slight curiosity that this boy was slightly darker than everyone else, and his eyes were red.

The smaller girl knocked his large hand off as if it were nothing and snarled, “Shut the fuck up, Jiroubou. I’ll talk how I wanna talk.”

“Tayuya, that’s enough,” Orochimaru hissed, and the girl shut her mouth, returning to her former scowl. Orochimaru gave a creepy grin and gestured to Itachi. “This is Itachi-kun, your new brother. I brought him here to meet you all.” He took a look around the room and frowned. “Where are Sakon, Ukon and Kidoumaru?”

A boy at the back dressed in gray camo pants and a black tank under a large, gray camo jacket with the hood up, what could be seen of his head mostly wrapped in bandages, paused a game of cards to answer, “Sakon and Ukon are still busy with dinner.”

“And what happened to you?” Orochimaru asked almost disinterestedly.

“Fucker got in the way of dinner, didn’t he?” Tayuya spoke up with a harsh laugh. “You’d think the dumbass would learn after nearly losing an arm that one time. Sakon and Ukon don’t like being interrupted during ‘feeding time’. Judging by the damage this time, he musta walked in mid-prey-fuck.”

Jiroubou frowned disapprovingly. “Tayuya…” the large boy said warningly. “You know girls shouldn’t talk like that.”

“Fine, fine,” Orochimaru interrupted the inevitable scathing return from the girl. “What about Kidoumaru?”

This time the other card playing boy, dressed in a green camo pants and a muddy-brown shirt, answered the question. “He said he’s tired of having meals handed to him and went to find his own prey.”

Itachi could feel the irritation flowing off of Orochimaru.

“So he’s out in the city?” the ancient vampire questioned.

Heads were nodded in answer.

“Fine, they’ll meet him later. Why don’t you introduce yourselves while I deal with Kabuto and security for letting Kidoumaru out without informing me. Play nice, now, children.”

As Orochimaru unhooked the leash from Itachi’s collar, the door to the room opened and in walked two boys with purple-gray hair. They were identical except for one had his hair parted to the right while the other had it parted to the left. They both were very thin, and wore tight, low-riding black pants. The one with his hair falling more to the left also wore a red beaded necklace and a short-sleeved button up shirt, made of a smooth, shimmery material that would react to the lights in the club, only half-buttoned to show off his chest. The other one was shirtless, his matching shirt slung over his shoulder and the low riding pants revealing the upper jut of his hip bones. Both teens were splashed with blood.

“Ah, Sakon, Ukon, how nice of you to join us,” Orochimaru greeted. Looking them over, he commented, “Sakon, you have your dinner on your face.”

“Let me get it, otouto,” the shirtless one stated, moving to lick the blood from his brother’s face.

With a half-cocked smirk, Sakon said, “Thank you, nii-san.” He then swiped his fingers across some blood on Ukon’s chest and licked them off.

“Now that you’re here you can meet Itachi-kun,” Orochimaru hissed, interrupting their ‘cleaning session’.

Two pairs of hard black eyes turned to Itachi and twin sly grins spread across their blue-green painted lips.

“It’s about time, shitheads. Did you have fun with your dinner-slut? You almost missed out on meeting the precious new pet,” Tayuya spat out.

Their heads snapped to her and their grins opened to reveal bloody fangs.

“We had more fun than we would’ve with your skinny ass, no-tits,” Sakon quipped.

Tayuya growled, “Yeah? Well that’s not hard since I would never let you touch me, you twincest-fags!”

“As if we would want to,” Sakon returned. “The only women we touch actually look like women.”

Ukon spoke then. “Now, now, Sakon, it’s not Tayuya’s fault our meal had bigger tits than her. Even Jiroubou does.” He leered at her.

“Okay, that’s it!” She lunged for him as Jiroubou growled at the comment. “Only I get to make fun of the fatass!!”

“Don’t call me that, Tayuya,” the large boy reprimanded the girl launching towards the twins.

Before she made it to them, she was plucked from the air by Orochimaru.

“Children, children, what a scene to show Itachi-kun,” Orochimaru ‘tsk’ed at them.

With a leer of triumph, Sakon and Ukon swaggered over to an unoccupied loveseat, Sakon sitting down first and Ukon curling up beside him, head in his brother’s lap. The older brother promptly fell asleep with Sakon stroking his hair and licking random spots of blood.

Things again relatively calm, Orochimaru took his leave, locking the door behind him. Itachi surveyed the room, face an emotionless mask. When not in Orochimaru’s overwhelming presence, it was much easier and more natural to maintain.

“Che, so now we’re back to kiddie security measures all cuz of pretty boy over here?” Tayuya spat venomously, referring to the lock Orochimaru put on the door.

“Tayuya, shut your mouth while in Itachi-san’s presence, or I will shut it for you,” the white haired boy spoke the threat calmly, but Itachi heard the dangerous power just under the surface as he watched the clear green eyes flash momentarily.

The girl seemed to ignore the threat, though. “Already playing guard dog for your new replacement, Kimimaro? What a whipped bitch you are, no wonder Orochimaru got tired of playing with you again.”

“You will address him as Orochimaru-sama. And my actions are none of your business. Itachi-san is in Orochimaru-sama’s favor now and, as such, we all must treat him with respect.”

After a moment’s standoff, the girl gave in with a, “Che.” She turned and sat on a sofa with a huff, Jiroubou following her.

The white haired boy then apologized for Tayuya’s rudeness and pointed out the others in the room as Jiroubou, Zaku, and Dosu. He gave Sakon and Ukon proper introductions as well.

“And I am Kimimaro,” the teen finished with a bow. “Hajimemashite.”

“Hajimemashite,” Itachi replied automatically, returning the gesture out of severely ingrained etiquette.

“You look much better now, Itachi-san,” Kimimaro commented in his soft, deep voice.

Itachi’s only show of confusion was a slight squinting of his eyes.

Kimimaro noticed, however, and clarified, “I was with Kabuto-san and Orochimaru-sama the night you had your first feeding.”

“Hmm…” Sakon remarked, propping his elbow on the back of the seat and leaning his head on his open palm. “Kimimaro got to see the new kid naked, eh? I wish I could’ve been there.” His tongue flicked out over a fang and Itachi was eerily reminded of Orochimaru, though at least Sakon’s tongue was of normal size.

The memory of the night played in his mind then and Itachi addressed Kimimaro, “You came to take Deidara. Where are they? I need to see them.”

“They are fine. They should be primed for their first feeding very soon. Do not worry yourself about them. How are you now? You looked quite out of it when I saw you then.”

“Other than having been forced into vampirism by a deranged, egotistical, pedophiliac vampire, I’m just fine,” Itachi remarked with a straight face.

Suddenly, Tayuya burst out laughing. “Oh! I think I may change my mind about him! We just need to get the stick and whatever else Orochimaru has shoved up his ass out and maybe the new fucktoy will be some fun!”

Kimimaro shot a glare at her. “Tayuya, the only reason I don’t kill you now is because of Orochimaru-sama’s wishes. Watch yourself or you’ll soon lose that reason.”

The girl made a rude gesture, but shut her mouth and was soon distracted by joining the game of poker Dosu and Zaku had invited her and Jiroubou into.

With her no longer a problem, Kimimaro turned his glare on Itachi.

“Have you no gratitude for the gift Orochimaru-sama has granted you?”

Itachi’s eyes narrowed again. Evenly, he returned the question with his own, tugging on the collar fastened to his throat. “Gift? How is this enslavement a gift?” Though his tone was impassive and he wasn’t letting it show more than the narrowing of his eyes, Itachi was becoming highly irritated. Not only did they all know what had been done to him, and what he was to be ‘used’ for, but now this Kimimaro was acting as if he should be thrilled to be the latest pet of that snake.

“That’s just Kimimaro for you,” the boy in green camo, Zaku, remarked from the corner. “Expect nothing less from the only one of ‘them’ to beg for the position you now hold.”

“Them?” Itachi asked.

“Orochimaru-sama’s pet collection,” Dosu answered, keeping his one unbandaged eye on his cards.

“Oi, that’s not true, Zaku,” Sakon argued. “Jiroubou did too, didn’t he? Didn’t want to be separated from that foul-mouthed little trollop over there. Why, I have no idea.”

For once, Tayuya’s only reaction was another rude gesture as she laid down her winning hand in triumph.

Itachi felt his curiosity growing, despite his efforts to remain unfazed. However, further questioning was cut off when Orochimaru chose that moment to return.

“Have you all become sufficiently acquainted?” The snakelike vampire inquired. “It’s time for Itachi-kun to return to me now.”

Kimimaro’s glare softened with Orochimaru’s presence and he answered, “Hai, Orochimaru-sama. Arigatou.”

Orochimaru reattached the leash to Itachi’s collar and led him out the door. As they got out to the hallway, a dark skinned boy with his thick, black hair up in a spiky ponytail passed them. He was dressed all in black and Itachi mentally corrected his earlier observation of Jiroubou being the darkest of the pale group of vampires. Vampirism obviously must not affect your natural skin pigment, but merely take away the sun’s touch.

“Kidoumaru, you are late,” Orochimaru chastised the boy.

Kidoumaru gave a fanged grin with a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Say hello to Itachi-kun. It will be awhile before you see him again.”

Kidoumaru gave a short greeting, bowed slightly, and crept past them into the lounge with the others.

“Well, he must have had a satisfying hunt, if he didn’t put you through his usual games,” the snake remarked. Then with the smallest of shrugs, he tugged on Itachi’s leash and took him to another room, near his own chambers.

The room was lushly furnished, similar to Orochimaru’s bedroom, but with a few significant differences. For one, there was no snake theme. Secondly, the light fixtures on the walls were electric rather than candle-lit. And third, rather than the elaborately-carved four-poster bed, there was a simple, traditional futon. On the wall above the futon were strategically placed chains and manacles, and a ring protruded from the wall some distance higher. On one side of that same wall was a doorway that led to the toilet. On the opposite side, a doorway led to the bathing area.

Kabuto stood in the space between the head of the futon and the wall, attaching a large, heavy chain to the ring above his head. The chain was long enough to reach into either doorway on the wall, but would not reach to the doorway where Orochimaru and Itachi had just entered. Upon their entrance, the glasses-wearing familiar turned around.

“Good evening, Orochimaru-sama, Itachi-kun,” he said with a bow. Adjusting his glasses as he straightened up again, he gestured to the assortment of restraints. “I’ve just finished with your orders, Orochimaru-sama. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, Kabuto,” the vampire hissed. “Please procure more nourishment for Itachi-kun. I fear he may need it when I am done.”

An involuntary shudder went through Itachi as yellow eyes burned into him, taking control of his limbs again. When Kabuto left with his orders, Orochimaru dragged Itachi over to the bed. He took off the leash he’d been leading the raven haired teen with, replacing it with the heavier chain and putting his locking spell over it. Then he cuffed Itachi’s wrists in the manacles before tearing the yukata off the boy with sharp claws. His long, wet tongue slithered across the exposed flesh, tasting the small droplets of blood where his claws had nicked the skin. Just before his fangs extended to the boy’s neck, he released the spell on Itachi, relishing in the boy’s sudden cry of pain when he dug his teeth in bruisingly— deeper than the teen had yet experienced.

In the next moment, Itachi had been newly torn open in a much lower place, blood again flowing from between his legs as Orochimaru continued to drink from him. As the older vampire stole the blood from him, Itachi could feel the cock moving inside him growing larger; harder; thrusting savagely. He wondered if he would rip in two. If he did, he hoped it would be the end of his existence rather than just another wound that would mend and heal because of his vampirism.

Gradually, Itachi’s cries died out; he just didn’t have the energy for it anymore. With his silence, though, the rest of the sound around him flooded his ears. The sounds of Orochimaru’s grunts and moans and hissing of pleasure made Itachi want to puke. Rather than being unable to, as with his first experience of this, he found himself actually gagging and heaving. He didn’t bother turning his head; maybe being puked on would actually discourage the snake from continuing. He let the bitter liquid rise to the back of his throat and project out, spitting and letting it dribble out his mouth when his body’s natural heave ended. When he opened his watery eyes to see the damage, however, he found he was covered in frothy, slightly pink blood.

Of course, that’s all that had been in his stomach. What little hadn’t been sent coursing through his veins, and consequently sucked out by Orochimaru, had settled in his stomach. Churning with his stomach acid, and then with his spit on the way out, had turned it to this magenta-tinted foam.

To his relief, Orochimaru didn’t lick up the vomited blood. Itachi was sure he would heave again if that happened. Unfortunately, the snake didn’t stop fucking Itachi, either.

After what seemed an endless amount of time, Orochimaru finally came, hissing his satisfaction. He pulled out, letting Itachi’s body slump down as best it could, the manacles holding his shoulders several centimeters from the ground by his straining arms. He undid the cuffs and ordered Itachi to go clean himself, apparently unconcerned with whether the boy came also; not that Itachi was complaining.

He found that the chain on his neck did indeed have enough slack for movement inside the bathing room, though the weight of it threw his balance off even more than it already was in his weakened and torn state. Washing while wearing the chain and collar was also a bit difficult, but he managed somehow, and before he knew it he was clean, dry, and dressed in a new yukata. He could feel his insides already slowly healing from Orochimaru’s abuse, and grit his teeth against the hiss of pain that wanted to come out as he walked.

He sat on his chaise, not wanting to be anywhere near the futon so soon after recent activities. There were new sheets on it, but he didn’t care. Some time passed, he supposed, but he didn’t really notice how much. He forced himself to be numb. Soon enough, though, Kabuto was reentering the room. This time he had a boy in tow; one with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes. Itachi knew what was coming; what was expected of him; and with a searing glance from Orochimaru, he knew he had no choice. Or, rather, he had choices, and killing the boy for himself was the most preferable. He had no desire to be repeatedly force fed by that snake.

Seeing Itachi for the first time, and noticing the collar and chain on his neck, the boy hesitated. With a word of encouragement from Kabuto as he exited the room, the boy continued until he sat next to Itachi. He started to make some joking comment about not expecting S&M on the first date, trying to mask his still-apparent nervousness, but before the sentence was complete Itachi was on him.

One pale, slender hand fisted into the human’s hair, yanking his head to the side as the claws from the other hand tore back the boy’s collar, drawing blood as he grazed the skin. When the smell assaulted his nose, his tongue flicked over his lips and he could almost taste it. Bloodlust came into his eyes, putting the fear of death into the boy’s hazel ones as he watched Itachi bare his fangs and lunge. A sharp breath and weak cry was his only protest as Itachi quickly had him subdued with blood loss. It was so good; so good, it made his head spin with the blood— the power and control he felt over another life; taking another life.

As soon as he thought that, he noticed the heart was stopping. Suddenly, he dropped the body, as if it had burned him, and stared aghast down at his bloody claws, one shaking hand coming up to his mouth to wipe away the blood there.

What had he let himself become?

Then he heard Orochimaru chuckling and Itachi turned a glare to him.

“You see, Itachi-kun? This is who you are. This is what you are. There is no going back, and you know deep in your heart you don’t really want to.”

As the snake spoke, Itachi wondered in passing why he didn’t just speak into his mind, as he’d shown earlier was well within his power. The answer, he decided, was that the snake just liked the sound of his own hissing voice. Orochimaru stood from his seat across the room and walked to him, continuing his speech.

“You have always looked down on those around you, haven’t you? Wondering what the point of it all was. Why anyone so inferior could exist. What your real purpose was in your overly-structured life, if so many aimless, pointless beings were able to walk around freely without consequence. Now you see, there is consequence. We are not a curse. We are merely the top of the evolutionary ladder— the food chain, if you will— giving those pointless, useless creatures a purpose— giving us life. Join me, Itachi-kun. Agree to serve me, remain my loyal pet, and you shall soon see the benefits you reap.”

He then grabbed the side of Itachi’s head in a cold hand and kissed him forcefully, but, thankfully, without tongue. When he let go, Itachi spat, but Orochimaru had already moved out of the way in a flash, giving another dark chuckle as he exited the room with the dead boy. Itachi was left in his new room, chained by the neck and contemplating words that, he realized with disdain, rang very true.

Shaking his head roughly, Itachi dispelled the memory and returned to vigorously scrubbing himself. Several minutes later, having finally deemed himself acceptably clean— pale skin now red from being scrubbed raw— he rinsed and set the pail and bench aside, stepping away from the taps and drain to get a towel. The tub nearby was full, heated water up to the brim, inviting him to soak; he decided to forego the towel and get in the bath.

As his cold body sunk into the hot water, he allowed a soft sigh to escape him. Ah, he’d forgotten how good this felt.

Orochimaru had Kabuto draw a fresh bath for him each day, but Itachi had yet to make use of it. He had refused, not wanting to put himself that much more off his guard. Now, though, he wondered what the point had been. As if allowing himself this small amount of comfort and relaxation could put him any more off his guard than he already was. Orochimaru had already gotten past all his defenses, hadn’t he? Besides, the snake had already ‘visited’ him tonight, which was the reason he’d been so arduously scrubbing himself in the first place. Bad memories wanted to surface with the thought, but he pushed them away, allowing the heat and the steam and the gentle motion of the water to soothe him.

He could barely remember the last soak he’d had. All he knew was that it had been in his former life; his human life. Most surely, it had been in his family’s tub— his former family; his human family. He had a new family now, though, didn’t he? He scoffed at the idea. He felt about as close to this new family as he had to the old one— no real ties or ambition to do well in the family, other than what was forced on him by his ‘father’. So really, this life wasn’t much different, then, was it?

A sudden thought of his little brother made the corners of his straight mouth quirk down slightly.

No, the family mentality hadn’t been much different, he supposed. Everything had been done to please his father and keep his temper at bay and life relatively peaceful. However, his life had been different.

Rather than going to school, hanging out with his friends before his father came home and gave him more ‘studying’ to do concerning the family corporation, helping Sasuke with his homework, or playing some game with him while their mother was too busy with the housework; Itachi now spent his days chained in his room (nicely-furnished dungeon), alone with his thoughts and what he suspected may be a quickly slipping sanity.

Rather than eating dinner with his family and pretending everything was perfect, pretending he was interested in things his father said, and happily listening when Sasuke relayed his own stories; Itachi now killed nightly for his dinner of blood, listening only to the entrancing pulse, the quickly muffled screams, and Orochimaru’s dark chuckle.

Rather than telling his family goodnight, poking Sasuke in the forehead and earning a pout when the younger boy tried to get him to convince their parents to let him stay up, sleeping in his own bed, and occasionally having Sasuke as a bedmate after a bad dream; Itachi now was living his own bad dreams, which now consisted solely of an ancient, sadistic, sexual deviant of a vampire with a freakishly long tongue that he sorely wished he knew nothing of.

As had been happening quite often during his times of solitude, Orochimaru’s words echoed through his mind again.

“This is what you are. There is no going back, and you know deep in your heart you don’t really want to... Join me, Itachi-kun. Agree to serve me, remain my loyal pet, and you shall soon see the benefits you reap.”

Oh yes, he had been thinking on those words a lot. In many ways, Orochimaru was completely right about him. He hated most other people. They were like little insects to be eaten by animals, or crushed underfoot; and they knew it, too. That was what he particularly hated. They went about their merry little lives, unconcerned of the life he was made to lead as long as he remained their perfect Uchiha Itachi, worthy of their pedestal. The perfect looks, the perfect grades, the perfect manners, the perfect family, the perfect son. Perfect, perfect, perfect; but what about them? Why didn’t they have to strive to be perfect?

In fact, once he’d really started thinking about it, there were very few people he could really tolerate beyond the mask he forced upon himself. There were even fewer that he actually liked. Included in the ‘like’ category were Sasuke, Sasori, Deidara, and occasionally, his mother.

Itachi liked— well, scratch that— he loved his little brother. At first, he hadn’t been too keen on the idea. Being five years old and the world your parents’ lives seemed to revolve around, and suddenly told you would be sharing the spotlight with some helpless, crying little baby, hadn’t exactly been his idea of great news. When the little bundle of joy was born, barely a month after Itachi’s sixth birthday, Itachi had already firmly decided that the little twerp would be getting enough attention from everyone else, so he wouldn’t need Itachi’s.

Sasuke had soon grown on him, though. Itachi started smiling a little bit more around him, the smaller child’s innocence refreshing and addictive. When Itachi entered school soon after that, his father, Fugaku, decided it was time to start preparing Itachi for his future as the Uchiha heir. He devoted all his time and attention to making sure Itachi was the ‘perfect son’, not even acknowledging his other child more than to compare Sasuke’s shortcomings to Itachi’s ‘perfection’.

Itachi began to hate his father even more for this, seeing how much it cut Sasuke down and took the happiness out of his eyes. His father couldn’t even see the damage he was doing to the beautiful, happy child. Itachi didn’t want Sasuke to become like he had started to— jaded and apathetic to the world beneath him— so around Sasuke’s fourth birthday, Itachi began to give all the time he could to giving Sasuke the attention he lacked from their father. The two brothers grew close; Sasuke looked up to his aniki, and Itachi looked after him adoringly.

Yes, despite how ‘imperfect’ or ‘beneath him’ Sasuke may have been in their father’s eyes, Itachi did not think he was. Sasuke was the one saving grace of the pride-and-money driven Uchiha line, and Itachi’s solace at the end of the day was spending time with his little brother. He was not useless; he had worth to Itachi. He kept him human in the face of his father’s mold of perfection.

Of course, as time wore on and Itachi’s responsibilities to his studies and his father’s expectations grew, it had been harder for him to cope. Stress and bitterness began to take its toll on him, and he noticed golgo lines developing under his eyes. Top it off with Sasuke wanting more and more to earn their father’s attention, and Itachi had started distancing himself from his little brother bit by bit, to give the boy room to grow into his own light. He’d been disheartened by the fact that his attention still wasn’t enough, but tried to empathize with Sasuke’s starvation for paternal attention and acknowledgement; though having been on the receiving end of his father’s particular brand of attention for years, it was hard for him to understand why Sasuke would want such a burden. Losing a little bit of his reprieve, Itachi had hardened his mask to the world.

Then came Junior High, and Sasori and Deidara.

Sasori and Deidara, though at first glance one would think they belonged in the ‘aimless and pointless’ category, were actually quite the opposite. Admittedly, he had thought little of them when they’d first met. They seemed ordinary, low-to-middle class, and had no ambition in school; people he’d been ingrained to ignore unless they could somehow benefit him. Well, he supposed, they had ended up benefiting him…

Sasori did well in his grades, but showed no real interest in his homework. Even his heavy-lidded, sleepy-looking red eyes seemed to prove his disinterest in the matter. He preferred to spend his study time drawing or designing one thing or another— creating and perfecting his timeless art, so he said. If he was ever to be found with a book, chances were it had nothing to do with school and everything to do with his latest project.

Deidara didn’t really do well in any of his classes, except maybe chemistry when they did a lab experiment. Then his bright blue-green eyes would light up with absolute mischief and a grin would cross his face that other students immediately recognized as their cue to take cover. During those times, his peers often left the class smoldering and wondering how the blonde was able to survive his own stunts with all of his long, blonde, pony-tailed hair intact, especially when his long bangs hung low over one eye.

When it came to his grades, it wasn’t really that Deidara was stupid, but that the teachers and the subjects they taught couldn’t keep his interest. He spent his study time— well, pretty much all of his time— concocting plans for destruction of school, public, and private property. He claimed someday he would create and destroy his ultimate masterpiece.

When Itachi first met them in his first year of Junior High, he had immediately put them in the ‘useless’ category. However, Deidara, for one reason or another, had been determined to crack his shell. Perhaps an extension of his need to destroy things— he had recognized Itachi’s perfect mask and wanted to demolish it to see what was really underneath. Well, that had basically been the answer he’d given both Itachi and Sasori as to why he was so hell-bent on getting Itachi to hang out with them. He’d added that Itachi’s emotionless mask had reminded him of the porcelain face of one of Sasori’s handmade marionettes.

At that comment, Sasori had made a hum that seemed to mean, ‘Oh, I see what you mean.’ He’d then explained to the frowning Itachi— that is to say Itachi’s eyes had narrowed ever so slightly and the corners of his mouth had twitched down a hair— that Deidara had smashed the mentioned marionette because its face was too perfect. Itachi wondered how the two had become and remained friends, when they seemed such opposites, especially with Deidara’s penchant for ‘destructive art’ where Sasori preferred to ‘create, perfect, and preserve’.

He’d decided he needed to study them to understand better; really, it boggled the mind! Trying to ignore his curiosity hadn’t helped at all, either!

Before he knew it, he was spending time with them every day before he was expected home, and little by little they had grown on him. It had been so gradual, so natural, he hadn’t even noticed. It became routine for him to watch them and listen as they bickered about what art was; Deidara loud and adamantly defending his destruction as a form of art, complaining that he respected Sasori’s art form, so the redhead should also respect his; Sasori quietly but firmly refusing to admit anything that exploded was art, and hiding his sleepy-eyed smirk behind his latest project when Deidara took his bait and ranted further. It became comfortable, and soon Itachi found himself making his own dry remarks, a bit of understanding coming to him about the enjoyment Sasori seemed to get from the banter. It was a simple pleasure.

He also found himself increasingly interested in watching the two of them work. Despite what society may have thought of him and his ambitions, Sasori really was a talented artist. Really, he was probably a genius. Many times, Itachi was in awe of the things the redhead could create with his own hands or pencil. Deidara, also; though Itachi couldn’t completely agree it was art, he definitely had some kind of brains and talent. He’d once asked the two of them why they didn’t apply their talents more to their academic life as well, and had received simultaneous identical answers.

Conformity to society isn’t art.

There was another underlying message there; conformity to society wasn’t genius, either. So there had been their common thread. Itachi agreed, and came to his own conclusion as well. He wasn’t art and he wasn’t genius; he wasn’t original or unique; he was merely his father’s pawn in society. He couldn’t understand why so many flocked to him because of his grades or his looks or his status. But Sasori and Deidara were different. They didn’t care about any of that, they just seemed to like his company; he could relax his mask a little with them.

Apparently, he’d let it relax too much, and it came as a surprise to him when his father had tried to forbid Itachi from seeing them. His mother, Mikoto, in a rare act of tenacity (and one of the few times Itachi could specifically recall her being in his ‘like’ category), had actually convinced Fugaku that the boys were harmless and Itachi should be allowed to be friends with them as long as it didn’t affect his studies and after school duties. Overhearing the conversation, Itachi had actually been a bit shocked at the word ‘friends’ referring to Sasori and Deidara, but with a quick review of what their exact relationship had become, he realized the term was accurate.

Itachi had been allowed to remain friends with them, but his father again tried to separate them by having Itachi tested out of Junior High. The older Uchiha had figured if his son was in a different, more demanding and prestigious school, he would soon have no time for the ‘riffraff’. Itachi had been further bewildered when his newfound friends had actually put out the extra effort to make sure that didn’t happen. Hence began their weekend ritual of escaping their individual responsibilities at home to be regular boys having fun together; rebelling, some would say, particularly in Itachi’s case. It had been the outlet he’d needed to continue to cope with the expectations put forth to him.

But now those expectations were moot, weren’t they? That didn’t mean that the people that mattered would change, though, did it? They were still important; they were still special to him.

This thought reminded Itachi of the other thing that had been plaguing his mind for days.

It had been several days since he’d been given this room; this collar; this chain. Almost a week, judging by how many times he’d fed (thankfully, there had been no more that reminded him of Sasuke). Every night his routine was the same: wake up to creepy yellow eyes, feed, try to go numb as he was raped and fed from, feed again, bathe, sit or lay in thoughtful silence for several hours, sleep, repeat the next night. He hadn’t seen his ‘siblings’ since their first meeting, and had yet to see Sasori and Deidara.

Where were they? How were they? What were they doing? Did they hate him now? Did they curse him, wishing he would die; that they had died?

Suddenly, he was brought out of his thoughts by a sharp tug on the chain at his throat. He looked up and felt his slowly pulsing blood freeze, despite the temperature of the water he soaked in. It was Orochimaru. So… he had been correct in his original resistance of the bath after all…

As he left the bath and dried himself, Itachi tried to steel himself for whatever lay ahead, slipping on the mask he had slowly been repairing during his isolation. Deftly avoiding the mirror that he was sure Orochimaru put in his dressing area just to mock him, he dressed and returned to the bedroom. He felt surprised when the futon was forgone and the heavy chain at his neck was replaced by the smaller leash; the emotion barely made it past his eyes, but Orochimaru saw it nonetheless and gave a half-cocked smirk.

The leash tugged at the collar around his throat, leading him out of the room and through the catacomb-like hallways of the snake’s underground lair. Deeper and deeper they seemed to go. It was the farthest he’d been into these hallways since his time here began, and though he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t help the curiosity building within him. Finally he had to ask.

“Where are we going?”

His only answer was a slight stiffening of Orochimaru’s shoulders, and the continuous shuffling of their footsteps through the stone corridors. His eyes narrowed at the vampire in front of him, knowing exactly why he remained silent. That was fine. Itachi could be patient. He didn’t need his question answered by him. He could wait until they got wherever they were going.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a door, but no move was made to open it. Orochimaru turned to look at him, a gleam in his yellow eyes. Itachi’s glare deepened, and the snake’s smirk widened, giving Itachi a slight quirk of his brow.

Forcing his voice to stay soft, calm, Itachi gave the desired words. “Where are we, Orochimaru-sama?” Only through years spent speaking with false politeness was he able to keep his teeth from gritting against the honorific and the growl out of his voice. It was second nature to him by now.

The snakelike vampire gave his creepy fanged grin.

“I thought you would like to see your creations. You have been asking about them, have you not?”

Almost involuntarily, Itachi’s eyes widened and he gave a wordless nod. Orochimaru opened the door a crack and motioned him inside, but Itachi hesitated with the first step. What awaited him inside?

He knew Sasori and Deidara were in there, and he longed to see them. But how would they react when they saw him? Would they be angry he’d killed them and turned them? What had happened to them during all the days he hadn’t seen them? Did they have the same fate as him, serving as unwilling bedmate and convenient snack for some fanged creep so much older than them? Would they rather have died? Would they want to kill him?

Orochimaru interrupted his thoughts with a tug on the leash, pulling the teen through the open door. “Come now, Itachi-kun. It is time to tend to your children.”

Deciding he wouldn’t mind dying by their hands, and hoping that if they tried they would succeed, Itachi confidently stepped into the room. If they also wanted to die, he would do all in his power to bring them to hell with him.

Immediately the smell of blood hit him. It hadn’t been as noticeable before, because the whole place smelled of the blood of innumerable victims of Orochimaru and his ‘children’ that inhabited the catacomb-like structure beneath The Pulse. Inside this room, though, the scent of the blood was overwhelming for a few moments, making his head spin as the craving hit him. He fell back against the door, waiting until he grew accustomed to the smell and the rest of his senses came back to him before straightening up and focusing again. Then he was able to tell that none of the blood seemed to be that of his friends. He felt relieved, and surveyed the room.

The room was dimly lit, just as he’d grown accustomed to seeing in this place. There were no candles here, though, just the dim artificial lighting of the same wall sconces his room contained. Itachi could see fine in this light, his eyes having thoroughly adjusted during his time here.

Unlike Orochimaru’s room or his own room, this room opened into a living area rather than a bedroom. Though it was not furnished nearly as richly as the snake’s, it was rather high-end. Two plush sofas, a coffee table, an overstuffed chair, and a wall-length bookcase made up the main area. Off to the side was a small dining table with two chairs, and behind that a small kitchenette branched off from the living room. On the left side of the room, towards the back wall, was a doorway. On the right side, same story. Then from the back wall were two doorways he was familiar with from his own room— they most likely led to the toilet and the bath. It was like a mini-apartment, or a luxurious dorm.

Itachi’s friends were not in the main living area, though he could tell by the sheer mess and destruction that Deidara at least spent a hefty amount of time in this room. Even the kitchenette hadn’t been spared the blonde’s special brand of art. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that several of the electric sconces had been pulled from the wall, dismantled, picked apart, or otherwise destroyed. Fixtures, decorations, mini-appliances, even the books and things that had been on the shelves were tampered with and ‘made use of’. The large splashes of blood did not escape his notice, either, though he had been expecting that from the smell.

Orochimaru pulled Itachi by his leash and led him to one of the doorways he guessed to be bedrooms. The sight that met him when he walked into the room made him gasp audibly.

The walls, floor and even the futon were covered in blood. The scent of it was so much stronger here, too. Not only that, but bits and pieces of what could only have been former bodies littered the room the way dirty clothes would for a normal teenager. Somewhere under the blood and random pieces of flesh was other debris as well, but Itachi had no care to examine further to see what exactly things were. He desperately hoped he’d been correct about not smelling Sasori or Deidara’s blood, because he could no longer discern one blood scent from another in here.

Finally, his eyes landed on a dark shape against the wall in the corner, and another gasp of realization left him, uninhibited.

There stood Deidara, wrapped in some kind of leather straight jacket. Chains were also wrapped around him, holding him to the wall, and a blindfold covered his eyes. Fangs bit savagely into his own bottom lip, drawing blood and licking it up with obvious relish. His bindings and what was visible of his face were streaked with blood. The only thing making him recognizable as Deidara was the shock of blood-spattered blonde pony-tail and long bangs over the left eye.

Emotionless mask completely slipping out of place in his shock, Itachi rounded on Orochimaru, yanking on his own leash that was in the snake’s hand.

“You sick bastard,” he seethed. “What have you done to my friends?”

TBC

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A/N2: o.O whoa… wtf’s goin on, eh? Was that a… cliffhanger just now??!! Sorry, don’t kill me!! *dodges pointy and heavy thrown objects* I’ll try not to make you wait too long for the next one!! Can’t promise when, but hopefully not toooo long!!

Again, thanks for all the reviews!! You guys’ support makes me wanna write faster. ^__^ So don’t leave yet! Tell me what you thought! Please?

~ lg