Chapter 1

It wasn't natural.

The stillness of it all was too great. The darkness suffocated, pressing in, an invisible fog, a living void, something beyond black.

The little boy was hunched in a corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. Black hair, black eyes, dressed in black, he looked like a lost child who lost his mother in a crowd and fell into a dark abyss.

For a brief moment he looked up. The moon was blood red, dark craters standing out in intense contrast to the scarlet color. The sight drew a whimpering gasp, and he hid his face again.

"No, brother, please…"

The smothering darkness didn't move. But he knew his brother was there, somewhere beyond the thick claying shadow. The little boy's brain worked a light-year a minute, all the same thought.

What will happen to me?

A cutting wind pushed the darkness aside, making strange shadows in the red light that bathed over everything like a paper lantern in a brothel window. But this light was not inviting. There was no promise of please there.

Even in this light, the ruby eyes glittered. The dark curves orbiting the iris were like bits of the abyss against the fearsome glow. A form, tall and slim, clad in bloodstains. Red and more red. The little boy flinched, trying to block out the hateful color.

Even with his eyes hidden he could see it. The dark forms slumped on the smoothly-polished floor, kneeling and unresponsive as though hypnotized. The bright swath the ninja cut through the air then their flesh, making more red. That had taught the little boy that light isn't always good, that the shadows and fear are sometimes safer than courage and reality.

He had seen it over and over.

Inexorably, he lifted his head. He didn't want to, but there was no choice. He was compelled by the dark power of those twin rubies in the shadow, the tomoe spinning dizzily round and round again, another layer, a nightmare within a nightmare.

The bodies fell. The fell so close to them that he felt the still-warm skin against him as they brushed past, expressions locked in horror, anger, and pain. And in the end he knelt among them, clutching the wound on his shoulder.

All this? Just to know that you're strong?

The first time there had been rage, and he lunged, and paid for it with internal damage from the murder's fist in his stomach, leaving him lying in a sobbing black heap on the floor. But he wouldn't make that mistake this time. He would hide his eyes and cover his ears until it went away.

"Wake up, little brother."

The voice again. The voice that had begun his Hell, carried it on, haunted him with these dreams. It was there, too close to his ear.

In his sleep Sasuke clenched everything shut: legs, teeth, and eyes. Even that Hell lit by a red moon was better then the current reality, better than his alternative of being awake…

A large hand, cool and threatening, closed around the curve of his ass. Sasuke needed no further bidding. He sat bolt upright in bed, filthy sheets falling away and leaving him naked to the waist, just to jerk away from the unwelcome touch.

He never wanted to that hand again, or that mouth. Or any other of his older brother's anatomy except his blood on his hands.

Itachi observed the spastic reaction, inwardly amused. It was predictable considering what the boy had gone through over the past few days-an endless supply of torture, both sexual and psychological, with an extra physical abuse thrown in for Itachi's amusement. He had slept surprising soundly, but with obvious nightmares, murmuring about Itachi and their parents and killing them endlessly.

Now large dark eyes glowered at him with such hate that it made him feel positively toasty inside.

"Ready to kill me again, Sasuke?"

Sasuke ignored the taunt for the moment. That had been the delusion that got him into this mess to begin with, allowed the situation in which he had been raped and tortured and mocked past the point where he cared to live, whether or not he carried his goal.

A ragged pile of black cloth landed in front of him. He looked up, blinking in surprise. Itachi was buttoning his cloak, the high collar already hiding all of his face except the ominous eyes he saw so often in his nightmares.

"Go home. We'll meet again soon enough."

Thinking of nothing except how much he wanted to be anywhere else, Sasuke rifled through the torn garments. His shuriken holster was still there, still full. That made his blood burn, for some reason Itachi thought that he could leave Sasuke armed with his back turned. His fingers twitched around the cold metal. Itachi paused.

"Do you want to try it?"

Shit. The expletive never passed Sasuke's lips. Angry more than tired and hurting and afraid he got dressed. "Where's Sakura?"

A significant pause. "I dispatched the kiniochi a while back, little brother."

Sasuke's blood froze. Itachi sensed his shock rapidly turn into rage and laughed aloud with delight at the predictability, how easy such an arrogant boy really was to manipulate.

"I told her to go back to Konoha and make sure a doctor was ready to see you when you get back." His voice betrayed no emotion of any kind. "You shall have trouble walking for a while."

A flush stained Sasuke's cheeks. He had never been so sore, had consistently been amazed by how it still terribly each time. He spat, trying to get the memory of the taste of his own blood and fear out of his mouth. When he looked up, Itachi was gone.