The first of this goes along with Son, Rising.

Red and white, the colors of Japan's flag.

Red blood staining the white wrap around his fists, clear reflective jagged sharks teeth on the floor, the remains of a smashed, shattered, punched out mirror.

He hated his image, the demon's face masking his human smile.

No smiles now, not during the pain.

The man on the bed had yet to move, after the first bite, fallen victim, quiet.

The sensation once again, his skin being pulled in two, painful taffy stretch, from the inside out, made his teeth grind, his muscles and arteries screech like a trampled feline, blood turning to ink black through the cold veins.

' Why not leave me be? I've done your vile, cruel work, brought you new bodies, helped you grow larger, increased your power, go into some other and let me live as I want!'

His jaw seemed detached, a whale's open mouth, a snake's, widened to gulp prey down whole, long thin fangs by the dozens in terrifying rows, whip of a serpentine black tongue touching the bare wooden floor.

' I like you, little Prince. The men that chose you for me did splendidly, I prefer you over these others.'

A half and half face glanced at the man partly comatose. He'd tasted okay but not prize winning.

' Unsuitable.' The demon half of the face spoke first, followed by the human side, quite stricken with guilt, troubled and furious.

He wished to never been seen this way, would be thought of as daft, a lunatic, speaking to himself.

Worse and more horrid, the demon had spread across Japan, infected too many fellow wrestlers with its nasty ways, violent and selfish, destructive and terrible.

And that was as much his fault as the demon's, losing control.

Horrible thing, vulgar repulsive creature, wanting to travel to the States.

' I refuse to allow anymore of this. I'll slaughter you before I'd let you spread your havoc over the planet.'

' You speak of it as trouble, I like to say it is a family reunion.' the demon hissed, smiling as innocent, was the opposite of.

' Sheamus is only related to me from decades back, old ancestry, his great- great joined with on my side.'

' They are attracted to you...' The demon motioned to the human prey on the mattress, skin white and oozing red from his slashed and bitten body, white and red, the color of his home land flag. ' Say to me you feel things similar.'

The human face refused to give the nasty monster an answer. They knew, they both knew, that hateful evil beast could read his mind, know his thoughts as well as it could alter his image.

' I made you into someone, unstoppable, a god to this people and you owe me.'

' I'm not ruining my life, what I've got now to sign and begin jobbing to Cena and Orton by next year, paired in a joke of a team with Santino or some smaller man before getting tossed out the door. Find another body to invade and head to the U.S. without me.'

' You've wondered if everything is the color of milk.'

' Quiet!

' And the taste ...his smile... not sleeping alone, sweetest Prince.'

' I hope you die soon, worthless Akuma.'

' If I do, I take your body with me.'

' Sheamus isn't for you!' Fergal slapped the evil half of his face with bloody hands. ' Nobody is for you, I'm not going to the States so you can hurt people, it's disgraceful enough I let you do this here, in this wonderful land, to these great and caring, respectful people.'

' You'll live your life untouched by your man.'

' He's not mine OR yours, back off.'

Trouble, trauma, everlasting nightmare, this damned Akuma doing what demons were excellent at, making his existence Hell.

The akuma knew his secrets, crept into his dreams, spoiled his fantasies, soured his masturbation attempts with its voyeurism.

He couldn't control it, couldn't fight back each time, keep the evil subdued.

The akuma wanted the world.

Fergal wanted his relative in his arms, beside him in bed, to sleep with, to wake up close next to.

Nothing more, or less.

Three Joe trilled, nestled in a pile of Autumn harvest leaves, surrounded by her musical family, several notes and three humans, two Were, one vampire.

Count-ry and western ' hey y'all' Dracula was startling by being silent, no noise or sound where there was usually loud awful singing, once good to burst a grouchy Brit's ears, so it'd been said.

The gold over copper brushed the back window, eyes without sight, mouth minus a smile.

Roman kept driving, a frustrated from betrayal and lack of Seth-sex Dean slouching beside him, a miserable enough to step into the realm of suicide Heath in the back seat, the family of various music notes camping in his locks.

Dean glared. Slumped. Muttered many vulgar words that fit neatly into the Were language.

' Stop the car!'

' I will not st- '

' Then pull over before I jump out the window.'

' Don't maul him, he's hurting worse than you, we are, from losing a loved one, a best friend.'

' No stress, pretty. I'll leave enough you can stomp on later.'

' Dean...'

Quiet still, no protests, struggling, fighting back when he was dragged by his penny in the evening shadows colored hair, scowl of fury on the rounder face, empty despair upon the freckled one.

Roman finally located a spot to park, briefly, pounced into the hoopla before it became a reason to dig a hole.

' He didn't have to break up a fight, bandage cuts or call for either ambulance or hearse.

He watched Dean slump into his own personal giving up, loneliness, embracing the somewhat hick of a ginger, in a real brotherly hug.

Roman felt relief as much as he did humor when the gang of music notes thumped his ears, stepped up and invited himself into the hug, wouldn't move from them, was held and kept, wanted, accepted.

They'd lost, all three.

Hurt the most to wonder, to walk alone until they were on the winning side once more.

Plenty of time now on temporary paid vacation.

He loved being at home, resting, watching tv, eating when he wished.

He missed seeing his collection of sports cars, washing them shiny clean, driving them fast.

What was missed more, his brothers.

A terrible lack of a Scot and a ' backwoods buffoon' as Wade had once called his beloved, before Cody dissolved that marriage, threw water on the spark, made Jinder realize sometimes that loving others was the worst thing and best of all, painful agony to have it, life useless without it.

He hated being lonely, no more week after week of wasted time on Raw, either doing nothing but standing on the sidelines or jobbing endlessly to a short man dressed as a cow.

The unfair treatment he could go without, his good friends he'd go through hellish torture to be with again.

Mud brown mooed nearby, chewing, made him smile.

The eager black and white bump against his knees made him laugh.

The calling out over the fencing gave him hope, face wearing a strong blush, smile as eager and hungry as his newest small companion's search for food.

' Weirdo! You have your boots?'

' STIA, yeah!'

' On?'

' Ur... yeah.'

' Good since manure doesn't go well fashionably with sneakers.'

Johnny beamed, chuckled, entered the pasture with hopes his erection wasn't protruding.

' Hey, Party Cow! '

The newest version of PC for this year mooed in greeting.

' And this is... ?"

' My youngest lady of my life, Drew gave her to me as a farewell gift.'

' Oh. Yeah, I really AM sorry about that. Apart from your guys. And I don't get to see you either.'

' It's nothing to dwell on, you didn't cause it. ' Jinder paused. ' She's a Belted Galloway.'

Johnny's face was an un-ironed suit, wrinkled and rumpled, confusion widening his eyes.

' Do you know about the difference between Scottish and American cows?'

Johnny shrugged. He'd forgotten cattle and a sense of humor since his lover was in jeans, tall rubber boots and no shirt, his idea of what heaven was or should be.

' Scot cows moo using bagpipes. ' Jinder grinned.

Johnny remained blank faced and un vocal.

' You CAN laugh, right? It's not offensive, Drew told me that joke.'

Johnny quickly laughed, scalp sweating.

' You best not keel over out here, PC's been eating a lot.'

Johnny nodded, avoiding the large piles.

The smell didn't affect him, his mind was whirling, all sorts of adult film scenes creating in his dirty thoughts, farm hands fucking, cowboys spending time alone, groping in a tent...

The kilt calf was chewing his jeans.

He laughed fully, more meaningful, slung his arms around his beloved's shoulder's, kissed him hard, standing sweating between loads of cow crap.

' I need a name.'

' I like Jinder.'

' Not MY name, one for the little lady. '

' Not Party Cow?"

' Cattle have to be a year old before they can become official PCs. A year is a cow's legal drinking age.' Jinder's eyebrows scooted aside. ' Heath said that, I think he's loony.'

' Well, he IS different but that's fun. I have no problem with peanut brained people, they have the largest and most caring hearts.'

' I like them too. Along with weirdos.' Jinder smiled. ' Watch out, don't faint in the slop.'

' Right.' Johnny studied the calf, gnawing stylish holes in his jeans, on the knees. ' Cookies and milk!'

' I may not have those in the pantry or fridge.'

' Her name, ' cause she's black, then white in the middle, then black.'

' Cam. What a perfect name.'

Party Cow ate her feed, Cam redecorated JCurtis' thirty dollar faded blues and Jinder stood and grinned, adding to the mountain of naughty thoughts.

' Anything we can do where the cows can't watch?' Johnny asked as suggestively as Batista was over tattooed.

Jinder nodded, smiled and handed him a shovel, pointed to the wheelbarrow.

Johnny's smile faded along with his stiff crotch, flaccid upon let-down.

' I guess you already know.'

Cam mooed.

Party Cow kept grazing.

Johnny gave up and took the nose plugs his boyfriend handed him.