Special Blabber: Now I couldn't call myself a Claire/Steve fan if I didn't write a story where Steve returns as a tyrant now could I? The idea might be overused but I plan on adding something entirely different to this story – a very dark and emotional theme. The events of this story take place a few days after the Resident Evil 5 game – be warn of spoilers for the RE 5 game, and others.

This story might end up being a trilogy. I'm not sure yet. At the moment I do have the prequel idea in my head and am working on it but that one is going to take a bit longer to write. Because of all the details. At the end of this story I'll see how I and you readers feel about a possible sequel. Carrying on...

Until It Sleeps

Chapter One: The God That Failed

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"Haven't you heard? Wesker is dead."

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Sherry Birkin stared at the lone black pair of sunglasses; they were his sunglasses – or a copy of his; he had several due to the fact sometimes they were broken in a fight or cracked. She felt no satisfaction upon staring at them. Shouldn't she be pleased? Wesker was dead. Dead. She was to be no longer imprisoned her along with him. But Albert Wesker was in every sense like her uncle; he was a close friend of her father's. Sure, she hadn't been close to her father but he was still her father, and she respected his choice of friends. She remembered a couple of times when she was a child that she had met Wesker with her father and the times he came in place of her parents to a parent conference. Despite Wesker kidnapping her (if you can call it that seeing as he was her guardian), he had taken the upmost care of her especially since she had been in every way abandoned.

'I never did see Claire again,' The blonde thought slightly bitter.

The auburn nineteen year old girl, Claire Redfield, who had stumbled across twelve year old Sherry in Raccoon City during the outbreak and taking it upon herself to watch over Sherry. In that moment, at that time, Claire had been very much like a second mother to Sherry – or better yet older sister; no one could ever compare to Sherry's mother; her mother had sacrificed herself after all for her.

At times it was all too easy to remember the memory. The crisp air around them as Claire, Sherry, and Leon walked along the railroad tracks after facing the mutated William Birkin. The sun was beginning to rise in the sky, coming out of the horizon shinning brightly. Claire's pink vest was snug against Sherry's body serving as a protective charm almost. Claire had made her choice hadn't she? From the very beginning she was going to go only after Chris; she didn't make it a secret. So why did it disappoint and hurt Sherry so much? Because at the time she had been a little girl who had been abandoned; lost and alone in cruel, harsh reality.

She was no longer that little girl now. She was now in her early twenties; no longer scared, no longer hiding behind someone – no, Sherry grew up to be the very person she had wanted to be – strong, dependable, and courageous just like the person who disappointed her the most: Claire Redfield.

Suddenly the sound of a deep male voice broke her trance. "Fucking hell."

Sherry pressed her lips and brushed a few loose strands of her golden blonde hair. Her hair had grown out a bit longer now; she had it to her shoulders and it was layered to give off more volume. Her face was no longer childlike but was taking on a maturing beauty; perfectly oval shaped face, pink full lips, big blue almond shaped eyes. Her body was also more developed now – still petite but with nice womanly curves that weren't overbearing.

"Steve…," She sighed almost in a chiding tone. He really did have such a big mouth.

Of course, he wasn't taking the news very well either…

Steve Burnside entered the room which was more or less their "living room." The two were residing in Wesker's hidden base in Venezuela that he had kept them all there for the whole time. It hadn't been discovered yet luckily. Most of the rooms were decorated to resemble as much as a normal house as it could – for their benefit she assumed. The walls were still gray and cold…

"This is ridiculous. That asshole got himself killed? What the hell happens to us now?" He grumbled, his eyebrows furrowing down.

Sherry found herself staring at his eyes. She had been told that his eyes had been gray in his previous life before Wesker had retrieved his dead body and experimented on him – bringing him back to life as a super tyrant like himself. He had been cryogenically frozen for almost seven years before he awoke from his comatose state – his virus infected body fully developed. His eyes now were an exotic light red color; like cat eyes almost. There was a golden ring around the pupil of his eyes she had noticed one day when she was very close to him. They were the same eyes like Wesker's and looking upon them made her sadly nostalgic.

"I don't know. I guess we're free to go." Sherry mumbled in response.

Steve scoffed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was much older now – nearing his late twenties. His messy red hair was the same; it was cropped short to his neck. It had been longer at a time but Wesker had insisted that he get it cut; something about looking like a raggedy dog (the comment was enough to piss Steve off). His face was more defined having lost all of its boyish shaping from when he had died; he had strong cheekbones, a well defined jaw line, and nose, bristles of facial hair showing on his face (he hadn't shaved in a couple of days), and his skin was slightly tanned from being outside training. 'And let's not forget the muscles,' Sherry thought amused. His arms were well fit and muscled along with his chest (for she had seen him shirtless before). She guessed it was a tyrant thing; strength and appearance of it.

"He died and left us. Son of a bitch." Steve cursed under his breath.

Sherry shook her head and stood up walking over to him. She hesitantly placed her hand on his shoulder trying to comfort him. She knew Steve had been left behind too; his parents were dead and now his only kind of father figure was dead too. He had hated Wesker in the very beginning but the wounds of realizing he was alone without any memory made him break down. His name was a figment of another person. He was a monster – and Wesker had been the same thing he was now; a connection was bound to form. Sherry hadn't really fit into that mix but she was the daughter of William Birkin, Albert Wesker's partner, and she was immune to the virus seeing as in her body lay the virus her father had infected her with but was dormant. She had also forged a connection with Steve – they both had no family left; not to mention the fact that they had a connection with Claire despite Steve not remembering anything that happened in his previous life.

"It's alright," she cooed.

Steve glowered at her and shoved her hand off his shoulder although he was very careful not to hurt her. The red haired male proceeded then to head to the computer and look into the database journal Wesker had left. He had been doing experiments in this very base. His horrific creations still lived.

"Steve, what are you doing?" Sherry inquired raising a quizzical brow.

Steve didn't say anything for a few minutes as he clacked away on the computer, his light eyes scanning the screen.

Sherry rolled her eyes and huffed, angry at the fact that she was being ignored. She turned away and sat herself on the nearby chair grabbing a book to read. Her lips were pressed together. The sound of clacking from the computer was still heard; it was annoying. Right when she was about to say something about it the sound of the door swishing open was heard. A male around his late thirties entered. He had black hair that was sleeked back and brown eyes that were hidden behind the oval rounded glasses he had. If he had done something different with his hair and gotten rid of the glasses he probably would look handsome.

"Dr. Langdon." Sherry greeted standing up.

The older male smiled briefly at her and glanced over at Steve who was angrily muttering things under his breath. Sherry shook her head in response to the scientist's questioning look. Vincent Langdon was someone hired by Wesker for his extensive knowledge in cell and molecular biology as well as viruses; he had doctrines in both. The things Wesker was creating should have scared anyone into running and telling but Langon didn't – the pay offered was too much to pass and greed was a normal thing; morals forgotten easily.

"I'm surprised you two still are here. Haven't you heard? Wesker is dead."

"We know." Sherry replied dryly.

Langdon nodded, "I merely came back for a couple of my things."

Sherry paused before daring to ask, "Who…killed him?"

The other scientists (whom all had ran off soon after finding out Wesker was dead) had gossiped about his death around them but there were never any specifics.

"Someone of the BSAA; A Chris Redfield I believe."

Sherry froze upon hearing the last name. She quickly glanced at Steve as if to expect a reaction from him. He had stopped and stood up from his seat. When he turned around something about his expression was dark and unreadable.

"So he's the one that killed Wesker? A human?" Steve grimaced. He, of course, didn't recognize the last name. He didn't remember anything past him being resurrected by Albert Wesker. He strangely though felt something odd stir in the bottom of his stomach upon hearing the name. He didn't know the man though. Steve shrugged the thought away deciding it was nothing. He had other things to worry about.

Langdon nodded and then headed off to the cabinet grabbing a box with his things. He glanced over at the two almost reluctant to leave them. The two had no where to go but he wasn't about to take on responsibilities; he only fended for himself.

"Take care you two." He commented before taking his leave.

Sherry watched him leave and it felt like someone else was leaving their little home. They had been around Langdon for years now and to see him leave was as confirming the obvious: it was over.

"It's not over." Steve said as if he had heard her thoughts; his voice assertive.

Sherry looked up at him questioning. "And just what are you planning to do? Continue his work?"

She was being sarcastic in her response but Steve took her serious.

"Yep." He replied back. He then looked at her serious. "You don't have to stay though."

Sherry pursed her lips contemplating. She should be running far, far away from this dreaded place. She didn't promise Wesker her forever obedience or anything. She was neutral – for the most part. She blinked her rather doe like eyes and then decided.

"I'm staying." With you, she added to herself mentally.

It had always been the three of them together she felt as long as she could remember (more than six years with Wesker alone and about two years with her, Wesker and Steve) and even with one gone there was still the two of them; they had to stick together. Plus she would never admit it out loud but she didn't hate Steve Burnside.

Steve shrugged his broad shoulders, "Suit yourself. I'm going to my room."

Sherry allowed him to leave. She knew he needed his time alone to think just as much as she did. She thought back to those parent conference days as a child where she had rebelled silently but intelligently in her work – no one seemed to understand her especially not her teachers. But he did; he saw her rebels and pointed them out point blank. She remembered once he had said she was just like her father and she had grimaced at the comment. She didn't want to be like her father but the comment did interest her by the way it seemed to have amused him; his lips had twitched upwards when he had said it - she just about had the image memorized in her head. She realized then that she really never had hated Albert Wesker. No, dare she say she had cared about him. The reality of it made her want to cry – and now he was dead just like her parents leaving her feeling like there was an abyss in her heart.

Steve Burnside was just a name. There were no memories attached. The name shouldn't even belong to him – an empty shell. He felt like just a nameless monster most of the time. All he knew was that he had been killed and was revived by Albert Wesker with combining virus into his body that already had in it the T-Veronica virus. It still didn't make any sense to him. He hated science though so that probably didn't help. The male shut himself in his room wanting nothing more to sit around in peace – and brood as Sherry liked to call it.

Stupid know-it-all woman, he thought irritated.

It wasn't that he hated Sherry, she was pretty much family to him seeing as they had been together for two years now but he was extremely frustrated and irritated at the moment, and that was an understatement.

Albert Wesker was dead. The super strong tyrant that had brought Steve back was dead. Period.

So much for his super strength, he thought sarcastically.

His life had surrounded around the older blond male tyrant and now that he was gone it felt as if there was a void. What the hell was he supposed to do with his life now? Everything about his life revolved around Wesker, the creations, and the multiple virus – oh yeah, and Sherry, he added reluctantly.

He found himself hating that name - Chris Redfield: the man who killed Wesker.

It was a pathetic way to die Steve thought; by a weak human.

He wanted vengeance. Those damn humans messed up his life (first by killing him he thought and then by killing Wesker) and he was going to make sure to return the favor.

"Damn…" Steve grumbled falling onto his bed and glowering at the walls.

Stupid Wesker, stupid humans, stupid life…

He hated it all.

Claire Redfield hated flying by plane – helicopter, whatever. The auburn haired woman sighed and looked absently out the window. She could see the light blue sky with its thick, fluffy white clouds. As a child she had always wondered what it would feel like to touch the clouds. Now that she was much older (in her late twenties approaching thirties) she no longer contained such childish desires; it made her nostalgic thinking upon it, however.

"Are you alright?" Her male companion asked concerned. He is a little younger than her; his face showed it. He has short cropped brown hair and green eyes that sparkled like emeralds; strong cheekbones, tanned skin, broad shoulders, but there is a hint of boyishness in his face. He would be handsome to any other girl but Claire didn't notice things like that. She is all too busy with her "boyfriend" – meaning her line of work. Her dedication to her work distracted her from things like possible dating; she didn't mind it.

"I'm fine." She assured him turning her attention to him briefly to flash him a light smile. He returned back the action but it lingered more than hers she noticed. She always pretended not to notice such things though.

Her life was for the most part steady and normal. Her older brother, Chris Redfield, along with his long time partner Jill Valentine had finally taken down Albert Wesker. Umbrella was gone too seeing as they had taken care of that corrupt company before Wesker. There had been no recent outbreaks and it was relieving. Claire wasn't sure if she should let her guard down, however, seeing as last time she did she was stuck in an airport filled with zombies.

She hated flying. She was reminded of her incident in Rockfort Island and Harvardville. She thought of someone connected to the events then and sighed.

Steve…

The young, immature and brash seventeen year old boy she had met in Rockfort and tried to escape with. He had ended up, however, being injected by the T-Veronica virus by the crazy Ashford twins and sacrificed himself to protect Claire. She had nightmares for the longest time over the incident. She had felt a responsibility for Steve seeing as she was older than him (albeit only two years) and blamed herself for his death. Over the years she learned to deal with the guilt. Her brother had assured her numerous times that there was nothing she could have done. She always had the thoughts of I could have done this – or this; and they went on and on in a never ending cycle.

Her work at TerraSave made her feel better. She wasn't in the fighting line or anything but she was taking action – a more peaceful one and that was enough for her. Which was why she was now traveling with a co-worker of hers (Jimmy Garza, she reminded herself) to meet up with the others in Venezuela. She didn't know much Spanish but her companion was fluent in the language.

Claire looked out the window again and spotted the clear, sparking blue ocean below them.

"We're approaching Venezuela lands now." The pilot said then.

Claire blinked and leaned up along with Jimmy as they looked through the windows in front of them. There was indeed land up ahead. They were finally past all the water. They were now over head what appeared like woods – there were several trees sprouted, standing proudly tall and green.

Suddenly the helicopter stumbled and Claire jumped in her seat. "What's going on?" She questioned checking to make sure her belt was in place; it was.

"I don't know Miss. It looks like the helicopter is having engine problems. Damnit." He cursed under his breath trying to stir the plane.

"What? Are you kidding me?" Jimmy exclaimed. "Unbelievable!"

Claire ignored his fright and remained calm. "Land right away on the ground; avoid the ocean at all costs." She ordered.

"Alright. It's going to be a rocky landing though; hang on tight."

The helicopter headed lower and lower in speed. Claire held on tightly to her arm rest, her eyebrows furrowed down and felt sweat trickle down her forehead. It felt like they were falling – well they were falling. She felt slightly light-headed at the feeling.

This is nothing Redfield, you're dealt with worse, she chided.

But she had a really bad feeling about this.

She closed her eyes and that was when the helicopter crashed onto the ground.

Steve heard beeping sounds coming from outside his room. He quickly stepped out and joined Sherry in front of the main computer that showed a blinking dot on a coordinate. They had surveillance set up all around the woods. Wesker had taken extreme means to make sure no one found the hidden base.

"Looks like we've got company." Sherry pointed out.

Steve frowned and then turned around beginning to walk away. Sherry noticed him and turned around as well. She knew he had his mood swings but she couldn't help but question him either way.

"Where are you going?" She inquired cocking her head.

Steve stopped and turned his head to her. His red eyes were glowing she noted. She should have been scared but she wasn't.

"I'm going to welcome them." He answered simply placing on his black gloves that were fingerless.

Sherry watched him and it was at that moment – with him all dressed in black (the sleeveless undershirt, jeans, and trench coat on top), and his expression calm– that she was oddly reminded of Albert Wesker himself.

Claire pushed her body from underneath the rumble. She coughed and pushed herself to her feet. Her body ached – she could feel the tenderness from where she was sure to have bruises.

Great, she thought sarcastically. She looked around then and heard coughing.

She quickly turned around to see Jimmy pulling himself out. He was dirty and scratched up and she suspected she looked the same.

"Damn, I can't believe we survived that." He coughed out.

"How's the pilot?"

Jimmy glanced over to see the pilot still strapped in. He unbuckled him and pulled him out. The pilot made no movements so he proceeded to check his pulse; there was a dead pulse. It was then he noticed a line of blood drip down the pilot's forehead and he had a deep gash in this head where a huge rock had came crashing through the window and straight into his head. Claire and Jimmy were fortunate that they were in the back seats and thus any debris that came crashing in didn't hit them.

"He's dead." He pointed out.

Claire pressed her lips together, "Is the radio working?"

"No, it's dead."

"How about our phones?"

"There's no service out here."

Claire brushed a few loose strands that had fallen out of her ponytail out of her face. In other words they were stuck. She observed the area then. It was quiet except for the sounds of birds and insects. There were plenty of grass life and trees as well. It looked lively enough. She wasn't sure if that was supposed to make her feel comfortable; in any case it didn't.

"What do we do?" Jimmy finally asked unable to stand the silence.

The man just didn't know survival skills. Claire would have teased him if she wasn't too busy with her current thoughts. Anything could pop out at them at any moment.

You're being paranoid now, she thought dryly.

"We might as well look around. Maybe there's someone living here that can help us. Otherwise we'll just have to walk until we come across roads."

Her companion nodded but looked uneasy. She felt uneasy herself. She should have packed herself a gun; she hadn't used one since Harvardville, however. She wasn't one for guns either way – the very first time she had ever used one had been in Raccoon city, the one Leon had given her to defend herself. Claire glanced down to her leg were she had strapped hidden her brother's knife from his S.T.A.R.S. days in a holder for protection; she never left without it.

"Let's go." She urged taking the lead.

Someone had to take the role.

The wind hit Steve's face as he dashed past the trees. It felt good. It was like freedom – running as fast as he was. He was running at inhuman speed but he didn't care; he didn't hide what he was. This was his turf; he knew it better than anyone. The woods out here were hidden from civilization. Most people avoided heading in the woods due to rumors of killings happening – it was deserted except for them. He could feel his senses fully alerted by the virus in him; the smell of the crisp air, the multiples sounds of the insects and birds, the leaves falling from the trees slowly.

Then he smelled it - the smell of humanity.

Steve stopped in his tracks and looked ahead. He could see two figures – a male and female. The female seemed to be walking in front while the male walked behind cowardly.

How pathetic, he scoffed.

The two were muttering things back and forth. It was starting to get on his nerves to hear them – smell them. It was a different smell than Sherry's although that could probably be because he was already accustomed to Sherry's smell. Everyone though had their own distinct smell. It was easier for Steve to make the different smells out due to his tyrant abilities. The male had a deep, musky scent that was overpowered with cologne; he must have piled the scent on overly in the morning (Steve assumed that it was a sad attempt to impress his lady friend). The female, however, had a more natural scent; he could smell the soapy scent of the wash she had used this morning as well as the strawberry shampoo in her hair. It was…a bit appetizing. Steve then shook his head focusing.

Hope they have their wills written out, he thought before jumping in.

His movements were so quick and precise – it was all like a blur. One minute he was a few feet away from them and the next he was behind the male and was snapping his neck. It twisted easily with his strength. The sickening sound of a crack echoed and Jimmy's head was twisted so that it was now backwards. Steve dropped his hands and Jimmy fell to the ground with a thud instantly; his dead eyes were wide in horror and his mouth was wide open in a silent scream – it instantly drew any curious flies in it.

The female quickly turned around alerted and had drawn a small blade in her hand. From her stance it appeared like she was used to things like these and obviously she didn't look like the scared type. It almost amused Steve.

"You made a big mistake picking this place to explore," He commented flexing his fingers.

She froze and her body stiffened he noticed. He took it upon himself to examine her before killing her. He didn't see women much aside from Sherry after all. She had long auburn hair that was tied in a ponytail with a few loose strands framing her perfectly oval shaped face. Her skin was a peachy color that was free of any blemishes or scars. Her eyes were a sapphire blue that seemed to radiate courage, maturity, and added onto her beauty. Her body he noted was definitely more developed than that of Sherry's. Overall she looked like she could be a model.*

Her eyes then widened upon seeing him. Her pink lips parted but no words came out and then she tried again – licking her lips, the moist making them glisten. Steve briefly looked at them more out of boredom and natural curiosity than actually wanting a taste.

"S-Steve?" She breathed and it sounded like there was disbelief in her voice.

Steve narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was this woman and how did she know his name? He sure as hell didn't know her.

Maybe she knows about my past, he mused.

It was for that reason and only that reason he told himself that he instead of killing her, he quickly gave a sharp blow to her head with his fist knocking her out. He wasn't sure if he hit her too hard; sometimes he underestimated his strength but he could hear her soft breathing. She had fallen to the ground and he found himself staring at her. He felt a weird stirring in his stomach upon looking at her. He didn't like it one bit he concluded but she had answers and he was going to get them.

Just who the hell are you…?

He had no idea she was Claire Redfield, younger sister to the man who had killed Wesker, as well as the woman he had fallen in love so many years ago.

Note: *Something I took from the Code Veronica novel by S.D. Perry. Steve thinks Claire could be a model when he first runs into her. I thought it would be ironic to add it.