A/N: Okay, so I actually uploaded this a while back, but I wanted to change it a little. Unfortunately, as this was my first upload ever, I didn't know about that I had the option to alter the story without deleting it.-_- Since I only had two followers, I don't think it was much of a loss. Thanks to the two people who reviewed it the first time. Please review wether you like the story or not; I really would appretiate any advice you could give me, I'm very new at this!

Quick warning before we get started: this story contains language, violence, and sexual references. Said references exist to advance a plot line and are not meant to be pornographic in any way, so please try not to see it that way! I know there's a lot more detailed stuff in other stories on this site (and I've got no problem with that myself, I just know others don't really like it), but I still felt a little uncomfortable including what little I did in my first story. So, yeah, that's about it x_x

Please enjoy and please, pretty please review!

Even after three years, Alphonse Elric was still determined to avoid sleep. He had two reasons for this. The first was practical enough; sleep was a waste of time, time that could be put toward the never-ending search for Ed. Even after all he'd learned (re-learned, he supposed), he was no closer to knowing anything about where his brother had gone or how he could get him back, but he wasn't going to let that slow him down. There was still plenty to learn about alchemy; he just had to look harder.

His second reason, he knew, was less practical, stupid even, but it didn't really matter, because he never planned on sharing it with anyone. Every time he closed his eyes, Al was treated to some new horrific image: a steaming pile of bone and flesh and entrails that was somehow alive; a misshapen, doglike creature with a world of pain dancing in its eyes; his brother's face as he was stabbed through the heart by a monster wearing their father's features. Sleep just wasn't worth it anymore.

Determination aside, he was presently losing the fight against his exhaustion. He could barely keep his eyes open. The text in the old book he was reading blurred together, and he frequently found himself reading the same lines over and over again. This, coupled with the fact that the book was written in ancient Ishballan and had to be translated as he was reading it, meant that he was getting absolutely nowhere.

Al let out a petulent noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a sigh as he leaned away from the desk and rubbed his eyes, not for the first time or even the tenth time in the past half hour, in a futile attempt to get his focus back. Here he was, the only one awake in the house, in all of Dublith, and he had nothing to show for it. He'd barely translated half a page tonight. Useless! He might as well have been sleeping; at least there was a slight chance of regaining a few memories, however unpleasant they might be, from his nightmares.

He considered giving up and going to bed, but a thought about his latest nightmare was enough to make him drop the notion of sleep. Something about being eaten by one of those creatures, wasn't it? He shuddered and banished the thought.

So sleeping was out. What else could he do? Training? No, he was likely to hurt himself if he tried to practice fighting when he was this tired, and besides, it wasn't like he had anyone to spar with at the moment. He could practice his transmutation, but that would probably wake Teacher, and he'd almost rather face his dreams than incur Izumi's wrath, or worse, her sympathy should she figure out why he was unable to sleep.

He knew that he had one other option, but he was doing his best to come up with something, anything else. It embarassed him to even think about doing "it," mainly because he wasn't exactly sure what "it" was. He had a basic idea; he wasn't an idiot, after all, but he wasn't sure about the specifics. And there was no one to ask about it. He might have asked Ed about it (and that is a very big "might"), but he didn't feel comfortable talking about that kind of thing with anyone else. Who else was there? Izumi? He shuddered just thinking about it. Mason? Fat chance. Despite the passage of time, it was almost as if Alphonse had been on that island a few weeks ago, and he was not about to ask the guy who spent a month beating the everloving crap out of his brother and him, albeit on Teacher's orders, about the birds and the bees.

And so he found himself frustratingly ignorant about this. All that he knew was that it made him feel good for a while, in a scary sort of way, and that he felt kind of dirty when he was done.

And…well, this was why he was really so emabarassed to talk or even think about it…because he knew that this act had something to do with the difference between boys and girls, but whenever he did it, he didn't think about girls, did he? He didn't think about Winry or even Teacher, and he knew that if he did it would be…well, impolite, he supposed, but it would be normal. He knew it would be normal, so he tried, but his thoughts kept turning back to what he knew they shouldn't. Try as he might, he found thinking about-

Stopt that! he commanded himself. He shook his head quickly from side to side as if to rid himself of the impure thoughts. Feeling thoroughly disgusted with himself, he turned off the lamp and made his way towards his bed.

I deserve whatever nightmares I'll get tonight, he thought as sleep claimed him.

The fight had been a remarkably short one. Okay, yeah, they usually were pretty short, but this one took even less time than usual. Not nearly as many men here, for whatever reason, and even then they didn't put up much of a fight. There was one alchemist in the village, but he had been a brat; probably not even sixteen, no training at all. Certainly not millitary. He'd gone down easily enough.

All the women and children were lined up now, bound to one another at the wrist and ankle, as per usual. Most of them were crying; also pretty common. There was one little shit, though, who wasn't so much as shaking. He was just standing there with a defiant look on his face. The tall man couldn't help but smile at that. That was the kind of attitude he had hoped more of the villagers would take; that defiance, that fighting spirit. If more of these worthless insects had the same instincts as this brat did, it would have made for a much more interesting massacre.

Ah well; all he could do was hope for better sport next time. For now, it was time to get down to bussiness.

Without looking back, the tall man beckoned over his shoulder. He heard footsteps approach him, slow, too slow. When they stopped, he whirled around and lashed out with his fist.

"What have I told you about fucking around, huh? We're on a schedule. Now move it!" He spat on the ground next to the fallen form of a boy, maybe fourteen years old. The boy held his jaw, but his face was devoid of emotion, as it usually was at times like this. The tall man wasn't too concerned; the fucker usually broke after five or six of them.

Of course, there wasn't any reason not to break him sooner, right?

"Start with him," said the tall man. He pointed at the kid who'd been glaring at him before. It was almost funny how fast his expression changed from defiance to terror. The change was perfectly accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. The tall man kept his gaze focoused on the brat in front of him, but he could almost see the horror that he knew would be spreading across his companion's face.

"Please," moaned the boy, "I can't do it. Please-"

The tall man whirled around, his furious glare hitting the boy with an almost perceptible force. He took a moment to enjoy the little puke's terror, so plain on his face. He just loved the way that fear lit those eyes, usually so dull, but now shining with desperate tears.

"I'm sorry, I must've misheard you. I thought I heard you say that you can't do this. That you are incapable of performing as instructed. But that's impossible, isn't it?" The tall man walked to where the boy was still in a half-seated position, still not recovered from the last blow. "Because both of us know that you are more than capable of this, because you've done it before, haven't you? Oh my, yes. This isn't your first rodeo, my boy; far from it. Now, you can either pick your sorry ass up and get to work, or you cat sit there like the garbage you are and leave me to clean this up. We'll have wasted an entire night's work, these poor sods will have died for nothing, and you'll have no one but yourself to blame." The tall man squatted to the boy's level. "Now, what will it be?"

The boy sat there with his head bowed for almost a minute. When he lifted his gaze back to the tall man's face, his eyes had gone dull again. The tall man sighed inwardly; the fun was over, and it was time to get back to work. He hid his dissapointment behind his best shit-eating grin and gave the boy a reassuring slap on the cheek.

"That's the spirit. Now get to it, my boy! The hour groweth late!"

The boy rose slowly to his feet and began to walk towards the bound villagers. More specifically, towards the kid the tall man had indicated, whose bravery was presently trickling down his leg. When he was about a foot away from his target, he dropped to one knee so that he was face-to-face with the child. He put a hand on his shoulder, as if to comfort him, and whispered, "Forgive me."

A few yards away, the tall man took his companion's place on the ground, a smile on his face as he watched the proceedings. As the screaming began and grew louder with time, his smile grew wider.