Disclaimer: One day, I'm gonna come up with something really clever to put here. And it'll blow your minds away. Seriously. They'll make a movie out of it. I'll be on Oprah. Kishimoto will bow to me and end Naruto the way I want it.

Author's Notes: I deleted this, rewrote and basically turned it into an abomination. Why? I got swamped with my ideas :( I wanted to write what people wanted to read, but, where the fun in if can't write for myself. XD

Warnings: Yaoi/Het. Violence. Gore. OOC-ness is a possibility. Language and all that fun stuff.

Dedications: To the Lovely Ardven, my closet hippy-goth who draws my fight scenes out in sticks figures for me. Try it. It helps. As well as DiZx, a boy i force to read yaoi ;3

x

-x When Demons Wake x-

Chapter One: The Road to Hell

There are little rivulets of blood streaming down his body, and every time his feet strike the ground a jarring pain snaps up his spine ringing in his head. He is moving himself forwards by sheer force of will power, or the jarring sense of fear that is haphazardly destroying his reality. His heart is pumping explosively against his chest as he sucks in dry cold air.

A haze sweeps over him like a slow seeping poison, invisible to the naked eye - but he can feel the acid flow through his veins, parching them.

This is really bad.

Part of him suspects he's being followed. Looking over his shoulder, the paranoia starts to set in, but they couldn't have followed him this far, right?

It's confirmed as he lets out a gasp, but the sound catches in his throat and he coughs up a sticky red substance that trickles like syrupy fluid across his tongue. The haze is rendering most of his limbs useless as if he is running with weights stitched to his skin. His breathing hitches, and becomes erratic as black marks begin to etch onto his wrists, leaving a trail of blood to run down the length of his arm to drip to the forest floor below.

Slumping to the ground, he is somewhat aware that he's bleeding everywhere, blood mixing in with dirt and there's a disgustingly strong taste of copper in his mouth. He tries to ignore it but he thinks he just might be sick; his stomach wretches as he holds down the bile in his throat.

For a moment he considers giving up, closing his eyes and calling hell's angels to come and drag him away from inevitable doom. As he lies on his back with a pressure against his chest, he's vaguely aware of how cold he is and how his breath is crystallizing in the icy air. He doesn't know how far he's got to go, but he's under the vague inclination he can't go any further.

Not like this

He presses his thumb to his mouth and harshly takes the skin between his teeth, breaking the skin. Bringing the bleeding appendage to the ground, he fades in and out of awareness as he scrawls peculiar symbols, pushing slivers of chakra into each one. The air stinks of metal and acid, his skull ring and his eyes water. He can feel a jarring in his consciousness, as if someone was trying to break into his mind, and can hear the whispers.

Then, the pain comes - white hot and blinding - so sudden that all he wants to do is pass out and submit to his pursuers. It feels like a good idea.

In fact, it feels like a goddamn spiffing idea.

The black markings on his skin are spreading, threatening to take over the surface; hot and scalding his skin like acid. In sheer desperation, he forces chakra to accumulate to hands, feeling vaguely as though someone is forcibly pushing his heart through a sieve.

A rusty, barb wired sieve.

He cries out as his arms are forcibly anchored to the floor, splayed out at his sides in a sinner's position. The black markings bleed to the ground and singe into the earth's surface, forming a circle around him as if he were to be sacrificed. He grits his teeth as the tips of his fingers to spark weakly, like flickering flames in a rainstorm. It sends a putrid smell into the air as it forces blood to clot and dry.

Ignoring the sensation of cells, flesh and muscle breaking and how the pain is mauling at his nerves as they are charred internally, he keeps forcing chakra to his hands. After a while, his skin starts to tingle and a trail of ice tickles down the extent of his spine, forcing the muscle to contract as the sky is grace with an ear splitting scream.

After all, lightning doesn't burn… it freezes.

Skin blisters and splits under enormous pressure, and soon, his body can no longer hold the force. He arches a little, head and feet never leaving contact with the ground, tilts his head back and forces his eyes to close as his mouth forms into a silent scream. Angry threads of blue chakra tear through the skin of his arms, chest, legs and leaps into the sky, lightening crackling from the fresh wound.

Eerily, as his consciousness fades into an eternal slumber, he can feel the creature ascend.

X

The Shinobi that guard the outer wall of the Kirigakure looked to the soaring sky as a thousand sparks expanded in the distance, claiming the horizon, singing the blue sky a sickly grey.

For a moment, time stood still.

The lightening turns an ominous red and fades away, the ripples it created in the sky receded and returned to its point as if the entire scene was rewound, leaving a sense of dread in its departure.

Another Shinobi shouts something vaguely distorted before she makes a few hand gestures, breathing out a fire jutsu onto a large ceremonial dish full of oil. It catches alight and starts to burn in warning. It's a warning saying that something is coming, that something is out there and she hopes the message makes it across the village in time.

Shinobi gather at the gate, aiding rushing civilians that are retreating from the coast in a flurry of limbs and materials, catches of fist lay abandoned as a thick dark cloud of mist flows over the water, freezing the once warm water to an ice cold. The guards at the front hope to calm down the sudden panic as they brace the village gates, holding kunai at length and ready to face their unknown enemy.

ANBU slip from the surrounding buildings, hands touching the ground with fingers splayed as they land in a crouch – those with earth based type elemental chakra force their power into the ground, injecting the earth with the foreign power, searching for the disturbance in the distance. Their fingers are held at their lips as they freeze as if they were carved statues. There is a sickening snap as one of the ANBU's elbows forcibly bends in the wrong direction, and he cries out and falls to the floor, clutching his and grunting pain through clenched teeth. A comrade attends the fallen Shinobi and rips the material away from the shattered bone, there are black markings rising on the surface, taking over like a thousand little spiders.

A sound of a waning tree fills the air as well as the vague notion of rocks falling and colliding. The earth begins to tremor and the ocean rippled causing waves to harshly crash. There was something under the surface trying to break out and there, to the right, the rocks have been disturbed, like someone is forcing them to move underneath. A rock slides off a pile and hits the ground and then the earth snaps.

The ANBU draw their hands form the ground as if there palms had been burnt, and when they see the thick charred black surface they realize that's exactly what happened. The ground shoots upwards in eccentric spider web patterns as a dark chakra leaks to the surface like molten lava.

The things had followed their chakra.

Every Shinobi of that regiment now had pulsating marks all over their bodies.

Experienced Shinobi could taste the air and identify the contents that were held within it. Normally it would be a mixture of chemicals, metals, nature and oxygen; however, they concluded without uncertainty, the atmosphere was being strangled with chakra. The leader of the group makes erratic hand movements to his subordinates,

"Warn the village!"

However the command was witnessed with blind eyes and the young Shinobi paled with fear as a wave of killing intent swept over them, their movements becoming slurred and senses clouded. The Shinobi at the wall clutched their weapons even tighter as they could no longer control the shaking of their fingers. Eyes searched the dark sky, to be greeted by the steady onslaught of rain.

The mist, and rain combined turns the atmosphere to an icy chill, vapour can be seen from panting mouths as the Shinobi wait.

If it was any other day, it would have been considered beautiful picture - water sliding off the leaves of trees, falling into the crevices of stone built streets and the soft pattering of rain hitting tin and concrete. The proud image was drenched in impending chaos.

And then it comes.

For what feels like an eternity, the citizens of the village gasp simultaneously as an unexplainable fear gripped them by the throat, constricting breath. Children cease playing the streets and ran to the shelter of their parents, clutching clothes with tiny fingers. People at food outlets literally halted at their tasks, chopsticks falling limply to clatter at their sides, food sloshing back to their bowls untouched. A man clutches his throat as it turns to ash in his mouth, and red seeps into the clear liquid of water, staining the glass.

For a moment, nobody uttered a sound.

A resounding scream erupted into the air as an invisible force pushed them to their knees, black marks erupting and etching into skin, claiming the organ as their own. Some scratched the deformity away – and didn't succeed, at all – and others panicked, creating and eerie symphony of sound. Shinobi were forced to the ground, the insignias forming dark rings around their sprawled bodies as their chakra was literally sucked from their veins.

The village was defenceless.

To the outsiders, it was an amusing sight to witness an entire village writhe in pain.

A Shinobi guarding the wall was flung backwards; their chakra was forcibly drained from their body, forming an iridescent ball over their heart before it was ripped harshly from their body. They fell, back connecting with the side of the ceremonial oil drum with enough force to send the flare over the edge of the wall.

The citizens below never stood a chance.

In the distance, a single hiatate fell in slow motion towards the ground as if it was held in suspension, the material fluttering out behind it like wings. Dust, dirt and ash slowly filtered into the air as it came in contact with the landscape.

The village erupted into flames; villagers silenced as flames engulfed everything without mercy, sparing no one from its fingertips.

The hidden leaf insignia was proudly displayed on the hiatate before the metal slowly darkened with falling ash.

The once proud and strong Kirikagure lay in ruins.

xxx

So what you think? :D