A/n: ok, I deleted the original prolog, and this is going up in its place. The beginning isn't different, just, the end. It was really pissing me off, and I couldn't find a continuation, or a storyline I liked good enough to go with that part, so I borrowing the plot of Baku. It's a very good manga that should have been a yaoi, but was damn good any way. And I had been planning a story off of it, it just came soon then I thought it would. ^^ anyway, with this, the next chapter should be up real soon. Hopefully.^^

Italics - Sasuke/ demon world

Regular - human/ Naruto

Basic, everything happening around, or with Sasuke is, for the moment, in italics. Everything around, or happening with Naruto is just regular. It will be changing in the next chapter though, so don't really pay this any real heed.

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Deadly black eyes with the hint of red widened, surprise, and heart breaking pain in them, as he stared at her face that was panicking. She hadn't meant for him to find out, ever, now that he had, she nothing to keep him to her. He would certainly go looking for him. And he would certainly find out.

"y-you said he was dead. You told me he died!" he said, stumbling over to her. He reached for her, but his eyes were starring distantly.

" I thought it would be better!" she said, taking a step forward, her hands encircling his, but something kept her from grabbing them, and she quickly pulled them away, taking another step back.

"Naruto." He whispered taking another step towards her, his distant eyes fixed on her.

"-he doesn't love you!" she said, taking another step back, her green eyes starting to dart around.

"You lied . . . my Naruto. . ." he mumbled, his eyes refocusing a little on the only other person in the room.

"I never lied! It's like he's dead! Gone! Left!" she begged with her hands, her back hitting the wall as the crumbling man before her put himself back together again much better then Humpty Dumpty ever could if he could of. But maybe that was the point; he never was expose to be together again. . .

"That's in the past. . . forgive and forget." he stopped before her holding out his arms to her, a soft smile on his face though there was something off with it, because he never smiled. And his eyes, that blank coldness. She shivered, but nodded her head rapidly.

"Yes, yes! I'm so much better for you! I love you so much!" she said, gently touching his arms, and pulling her closer to him.

"you do don't you?" he said, cocking his head to the side, his bangs hiding his eyes as his smile grew, and he drew her against him.

"Yes! Always! I always have and always will!" she said desperately. She winced from the grip he had on her, and her green eyes grew wide as she tried to pull away, but couldn't.

"And I love you too." He whispered into her ear, and she stopped struggling as her eyes grew wider, and she blushed. Her eyes became half mast as he pulled close to her face, and she closed her eyes in what she though was going to be a kiss still her eyes sprang open again, and she tried to scream, but blood gurgled from her mouth.

Dark hair was in face, and blocked her view for a second, before the other pulled away a little, and she could once again see the face of the mans he loved. His mouth moved as though he chewed something, and there was blood all over his mouth and chin. He swallows and smiled at her, releasing her. Her legs were about to give way from the pain and lack of oxygen, but his hand gripped her deeply bitten throat, and ripped the rest out. She went down, the blackness of death closing in, her vision beginning to fade.

He raised his head so his bangs fell out of his eyes, and she saw the madness in them, the last thing before she died. He turned away from the rapidly decaying bag of bones, and dropped the hunk of flesh that was ashes before it hit the ground. He licked his hand, before spitting the black blood out again.

His grin faded in the dark room, and that broken look came back to his eyes, but this time, with a tinge of hope. He was alive. After all of these years, he was alive. . .

He laughed loudly, his madness infectious in the worst of ways, but luckily he had killed the only other person in his room. He rubbed a pale hand up his face, smearing a mixture of black and red blood across his face, one from the dead girl, and another from the tears that were expose to be impossible for him to shed. He fell to the floor on his knees, and both hands gripped his hair as his laughter grew louder and louder.

The women cooed as she rubbed the no longer growing bump on her stomach through the soft white cotton night gown. Her long dark hair was black in the lack of light, and she rocked herself in the nursery that had once been locked up. It had been coated in a thick layer of dust from its years of solitude, but now she had this. She had her gift, her miracle.

The baby inside her kicked, and she giggled, rubbing the spot that had been abused by the growing fetus. Her pale hand paused, and she looked up at the wall across from her, her eyes distant in memory, or dream, it was impossible to tell, even to her.

The nursery was a sunny yellow in light; it had a large white crib in the corner next to her, and across, was the door and a book shelf filled with picture books and pretty things she had collected during her first pregnancy. When the idea of having a baby, of not being alone any more, had really filled her, and given her reason to continue her marriage. To her right were the glass doors of the balcony, and on the back wall was another door for a closet, already filled with baby cloths.

Her hands trembled as they lifted before her, and she once more felt the cold skin, the heavy, non-moving weight. They lowered once more, and wrapped around her stomach as she sank into the rocking chair, her chin resting on the baby bump as she whispered to herself.

Her eyes hadn't moved from the wall across from her, and they never did for the rest of the night as she sat there, half in madness, half in fear, and whispered to herself and to her living child; finally, to her living child.

And the dawn broke, and light filtered in, and finally she heard the heavy door of the house opening, before slamming shut. She heard the dragging foot steps, heavy with tiredness, make there way through the house, and to their bedroom.

And finally she cried. For the infidelity that was committed in this very room, and the fact that this living, breathing baby, that she would finally, hopeful, give birth too, wasn't his.

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End