A/N: Okay, this story was originally written by vphunter but the story was deleted. Gee, thanks to those who reported it. You suck.

Well, because of the restrictions here, I'll keep the mature themes at a minimum, but they'll still be there. I'll write what I can remember, even if the story was still ongoing at that time before it was deleted. I just like it too much to be left like that.

Disclaimer: The story ain't mine. It belonged to vphunter, as I stated above. I'm just reposting it, but not every word. You know what I mean.

Warnings: blood, violence, shota-ish themes, references to past abuse, and other dark stuff

Chapter 1

"Huh? Ichigo, you're already home?" Shiro asked with a displeased tone. He looked at the five year-old orange head who stood right by the stairway. The albino frowned, he didn't want Ichigo to see him right now.

"Sorry, Onii-chan." Ichigo whined, rubbing his eyes. "I can't sleep without my Mommy." Shiro sighed inwardly. Ichigo can't bear to be apart from his mother overnight, and the teen narrowed his gold-black eyes at the memories of Ichigo always hanging out with her. With that woman who didn't deserve to live.

"By the way, what's wrong with you, Onii-chan?" the orange head asked innocently, looking at his older brother. "What's with all that blood?" he added, pointing a finger at Shiro.

"Shit, you're not supposed to see this..." Shiro hissed. He looked like he came from a horror film. His hair has streaks of red blood flowing to the tip of the spikes; his shirt is stained with blood in different sizes of dots; his arms are trickling from the same liquid; his jeans are also dyed red from the blood; and the kitchen knife he's holding on his right hand is drenched in the dark crimson too.

"Heh?" Tiny tears welled up near the corners of Ichigo's warm almond eyes. "Why? Did I do something wrong?" Before they fell, Shiro approached his brother closer and shushed him gently, making soft and soothing noises. "Shh, Ichigo. Don't cry." While calming down his sobbing brother, he also made sure that he blocked the path going upstairs.

Ichigo stopped letting any more tears come out, and he breathed as Shiro knelt down in front of him. "Hey, Ichigo. I was also thinking about this too..." In wonder, Ichigo blinked and waited for Shiro to continue. "Why don't the two of us go on a trip?"

At the word 'trip', Ichigo perked up. "Trip? Where? Is Mommy coming too?" Shiro bit his lower lip to not show his rage at the mention of their mother. No... she's not our mother at all, he thought. "No. Just the two of us. We'll go somewhere far away, where it's nice and new."

Unaware of what Shiro actually meant, Ichigo frowned. He knows that they never go on a trip without their parents, and when Ichigo looked at Shiro's bloodstained form again. He started to get suspicious. "Shiro, where's Mommy?"

"Mom..." He paused. He didn't want to see his precious brother cry. But still. The truth, no matter how painful it would be, Ichigo had to know the truth. And he carried on, "Mom's not here. She can't come with us."

"Eh? When will she come back?"

"Never. They abandoned us, Ichigo. They're not coming back. Mom and Dad are no longer here." he said, his voice turning dark. But Ichigo persisted, "What do you mean?"

"I meant that they're gone... forever."

New tears started to form in Ichigo's eyes. "No... they can't. Mom wouldn't leave us!" his voice started to rise, but Shiro coldly continued, "But she did, Ichigo. She, and Dad, they left us here. I'll be the one to take care of you..." Yet, his brother remained stubborn. "No! Mom would never do that!" Taking Shiro by surprise, he ran upstairs as quick as he could.

"Shit!" Shiro quickly dropped his knife and bolted upstairs as well, hoping that Ichigo wasn't in the room yet. But to his dismay, Ichigo was already in their parents' room. He flinched from the look of Ichigo's face. "No. Don't look like that, Ichigo..." he thought. He felt more pain when the orange head started to cry and watch in horror at the sight.

Their parents are lying on the bed, the sheets dripping with blood and some of the blood are already dry. The bodies were covered in red from head to toe, and deep stab wounds are visible everywhere. "Don't look, Ichigo." Shiro was about to pull him back and cover his eyes, but Ichigo immediately climbed up the bed and shook his parents bodies.

"No! Mom, wake up! Wake up!" Without even caring for the fact that their parents are dead, Shiro slowly pulled Ichigo away from the bed and turned him around so he wouldn't be facing the bloodied sight.

"It's useless. Like I said, they're already dead Ichigo. They won't come back, no matter what you do." As he said those wounding words, he enveloped Ichigo in a hug but the younger boy squirmed and struggled to break free.

"No! No!" he sobbed loudly, his breath hitching from all the cries he let out. "Onii-chan, wake Mom up! Wake her up!" And now, Shiro lost his patience at the redundant mentioning of their so-called 'mother'.

"Shut up Ichigo!" he yelled, and Ichigo stiffened the moment Shiro raised his voice at him. He never did that before. Shiro never yelled at Ichigo in any way, not even once, until now. "Just shut up!" He hugged his brother tighter.

"Don't you get it? They never cared for you. Now they're gone. But... I'm still here, Ichigo. I'll take care of you, better than they did." Soon, he released Ichigo from the embrace and he wiped the tears off Ichigo's cheeks as gently as possible.

"I love you more than they do, Ichigo. So, love me like you love Mom." A pause, and he corrected, "No... love me more than you love her." He kissed the small little trails from the cool tears Ichigo shed, and their faces were now only a few centimeters away. Ichigo whimpered from the soft touches of his brother, but he stayed still.

"Love me..." he whispered, leaning closer. "...like I love you..." He pressed his cool lips against Ichigo's warm ones.

To be continued . . . .

A/N: It's my first time doing this kind of thing, if you know where I'm getting at, so sorry if it's kind of different. I don't remember every word, but I did do my best. And please, don't you dare flame. No one likes flames.

And wow, writing this kind of gave me strange goosebumps. I never wrote dark shotacon before, especially something like this, so bear with me.