AN: I updated! Review and enjoy! Next chapter will be a bit graphic...and it will be the R word if you get what I mean.

Chapter rating: T (slight gore)

THIS IS SLASH! DON'T LIKE DON'T READ. I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

Three

He woke in a pure white room.

For a split second, Ichigo entertained the motion that he was in fact dead and in heaven. This must have been what heaven looked like, all pure white walls and glass and shiny metal that could surpass mirrors.

Then the dull ache in his neck registered and he was doubled over, breath wheezing as his lungs was set on fire. Tears streaming down his face, he clawed at the skin stretched over his neck in an attempt to ward off the pain. Pain, fear and an anger that burnt red hot burst in his chest and he screamed, nails biting into skin as he rolled off the hard bunk he had been lying on and jerked weakly on the ground.

Something was terribly wrong. He could feel it in his gut.

Then the events from that rainy day in the woods caught up and he felt his heart seize up. Shiro was in pain. He was sure of it. The scar tingled every time the albino had a particularly strong emotion and the thing felt like it was being peeled off his neck at the moment. It was burning under his now bleeding skin and Ichigo watched unseeing as a few crimson drops landed on the spotlessly white marble floor underneath him.

Shiro was dying. He could feel it. There was a distinct tang of blood in his mouth as he struggled upright, lurching toward the white walls. Ichigo pressed his burning face against the glass and screamed.

His voice echoed around him and he hugged the thin white papery material covering his chest, feeling a warm trickle of blood where he had scratched his skin open leak down to his chest. His body jerked every time he felt a strong wave of pain.

There was a soft hiss somewhere to his right, followed by a black gap appearing. An old man, bald and sporting an impressively long beard and another younger man with dark wavy hair and stormy gray eyes entered the room. Ichigo pressed himself against the wall and stared suspiciously at the men.

The old man gave him a crinkly smile, his eyes reduced to slits from all the age lines on his face. He wore a dark pinstripe suit with a ridiculous gold handkerchief stuffed into the breast pocket. Ichigo would have laughed at the sight of the hideously purple silk dress shirt if he wasn't hurting so much. Instead he tensed his arms and glared. The younger and considerably more handsome man stepped forward, his eyes trained on Ichigo's face so hard that he felt it was burning a hole through his brain. He wore a tight black turtle neck under a metallic gray suit and black pants. It was very stylish but Ichigo also registered the gun sized bulge on both sides of his hips.

"Who are you and what do you want with Shiro?" he snarled hoarsely, backing away from both men, leaving a trail of blood drops on the white marble below. He noticed distractedly that his bare toes were cold.

"Funny how he thinks to ask first about the demon rather than himself…" the younger man opened his mouth and an amused, somewhat hoarse voice rang out in the room. Ichigo's eyes darted to the man's covered neck out of habit and he saw the brunet's eyes darken slightly. His fingers twitched.

The old man laughed airily and Ichigo frowned. His wrists, under the purple shirt cuffs were skeletal-like under his papery waxen skin. They curved like claws over a thin black shiny–looking cane.

"Would you like to see it, young man?" he asked with another crinkly smile. "See what that thing truly is?"

Ichigo's shoulders tensed as another wave of pain washed through him. The anger was getting stronger, he could feel the emotion searing hot under his skin. He was literally seeing red. Ichigo wanted nothing to just rush over to the old man and rip him to shreds. Then the brunet man raised a leather glove covered hand and the emotions in his gut stopped swirling. He felt oddly detached as he nodded his head and stumbled toward the two men. Something brushed his mind and Ichigo frowned, stopping in his track.

"Come now, follow me." The brunet man spoke in that odd raspy voice again and the reluctance melted right away. He followed them out of the white room.

They walked down a flight of white marble stairs and he was surprised at how fast and agile the old man seemed to move without the help of his cane. They entered through a glass door and Ichigo found himself in another corridor filled with glass prison cells. He could tell they were pretty high-tech judging from the shiny silvery metal frame and the thick bullet proof glass.

They took another flight of stairs down and Ichigo felt his gut lurch uncomfortably again. His hand went to his neck, felt the scabbing blood drops catch against his unsteady fingers and winced. He was starting to hear something. There was something thumping repeatedly ahead. The sound made the hairs on his neck stand when he realized it was the sound of flesh impacted against solid ground.

Ichigo was about to open his mouth to ask when they entered a brightly lit room. Of course it was pure white as well. The sound was becoming louder. He could also hear a broken whining sort of noise coming from ahead.

Then he saw it.

There, trapped between four thick and very solid glass walls situated in the center of the giant room was Shiro. Or what ever remained of him.

Thick black smears of what looked like blood was coated all over the glass. Ichigo felt his breath catch in his chest as he watched in horror. There was a black haired man with startling green eyes standing against the corner inside the cage. He was staring down at the bent shape of Shiro, his eyes unblinking. Ichigo stared in shock and disbelieve as one of Shiro's arms was separated from his body at the elbow with a shower of black fluid. The albino growled in pain and twitched. The leathery wings that had sprouted from his back lay limp and tattered in a pool of his own blood. Only one remained, the other was now a jagged stump of one in his pale shoulder, apparently ripped off at the joint. The severed arm turned into ash in front of Ichigo's eyes and a second later, he watched in mute horror as the stump of Shiro's arm twitched and a tiny meaty worm-like thing came out. It was like watching a movie pressing the fast forward button. The limb enlarged and lengthened before Ichigo's eyes, covered in a layer of shiny blood.

"Amazing isn't he?" The old man suddenly spoke up and Ichigo blinked himself out of his stupor. He was running toward the glass prison before his mind could stop him. Ichigo screamed Shiro's name as he pounded on the glass, trying to get the albino's attention. The brunet standing in the corner looked up at Ichigo and he suddenly felt like someone had set his back on fire. He doubled over, gasping in pain. Warm blood trickled down his back and he could hear the old man chuckling behind him. The brunet raised a grey-skinned hand to his cheek and wiped the black blood that had leaked down his cheeks from his eyes and continued to stare.

As if he had sensed Ichigo's pain, Shiro's head snapped up. Ichigo watched through watery eyes as the albino tried to locate him, his head jerking in every direction. But surely he could see him, after all the glass was see-through.

They Shiro turned his head and Ichigo couldn't help the scream that pulled itself through his mouth. Shiro's eyes were gone. Those golden mesmerizing orbs of mischief were gone. His lids were sunken and closed but Ichigo saw the jagged streaks of blood all over his cheeks. Ichigo pounded his fists over the glass but it was of no use. Another deep gash appeared over Shiro's thin back and he curled himself into a ball, trying to shield the blows with his one remaining wing.

"Please stop! You're hurting him." Ichigo half sobbed as he stood tremblingly, his hand on the glass to steady his legs. The wound on his back smarted and burned. "Please, I'll do anything. Just let him go…."

He staggered toward the old man, eyes pleading. The old man smiled, his lips drawing back to reveal disconcertingly white teeth and shook his head.

"He's a monster from Hell and I've spent my entire life rounding them up. I can't let him go. He's going to hurt the humans again if I do." He said with a smile. The old man reached for Ichigo and he flinched as the dry wrinkly fingers touched his arm. Then the pain in his back disappeared.

"Now, as you have recovered, I shall send you on your way. Starrk here will take you back to your apartment and you will forget this small scenario and move on." He gestured to the man beside him.

"NO!" Ichigo surprised himself with his own words. "I can't leave him here. What rights do you have to torture someone? He knows me. And he's harmless. I've been living with him for years."

The old man snorted at his words and drew back the neck of his white gown, his fingers touching the mass of scarred skin. "And you say he's harmless."

Ichigo slapped the hand off his neck and stepped back, glaring stubbornly at the old man. He watched in apprehension as the old man's eyes hardened and he turned to Starrk.

"Very well, if you think it still recognize you, then feel free to prove me wrong." He gestured toward the glass prison. "Tell Ulquiorra to step out of there. Go on, Ichigo prove me wrong."

Ichigo stared as Starrk walked up to the prison and tapped a pane of glass. A small door opened and the brunet in the corner turned and stepped out without a word, his eyes till on the huddled form in the middle of the cell. Ichigo walked over to the opening and without hesitation, slipped inside.

The strong scent of blood and something sharp washed over him and his stomach did a small flip, threatening to hurl. Ichigo swallowed when the glass sealed itself after him, unblemished and whole again.

"Shiro? It's me, Ichigo." He said tentatively and watched as Shiro's head snapped up. "Are you okay?"

Ichigo held his breath as the albino slowly turned to face him, his lids still closed. Then he heard a snarl and Shiro lunged at him.

AN: Review?