As Orochimaru lit the candles around his room, he could hardly stand being so close to the vanilla. The source of the scent was almost overpowering, even to Orochimaru. This was why he rarely used vanilla incense and candles: it was such a strong scent, and Orochimaru preferred soft scents in excess than strong ones used as they were intended to be used. Orochimaru shook out the match he was using, dropped it in the garbage can he kept in the corner, and pulled back the covers to his bed. He dropped the thin kimono he was wearing over his boxers on the nightstand next to his bed, not bothering to hang it up as he normally would. The entire day had been hell, and he wasn't about to make it worse.

After Kabuto had found out about what had happened to him and chased him up onto the roof, Orochimaru had found himself in one of his worst moods to date. He had used his foul mood to increase his performance in training that day, and had succeeded in giving himself a broken leg, dislocated shoulder, and four broken ribs before calling it a day and collapsing in Kabuto's arms after the spar-with twenty jounin at once. Kabuto had promptly chewed him out for killing himself, healing him in the process. Orochimaru had dryly commented that, for such sharp words, Kabuto's hands were deceptively soft. Kabuto had flushed, muttered something about how he was trained, and never bringing personal feelings into his duty, and Orochimaru had laughed right then and there. After he was healed fully, Orochimaru had gotten up, walked away, and showered. He had eaten lunch, then disappeared for several hours. When he returned, he was met by a multitude of relieved servants, Kabuto at their forefront.

Orochimaru had disappeared to the rolling hills of Otoga's borders, walking through the tranquil fields and bustling forests. The craggy mountains in the background usually brought Orochimaru a sense of peace, as did meditating in the area. Whether it was perched on a plateau high above the hills, sitting behind a grassy knoll, or hiding in a tree, Orochimaru could always calm himself down by coming to the outskirts of the Oto. And no one ever found him. He took it no on ever got up the courage to tail him here, or simply that they were unable. Orochimaru left a confusing trail.

Today, he decided to hide behind a tall hill, leaning back against the swell as he sat in the tall grass and flowers, legs extended and crossed at the ankle. His arms lay across his thighs, crossed at the wrist and motionless. Orochimaru's violet-covered eyes were closed, and his head was tipped back against the hillside. He had meditated here for hours, alone. He knew he needed only delve a small bit deeper into himself to find the spirit-the spirit of himself.

And he did just that.

Orochimaru turned his eyes into his soul, staring at the entity that was himself. Black flames coiled around his heart, pulsing and steady as a beating drum. His soul itself, a translucent white being in his form, danced among the flames, pure white amongst the jet black flames of his personality. Stubbornness in the blue around the edges. Lust in the black flames themselves. Despair in the purple at the base. Anger, hatred in the red laced throughout the inside of the flames, opened like a twisted flower.

And pain in the white in the center.

Hidden by the rest of the flames, there was a small pool of opalescent white underneath Orochimaru's "feet." It was like water, in all except color. As Orochimaru's 

soul's feet skimmed across the surface, it rippled and splashed, sending pearly drops of water in an arch around the point where the disturbance in the liquid had began. Then Orochimaru realized-pain, tears. These were his tears, so long unshed.

It's not the end.

Let the Kingdom come.

Orochimaru paused to wonder if he even needed tears; if they need be there to be shed. Then, his curiosity took over, and he slipped into his own soul, suddenly seeing the flower of flames through different eyes. He felt his body moving in time with an unknown beat, the rhythm of a heart in beat and lungs in sync. His blood flowed like rivers of crimson water, rushing by him in time with the motion of his arms. Energy generated by his moving form emanated from a fountain of light, seemingly deep within his core. His heart…was that it? No…no, it was the heart in his soul. So complex, the inner part of himself.

Forever and ever and never forever-

Wanderlust.

Orochimaru slowly drew himself back, first out of his deepest core, then back into the real world. A marvel, the being that was himself. At first, one only saw the black. Then, reflected colors came into focus at a closer look, and then looking inside of the inside brought the deepest-down emotions tumbling out.

As Kabuto had done.

Orochimaru slowly opened his eyes, flexing his long-still muscles and orienting them again with the reality of the world. After several minutes of moving his limbs to get himself used to moving again, Orochimaru stood up and began walking back towards Oto's main complex.

It took him almost an hour to get back, even running most of the time, and Orochimaru was tired by the time he got back. The sun was setting behind him, a yellow ball of fire ringed by crimson flames of the sun's rays. The sky was painted in orange, red, purple, blue, and pink as Orochimaru finally entered the complex-and Kabuto's arms.

"We were so worried about you!" he scolded, immediately going to the anger caused by concern. "Stop doing this to me, stop doing this to all of us!" He gestured broadly to the Otonin behind him-almost the entire complex. "I hate it when you do this! You disappear for hours on end, sometimes even days, and no one can find even a hair of yours anywhere! Your scent erratically vanishes and reappears, then again and again. What is this of yours?!"

Orochimaru said nothing for a moment. Then, he turned to Kabuto and whispered, "Wanderlust towards the soul."

Kabuto looked stricken for a moment, and Orochimaru breezed by him easily. "I'm showering and going to bed," he said abruptly, dismissing his servants with a wave of his hand. "Please don't disturb me."

And so it was done. No one had bothered Orochimaru since, and Kabuto had been strangely quiet the entire evening. Orochimaru recalled the conversation-or argument, more likely-that had passed between him, Kenshin, and Kabuto earlier that day-regarding Kabuto and Orochimaru's trust in each other. Supposedly, they didn't trust each other fully. Orochimaru shook his head as he climbed into bed, pulling the covers up and over himself. No, it was not trust that he lacked in Kabuto-it was trust he lacked in himself. For some reason, he didn't trust himself enough to disclose to Kabuto anything about Itachi…or what he said.

"I told you, Orochimaru, not to ever try to go against me. I warned you, and now you've really got it coming. I told you not to go near Sasuke!"

Orochimaru backed away from Itachi, then started when he hit the closed door. "I didn't-he chose it himself-"

"Don't lie to me, Orochimaru," Itachi snarled, advancing on Orochimaru. As the sannin stared up at Itachi, he noticed with a start how tall Itachi had truly become-and how beautiful. He had let his hair grow even long, and now it hung in a long ponytail all the way down his back. His feminine features had only grown more pronounced as he grew older, and the lines under his eyes somehow made him appear even more attractive.

"You've changed," Orochimaru gasped. "Your looks, your personality-I…I hate everything you've become!" He tried to slide away, but Itachi caught his wrist, and Orochimaru froze.

"Don't you dare," Itachi whispered. "I loved you, and you betrayed me. Revenge will taste too sweet in your blood. Maybe I shouldn't…" Itachi raised his free hand and gently stroked down the side of Orochimaru's face, laughing as he stared into the snake's eyes. "What is this, fear in your eyes? I told you, love, I would never hurt you."

"Stop it," Orochimaru whispered, lowering his head in defeat. "Don't do this." He knew all too well what Itachi's twisted words and warped sense of reality meant. "Don't, please!" When he raised his head again, his eyes were pleading. Itachi only laughed.

"What would you rather I do?" he growled, smile suddenly vanishing. He drew back his hand and slapped Orochimaru across the face, so hard that the sting seemed to scream as loud as the slap itself. Orochimaru cried out in surprise and stumbled, Itachi's blow throwing him off balance and sending him sprawling across the floor. Itachi used his grip on Orochimaru's wrists to pull him closer, then kicked him hard in the ribs. Orochimaru gasped with the pain, clutching at his sides as Itachi reached over him and locked the door.

"Now, don't scream," he whispered, bending down over Orochimaru and sliding him across the floor into his arms. Orochimaru braced himself, but hardly anything could prepare him for the torture of being raped.

Being raped by one he used to love, and would have given himself willingly to, had Itachi not become so abusive.

Orochimaru turned over, hammering into his bed with a balled fist, burying his face in his pillows. His sheets were twisted around his waist, restricting his movement until he wrenched himself free with a small utterance of pain and fear. The dark surrounded him suddenly eased with the light of the candles pouring into his eyes, and his nose filled with the scent of vanilla, permeating the room and filling every nook and cranny.

Itachi hated vanilla.

He also hated rose and lavender, and that was why Orochimaru burned it. He had once burned sage, and Itachi had commented how much he loved sage. Orochimaru had never touched it again, but Itachi seemed to detest the calming scent of lavender, so Orochimaru used it often.

Especially on the nights Itachi came.

He knew when Itachi was coming: it was as easy as the moon. Itachi always came during the dark of the moon. And today was three days from it. Orochimaru had made it his goal to drench everything in lavender, if only to repulse Itachi further. He had been feeling more and more oppressed lately, and wanted to drive Itachi away in every way possible. Starting tomorrow night, he would only burn lavender, and he would let it burn as long as he could.

The door opened.

Orochimaru sat bolt upright, then exhaled slowly at the identity of the male who had walked in. It was Kabuto, and he was carrying a glass filled with what smelled like tea. Orochimaru relaxed a bit, sitting up a bit more comfortably and pulling the sheets up over himself as much as possible. Kabuto reached out wordlessly, placing the glass in Orochimaru's hand and curling his fingers around it.

"Drink it," he said softly. "It's something to help calm you down." He turned away and couched, waving his hand in front of his nose. "How can you stand this? It's bad enough when you use the lavender, let alone the rose, but the vanilla is ridiculous! And it's so strong!"

Orochimaru smiled slightly. "Thank you," he whispered, drinking down the tea Kabuto had put whatever sedative he had in there. "Hey, leave it!" Orochimaru caught Kabuto blowing out several of the candles and smothering incense, and made his dissent known. Kabuto turned, glared, and then smothered another stick of incense.

"So you don't choke during the night," Kabuto said dryly. "Honestly, Orochimaru-sama!"

Orochimaru smiled and set the glass down on his nightstand, lying back contentedly. "I'm sleeping. Leave that incense!"

As soon as Orochimaru's eyes closed, Kabuto immediately began blowing out candles. Orochimaru had only instructed him to leave alone the incense, and there wasn't nearly as much of that…

OOOOOOOOOOO

Itachi glanced out the window at the moon. A sliver in the sky. Too light for him. He enjoyed the dark shed by the new moon, when Orochimaru's fears would be greatest. There was something about the dark of the moon that Itachi loved, anyway…and not just the nyctophobia that came with it. Much as Itachi enjoyed tormenting Orochimaru, something always seemed off when he attacked during the dark of the moon. Was it the fact that no one ever seemed to notice Orochimaru's screams of agony and fear Was it the fact that Orochimaru himself seemed more jittery and on edge? Was it the fact that Orochimaru's old mentor, Kenshin, always seemed to sleep more soundly on those nights? Or was it the fact that the magnetic tides of the entire earth were thrown off by the moon, only on the night of the dark?

Either or all, Itachi loved the dark of the moon.

Itachi was a creature of the dark, and had always detested the light. It made him hiss and spit like a cat, and a panther, he was. Long, sleek, gorgeous, and dangerous, Itachi was a predator formed from darkness itself. Born of a battle between good and evil, evil's victory had incarnated Itachi as a predator made to terrorize his victims to no end, preying on their worst fears, and even their weakness and dreams. Itachi could kill a person by making them so miserable, they suicided.

His lust for Orochimaru's fear knew no bounds.

For some reason, just seeing the terror in those snake-like eyes drove Itachi mad. It was like a drug, to look upon those soft lips and hear them pleading. It was addicting to watch a snake shy in fear of a cat, and it was worse than addicting to have the snake in a corner while the cat toyed with it endlessly before finally striking its blow. Itachi usually left Orochimaru with bruises, cuts, and lacerations that even a blind fool couldn't miss, but that Orochimaru somehow managed to hide. Make-up? Genjutsu? Itachi didn't care. He could enjoy marking his beautiful lover again and again, and eventually, Orochimaru wouldn't be able to hide it. Or he would give up. It was the way Itachi saw his snake-

Yes, that's right. Mine.

He is too beautiful for anyone else to touch the way I do-he is too valuable for anyone to even see what he can be. He is mine completely, and yet, he fights me. I have tried binding him-he still resists. He hates me with every fiber of his being, and yet, what I do to him is still not rape. He loves me too much for that, and only I can ever take him. He hates me so much for bringing about this pain, this pleasure, this lover-but for some reason, he still loves me at the same time. Don't let me see you with another, my love-you will suffer for it, and then, you may say I raped you. But for now, you are mine, and mine alone, and if you sleep with another, I may assure and comfort you-you will never sleep again from fear.

That is not a threat, my love. It is a promise.

"Itachi?"

Itachi turned from the window, staring at the shark-man behind him. "You okay?"

Itachi nodded wordlessly, and Kisame sighed. He hated when Itachi got like this. The days before he left for Orochimaru were usually like this-tense, where Itachi was on edge and bore a predatory grin that showed blood dripping off powerful canine teeth and pooling on the ground, over the prone figure of his victim beneath him-

Kisame shook himself. "Dinner's ready."

Itachi nodded again, still without words, and walked into the kitchen half in a daze. He was going to be vicious this time-his bloodlust was almost overwhelming.

A/N: Creepy Itachi. But I like how it came out. The in-depth and flashbacks and everything…song lyrics during meditation are partial lyrics from Wanderlust by Nightwish. Fantastic song-go to Youtube. And review, otherwise, there is no next chapter!!