I know this wasn't what you were all expecting with an update. But the next chapter should be up next week. Sorry it took so long but I am getting close to graduating college so I do have very limited to spend on updating the stories.

Crimson Drops

Prologue: His Work And Nothing More

You have your work,

And nothing more.

You are obsessed,

What is your demon?

You have never been this way before

You have lost the fire you built your dream on.

The sound of heavy boots hitting an old wooden floor rang throughout the dim and gloomy chamber of an empty mansion. Candles, unlit and old, line the dark hallway. Even if a lantern was held aloft it seemed like nothing would vanquish the gloom that held the household in its cold steely grasp. The air was bitter, stale, and sharp, the touch across the skin and the inner flesh of the throat unforgiving. It stung, and made it hard to breath. A solid shadow, in the form of a man, traveled in the darkness that resided in the corridor. His back brushing against the walls, his head facing forward as he stepped further into the abandoned mansion.

He moved silently, but his boots betrayed him. Despite how tenderly he stepped, they still would utter a whisper of a sound that would be amplified by the old wooden panels, shattering the dwelling silence. The silence that followed these brief snippets of sound was haunting, and was driving the man's heart mad with anticipation. Cold sweat trailed down his neck in rivets, drenching the back of his shirt under his jacket, the cotton clinging to his back uncomfortably. He desperately wanted the silence to break, for some sound to signal that he was not alone in this dark eerie house. Or did he? Did he want company in this house of hell? For the first time in years he was alone, had no companion to trust. He felt exposed, the cool air sweeping against his back with his movements putting him further on edge.

While he was searching for any form of life within this foreboding dwelling, he was timid, his eyes alert for any movement but not searching for any clues, or disturbances in the dust that settled on the floor. His lips mouthed a silent prayer as he opened yet another cracked door with his foot, his silver revolver shooting forward, aiming within the room's confines. His search was quick, his back quickly hitting the wall once more, his chest heaving. Even as he searched for conflict, he hoped to find none. He did not wish to charge head first into danger, arrogance and confidence stripped from him during his youth, the scar across his left eye a grim reminder of a well learned lesson.

Life had dealt him a hard hand, and he knew he was a broken man. As he began to move once more, his shoulder brushing against the dusty wallpaper, and dogging rusting mounted candleholders along the way, he couldn't help but remember his journey to this point. His life was filled with regret and what-ifs. He was the cursed survivor, he had to witness death steal the ones he loved, while he remained. Life was once a thing he treasured, but now as he roamed these desolate halls he searched for reprieve from the burden. He was supposed to be able to protect the ones he loved, to preserve life, to prevent evil from tarnishing its glow. It was his job after all, and had been his since the day he was born. It was predestined that he would follow his father's footsteps. He rarely got paid for such a job, and he used to consider it a service to the community that housed him. The Church along with "private" and infrequent investors were the only ones to line his purse.

Most never knew, or even suspected, that this was his occupation once the sun went down. He was a hunter by nature, trained and bred to be a killer for the Church. One that would be blessed with the mission to rid the earth of the evils that hid in its shadows. It ran in his blood, and it was this blood that constantly reminded him of what he was, the last of his family, last of his line. He was the lone survivor of a tragic accident, at least to the public eye, and had at first believed that he would spend his life alone. In his profession, loss was a constant state he would have to suffer through. After the loss of his dear friends he had thought he was done forming attachments. It was a weakness that he couldn't afford.

But all that changed when he had found a small boy in dirty ally during the coldest winter. The little lost boy, with the strength to carry on despite the horrible fate that had been handed to him. The will of a warrior to continue fighting even if it seemed like all hope was lost. It was then and there that weary hunter opened his heart once more. It wouldn't be long until another lost boy joined this family of survivors. He had a family once more, people he could trust and love.

The worn man drew closer to a grand staircase that lead to the third and final floor of the rundown mansion, the ratty, and moth eaten red rug muffling his approach and ascent up the decaying stairs. This would be the final floor he would visit before he would shut out this quest from his life. While he knew his new family would hold the same risk, he had thought he was prepared, that they were protected. But he lost them too. He would have to thank the devil himself and his forsaken children for that. However, he viewed this hand too cruel for Death to deal.

As he reached the landing, his eyes cut left and then right. Just as he was about to take a step further away from the stairs, he hears a soft scuffling sound down the dark hall. Turning swiftly on his heel to the left, he fires five rounds rapidly. Smoke spilling from the nozzle of the gun as the deadly rounds exit the chamber. The sound rips through the silence for the faintest moment like thunder, before the quiet reigns once more. Slowly he lowers his weapon, and mutters a soft curse under his breath. Tucking the now empty weapon into his belt, he reprimands his rookie actions. He was too old to be this jumpy. The recent events had made him sloppy, and he couldn't seem to find his center.

Suddenly a low, feral hiss broke to the right, made the man turn on his heal once more and pull a silver stake from a loop of his belt. He faced the barely lit hallway that he had planed to traverse not to many moments before. In front of him a pair of glowing crimson orbs stared back at him from within the curtain of shadows. The man's eyes narrowed as he tried to distinguish the figure from the darkness. He does not shake with fear as he gazes into the fiery eyes, for he had seen them many times before in his line of work, the eyes that were similar to blood, and hell flame in hue. He stands his ground, his stance quickly and gracefully slipping into a defensive crouch, the hand with the silver stake crossing in front of his heart. He can hear his heart beat in his ears, and the air grows thick with tension. He feels his skin prickle from the electricity in the air, the energy almost like a soft hum in the background.

"So we meet again," the man states thickly, his tongue feeling heavy and his throat tight. The energy that was building grows still, and knots begin to twist in his stomach in response. Cold sweat traces his brow, and then slides down his nose, before landing on his gloved hand. The moisture barely noticed by the tense hunter.

"Much to my displeasure, Kakashi," the creature growled in response after a moment's pause. The man named Kakashi, feels the temperature drop, the frigid air, cooling his sweat-coated skin. The creature's eyes reflect its anger and irritation at the man's presence. "It appears that you still will not heed my warning."

"I am not obligated to, since you never heeded mine, dear apprentice." Kakashi mutters softly, his eyes tired. His muscles burned out of exhaustion, screaming in protest over their overuse. The past few days catching up to him, and the hunter knew he would not outlast his opponent.

"Do not bring the past into this, master," the creature spat, his eyes alight with something akin to resentment. "You of all people should know what affect it has on my temperament." The figure emerges from the shadows, exposing pale skin, and dark raven hair. Kakashi felt a small pang in his chest at the image of his adopted son, and the monster that replaced him. The boy he had watched grow into a strong, dependable young man was gone. Only his shell remained.

"That I do, Sasuke," the older man agreed softly. "Your emotions clouded your judgment. That was-"

"My downfall? Spare me your pitiful lecture!"

"Ah, so your fury rears its ugly head." The broken man quips.

"Do not mock me!" was the sharp reply, the demon stalking closer to the man. Eyes alight with untamed fury and hate. The hunter heaved a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment in mourning. When he reopened his eyes, he had hardened his resolve.

"It is so easy to rile you up, boy!" He goaded, knowing full well the creature would react rashly. As soon as the sentence was uttered, the creature charged the hunter with inhuman speed. The older man raised his weapon and waited for contact. He knew that this battle would be close, for he had trained this creature when he was human all he had known. A part of him felt guilty, remorseful for what had become of his dear apprentice.

You seemed to know just what to live for

But now it seems you don't at all

You have your work and nothing more.

Blood, mostly his, covered the empty and dusty halls. The once noble hunter reduced to a crumbled heap, his breathing slow and shallow. The man knew it would only be a matter of time until he would be still, grow cold, and fade into oblivion. The void he had wished to enter ever since his life was stolen from him once more. He gazed, with half-lidded eyes, at the young immortal crouched before him, crimson orbs connecting with his. Kakashi remembered when those eyes were a deep onyx, and when he first gazed into them in that dirty ally. The image of a filthy little boy, barely seven, filled his mind. Bright intelligent black orbs had stared up at him with such hope and promise. He had to remind himself that the boy he took under his wing had been corrupted. The snake had destroyed him the moment he sunk his teeth into the young man's neck that fateful night. The image of the innocent boy, however, sadly faded to the monster before him.

"It's a shame to see you like this Kakashi," his past student stated flatly, breaking the hunter's trance. His eyes held no pity for the crumbled heap of a man before him. "A pity really. You were once feared, your strength unrivaled." He sighed in mock disappointment. "Now you're reduced to nothing but a husk of your old self. You really have grown weak."

"No, I predicted that one day you would surpass me. But I never thought that it would like this," He whispered hoarsely, blood lining his throat making it difficult for him to speak. He paused, a sickening cough taking over his form, shaking his whole body. More blood spewed from his mouth as he jerked, his past pupil only watching on with disinterest. "I never thought you would fall. I never thought you would turn on your own family," he wheezed.

"You blame me for betraying you?" Sasuke asked sharply, eyes flashing in anger. "You were going to kill me, your own son."

"You are no longer a son of mine!" Kakashi exclaimed before sub coming to another coughing fit. His head tilted downwards as his body heaved, blood splattering on his chest. He was unaware of Sasuke slight recoil at the statement, nor the clenching of the monster's fists. A dark and bitter expression consumed Sasuke's face. His eyes intently focused on Kakashi's defeated form. His teeth clenched tightly, almost as if he was holding his tongue. But suddenly the expression was replaced by a sadistic grin, however it did not reach his eyes.

"No need to be bitter, father," Sasuke chided with a crooked smile. "I know how lonely you are. You need not worry, I wouldn't even dream of excluding you." This statement made the hunter's heart quiver with fear.

"No." He muttered. Kakashi tried to move away but his muscles had already given out on him. His palms pushed against the floor in vain, his body would not move.

Sasuke's eyes were alight with sick joy. He drew closer to the dying hunter so that his face was inches from his. "Think of this as my repayment for your kindness."

"I do not want anything from you!" Kakashi croaked. "Keep your curse!" Fear gripped him, and the once calm man had lost his cool.

Sasuke shook his head in mock disappointment. "We don't want to separate the family now do we?" He scolded. "What about Naruto? He misses you." The sinister grin grew upon Sasuke's lips when he noticed the pain that flashed upon Kakashi's face when he mentioned the other fallen apprentice. "Don't fret!" He drew closer to the hunter's neck. "You'll be with him soon."

The vampire then lunged forward and Kakashi felt a sharp pain in his neck. A burning fire spread throughout his body, consuming him. His body jerked with the pain, and his body fell to the side, his head hitting the floor with a loud thump. His body heaved with each painful breath he took. His hands clawed the ground as the fire spread throughout his body. He barely registered the taste of copper that met his lips and blood that wasn't his own slide down his throat. This unholy ritual, poisoning his soul, and he knew that he was changing into a demon. His vision faded, and his body released one last shuddering sigh before it grew still, leaving only his mind awake. But it too was fading, and fading fast. 'So this is my end,' He thought, as he heard the fading footsteps of his sire. 'How can I save others from this fate?' Of course the hunter within him could never truly die. Could he maintain his soul? Or would he become the very monster he had hunted ever since he could hold a knife? One last prayer passed through his mind, before he gave in to the flames that consumed him.

When this all began,

You knew there would be a price to pay,

Too late now to turn away

You have come too far

Until next week.