damned_institute | Nightshift 42: Ames Street

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Nightshift 42: Ames Street

[from here; fast-forwarding past that thread with permission]

[ Inside Residence #3 ]

The problem with busting down a door instead of picking the lock was that the door wouldn't close properly after. When you were trying to barricade yourself inside from a horde of the living dead, not having a door that could close was a bit of an issue.

As were the very breakable windows. Sam didn't even know if the things outside were smart enough to deliberately smash the windows, but with enough pounding, glass was gonna break whether you meant for it to happen or not. He needed something with no windows and a single entrance with a locking door (preferably with a bolt, but he'd take what he could get). Which meant basement. If there was one. House like this, there had to be one.

No telling if the house wasn't occupied by zombies of its own, either. He didn't really have time to go around checking. Still, he'd rather take his chances in here than out there. Unlike Peter, apparently, the goddamn idiot, and he couldn't help wishing Dean had picked a better time to get his ass sedated. There was no way in hell he'd ever abandon his brother, but it didn't mean he liked having to turn his back on a town full of people or the guy who'd basically saved them both.

Too late to dwell, though. There wasn't anything he could do about it now.

Still holding onto Dean, he hustled him through the house. He was sure it'd been a nice home once, but it looked a bit broken down now, the walls cracked and yellowed, tiles in the dining room peeling. Sam didn't stop for anything. Taking a detour to look for a weapon was a bad idea when he had an armful of barely-conscious Dean and it wasn't as if he had his hands free, anyway. Keeping a grip on Dean was hard enough as it was. Dean wasn't exactly being helpful; he was damn near carrying his brother by the end, almost stumbling his way along. At this rate, his knee was never gonna heal.

He kept expecting one of those freaks to pop out of a closet any second, but either they were really lucky or something much, much worse was in store later. He found the door to the basement near the back of the house. Damn it, if it was locked—

But it wasn't. The knob spun beneath his hand, door swinging inward slowly, revealing pitch black darkness and a set of stairs he could hardly see the steps of.

Stairs. Oh God, stairs.

Stairs were good, technically speaking. They were narrow and let only one person through, two at most with some squeezing. It meant they could avoid getting dog-piled by a bunch of undead corpses. When you were supporting someone's dead weight on a bum knee, though, stairs pretty much just sucked. Looking down them now, Sam thought he might as well have been told to go down a mountain.

So he fumbled for the light switch along the wall, scanning the room to make sure there wasn't anything ready to jump them behind those boxes, then bolted the door and simply eased Dean down at the top of the stairs. They couldn't stay up here too long, but it would do for now. It didn't seem like anything was coming right after them. He figured they were...well, not exactly safe, but they weren't seconds away from getting killed. Which, frankly, was as safe as it ever got for them.

A few minutes, that was all he needed. Then he could go down first, check the area out. The last thing he needed was to drag Dean down only to have to drag him back up 'cause there was a damn zombie lying in wait. It'd be just their luck, too.

Sam let his head fall back against the door with a dull thump before he glanced over at Dean. Dean, who was starting to tip to the side dangerously. Jesus Christ.

It took some rearranging of limbs and a little bit of pushing, but he eventually got Dean to sprawl against his shoulder instead of just tumbling right over his lap. Though that would've made a picture worthy of blackmail and the thought almost made him smile. Almost.

Sam nudged him. "Hey. How're you doing?"

He didn't really expect to get a proper answer, but he was hoping to at least elicit a grunt. Maybe a mumble. Just something to let him know Dean could at least hear him.

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Sakura dearly wished there was more light to see by. When Sasuke got closer, she couldn't make out much of the injury. There was blood, but it was mixed in with the same nasty remnants of the dead he'd been all but covered in during the fight.

Sasuke seemed distracted. Was it the fight? The injury? Something else? Sakura decided to wait until they were in a more convenient place before she started asking questions.

She glanced over the nearest row of houses, picking one a little way down the street. Hopefully it would be empty, or at least, mostly empty. She started running again, eager to get to the safety of the house. Infiltrating without making much noise was second nature to a ninja, so it didn't take her long to ease one of the windows open.

"The window's about chest height," she said before pulling herself up and inside. She ducked into a low crouch, glancing around the room and listening for that ever-present shuffling noise. One, maybe two of them in this house. Easy enough. She pulled one of the hatchet's from her hip and readied it.

By the time they hit the next turn Sasuke was reasonably certain that this wasn't a normal hunger -- his stomach felt so hollow that it was as if he hadn't eaten in a month. The pain in his shoulder was spreading at the same rate as well, and when he swung the shovel to knock back a particularly fast shambler the flesh felt oddly ... loose was perhaps the best way to describe it.

No normal infection spread this rapidly, of that much he was sure -- Itachi's body must have been tampered with, laced with something abnormal itself before being unleashed into the town. Or perhaps the very thing that had animated the corpse was the poison (but if Itachi had recognised Sasuke, then had it been ... but surely there had been nothing of Uchiha Itachi in that desperate creature).

Regardless of the exact cause, Sasuke was growing increasingly sure that something was distinctly wrong with him. When he clambered into the window he felt that strange looseness about his shoulder again and ignored it in favour of immediately slamming the window shut and listening for anything in the house.

Nothing they couldn't handle -- if he could just do something about the damn hunger, put anything in his stomach, he could definitely ignore the pain. Gritting his teeth, Sasuke readjusted his hold on the shovel and waited for the shuffling and moaning to draw close enough to hit.

Sakura crept forward, following the noise of the undead almost silently. Not that it did her much good. They seemed drawn to the scent of blood, or perhaps they had some way to track the patients or maybe just the living, who could say?

A child, half her age, shambled forward and Sakura was quick to dispatch it with her axes. Even if it was just a child, it was dead, only an enemy now. There was one more, she was sure, coming in from the kitchen. She threw the gerber this time, hitting an adult male between the eyes and dropping him to the ground. Gross, but effective. There wasn't time for delay anyway. She listened quietly for a few more moments before turning back to Sasuke.

"It's clear for now. I need to check your wound, then we can take a look around," she insisted, flicking the last bits of gore from her weapons before placing them at her hip again. She wasn't sure how much chakra she could use after that punch, but she'd do what she could.

The faucet in the kitchen was slow and rusty, but after letting it run for a bit, the water was clear. And at least it would be cleaner than whatever he was covered in now. She got a kitchen towel wet and returned to Sasuke's side.

"Hold still," she cautioned, tearing at the fabric near the wound before she pressed the rag to his neck. It looked like there was rot all over it. The infection would be awful if she didn't clean it well now. But as she pulled the rag away, bits of rotted tissue came with it. Not leftovers from some creature he'd defeated, but the skin around the wound itself seemed to actually be rotting away at the flesh around it. She nearly dropped the rag and had to bite back a startled gasp. Dammit! Just what was this?!

There weren't any opponents of Itachi's level -- then again, when were there ever? -- and Sakura dealt with them easily enough, leaving Sasuke to continue trying to ignore both the hunger and the pain. Had the bite done something to his stomach? It didn't seem to make sense, but little here did.

Sasuke was about to start rifling through things in the kitchen (there had to be something in these half-rotted drawers that could be of use) when abruptly the hunger intensified to a nearly uncontrollable level -- if Sasuke didn't eat something now, didn't get something in his stomach -- and something smelled delicious. There was food in here, right next to him, a fresh scent rising through the still air.

From where Sakura was standing -- what the hell, was she carrying food on her? With more effort than it ever should have taken, Sasuke restrained the urge to grab the girl and demand that she hand over whatever it was that smelled so good. (But it didn't seem quite like any food that she could have gotten; what was it?)

A twinge of pain when she touched his shoulder helped bring him back to reality (a reality of being surrounded by creatures hungry for flesh and no idea when morning was coming, how the hell could Sasuke be so weak as to be distracted by hunger in a situation like this). Hiding a wince, he frowned at Sakura, keeping his voice steady by main force of will. She hadn't asked to touch him, just issued a warning -- just like she hadn't asked to destroy Itachi's body.

But did it matter if it was just a body? (Or had Itachi been in there, after all, and Sasuke had allowed someone without Uchiha blood to --)

"You shouldn't have interfered," he muttered anyway. For all his usual reticence, even Sasuke was willing to start some kind of conversation if it meant he might be distracted from the need to just -- sink his teeth into something.

Trust Sasuke to act so ungrateful even as she was treating his injuries. That was all pushed aside, however, when she'd seen just how serious the wound had become. Whatever Itachi had done, it was not only disgusting, but she had no idea how to reverse it. It looked like it was causing the body to decay from the inside!

"Well, I did," Sakura stated firmly, trying to concentrate in the dim lighting. How fast would it spread? Maybe it was best to wrap it for now. She didn't have much chakra left after that punch. "And I'm not going to apologize for it."

"Besides," she added, leaving the rag at the base of his neck as she took a step back. "I could say the same to you. That jutsu... you didn't have to help me. But you did." Sakura kept from asking why, but let the question hang in the air for a moment before she turned on her heel.

"I'm going to see if there's anything we can use for bandages. Something in that wound is spreading. I don't like the look of it. You should lie down, but sit if you won't do that much. The faster your blood is pumping the faster it's going to move."

She took a few more steps into the kitchen, biting back her worry. What if she couldn't stop it? What if Sasuke became just like those mindless shambling dead? She swallowed her fear and started pulling out drawers and flinging open cabinets. She paused when she found a folded bit of paper, what looked like a map of the area. At least there was something helpful here.

"Does it feel strange? Any other symptoms?" she asked, digging through the musty medicine cupboard. If she didn't find anything useful she might have to resort to bedsheets or blankets as makeshift bandages.

Sasuke had to admit that if there had been any point at which to intervene, that had probably been the best one for Sakura to jump in -- Itachi had certainly been distracted and almost definitely in a disadvantageous position. That didn't make it any less reckless.

Or unexpected. Sasuke could remember that intrusion just before he'd woken up in the Institute, the way Sakura had charged forward instead of staying back behind her teammates for the first time he could remember. Her attitude had definitely changed (or at least sort of evened out between the way she treated Sasuke and the way she treated Naruto); it now appeared certain that she'd grown stronger as well. That punch had been no simple physical blow -- Sasuke had sensed the chakra in it, as limited as they were here.

Before he could say anything further, though, Sakura called him on his reflexive dash to get her out of the way of the flames. Sasuke's eyes narrowed for a moment, waiting for the inevitable barrage of misguided hope and faulty interpretation (letting an ally go down was just plain stupid; there was no other reason) --

And then she moved on.

Sasuke blinked once in surprise, uncertain whether to be grateful or to expect consequences with interest later. Maybe Sakura simply recognised the situation and knew better than to press a moot point. She always had been smarter than Naruto, anyway.

"We don't have time to treat injuries," he said, pushing aside all extraneous thoughts and reminding himself that he needed the focus a mission mindset (a Sound mindset) at all times in this place. "The Institute will handle it by morning. We should focus on looking for useful items."

As for other symptoms -- that cloth had felt strange when Sakura had pressed it to the bite, oddly dulled. Almost as if through a layer of scar tissue (dead tissue), but at least the pain had receded from the main location. For the most part it was worst on the fringes of where whatever-it-was was spreading, but it still wasn't nearly as bad as a typical shinobi's injury; definitely nothing worth fussing over.

The other symptom was more of a problem. But how the hell could Sasuke articulate I feel painfully hungry because my dead brother tried to eat me and then exploded?

-- actually -- Sasuke stiffened, focusing on Sakura's scent as she moved around the room. Since when had his sense of smell been this acute? His other senses might have been sharpening since he'd grown accustomed to the blindness, but it didn't make sense for one to become so abruptly stronger, and he sure as hell wasn't an Inuzuka. And the focus wasn't heightened everything; just for Sakura.

Not the smell of perfume he'd occasionally associated with her when they were children, or even the smell of sweat that was doubtless clouded around both of them by now.

The scent of blood. Of flesh.

Without even thinking about it, Sasuke had taken a step towards Sakura. And another. In the interests of finding out if his suspicion was true, but also ... fuck, it smelled good.

Sasuke gave no response to her question, but he didn't bother her further about interfering in the fight either. Maybe he could rationalize it away, but she wouldn't forget it so easy. It gave her hope, no matter the reason behind it.

But Sasuke, as ever, was focused on the mission. No regard for his own injuries. He and Naruto could be so similar on that point. Either one of them could be dying in agony in the dirt and they'd both say they were fine, keep going, keep fighting.

Stupid boys. As if she couldn't hear Sasuke walking toward the kitchen instead of sitting in the living room like she'd asked him to. She turned and pushed the map toward him. "Hold onto this, I think it's a map of the area. Might come in handy. Was there anything in particular you were hoping to find?"

A map. Vaguely, Sasuke registered that this was a good thing -- body on autopilot, he followed the sound (and scent) of Sakura's movement and took the paper, pushing it into his pocket with one hand.

And grabbing onto her wrist with the other. As if from a distance, he heard himself say in a tone of voice that was undoubtedly distracted: "Something like this is good."

Good didn't even begin to describe the smell of living human that was rising from Sakura's body, close and then closer when Sasuke abruptly yanked the girl towards himself, reaching up to grab her shoulder with his other hand. Suddenly Itachi's actions made sense -- Sasuke could feel himself salivating at the barrage of blood-and-flesh assaulting his senses, stomach roiling in anticipation of the bite. Without even realising it, he'd leaned in enough that he could feel her hair brushing against his cheek, and the taste of her nearly on his tongue --

He was hungrier than he could ever remember being, and he was finally, finally about to satisfy it.

Sakura expected their hands to brush as she passed off the map, but when he took the map and grabbed her wrist afterward, she stopped completely, looking with confusion from Sasuke's hand to his almost emotionless expression. He spoke, so close and suddenly she could all but hear her heart pounding in her chest. What was going on?

Countless reasons came to her; perhaps he'd just been waiting until he knew they were well and truly alone for a moment like this, maybe she'd finally receive some kind of affirmation that she was more than just a nuisance to him. He pulled her closer and she caught herself holding her breath for a moment, uncertain how to react to the sudden change in behavior. One hand was down at her side, held tightly around the wrist, but the other hesitated, hovered near his chest for a moment, before she let it rest there. Oh God, what if he kisses me? What if he wants to do more than that? What if I'm a bad kisser?! Agh! What do I do?!

"Sasuke-kun," her voice was quiet and shy as she felt a blush rising hot and fast in her cheeks, with Sasuke leaning in ever closer, going toward her shoulder. It wasn't the kiss she'd hoped for, but maybe he just wanted to start slow? Maybe---

Shit.

She should've realized sooner. The strange wound. The empty quality to his voice. The behavior that was so out of place. And how he leaned in, closer and closer to her, it wasn't hard to realize it was the same place he'd been bitten by his brother's corpse. Or it wouldn't have been if she hadn't been so lost in her own stupid fantasies! Just my luck the one time we get close and it's all going to hell!

"Let go!" she tried to jerk away once, but was surprised by how strong he was. The second time was enough to free her movement a little though, and her free hand swung hard and fast as she slapped the side of his face.

"Get a hold of yourself!"

Sasuke had lost his mind for the moment, driven to desperation by the feeling of starvation and the prospect of filling his stomach with -- but the person whose wrist was in his hand (and shoulder oh-so-close to his mouth) was someone he knew. Someone he knew well, and didn't want to hurt, because ... but he was so damn hungry, who --

The realisation struck Sasuke a moment later than it did Sakura. Eyes widening, he managed to let go of her wrist only after she tried to jerk it away, struggling to try and force himself to take a step back. His body wasn't listening beyond that, however, a near-growl forming on his lips without his consent and hands about to lift to try and grab her again.

And then she slapped him. Actually slapped him (in the back of Sasuke's mind a voice was almost impressed). Sasuke's head snapped to the side and his hands froze in mid-air, a different pain resounding through his skull and fighting for space with the pain jolting from his shoulder and the ache of his empty stomach.

It was a damn blessing: Sasuke focused on that pain, seizing control over his body and mind with a burst of willpower that took him several steps back, body tense nearly to the point of shaking.

So that was the consequence of the bite of the reanimated dead. Less benevolent than that of a vampire, apparently. The hunger hadn't subsided and the scent of Sakura was still heavy enough that Sasuke could sense the consuming desire of his body to, well, consume. But that slap had given him something to pull him out of a stupor, and he was able to concentrate enough on the pain instead of the hunger to think clearly.

(... he owed Sakura, now. Damn it.)

"Get out of this room," he said once he was sure his voice was steady enough. Doubtless Sakura had figured it out by now as well; she'd always been smart enough intellectually, at least. "Find somewhere else far from here."

Something was seriously wrong with Sasuke and the second after she let her hand fly, she already regretted it, but... whatever had hold of him seemed to weaken in that moment, and Sakura took a few steps back herself. She was concerned that whatever it was, it was strong enough to make even Sasuke give in. Dammit! It was like she was helpless in the forest of death in the Chuunin exams all over again!!

The Sakura then would've listened. She would've run from the room with tears falling down her cheeks and hidden until daylight. The thought was tempting, but she wasn't that same little girl anymore.

"I'm a medic-nin," she tried, "I want to help you. I might be able clear out what's causing it. Or at the very least stop it from spreading." She might've been able to handle Itachi as a living corpse, but fight Sasuke? Kill Sasuke? There was no way she could do that! "Please. Let me try."

Sasuke was focusing on breathing steadily and carefully cataloguing every part of his body, remembering precisely how to move it and bend it to his own will. Compared to being chakra-confused for training in Sound (and the first few days of being blind), this was nothing. Sasuke was stronger than a stupid infection like this, anyway, chakra or no chakra; of that much he was certain.

That didn't mean that keeping the temptation of fresh human flesh around was a good idea. Sakura could take care of herself to at least some extent, so it wasn't a matter of needing to protect her from the other undead. At the very least she could make it to another house and barricade the door.

"You've already used plenty of chakra for one night," Sasuke snapped, impatient. "I can handle it. There's no need for you to be stupid and linger around danger when we've got what we came for already."

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Nightshift 42: Ames Street

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