InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Cain's Discovery ( Chapter 16 )

"Daddy, you're making me nervous. Sit down and relax or something."

Cain shot his daughter a cursory glance and snorted.  "There's something weird going on.  Are you sure she didn't mention anything to you today?"

Bellaniece dropped her magazine on the coffee table and pulled her hair over her shoulder, flipping up the ends between her fingers to check for split ends.  "If it bothers you so much, call her."

"She's not home.  Her youki is gone, and she said she had to go somewhere."

Wisely opting to keep her opinion of her father's keen senses to herself, Bellaniece tossed her hair back and slowly shook her head.

He'd worked himself up into a bundle of raw nerves.  From the moment he'd arrived at Gin's door, nothing went the way it should have.  When she'd touched his crests, he'd nearly jumped out of his skin.  In truth, he'd forgotten that he had taken off his shirt before he started working. That was normal. He couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough not to remember to put it back on.  Her light touch had been electrifying, and as much as Cain hated to admit it, he'd welcomed it.

'Welcomed it? Talk about understatement of the year!   You loved it, Cain.  You hate yourself because you loved it, just like the wings.'

'The wings,' he thought with an inward wince.  'Damn . . . That was stupid . . . I should have destroyed them.'

'To what purpose, really?  I might critique your art as you work, but you're the one who chooses what to make.  On some level you knew what you were doing, and that's what bothers you most.'

He paced the floor again, shaking his head in silent argument.  'I don't choose, do I?  When have I ever chosen?  I select the medium but you're the one who chooses how I do it.  Those wings . . . They were a mistake.  Maybe Gin does deserve to have her own wings, but . . . I don't deserve to be the one to give them to her.  I can't . . . I'll never . . .'

'She's your friend, Cain; just your friend.  She hasn't asked you for anything else, has she?  Do you really think she'd expect something from you that isn't yours to offer?'

'Isabelle . . . I owe her.  I promised her . . . How can I think about Gin when Isabelle . . .?'

'Maybe you think about Gin because she isn't afraid to touch you.  She's not afraid of your anger.  She's not afraid of you.'

'Of course she isn't afraid of me.  I don't think she knows there're things in this world she ought to fear.'

'And she kissed you.'

Cain sighed.  'And she kissed me.'

'It was nice, wasn't it?  That kiss . . .'

Wincing inwardly, Cain had to concede that, too.  'It was . . . really nice.'

The image of Gin in that white silk shirt was painful.  In those moments, he'd realized that as she stood in front of the windows, and as the late evening sunshine filtered in, it also showed every single line of Gin's silhouette; all the curves of the woman she really was that belied the diminutive height, and when she leaned over . . .

He'd caught the flash of creamy skin, the swell of her breasts peeking from the unbuttoned collar of the shirt.  The sight had nearly brought him to his knees.  Gin and silk was definitely a match forged in the fiery bowels of hell, and being in her bedroom, where her scent seemed far more concentrated, had taken its toll on his nerves.  In the end, he'd barely been able to step away from her and her innocent smile, away from the woman-child who compelled him to entertain thoughts of things that he didn't—couldn't—wish for.

Bellaniece smothered a yawn with the back of her hand and peeked at her father through her thick fringe of sooty eyelashes.  "She has a cell phone, right?"

Cain stopped pacing and stabbed Bellaniece with a narrow-eyed look.  "Not a word, Bellaniece," he warned as he grabbed the phone and dug Gin's cell phone number out of his wallet.

Bellaniece rolled her eyes and stood up.

Cain stared at the phone.

'You know, if there's nothing wrong, you're going to look like a damn fool.'

'And if there is?'

'If there is you get to be the hero.  Does the risk outweigh the reward?'

Cain made a face.  'It wasn't right, that's all.  She was behaving strangely.'

'Then call her.'

He sighed.  'Or I could just be making a big deal out of nothing.  Maybe it was one of her relatives' birthdays or something . . .'

'Then don't call her.'

'Then again, on the off chance that something happened to her on the way over there, would anyone know, and if they did, would anyone be able to go get her?'

'Then call her.'

'I'm going to end up looking like an idiot . . .'

'Then don't.  Cain . . . Either call her or hang up the phone, damn it.'

'Pfft!  Fine!  Hell, you're really grouchy lately.'

'You did not just call me grouchy, did you, Cain?'

Cain punched in the number and held the phone to his ear.  'Yes, I did.  Now hush.  It's ringing.'

"Hello?"

Cain unconsciously gripped the phone tighter.  Gin sounded a little frightened, almost as if she were scared of something.  "Gin?  You okay?"

"Cain?  Cain!  Oh, uh, yeah . . . I'm fine . . ."

Leaning his head to the side to hold the phone between his ear and his shoulder while he put the number back into his wallet, he frowned.  "You don't sound fine."

She sighed.  "It's nothing.  It was too late to go to Mama and Papa's house, and Papa's a little mad at me . . ."

"Where are you?"

"Home."

"You're not home . . . I'd know if—"

'And you tell me to hush?  Idiot.'

'Shut the hell up, you!'

'You're such a dog, Cain!'

'And you're a pain in my—'

'Woof!'

"I'm home," she stated again.

"Can't you go over to your parents' house now?"

". . . No."

He grabbed the phone and straightened his back as he frowned out the window at the blackened night sky.  "Well . . . What if I went with you?  You'd be safe then, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, it isn't  . . . I can't . . . No . . . Papa said that I'm supposed to just stay here and not open the door for anyone."

"Gin, what's wrong?"

"Nothing really . . ."

He shook his head.  "You want me to come over?"

"Oh, I'd like—Oh, no . . . I can't open the door for anyone, not even Papa, he said."

"You're not making much sense."

"I know," she replied miserably.  "I'd better go.  I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait, Gin . . . Why can't you open the door?"

Gin sighed again.   ". . . Because Papa said . . ."

"Okay, other than that.  What was your father's reasoning for you not opening your door?"

"Oh, that . . . It's nothing."

Cain smiled just a little as the edges of panic dulled despite the lingering concern that was tinged by a hint of intrigue.  "You're a really bad liar."

Gin laughed weakly.  "I just can't; that's all."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bellaniece grab her purse off the table by the door.  "Hold on, Gin."  Turning to face his daughter, Cain cleared his throat loudly.  "And just where do you think you're going, Bellaniece?"

Bellaniece rolled her eyes.  "I was going down to get a new magazine, Daddy . . . Nothing earth shattering."

"Oh, no, you're not.  You're not stepping foot out of this apartment till morning."

"Daddy—"

"No."

"Is tonight her human night, too?"

Cain's eyebrows shot up at Gin's question, and, more to the point, the very end of it.  "Too?"

"Oh, um . . . I meant . . . W-W-Well . . . uh . . ."

"I see."

"Fine, then," Bellaniece stated loudly.  "I'm going to bed.  Might as well.  Night, Daddy."

Cain ignored her very obvious irritation.  "Night, Bellaniece."

Smiling as he watched his daughter's haughty retreat, he shook his head before turning his attention back to Gin, who had remained conspicuously silent since her blatant slip.  "Gin . . ."

"Y-Yes?"

"Your window open?"

Gin hesitated.  "Yes, but—"

"Okay."

He hung up the phone, cutting off whatever Gin was babbling, and strode over to lock and chain his door.  Bellaniece was safe enough.  On her human night, she didn't look any different, really, other than her ears were human for real, and her markings—the ones he'd insisted that she keep hidden at all times—were gone.  She'd be safe enough.  He was close by, should she need him.  Hell, he wasn't going that far . . .

Gin's words ran through his mind as he dissolved into his energy form and flew out the window into the night.

"If you think I look like my mother now, you should see me on my human night."

Damn it, he wanted to see her—his silver and gold cake fairy—as a human.

Gin set her sketchpad on the table and dropped the pencil on it as she scowled at the ringing telephone and crawled over to grab the receiver.  The cool night breeze that blew in the window brought a wave of gooseflesh to the backs of her legs as she braced her feet against the sofa cushions and leaned over the back to reach the telephone.  'Would have been easier to get up and go over there,' she mused as she snatched the receiver by the short antenna.  Hitting the 'talk' button as she turned to flop back on the sofa, she yelped instead as she realized she wasn't alone.  "You!  How did you—?"

"Baby girl?  Who are you talking to?" Ryomaru demanded on the other end of the call.   "Who the hell is 'you', and what the fuck does 'you' smell like?"

Gin winced.  "You?   I . . . uh … I  . . . oh . . . um …. Television!" she blurted at last.  Cain wasn't moving.  Standing in the middle of her living room with his arms crossed over his chest—he'd put a shirt on, at least—with a narrow-eyed stare directed at her, he didn't acknowledge hearing her at all.  His stance was wary, guarded, and he seemed like he was trying to figure out something.  A distinct shiver ran up Gin's spine as goose bumps broke out on her skin.  'Why is he staring at me like that?  It's like he . . . I don't know, but . . .' Brushing off the strange feelings that ebbed through her, Gin turned her attention to convincing Ryomaru that there was nothing going on, instead.  "I'm watching television."

"Uh huh," Ryomaru agreed, obviously not buying her story.

"Did you need something?" Gin asked, hoping that her brother wouldn't find it odd that she was so obviously trying to rush him off the phone.

Ryomaru snorted.  "The old man wanted me to call and make sure you were home and that you hadn't let anyone into your apartment."

"No," she hedged, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.  "I didn't let anyone in . . ."

'Absolutely not.  Cain flew in, by himself, through the window.'

'Yeah, and if your brothers or father find out . . .'

'I know . . .'

"Good," Ryomaru went on.  "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Gin lied, wishing Cain would move, blink—something.

"All right.  The old man will probably call in an hour or so."

"No, it's fine, I'm just—"

With a sigh, Gin clicked off the phone.  Ryomaru had hung up before she could get her sentence out.  'That figures . . . baka.'

'Don't worry about Ryo-nii,' her youkai growled.  'Worry about Cain.  He still hasn't moved, not one inch.'

"Cain?  What's . . . wrong . . .?"

Cain didn't answer.  Slowly prowling in a wide circle around her, he kept his eyes on her as he stared, eyes incomprehensible, as he made the circuit around her living room.  Gin drew her knees up, ducked her chin.  In her human form, she couldn't smell very well, couldn't hear things that she normally could . . . She felt entirely vulnerable and almost afraid.

'Afraid?  That . . . That's stupid!' she scoffed at her own thoughts.  'Afraid of Cain?  No . . . I don't think I'd ever be afraid of Cain . . .'

Even still, there was something entirely unsettling about the way Cain was behaving.  It was almost a morbid kind of fascination, wasn't there?  Like she'd suddenly morphed into a weird kind of science experiment or something . . . Gin tried to figure out just what he was thinking, to no avail. Even if she could normally, which she really couldn't, she hadn't realized how much she relied on her other senses.  The disadvantage left her with a knot in the pit of her stomach, an anxiety that rose thick in her chest despite her mental assurances that he was Cain, and she knew him.

"You're making me nervous," she finally blurted, unable to stand the mounting tension that hung in the air.  Even in human form she could feel it.  He needed to say something—anything—or she just might scream.

"You really look . . . different," he remarked without a change in facial expression.  "Not like your mother, though . . . I can see her in you . . . just not as much as you led me to believe."

Gin wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her raised knees.  "You probably shouldn't be here," she admitted, brushing aside the feeling that she would rather walk over a river of fire than to be left alone.  "No one's supposed to know.  Papa says it's dangerous."

Cain sank down on the sofa beside Gin and leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands dangling, and he shrugged.  "Your secret's safe with me, but I don't see why you, of all people, would be in danger.  Who would hurt you?"

"Why do you say that?" she couldn't help but ask.

Cain shrugged.  "I can't see it . . . You're . . . They wouldn't.  They couldn't."

His answer didn't really make sense.  Gin sighed and scrunched her shoulders up.  "It's not so much me, but . . . I suppose with Sesshoumaru-oji-san being tai-youkai here, and of course Papa being who he is . . . Ryomaru-nii's a hunter, and Kichiro-nii-chan . . . Well, he doesn't really make enemies, but he is well-known."

Cain nodded slowly but seemed surprised.  "I see . . . Your brother is a hunter?"

"Yeah, and a few years ago he got into a pretty nasty confrontation with a gang of youkai . . . That didn't really help the situation.  Papa's always been adamant that we hide our nights, but," she turned her head, resting her cheek on her knees as she stared in the general direction of the wall without really looking at it.  "After that, Papa insisted that I stay in the house and near him in case something should happen.  I mean, it's not like I was ever far from them on nights like tonight, anyway, but . . ."

"This is the first time you've been alone on your human night, isn't it?"

Gin nodded then shook her head as a little smile surfaced on her lips.  "It was," she agreed, "but you're here now."

A startled expression momentarily passed over his features.  "So I am."

Cain was staring at Gin.  He knew he was staring.  He couldn't help it.  He'd become so accustomed to seeing her with her long silver hair and golden eyes, with her easy smile and with those ears . . . Those little hanyou ears of hers had become mood indicators, and without those, she was far more mysterious.  Her eyes were such a deep shade of brown that in the half-light of the living room, they looked black, and her silky silver hair had been replaced by glossy raven locks.  The effect was astounding.  Even as a human she'd possess the same allure that she did as a hanyou, and that was frightening enough.  Darkness and light converged in her, and the contrast was amazing.  More subdued, reluctant to move off the sofa, or so it seemed, the Gin he knew had been replaced for the night by this timid girl.

'She's scared, Cain.  She's ready to jump at her own shadow.  We might have come over here just to see what she looks like, but we really can't leave her, can we?'

'What do you expect?  She's already said that she's never spent her human night alone.  I might not like her father at all, but I have to respect a man who can protect his daughter the way InuYasha Izayoi has protected Gin.'

'Respect it?  Sure . . . We can still take him . . .'

He shook his head and shot Gin a surreptitious glance.  She was gazing at her human hands with a distinct frown, like she was willing them to be hanyou again.  It had to be difficult, dealing with the complete change in perception and strengths when one was reduced to human state, even if it was only for a night.  Bellaniece had trouble with nights like that, too.  As an infant, she'd cried all night, and Cain could only try his best to comfort her despite the nagging feeling that he had somehow done that to her; that he was responsible for Bellaniece's upset.  Child of a youkai and a human . . . hanyou . . .

There were always just enough days between those nights that she would forget the fear and the upset in the time between.  Each month was another night like the month before, and Cain had gotten into the habit of being near her both before and after, making sure he was accessible to his daughter.  Bellaniece would cry, and if Cain put her down, she'd scoot into a corner with her hands either covering her ears or tugging on her earlobes, staring at her surroundings with unmasked fear, complete dread, terror so deep that Cain could feel it, too.

'Come on, Cain . . . look at her!  She looks . . . she looks like Bellaniece used to.'

'. . . I know.'

'We can't leave her like that, Cain . . . I mean, she's . . . she's scared.'

'I know that, too . . . What do you suggest, oh-ye-stupid-youkai?'

'I don't know . . . Make her smile, for God's sake!  Hurry it up, will you?  She just might cry . . .'

'How?'

'I don't know!  You're the one in charge, here . . . Do something, and fast!'

"So what do you normally do at your parents' house on nights like tonight?" he asked, trying to cajole Gin out of her silence.

Gin looked confused.  "Nothing . . . Mama normally looks at a magazine or something.  Papa normally reads through school papers . . . Sometimes I sketched them, though.  The twins are normally arguing . . . or trying to find new ways to annoy Papa . . ."

"Gin . . . are you okay?" he asked as he gently touched her arm.

Gin jumped and squeaked out a noise that resembled a yelp but didn't quite make it.  "I'm fine!" she assured him, her smile too bright, too happy.  "You, uh . . . You don't h-h-have to stay here . . ."

The phone rang again, and Cain winced as Gin repeated the process of nearly screaming.  Scrambling for the telephone, she smashed her fist against her heart as she hit the 'talk' button with her free hand and lifted the phone to her human ear.

'Hear that, Cain?  We can go . . . She doesn't need us . . . She said so.'

'She's lying.  You know it, and I know it.  Damn it, she's a rotten liar, isn't she?'

'Stop trying to be her hero!  She doesn't need one; she has her papa . . . Unless you want to be her hero?  Cain?  Is that it?'

Cain snorted.  'Of course not.  That's absurd.'

'Make up our mind, will you?  I'm starting to get really confused.'

'I have made up my mind.'

'Maybe, but Gin—'

'Gin's a friend, and she's scared—that's all.'

'Fine, but just for the record?  You might want to remember something else.'

'What?'

'You left Bellaniece home alone so you could come over here.  You realize that, don't you?'

Cain didn't answer.

"I . . . um . . . err . . . uh . . . well . . . I-I-I don't know why Ryomaru would say that, Papa . . . I'm alone . . ." Gin insisted, wrapping a strand of hair around her fingers in a decidedly nervous manner.  "No!  No . . . I'm fine, really!  You don't need to come over, and—"

Hiding his amusement behind a raised hand, Cain shook his head and wished he had a tablet and pens.  The look on Gin's face was priceless, and he felt compelled to commit her image to paper.  Her thin white cotton shorts billowed around her legs like one of the flirty little skirts she favored, and the light pink tank top didn't hide a thing.

When he had changed back from his energy form in the middle of the room only to see her contorted over the back of the sofa in that outfit that just didn't hide anything at all, he'd nearly stumbled.  Coupled with the change in her appearance, and when she turned around . . . He hadn't realized what cooler air would do to her, but in that moment, staring at her in that flimsy, form-fitting shirt, he certainly learned fast.  Wasn't it simpler to think that she was just too young from her demeanor and naiveté at times?  The startling reminder that she wasn't nearly as much of a pup as he wanted to believe . . . It hadn't been kind to his equilibrium.

Huddled on the sofa with her legs drawn up to her chest as she leaned heavily against the back and rubbed her forehead in a defeated sort of way, Gin shot Cain a panicked glance, and he shrugged in helpless reply.  Scrunching her toes up, she dug her feet into the cushions.  Cain tamped down the perverse urge to grab her ankles and tickle the soles of her feet.

"No, Papa, it was the television," Gin insisted as she untangled her legs and stood up, heading toward the kitchen as she tried to placate her father.  "I'm fine, I promise!"

His gaze fell on the coffee table.  Her sketchpad lay open with a drafting pencil on top, and before he thought it over, he grabbed it and started to turn to a clean page.

'Wait, Cain . . . What's she drawing?'

Stopping at his youkai's question, Cain critically eyed the page.  The sketch of a bare-chested man in baggy pants who didn't have a face yet despite the outline of the features and the soft graphite wisps of hair.  'Who . . .?'

His question trailed off as he narrowed his gaze.  On the man's chest, wrapping around his sides over his abs, ending just past the concave of his ribs, the faint lines of definite stripes . . . 'Me?'

The knowledge that Gin had drawn him slammed straight through him, leaving him stunned as he slowly shook his head and tried to ignore the unmistakable wash of arrogant pride.

Gin set two bottles of water on the coffee table as she spoke into the phone, having not noticed that Cain was holding her sketchpad.  "I'm fine, Papa, I swear . . . I'm just going to finish this sk-eee-etch . . ."

Cain jerked the tablet out of Gin's reach as the girl tried to grab it out of his hand.  He glanced at her, eyebrows lifting as she blushed and swatted at the pad again and slowly, deliberately, got to his feet.  "Give me that!" she hissed, hopping up and down as she tried to grab the sketchbook that he waved above her head.  "What?  No, Papa, nothing . . . I was, uh, err, umm, talking to the television—again."

"Forget it, baby girl," Cain teased in a whisper, lowering the book just enough to entice her before jerking it away.

She narrowed her gaze on him but refused to give up as she scampered onto the sofa and leaned toward him to grab the book.  "Okay," she mumbled tilting her head to hold the phone and free both hands, "I know, 'don't let anyone into my apartment,' Papa.   Bye."  Pausing long enough to disconnect the call before dropping the receiver into the sofa cushions beside her, Gin made a face as she grabbed at the notebook again.  "Cain!  Give me that!"

"You can have it if you can take it," he challenged, chuckling as Gin nearly lost her balance.  She was maybe an inch or two taller than him, but her arms were too short to intercept the sketchpad.

"This isn't funny," she scolded.  "Cain!"

"Something in here you don't want me to see?" he asked casually.

She wrinkled her nose as her cheeks reddened.  "No!"

"Then why are you so anxious to get it back?"

"It's . . . mine!" she grunted as she hopped up and down again.

"You're going to fall if you're not careful," he told her.

Gin leaned on his shoulder and stretched for the book.  "Cain!  It's not very nice of you to take my sketchbook!"

"Yeah?  And just what do you think you're going to do about it, baby girl?"

"You'll be sorry," she promised, pushing herself onto her tiptoes, leaning on his shoulder a little more, stretching her fingers out as she tried to grab the book again.  "Cain, give it back!"

"Uh, err, um . . .  well . . . no," he countered.

"Cain!"

"Beg me, Gin."

Her face contorted in an outraged frown.  He laughed.  "Please!"

"That wasn't begging," he remarked.

She growled in frustration, using his shoulder to launch herself a little higher as she bounced around to retrieve the book.  "That's as close as you're going to get, mister!"

"Mister?" he choked.

"Yeah, mister!  Give it back!"

"What'd you draw?"

"Nothing!"

"Tell me why I don't believe that."

"Because you're being stubborn and . . . mean!"

Cain twisted away from Gin, waving the sketchbook to further her irritation.

'She's right, Cain, you're really being mean.'

'At least she's not scared anymore.'

'Hmm . . . good point.'

'I thought so.'

"Ca-a-ain!" Gin whined, grabbing his arm and trying to pull it down.

"Give up!  You can't bend my arm."

Gin let out a frustrated growl, catapulting herself onto his back when he started to step away.

'Good God, give it back, Cain!  Give it back, now!'

"What are you—?" he rasped out as her arms tightened around his neck to keep herself from slipping off.  Wrapping her legs around his waist as she clung to him, Cain winced and dropped the notebook onto the sofa.  She made no move to let go.  Cain gulped, trying to ignore the scent of her, trying to ignore the warmth of her body pressed so close to his.  "Gin?"

"What?"

". . . I put your sketchpad down."

"I know."

"You going to get off my back now?"

"Nope."

He frowned.  "Why not?"

She sighed.  "If I let go, I'll fall," she admitted quietly.

He sighed, too.  Lowering himself slowly onto the sofa so Gin could get down without falling, a million curses ran through his head.  Every single movement created more movement, and by the time he'd sat down completely, his body was cursing him back.

Gin crawled away, retrieving her sketchbook off the sofa.  With a pained grimace, he quickly looked away as she scampered to her feet and ran down the hallway to stash her precious sketchpad away.

"I, uh, better go check in on Bellaniece," Cain said when Gin re-emerged from the bedroom.

Gin tried to mask the momentary look of panic that flashed in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.  "O-Okay.  I'll be fine.  Thanks for . . . coming over . . ."

Cain flinched, her fear as real to him as it was to her.  "I'll be right back," he assured her, lifting a hand to touch her then dropping it before he could.

"Oh, I'm fine," she lied, biting her lower lip so hard it turned white under her teeth.

"No, it's okay.  Bellaniece is closer here than she ever was at home."

Gin shook her head.

He shrugged.  "The mansion is pretty big."

"You're sure?"

He nodded, the need to break Gin out of her upset compelling him once more.  "I, uh, err, um, well . . . Yeah, I'm sure."

She looked startled, her eyes slowly narrowing suspiciously.  "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

Cain grinned just a little.  "I, uh, err, um, well . . . Sure am."

She giggled.  "Okay, then . . . I mean, if you're sure."

Cain nodded and stood, striding over to the window and transforming into his energy form again.  Out the window and over to his own, he solidified in his living room.  Bellaniece's door was still closed, and when he peeked inside, he could tell she was sleeping.

'Okay, I'd say that was kind of stupid,' his youkai pointed out in a wary tone.

'Yeah, yeah, it was.'

'It's probably advisable not to do that again . . .'

Cain nodded, stifling a groan.  'Yep.'

'. . . Unless she gets scared again, because we just can't let her do that, right?'

'Nope.'

His youkai was quiet a moment.  Cain hoped it was finished talking.  No such luck.

'Cain?'

'Huh?'

' . . . I really like that girl . . .'

Cain squeezed his eyes closed, deliberately trying not to think about the ramifications of what he was about to admit.  '. . . So do I.'

Gin held the throw pillow up to her face, cringing and groaning as the sounds of a particularly sickening death resounded in the quiet room.

"Put the pillow down and watch the movie," Cain remarked mildly.

"I don't want to," she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow again.

"You can't watch a scary movie but you can threaten to 'kick my butt?"

Giggling despite herself at the high pitched falsetto that he used for the last part of his question, Gin peeked at Cain over the top of the pillow.  "They make it look really disgusting," she pointed out.  "No one needs to see that."

His blue eyes glowed with a smile that he was feeling even though it didn't show.  "Put the pillow down, Gin—it's fine."

She almost complied.  Too bad another zombie on the movie decided to rip another hapless human in half—vertically.  "Oh, no . . . Eww . . .!"

"Don't look at me," he complained as he settled back on the sofa.  "You picked the movie."

"I didn't know it was going to be this gross," she shot back.

"Suck it up, baby girl.  You're just trying to get me to feel sorry for you again."

She wrinkled her nose and opened her mouth to protest.  The telephone trilled, and Gin rolled her eyes as she dug it out of the sofa cushions and clicked it on.  "Hello?"

"Hi, Gin.  Your father wanted me to call you to make sure you're still okay," Kagome said mildly.

"Yes, Mama, I'm fine," Gin answered, wincing again as another human bit the dust.  Cain rolled his eyes.  Gin shot him a narrow-eyed glare and rolled onto her knees, elbows propped on the arm of the sofa as she tapped her feet against the plush cushion.  "How is everyone doing?"

Kagome sighed.  "Same old stuff.  Your father's been eyeing the door like he expects you to come in any minute, but he hasn't made a move to charge . . . yet."

"That bad?" Gin asked, gnawing on her lip as she tried to brush off the guilt that she really wasn't too sorry that she'd forgotten to go home in time.  Idly pivoting her hips while her knees remained smashed into the sofa cushion, she tapped her claws on her free hand on the arm of the sofa as she pressed the phone a little tighter against her ear, unmindful of the way she just happened to be wiggling her rear, right in Cain's face.  Cain shot to his feet and hurried toward the kitchen.

"Well, you know your father.  He misses you, and he's worried about you."

"I miss him, too," Gin mumbled.

"InuYasha can come get you.  He doesn't like to leave the house on the new moon, but—"

"Oh, I'm fine, Mama!  He doesn't have to come over!" Gin hurried to say.

Kagome was silent a moment.  "Really."

Gin winced.  Fooling her father and brothers might be hard, but fooling her mother?  That was darned near impossible on her best day . . .

"Gin, you're sure you're all right?"

"Uh-huh," she said, careful to keep her tone as normal as she could.  "I was just going to go to bed when you called.  Might as well since, you know, I can't go anywhere, and since no one would come over.  Why would someone do that?"

"Hmm," Kagome agreed when Gin forced a weak laugh.  "I see . . ."

"Anyway . . ."

"Gin," Kagome interrupted, her voice dropping to nearly a whisper.  "You know I trust you, right?  You know I believe that you've learned the lessons your father and I have taught you.  Just be careful; promise me."

Gin nodded.  "I promise."

"There's a good girl.  I'm going to try to force your father to bed.  Come by in the morning to let him see that you're safe, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.

Kagome made a kissing sound.  "Night, Gin.  Behave."

Gin rolled her eyes but grinned.  "Night, Mama.  Give Papa a kiss for me."  She hung up the phone with a sigh and a giggle as Cain held a bottle of water in front of her face.  "Thanks," she said as she took it.

"Yeah," he agreed.  His tight, clipped tone was harsh.

Gin glanced up at him with a confused frown.  "Cain?  Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he repeated, slumping back against the wall and glaring at the television with a deep scowl as he lifted his bottle of water to his lips.

Gin cocked her head to the side.  "You don't sound okay . . ."

"Just fine," he assured her.

"But . . . why are you standing up?"

"Tired of sitting."

"Are you angry?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

". . . O-Okay."

"Gin?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you do me a favor without questioning it?"

Gin shrugged.  "Okay."

"Sit down."

"Sit down?"

"Yeah, sit down."

"Why would you—?"

"Without questioning it, remember?"

Gin snapped her mouth closed and sat back on her knees.  "Now will you tell me why?"

Cain wrinkled his nose as he pushed away from the wall and hesitantly made his way over to the sofa.  "Nope."

Gin shifted her legs to turn toward him as he sat down.  "I thought you said you were tired of sitting."

He didn't answer.

She shook her head, shoulders slumping in defeat.  "I thought you said you were okay."

He still didn't answer.

Her chin dropped against her chest as she stared at her hands.  "I thought you said you weren't angry."

Cain sighed.  "I'm not, Gin."

"You're sure?"

"You're missing the rest of the movie," he pointed out.

She made a face.  "I don't like it, anyway."

He lifted his eyebrows as Gin yawned and wiped her eyes.  "You should get some sleep.  You told your mother you were going to bed."

Gin waved a hand dismissively.  "I will . . ."

Cain stared at her for a moment before shaking his head once and holding out his hand.  She blinked as she stared at it.  He curled his fingers.  "Come here, Gin."

"Cain?"

"Come here," he prodded.

Gin slowly slipped her hand into his.  He pulled her toward him, settled her in the crook of his arm, against his chest.  Gin sighed happily.

"Now go to sleep," he commanded gruffly but with a warmth that he couldn't hide.

"You'll stay till I'm asleep?"

A tender smile quirked the corners of his lips, lit the depths of his gaze with a certain softness.  "Yeah," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her.  "I'll stay till you're asleep."

She smiled, letting her eyes drift closed as she nestled closer against him.  "Okay."

She thought she heard him sigh, too.