InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ You Are Never Alone ❯ The Boy Who Was Just Overcome ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

By: cu-kid

Characters/Pairings: The usual pairings, a new twist (I hope ^_^)

Rating: NC-17 for explicit descriptions of sexual acts ^_^, drugs, and language

A/N: So, I'm not so sure that this is such an original plot...so far. I think, though, that if you give me a chance, you will find that the end is not...quite what you expected. I'm hoping to resolve this story within...not too many chapters ^_^ *sigh* I guess I shouldn't feel the need to explain myself, but, as with my last story, I'm really nervous about posting this *neurosis!* (Oh, and yes, I borrowed part of the chapter title for this first one from the first episode because...well, chapter -and story- titles drive me crazy...so I'm going to be unoriginal for this one). Umm...what else? Ah, if you see any mistakes let me know because I edited this really late. Also, I had to hunt down a last name for Hojo...so, if it's wrong, let me know please? The same goes with the honorifics...if I've got any of them wrong, feel free to tell me (nicely, please ^_^) Okay, I'm done with this note for now...I think... ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own or make any profit from Inuyasha, the story, characters, whatever...Is that all I have to say? Oh, this disclaimer is for all subsequent chapters because I'll forget to put it on them ^_^ Also, the descriptions of Inu and Kouga are taken from a drawing by kite, whose picture can be found at http://www.starless-dreamer.net/domestication.jpg

Enjoy.

You Are Never Alone

Chapter 1

The Boy Who Was Just Overcome

The white tiled floors had specks of blue on them, he noticed, like some kind of weird, alien insect blood splattered across them...

The tiles reflected dully in the diffused fluorescent lights that hung overhead…

Through the noise of the humming from the chrome and plastic machines, he could hear the lights buzzing…perhaps like the insects with the blue blood...

He had heard somewhere, that household appliances all droned in the pitch of b-flat…he wondered it if were true for these machines as well...

A fuzzy, triangular ear flicked toward a wet, raspy indrawn breath and his eyes ran over the pristinely white sheets, the hand and arm that were whiter still, to a face whose cheeks and eyes had sunk in, making it look more skeletal than he knew it should have been. He blinked slowly, realizing that he could no longer remember what she had looked like before. He could not remember her smiles, the way her eyes had always sparkled when she was amused. Her now lusterless raven hair had always shone brightly, but he could not remember that. Could not remember the sound of her laughing, the way it would fill a room, draw the eye, draw one to her.

At first, he had refused to believe that the skeletal mockery that was laid out on the bed before him was even her. Eventually, though he had not completely accepted it, he at least acknowledged it. He had seen it happening, had known she was dying.

Now, he watched in morbid fascination as the pulse under the papery skin of her throat fluttered once, like a butterfly frantically beating its way through a sharp gust, and then was still. He clutched at the bony hand that was still in his grasp, comprehending, for the first time in his life, that he was powerless to stop this. The realization hit him like an arrow through his heart, a sensation that was hard to breathe around, made tears blur his vision so that the room, the bed, the corpse of the woman, all went out of focus and it seemed to all be a foggy memory. Or, perhaps, one of those dreams that, upon waking, later in the day -or the next week- is confused with a forgotten memory.

Alarms shrieked like mad mourners, warning of the death to any who would listen. The bed moved farther away from him and he watched the figures in white moving around it, hovering like angels whose wings he could not see, and he thought to himself what an odd dream this was. He tried to blink, to clear his eyes, to understand what was happening. His vision sharpened, focused on only parts of the scene before him. He saw the light wink from sterile steel as it slid into deathly white skin, into the darkly visible blue and green veins that looked like the tracks of markers left behind from a child's wistful doodling. He looked into her face again, a flash of memory reminding him that her skin had once been the color of precious ivory, as flawless as porcelain.

Her eyes opened and he was drawn into their dark depths, as helplessly as if he had been caught in a black hole. She stared at him, her eyes having long ago lost the sparkle that he could not remember anyway. He watched as he white lips moved, and her voice deafened the sounds of the frantically screaming alarms, the sounds of people shouting, although he was sure it could have only come out as a whisper.

The sudden silence roared through the room. The woman on the bed disappeared from his sight as a white sheet was drawn over her face. What did he do now? Surely he should feel something; loss, sorrow, guilt, an emptiness in his heart where she had been. Perhaps it would hit him suddenly and he would collapse under the weight of it. Perhaps it would crush him, kill him.

The silence threatened to choke him, to rob him of his breath, pressing against his ears, making him clutch them in an attempt to silence the silence.

The room was suddenly too hot, too stifling. The sterile scent of the place, the underlying smell of death, was cloying, suffocating. He couldn't breathe, his legs felt like they were trembling, like they would give out on him at any moment. He swallowed a few times, forcing the rising bile back down as it coated the back of his throat, the stark white color of the sheets reaching out toward him, started to encroach on his vision, and he did the only thing he knew he was good at.

He fled.

And, even as he made his way through the crowded halls, pushing past nurses, doctors, the sick and dying, ignoring the outraged cries, the concerned questions, the smell of blood, death, tears, vainly trying to reach the doors before he lost the tenuous grasp he had on sanity, her voice followed him, echoed through his head, whispered through his soul.

`Never forget, Inuyasha, that I love you.'

~~~

Long, finely boned fingers curled around the firm, black plastic, only releasing their hold when it started to crack. A frown marred patricianly stoic features, golden eyes trying desperately to track as heavy lids fell over dilated pupils. His gaze fell on a mirror lying next to him on the couch; the fine white powder that lay spread across it almost enough to make him move. A loud shout from the television distracted him and he looked vacantly back at it, trying to concentrate on the seemingly neurotic characters -garishly drawn- that pranced around.

A warm, tingling sensation between his legs diverted his attention once again. He looked down at the waif-like brunette, whose head was bobbing up and down in his lap, pulling and sucking at his hardened length. The warmth pooled in his lower abdomen. His head dropped back -the ends of silvery-white hair contrasting sharply against the black couch- and he may have groaned as the woman's attentions forced him, finally, to release into her mouth. His hips bucked up, an unconscious effort on his body's part to shove itself farther into the wet heat of the woman's mouth. He faintly heard her gag, but ignored the sound as she started to swallow; the combination of her throat constricting and her tongue pressing more firmly against him enough to make him not care, to make him wind long, clawed fingers through dark hair and hold her in place until he felt himself stop throbbing.

A fuzzy, triangular ear, pierced along the edge with two shiny silver hoops, swiveled, vaguely hearing a knock coming from the direction of his front door. The petite brunette sat back on her heels, wiping the saliva from her mouth and glancing at him as the knocking came again.

“Do you want me to answer that?” she asked, softly.

Another knock and he got momentarily lost in the shadows of the ceiling, trying to think of the best way to manipulate the girl into using her extraordinary mouth on him once more.

Faded gold eyes rolled to glance at her. “No,” he said, shortly. “Keep going.”

Another knock, more insistent this time, was followed by a muffled, “C'mon, `Yasha! Pull your damn pants up and let's go!”

He groaned as he maneuvered himself from the couch, walking a little unsteadily, bracing himself against the wall as he made his way to the door.

Kami, I sure got my money's worth.

His nose twitched as he neared the door. It was the one thing he hated about drugs; they made him hyper-aware of everything. Half the time, he could swear he could hear the clouds moving in the sky, the insects outside walking on the trees' leaves.

You know that just happens when you're in transit.

Of course, the coke made him talk to himself, so he wondered which was better.

I need a cigarette.

He wasn't entirely aware of actually opening the door. Looking into the dark violet eyes that greeted him, he wished for better neural control over his extremities. He frowned and tried to slam the door close, but a hand that was not his own shot out, grasping the edge, pushing it back open.

“Monk,” came the sour greeting.

“C'mon, Yasha. It's time to go.” Violet eyes narrowed. “Are you fucked up?”

A low, warning growl started to make it way up from Inuyasha's chest. He turned and made his way back to the living room. The brunette had welcomed herself to the coke on the couch.

“Ah, I didn't realize you had company.”

The brunette looked up, wiping white powder from her nose, sniffing delicately. Inuyasha eyed her.

“Have I fucked you before?” he asked her, more concerned with the fact that he was coming down than with what she had to say.

He missed the slight widening of her eyes and concentrated on her lips as she licked them and stretched them into a smile.

“No,” she answered, softly. She rose and smoothed the front of her shirt. “Would you like to?”

Inuyasha tilted his chin up slightly, took a small sniff. Around the harsh chemical smell that still burned the linings of his nose he could smell that she wasn't aroused -and he couldn`t have cared less.

“No. I've got things to do.” He paused and then headed toward the bedroom. “I'm taking a shower. I'm sure you remember where the door is.”

He could feel the monk's disapproving frown burning into his back. Actually, it was a relief that the man had shown up when he had; Inuyasha had been a little troubled about how he was going to get rid of the girl. If nothing else, Miroku would graciously see her out.

The steam from the shower seemed to draw the drugs out of his very pores, clearing his head, doing much to alleviate the irritation he had initially felt at being interrupted. He stood for a moment in the bathroom, trying not to think of anything in particular, contemplating his feet. With a sigh, Inuyasha pulled on a clean pair of jeans, threw a towel over his shoulder. When he returned to the living room, he found Miroku lounging on the couch, laughing at the television, with no evidence of the brunette.

Or his blow.

“Damn it, Miroku!”

Violet eyes looked up at him, surprised. The amused smile fell from his face as he regarded Inuyasha and gave a deep sigh.

“Look, Inuyasha, I need you relatively sober for the rest of the day,” Miroku said, strangely serious. “There are some things we need to do around the restaurant and then your brother's-“

“Half brother.”

Miroku rolled his eyes. “Your half brother's party is tonight. I know none of these things matter much to you, I know you would rather just sit around your house and get blown all day. But, if you would like to continue this life-style, we're going to have to work for it at least one day a week.” He paused and looked Inuyasha over. “As your friend, Inuyasha, I'm concerned.”

Inuyasha blinked at him, saw the faint glimmer in the man's eyes, and then started laughing. “The fuck you're concerned, monk,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.

As he filled a small kettle up with water, he heard Miroku walk in behind him. When he had placed the kettle on the stove to heat, he turned to find Miroku lounging against the island counter.

“You know what I find strange?”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “Besides what you see when you look in the mirror?”

Miroku smiled. “Cute, we're back in high school again.” Inuyasha grinned as he reached to pull a mug down from the hook, enjoying the banter. “I find it odd that a man who does such crazy shit to his body drinks tea of all things.” Miroku picked up the box that held the tea bags, reading it. “And not just every once in awhile. Every day.” He lifted an eyebrow as he read the name of the tea. “I mean really, Yasha, `Tension Tamer'?”

Inuyasha snatched it from him. “Keh. I just buy it for the pictures,” he said, pointing out the attractive woman painted on the front.

Miroku laughed as the kettle started whistling.

“I should give you the number of the girl who was here,” Inuyasha said as he blew the steam from the top of his mug. “She does amazing things with her mouth.”

“Oh? And does this prodigy have a name?”

Inuyasha shrugged. “Yani? Yari?” He looked slightly perplexed for a moment. “Ah, Yura,” he said, finally, giving himself a congratulatory smile. “She's from the Demon Hair Clan.”

“I think I'll pass,” Miroku said, an uneasy look passing over his face. “I would hate to lose parts of me that I, and certain females, find quite mandatory for amusement.” Inuyasha gave him a puzzled look. “They're trained assassins, didn't you know?”

Inuyasha nearly choked and then stared down in dismay at the tea that was now running down his chest and stomach. “What?”

Miroku laughed as he nodded, as he handed Inuyasha a towel. “It's probably a good thing you didn't sleep with her. The Demon Hair Clan is very strict, very traditional. They most certainly would have demanded a wedding.”

Inuyasha glared at him. “How do you know all of this?”

“If you would pay more attention, Yasha, you would know too,” Miroku told him, somewhat loftily. When Inuyasha continued to glare, he sighed. “Go change. We should at least make an appearance at the restaurant before we drink ourselves to idiocy tonight.”

“You don't need to drink for that,” Inuyasha grumbled, tossing the towel at Miroku's head.

He stayed next to the bar, content for the moment to reside in the shadows, to watch everyone else without attracting attention. The bartender had tried to strike up friendly conversation but, after the first few failed attempts, had given up with a shrug. Inuyasha sipped at his drink, watching how the people moved around, fake smiles plastered on their faces. Women were draped in silk and satin, dripping with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. The high ceilings and open windows did much to rid the room of the heat from so many people, but could not entirely do away with the smell of overly cologned and perfumed bodies. Inuyasha's nose twitched as he tried to prevent himself from violently sneezing as the breeze blew the myriad of scents his way.

His eyes wandered, found Miroku leaning close to a short blonde-haired woman. Whatever the monk whispered in her ear caused her to blush and giggle, which caused Miroku to smile smugly in Inuyasha's direction. Inuyasha snorted and looked away. A burst of laughter came from a group of men to his left, attracting his attention.

The lights reflected from silvery-white hair like the sun reflecting from the moon. Inuyasha felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he watched a tall man make his way across the room. Flawless perfection walked past him, the bangs parted just so to show the crescent moon marking on his forehead that denoted his rank and revealed his nobility. Hair tucked behind long, pointed ears showed the crimson slash marks along his cheeks. He wore a white happi whose sleeves were trimmed in red and had a large red flower-like symbol on the back. Long legs were clothed in white slacks. The happi had been left unbelted, showing a white shirt underneath whose collar had the same symbol in a repeating pattern as the back of his jacket.

The muscle in Inuyasha's jaw twitched again and he felt himself tense as the man in white continued to walk toward him. At the last moment, the man side-stepped, walking around him. Amber eyes glanced in Inuyasha's direction, briefly acknowledging him with a quick frown.

The man stopped before the group of men, all of who bowed deeply and moved aside. Inuyasha's ears perked forward, suddenly straining to catch the conversation he had no interest in before.

“Give the lady some room, gentlemen,” the silvery-haired man said, softly. “She must be suffocating amongst all this testosterone.”

A sweet, ringing laugh resounded through the air, making the hum of conversation seem suddenly abrasive to the ear, making others' laughs seem dull, mulish, trite. There was a murmured reply that was too low for Inuyasha to hear and the group of men dispersed like a fog stabbed through by the sun. The man in white extended his hand.

“Would you care to dance, Higurashi-san?”

Inuyasha saw a long arm hand a glass to one of the attending men, caught a murmur of consent.

And then caught his breath.

The light seemed to be drawn to exposed pale skin, acted as though its very existence was solely for the purpose of making the young woman glow. A round, pink jewel was nestled in the hollow between her collarbones and it flared and sparked as though the contact with her skin made it a living thing. Her cream colored top and skirt were just slightly darker than her skin, the skirt falling to the floor in silky folds, the material clinging to a flat stomach, the curve of her hips, the tops of her thighs. Thin straps held up the folds of the low neckline that began enticingly just at the top of her breasts, the back exposing her nearly to the waist. Raven hair was swept up, soft tendrils falling around a long, swan-like neck, a heart shaped face graced by high cheek bones, almond-shaped eyes, a delicate nose.

“She's out of your league, mutt-face.”

A white ear swiveled, the only acknowledgement Inuyasha gave the man he had heard walking toward him. The dance stopped and the man in white bowed gracefully, smoothly straightened and leaned forward to say something Inuyasha could not hear. The young woman laughed again, that sound that made everyone around her turn to look.

“She's practically royalty,” the man beside him continued, as though Inuyasha had asked; as though he gave a damn. “Probably the most powerful person in the room, besides Sesshomaru-sama. There's no way she would give a junkie nightclub owner like you the time of day.”

Amber suns collided with cerulean seas as Inuyasha turned to look at the man who couldn't seem to keep his damn mouth shut.

“And I suppose she would give it to a flea-bitten mongrel like you, Kouga?”

Inuyasha wasn't sure he liked the smile that curled the self-proclaimed Prince of Wolves' lips.

“That and more,” Kouga said, arrogantly. He ran his fingers through short, midnight black hair that fell around pointed ears, into his eyes, making it more tousled than before. “Would you like to see?” he challenged.

Before Inuyasha could suck in a breath, Kouga had moved away from him, had crossed the room and was bowing over the hand of the raven-haired beauty. She smiled prettily -if somewhat tolerantly, Inuyasha thought with a smirk- replied to the wolf demon's inquiry with a small shake of her head.

“You look like you've found prey tonight.” Miroku handed Inuyasha a crystal flute of pale champagne.

“Who is she?” Inuyasha asked, not taking his eyes from the woman.

“Ah, Higurashi Kagome, the jewel of Tokyo,” Miroku sighed. “Not for the likes of you, Yasha,” he added. Inuyasha frowned at his friend and Miroku gestured vaguely with his glass. “She is the embodiment of graciousness, beauty...innocence. She lives her life in the open, in the light; unlike us, who revel in the sinister shadows of the city's less appealing clientele.” Miroku paused, eyeing the woman and the wolf demon as they were joined by another man who had short, light brown hair. “Ah, and there is her perfect match -according to his parents and their conversations with the gods, anyway. Akitoki Hojo, the heir to the Akitoki fortune. He is the male counterpart of Higurashi-san.”

“Are they together?” Inuyasha asked.

Miroku shrugged. “It's rumored they will announce that they are engaged before the start of summer. I've heard that their fathers wanted to make it a match since they were children, but Higurashi-san's mother protested.” Miroku finished his champagne, setting it on a tray carried by a passing waiter. “I think it's time to leave.”

“Not yet,” Inuyasha said.

“Not…” Miroku glanced from Inuyasha to Kagome and back. “Look, I'm going to be blunt since you can't seem to take a hint: you don't have a chance, Inuyasha. I'm saying this as your friend and as a realist.”

“Shut the fuck up, monk.” Amber eyes glowed with irritation as the woman he was watching moved across the room, as she disentangled herself from Kouga and was escorted outside by the Akitoki man.

“Inuyasha, wait!” Miroku made to grab at his arm but Inuyasha twisted away from him, a determined look in his eyes.

His emergence from the shadows caused conversation to pause as he passed, caused whispers to spring up in his wake. Eyes hardened and slid away, and Inuyasha ignored all of it. He could smell anxiety in the air, faintly, and then it was overpowered by a scent that made a growl start deep in his chest. Inuyasha turned, coming face to face with the man in white.

“I was afraid that when I sent out the invitation to Miroku-san that he would bring you,” Sesshomaru said, a small frown marring the noble planes of his face. “I had hoped you were leaving soon.”

Inuyasha felt his hands ball into fists, opened his mouth to give a scathing retort.

“Do not bother, Inuyasha. I do not have the time to hear what you have to say,” Sesshomaru said, holding up a hand, cutting him off. “I have been watching you watch Higurashi-san and I have come only to warn you. Stay away from her, Inuyasha. If you value your life, stay away from her.”

“Is that a threat?” Inuyasha growled.

The taller man's eyes narrowed slightly. “My intent is not to threaten, only advise.” Sesshomaru sighed. “Brother, our family has more enemies than I care to think about. If you should become involved with Higurashi-san you would endanger yourself as well as her. Akitoki-san's family will do anything to see that the Higurashi's fortune joins their own.” Sesshomaru shook his head, a regretful look crossing his face. It was more emotion than Inuyasha ever recalled seeing from his brother…half brother. “You are hanyou, half-breed, impure, tainted, weak blooded,” Sesshomaru continued.

“You don't have to list my virtues on your fingers,” Inuyasha said, his mouth twisting into a sardonic smile.

“It is not just that, Inuyasha. Your…reputation precedes you. The lowest of socialites know your name; know to stay away from you. Even the implication of a union between you two would be violently rejected.” Inuyasha's face darkened. “If you do not listen to me, then listen to your friend. She is beyond your reach. Do not shame our name anymore by defying me on this,” Sesshomaru said, forestalling protest. He eyed the younger man. “At least not this night. For tonight, leave it be.” He sighed again. “I know we have had a past filled with hatred for each other, but I am truly trying to help you. She is too good for you.”

Sesshomaru paused for a moment, looked as though he would say more, but, with a shake of his head, seemed to think better of it and turned on his heel and left.

She is too good for me…

Is that what it really was? Was she too good for him? He had been told the same thing three times tonight, twice by people whose opinions, he reluctantly admitted to himself, he valued. That mangy wolf could go lick his balls as far as Inuyasha was concerned. But Miroku and Sesshomaru had always had his best interest in mind -no matter that he had always defied his half-brother at every turn.

`We revel in the sinister shadows of the city…'

But how could anything be too good for someone? Was there really too much of a good thing? He had always pushed the limits of everything around him, had come frighteningly close to the edge more than a few times. And now, standing at the edge of a garden whose leafy vines cast almost everything into shadow, hid its dark depths from the light of the moon, he wondered what exactly it was he was hiding from.

`Your reputation precedes you…'

Which was Sesshomaru's way of telling him that Higurashi Kagome would already know who he was, would know he was bad news -would know to stay away from him. Inuyasha sighed, uncurled his hands and looked down at them. When had that happened? He had lost sight of something when he was younger, had forgotten what he wanted then. Everything had just spiraled out of control after…after…

With a snarl, Inuyasha turned his back on the shadows that suddenly seemed to be mocking him. He found Miroku on his way out the door, who was relieved to learn that Inuyasha hadn't found Higurashi-sama, and who agreed with Inuyasha that a real drink was what the night needed…

…In the dark depths of the garden, a raven-haired woman violently shoved a light-haired man away from her, cheeks flushed with fury.

“How dare you!” she hissed.

“Kagome-chan-“

“No. My parents have not agreed to this yet. I have not agreed to this. You will not treat me as though I am your lover, or your wife.” She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, gathered her dignity about her like a cloak. “I will accept the excuse that you are drunk tonight, Hojo-san.” She watched as he flinched with the formality and turned to leave.

“Kagome-chan, where are you going?”

She didn't bother to face him, didn't pause as she made her way back to the lights of the party. “I am going to say my goodbyes to our host,” and then I am going to find somewhere with a strong enough drink to make me forget about tonight's events. She pushed aside a leafy vine. “I expect your apology tomorrow, Hojo-san, for tonight's indiscretions.”

She let the warmth wrap itself around her, easing the tension in her shoulders slightly, as she stepped back inside. She was instantly surrounded and, somewhere, managed to find a bright smile, a soft laugh, for those who spoke to her.

“Kags, where have you been?” a voice whispered in her ear.

Kagome continued to listen to the older woman before her, leaned her head toward the person who had come up next to her. “Sango, get me out of here,” she murmured.

She wasn't even sure how it happened, as was usual when Sango whisked her out of a situation. One minute, Kagome was standing in a large room whose air was becoming more stifling by the second; the next, she was taking in a lungful of cool, early spring air, looking out across the city lights.

“Thank you,” she said.

Sango gave her a mischievous grin. “No problem,” she said, as they waited for their car to pull around. “You know how I love doing that.”

“You did make sure to say thank you to Sesshy-kun for me, didn't you?” Kagome asked.

Sango hooked her arm through Kagome's. “Don't worry,” she assured. “I was the epitome of politeness.”

Kagome sighed. “You always are.”

“So, where did you and Hojo-san disappear to?” A dark shadow crossed Kagome's face at the question, and Sango frowned. “Where do you want to drink at?”

Kagome smiled again as she climbed into the car and then laughed as Sango dug around and magically produced two pairs of jeans. “You seem to be prepared. Where would you recommend?”

“There's this great new place I heard about…”

Kagome couldn't stop herself from laughing. She pushed her drink away, trying helplessly to catch her breath.

“That was the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted,” the brunette yelled over the music.

“Here, take a drink,” Kagome offered, handing her beer over to her friend.

“That shit, like, coats your mouth.” Sango screwed her face up and stuck out her tongue, making a `bleh' sound. “Wanna do another?”

Kagome laughed. “My treat this time,” she said, bouncing away before her friend could protest.

She pushed her way through the crowd, popping out into a space in front of the bar. Taking a deep breath, Kagome waited patiently for one of the bartenders to notice her.

“You're too nice.”

The voice was low, whispered in her ear, sent warm fingers of shivers down her spine, curling around in her stomach. Someone pressed against her back and shouted something unintelligible, gaining the attention of a bartender.

“Another Smittick's, Chado, and whatever the lady is having.”

All cognitive thought fled from her as she felt the heat from the person behind her wrap around her. A tanned, clawed tipped hand placed an empty glass on the bar in front of her as he leaned closer. She could smell something…not cologne, something else. Something woodsy and wild that made her heart want to alternately stop and pound in her chest.

“What are you drinking tonight?” The voice was still low but unnervingly audible over the music.

Kagome blinked, looked up at the expectant bartender. “Uh…two Jäger shots,” she managed.

She felt something rumble and vibrate against her back. It took her a minute to realize that he was laughing. Her cheeks flushed, she tensed, and was relieved when the bartender presented their drinks.

She was left speechless again when the bartender nodded to the man behind her and walked away.

“I didn't pay!” she protested.

She felt the rumble again. “Don't worry about it Higurashi-san. It's on the house.” There was a pause and Kagome felt warm breath against her neck, heard him inhale deeply. “Have a good night.”

The seconds ticked by as Kagome stood there, staring blankly into the dark liquid in the two small glasses.

Did he just…smellme?

She spun around, looking for…she didn't know what. Someone who looked liked they would sniff her?

Kagome burst into giggles, retrieved the two drinks from the bar, and made her way back to Sango.

“I saw that!”

Kagome placed a shot in front of her friend, eyeing her innocently. “Saw what?” she asked.

Sango closed one eye to regard her. “That guy that could have been fuckin' you if your clothes hadn't been on,” she said.

Kagome thought her eyes where going to pop out of her head. “Sango-chan!”

The brunette laughed and raised her glass. She downed the shot, slamming the glass onto the table upside down and then leaning forward. “You didn't even get to see what he looked like, did you?” she asked, squinting at Kagome.

“No more for you, Sango,” Kagome said.

“You want to know, don't you?”

Kagome sighed. “All right. What did he look like?”

“Pure sex.” She laughed at Kagome's expression. ”Look,” she said, pointing somewhere behind Kagome's shoulder. “He's the one in the red shirt, with the white hair and…oh my gods, those ears.”

Kagome rolled her eyes, turning to look over her shoulder, searching for the person Sango was talking about.

Ears, huh? There are other parts of the body that are sexier than…oh, dear…

A red sleeveless shirt left long, muscular arms exposed, clung to his chest and stomach every time he moved. The hem of the shirt stopped just at the top of black pants that rode low on narrow hips. Short, tousled, silvery-white hair fell rakishly across his forehead, into his eyes, two pieces, longer than the rest, framing his face. And, on top of his head, were two, fuzzy, triangular ears. The left tone twitched as the song blasting through the club's speakers changed and the light glinted from two small, silver hoops.

He caught her staring at him and, even from where she was sitting, she could see the amber glow of his eyes. Across the room, he raised his drink to her in a toast, grinning. Kagome watched as a waif-like brunette slid up next to him, ran her hand down his chest and stomach, fingered the button on his pants. She pressed herself against him as she stood on her tip-toes to say something to him. As Kagome turned away, he was still staring at her, ignoring the attentions of the brunette.

“He bought you a drink,” Sango said. “You should go thank him and save him from that girl.”

“He didn't…” Kagome swallowed and tried again. “He didn't buy me a drink,” she said. “He said it was on the house.” She narrowed her eyes. “He knew who I was.”

Sango blinked at her. “One the house, huh?” Her warm chocolate colored eyes suddenly got wide and she inhaled sharply. “Oh, I know who that is,” she said, looking over Kagome's shoulder and then back at her friend. “Takahashi Inuyasha, the Inu-no-taisho's son…Sesshy-kun's half brother.”

Kagome cast another glance over her shoulder to find the inu-hanyou still watching her. He leaned over to say something to a dark haired man standing next to him. The man nodded and the inu-hanyou grabbed the hand of the little brunette and walked away, the girl trailing behind with a smile on her face.

Turning back around, Kagome contemplated the small, full glass in front of her. She twirled it in her fingers for a moment before downing it and copying Sango's actions by slamming it upside down in front of her.

She returned Sango's surprised look with an impassive one of her own. “Two more?” she asked. “Or maybe four?”

“Where ya headed, ladies?”

Kagome looked blearily at the taxi driver. All she could see of him were his eyes looking back at her from the rear-view mirror. She glanced at Sango who had slumped against her shoulder and was doing a spectacular job at trying to snore.

“Miss?”

I think I've forgotten where I live…

Kagome burst out laughing, which made Sango grumble and the taxi driver narrow his eyes.

The door to the cab opened suddenly and Kagome managed to catch herself before she tumbled out. A man with jet-black hair and sparkling violet eyes leaned into the car, giving Kagome a friendly smile. He looked vaguely familiar.

“I'll take care of these two,” he said, handing something to the driver. “Is that enough to persuade you to help me get them out?”

Kagome found herself sitting on the curb, watching as the violet-eyed man and the taxi driver tried to wrestle a stubborn Sango out of the back seat. Giggling, Kagome got unsteadily to her feet and walked over to them.

“You're not doin' it right,” she told them. She shouldered between the two men and leaned into the car. “Sango-chan, Takenouchi Yutaka-sama is in your bed…naked,” she whispered in her friend's ear.

Sango's eyes shot open. She blinked at Kagome. “You're not lyin' again, are you, Kags?”

Kagome solemnly shook her head and then backed away as Sango crawled out of the taxi. The dark-haired man grinned.

“What did you say to her?” he asked.

Kagome smiled and put her finger to her lips. “It's a secret,” she said, winking at him.

“Tell Takenouchi-sama to go away,” Sango said. She groaned and clutched her head. “I'm gonna hate me tomorrow.”

A bright smile lit up Kagome's face and she leaned toward the tall man next to her who looked slightly concerned. “She's much better than last time,” she reassured, in a conspiratorial whisper. “Last time, she hated me in the morning.”

He laughed, his amusement reaching his eyes. “Come on, ladies. My car is just there,” he said, pointing, wrapping his other arm around Sango's waist.

Kagome narrowed her eyes. “Where are you taking us?” she asked, suddenly wary of handsome men and their seemingly good intentions.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Home,” he said, as though it were obvious.

“We don't know you,” she protested.

“You didn't know the cabbie either, but you were willing to let him take you home,” he pointed out, walking away.

Kagome stumbled to catch up. “Yeah, but…” That's his job, she was going to say.

“Kagome-san, I swear on my honor that I'm just going to take you home,” he said, with a sigh, placing his free hand on his chest.

Kagome blinked at him. Did everyone know who she was tonight? She peered at him and the face slowly matched a name.

“Miroku-san?”

He paused in trying to coax Sango into his backseat to smile up at her. “I was hoping you'd remember me,” he said.

He closed Sango's door, opened the front one for Kagome. She pulled her seatbelt on as she watched him walk around to the other side.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Miroku grinned as he pulled away from the curb. “Well, you seemed to be having some problems,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

Kagome looked as startled as Miroku to hear Sango's oddly sober-sounding voice from the back.

“Miroku-san never does anything that doesn't personally give him something in return.”

Kagome twisted to see Sango sitting with her head back, her eyes closed.

“So, what do you get out of it, Miroku-san?” the brunette asked.

Kagome looked at Miroku, saw his eyes flick to the rear-view mirror and then back to the road, saw the way his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

“My dear, I have no idea-“

“Whatever, monk. I know your friends with Inuyasha. I know that you two are co-owners of that club and the restaurant next to it. I saw you at the club…together.” She paused. “While this may cause some to think that you two have a…special relationship with each other, I know better. I know both of your reputations and I saw the way that inu-hanyou was eyeing Kags.” Her eyes opened and she leaned forward, grasping the back of the driver's seat and pulling herself up so that her face was a breath away from Miroku's. “Free drinks all night? An escort home? What is he up to?”

Miroku arched an eyebrow, smiled. “How do you know this isn't all a ploy for me to get you?” he asked.

Sango blinked at him and then scoffed softly as she settled back again. “Yeah, right,” she said, looking out the window. “I don't date lechers.”

Miroku's smile widened. “What are you talking about, my love?”

“I'm talking about your hand on my ass while I was getting into the car,” Sango said.

“I was merely trying-“

“-to cop a feel?”

“To help you,” he finished smoothly. “While we're on the topic, let's talk about where your hands were while we were walking.”

Silence.

Miroku chuckled and Kagome turned to see her friend glaring at the back of his head. Light flickered through the window, passed over the brunette's face, and Kagome caught a hint of red on her friend's cheeks.

“That wasn't-“

“You're hand? I think so, my dear.”

“Stop calling me that…”

Kagome sighed, looking out her window, watching the bright lights of the city turn into the dark shadows of the country. She caught her reflection, was surprised to find that she looked sad.

Inuyasha cradled the back of his head in his hands, stared up at the shadows on the ceiling that were occasionally frightened away by a flash of light from a sign outside. It was another sleepless night -he had known as soon as he had lain down, but had stubbornly refused to move for the past two hours, hoping that he might, at some point, drift off. He had rid himself of Yura almost immediately after he had left the bar, not having the patience to deal with her tonight, and had locked himself in his apartment, taking the phone off the hook and turning his cell phone off.

The more he thought about it, the more he disliked this place. He should really fix up the house outside of Tokyo, should stay there more often. Of course, having this apartment above the restaurant was far more convenient...

On the other hand, it wasn't like it would take him long to get from the country house to the city…

He sneered at the shadows, irritated by thoughts that would not remain still. He rolled to his side, tucked his arm under the pillows, and stared out the window.

Maybe tomorrow he would go to the house and see what needed to be done. He could probably get Miroku to come with him, to give him the names of people who would be able to restore the place…

But did he really want to live there? So many memories resided in the dark corners; things that he had shied away from for years were hidden in the house as though they just waited for him to return.

Snarling, Inuyasha scrambled out of bed, crossed the room to open the window. His mp3 player and earphones were sitting on the sill and he put them on and pressed play. He let the cool night air wash over his face, stuck his head out and looked up to see a bright crescent moon hanging in the glowing sky over the city.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Inuyasha climbed out of the window, pulled himself onto the roof. He sat there for awhile, letting a stray breeze tug at his hair, taking in the scents and noises below him…

And found himself easily hopping from one rooftop to another. It was, he figured, the lack of drugs in his system that was making him restless. He paused, clawed toes curling around the edge of the house, eyeing the jump from there to the nearest tree.

He found himself heading north as he glided above the trees -a direction he didn't really want to go. He veered east, letting the wind press against his back, aiding him on his way above the rolling terrain.

He paused suddenly in the branches of a tall tree, frowning at the distorted guitar chords that had started playing through his earphones. Come to think of it, besides the first song that had played, Inuyasha hadn't remembered putting any of the music he had heard tonight on the player. He scowled down at it, reading the name scrolling across its face. Miroku must have gotten a hold of it, putting music on there that he thought Inuyasha `should' listen to.

The breeze shifted, ran playful fingers across his cheeks, through his hair. A faint scent caught his attention and his head snapped up to look around. He sat in a tree just outside of a reasonably large house. From his vantage point amongst the leaves, Inuyasha could see the flutter of curtains blowing out of an open window on the second floor. He found himself moving toward it without any thought of wanting to do so. As soon as he was balanced on the sill, he realized what had drawn him, whose scent he had picked up.

He had had to know, at the bar, what she smelled like, couldn't have stopped himself even if he wanted to from pressing his nose into her hair. He had become instantly hard, the combination of her scent and her small, lithe form flush against him almost making him groan with need. It was sweet torture, being so close to something that was forbidden to him. Even now, sitting on the sill, breathing in the air of a room that was completely covered in her, he couldn't help the way his eyelids drooped in pleasure.

A muffled murmur came from his left and, as his eyes adjusted to the dark room, he saw a small shape on the bed rolling over. Consequences be damned, Inuyasha slipped into the room, surveying it carefully. There was a desk to his right, a large armoire against the far wall next to which was a door that either led to a bathroom or a closet. Finding nothing on the floor to trip him, he silently crossed to he sleeping form on the bed, looking down at her. Her back was to him, so all he could see was dark hair spilling over her pillow. His ears twitched as she murmured something in her sleep again and he couldn't resist the urge to look at her face.

Just as he bent over her, she rolled over. He instantly back peddled, afraid of being caught and a sick revelation hitting him all at once. He crashed into the desk, wincing as the edge caught him on the hip, glancing fearfully at the bed.

“She's downstairs on the couch, Inu-san.”

He looked up to find the brunette he had seen Kagome with at the club propped up on an elbow, eyeing him as one would an unknown species of snake.

“Um…” His eyes darted to the window and then back to the girl on the bed.

Fear was not something that was normally on Inuyasha's list of emotions. But the smile the brunette gave him made him decidedly uneasy.

“I'm not sure what game you and the monk are playing, but I intend on finding out.” She ran her eyes over him. “I retired from the demon extermination business when I was a teenager, but one inu-hanyou wouldn't be a challenge to me even now.” She paused and pursed her lips. “Although, I must admit it, you've got balls to show up here.” She pulled the blanket back up over her shoulders, laid back down and turned away from him. “To the right, down the stairs, the first door on your right.”

Inuyasha blinked. “Uh…”

“Go, before I think better of it,” came the muffled order.

Inuyasha stayed immobile for only a second before crossing silently to the door. He followed her instructions, ears twitching furiously, listening for any movement in the house. The faint reek of alcohol hit his nose first, making it scrunch before he smelled her underneath it.

Soft moonlight filtered through the window, struck her face, making it seem angelic in sleep. He hovered above her, wanting to touch her, knowing he shouldn't, going quietly crazy as he stood there. He knelt next to the couch, reached out, unable to resist lightly brushing her raven bangs from her eyes, leaning closer to her. She took a deep breath, settled further into sleep, let out a sigh and…

“Yasha,” slipped softly past her lips.

He froze, staring at her. Was she dreaming about him? Something flared inside of him, something wild, primal, something that became somewhat satiated to know that she recognized him even in her sleep. He licked his lips, hand hovering over her face, desperately needing to relieve an urge to nuzzle his face against her neck, to taste her skin, to feel her lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered, balling his hand into a fist, squeezing his eyes shut.

He returned to the bedroom, disconcertedly eyeing the bed.

“Will you tell her?” he asked, softly.

“That some guy she doesn't know wanted to watch her sleep?” came the muffled response. “Sounds a little psycho, doesn't it?” There was nothing else for a moment, and then, “I won't pretend to understand. Youkai work in their own mysterious ways. I know that you may not be in control of some of your actions -that much I do know about demons.” She rolled over to look at him. “Besides, anything's got to be better than Hojo,” she said, dryly.

He wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or not. Shaking his head, he crawled onto the window ledge.

“Don't tell her,” he said, looking back at her over his shoulder.

She shrugged. “I won't say anything, but don't count on her not finding out.” She glanced at the door, back at him, and Inuyasha thought he saw worry flash through her eyes. “There are things you don't know about her, things that she doesn't know about herself. You may be in as much danger from her as she is from you.”

Inuyasha stared at the brunette for a moment, a sudden feeling of foreboding crawling icy fingers down his spine, clenching his stomach in its cold fist. He blinked and the feeling was gone. With a nod of thanks, he slipped off the window ledge, going as easily as he had come.