It seems traditional at this point that I post something on Halloween.

Forgot what happened in TSAM?

-Team InuKagSan saved Kagome's family, freed Kagura from Naraku's claim, and killed Naraku. Yay! (But there was some ugly drama with one of Sess's political enemies, Ryukotsusei, and the death of Manten, one of the tribunal members.)

-Buttttttt in order to save Team InuKagSan from Kikyo's crazed rage at being thwarted, Miroku offered himself as a willing sacrifice to fuel her sister's resurrection by taking the kazaana. It's a curse that voids the mate ties between demon/human, but slowly sucks the human into another plane...and sometimes lets things out.

It's also a very vital part in a spell that raises the dead. But there's still another piece Kikyo needs before she can begin.

-Sango swore to track Miroku down, kill Kikyo, and finally fulfill her duty. What that means for her and Miroku, she'll figure out later.

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha and I make no money off this story.

When Everything Changed:

Over 500 years ago...

All Kikyo could see was red.

It was splattered against the walls, soaked into the bed linens and spreading across the floor. Her hands and arms were coated in red; completely hiding her skin.

Red was her sister, slowly slipping away.

Their mother wailed again through the paper screen, shaking Kikyo's concentration. She kept her palm firm on her sister's head when she really want to cry out in grief as well, joining her family. But it wasn't allowed.

"You must fix this, Kikyo," Her father hissed. She didn't dare look behind her, already knowing how disappointment looked on his face. "This is your fault girl, so fix it."

She had to ignore her own injuries, her own misery and fear. Just focus on fixing her mistake.

"See to mother, father," Kikyo said instead of screaming. "Kaede will be fine." She had to be. She had to be.

The rustle of the screen was her answer, the door sliding shut his only offer of forgiveness or luck. Her mother's howling died into a whimper, easily ignored now.

Kikyo wished she could drag Kaede into her lap, hold her close as she talked about her day or her training or the stories she heard, as had become their custom. They would watch the sunset together, chatting and laughing about idle, foolish things.

But as her sister's head was nearly in two pieces, it seemed best she remain flat on her back.

Kikyo could hardly see the red glow of her power against the red stain of Kaede's blood. A tendril of light pumped Kaede's heart, forcing her blood to keep moving, and her lungs to keep inhaling as she set about melding the two pieces of her head back together. It was very delicate work to repair the membrane that kept her brain whole. For anyone else whose sister wasn't a miko, the arrow that burrowed into Kaede's skull would have been fatal.

But this wouldn't be a fatal wound. Kikyo was not going to allow her sister to die of an attack meant for her. Kikyo refused to let it happen. It didn't matter how much sweat coated her skin, how her limbs shook, and how hard her head spun. She was going to save Kaede. She was going to fix her mistake.

There was no other option.

Blindly, Kikyo grabbed Kaede's hand, squeezing hard. "Hear me, Kaede. You have to stay with me. Please, don't leave me." Her voice cracked, vision going hazy. "I can't lose the only person in the world I love because I was a fool."

Kaede's hand remained limp in her grasp, the rest of her body motionless. It was like she was already gone.

Kikyo ruthlessly forced down the sob lodged in her throat. Kaede was not gone. Kikyo could still save her. She just wasn't trying hard enough.

She poured every little bit of power she had into her sister. Red lines blazed across Kaede's brain, bridging pieces back together while the hole in her skull was mended over with new skin and her eye carefully repaired. Kikyo wanted to make sure all trace of the attack was gone, so it was like it never even happened. Even as black spots danced in front of Kikyo's eyes, she had her power smooth over the scar on the back of Kaede's head. When Kaede woke up, she could tell her it had all only been a bad dream.

Kikyo let her sister's hand go to lightly place it over her heart, keeping track of the way her chest moved and beat. Kikyo had never been one for plans, but in this, there was no need for one. There was only one plan, one option. To save her sister.

She couldn't imagine a life without her little sister in it.

Finally, Kaede appeared as if she was peacefully sleeping. Her eye was whole, her skin smooth and every bit of her repaired into one piece. If Kikyo could just wake her up, all would be well and this would just be some terrible nightmare, over now.

Very, very, slowly, Kikyo drew her power away from her chest, allowing Kaede's heart to beat on its own. For a tight, tense moment Kikyo kept her hand hovered over her sister, making sure her heart would work without help. Her lungs continued to fill with air, and her blood pumped through her veins.

Her sister was alive. She had saved her.

She finally let her tears fall, her body shaking from relief. "Oh, thank you god." She ignored the trembling in her arm to reach out and pull her sister into her arms. "Thank you for not taking her from me."

Ignoring the blood that covered them both, Kikyo cradled her sister, gently cupping her cheek. "Kaede? It's time to wake up, sleepyhead. It was all just a nightmare."

Kaede's heart, lungs and blood continued to work. But her body stayed limp.

Kikyo frowned, resisting the urge to shake her sister. "Kaede?"

Nothing. There was no response. Not even a flutter of her eye lashes or a twitch in her limbs.

"No." This time, Kikyo frantically shook her, letting her head roll against her shoulder. "Kaede, please!"

Kaede stayed silent. Completely unresponsive to her begging or screaming or cursing. Kikyo was hardly aware of what she was saying, her voice sounding tiny and far away. She just knew that her sister's eyes remained closed, her face blank and slack.

It all came to her in a rush when the paper screen crashed open, their mother sobbing and yanking Kaede from her arms.

"This is my fault. I have to fix this." Kikyo rocked back and forth, staring at Kaede's slack face half hidden by their mother's crying. Her sister didn't respond to her mother's pleas, to the gentle touch of her father's hand or the tears that splattered on her face.

It was all Kikyo's fault. Her sister was dead, because of her.

A brief moment of clarity struck through her grief, stilling her. Or maybe it was insanity; it didn't matter anymore.

Kikyo didn't make it a statement, just a vow. "Somehow, I will fix this."

Some odd 500 years later...

All Miroku could see was spots of blurry colors.

The blacklights showed neon splashed and swirled over skin, but the mass of bodies were covered in purple shadow, hiding features. Colored streaks across faces plus the drugs blurring his vision turned the partiers into demons.

"CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!"

Miroku turned the frat boy's cheer into his mantra. The alcohol burned his throat, sending his head reeling. Every swallow a mental 'fuck you' to his father.

He could just barely hear his friends screams over the buzzing in his ears. He was vaguely aware he held his hands up in victory, stumbling when he lost his balance.

Something tugged on his arm. "Miroku, c'mon. You've had enough." Abi slurred, leaning heavily into him. Her pink and blue paint slithered over her face and down her body, tracing lines over her stomach and chest. His eyesight was too hazy to pick up much else. "I wanna go have sum fun."

Miroku grinned instead of wincing at heavy smell of the alcohol on her breath. He slid his hand down her back, groping her ass. "We are havin' fun."

She leaned into him, nose nudging at the paint splattered across his neck. "I wanna have sum fun with you."

Green dotted her nose. He tried to wipe it away with his thumb, but smeared it over her face instead. "Then let's go."

Abi giggled, plastering herself to his side. "I loveeeeeeeeeeeee you."

Even Miroku wasn't drunk enough to believe her. But if she was going to fuck him, who cared?

"Hey, you guys aren't driving right?" One of his friends asked, still sober enough to be rational.

Miroku patted his shoulder roughly, swaying on his feet. "We'll screw it off in my car. C'mon, Abi."

"See you in class tomorrow, right man?" His friends laughed like that was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

Miroku hadn't gone to class in over three weeks. Why study in college when he could be partying instead?

Miroku flipped him off instead of answering, dragging Abi off to the exit, his hand still firmly on her ass. He squeezed just to hear her squeal, the noise just barely audible over the pounding beat of the club.

No one else stood outside under the flickering lights, the brick building ugly away from the cool air outside swept over him immediately, goosebumps covering his bare skin. Abi shivered, dragging his arm closer around her. It felt clean and refreshing, the grime and heat of the club fading away with the breeze. His buzz faded a bit, his head sharper.

He immediately wished he had taken Abi to a bathroom or a dark corner. He didn't want the fog in his mind to clear now, or ever.

"Wanna play a game?" He asked impulsively. Wanting something stupid to cloud his head if alcohol wasn't going to do it.

Abi smirked, tracing her hand over his stomach. "I thought we were gonna play a game?"

"A real one first." Miroku corrected. A crazy idea flirted through his mind, alcohol and disregard making it appealing. "Strip chicken."

Abi burst out laughing, snorting loudly at the name. "Wazz's that?"

"We play chicken over by the curve on the road. First person to move has to take something off."

"YES!" Abi shrieked. "Let's play! I'm totally gonna beat you."

Considering all she wore was some paint and one short, tight dress, Miroku was definitely winning no matter what happened. "Better prove it then."

"Youuu just wait." Abi boosted, staggering off to the road.

He wouldn't have to wait long. The woman turned into a cursing, panicked maniac over spiders, dogs and dirt. In actual danger, she would be even quicker to react. At the faintest glow of a car beam, she would flinch and run. Forcing her to leave her dress by the side of the road while he found a tree to take her against.

Perfect end to a Wednesday night. Or, knowing drunk Abi, the beginning of a particularly energetic one.

He grinned in anticipation, following Abi up the unpaved driveway off the small college bar, and to the main road. The bar sign was barely on, allowing them some light to see each other in the darkness. She jumped into place, setting herself squarely in the center of the yellow lines. She stuck her hands on her hips, feet apart and chest out. "You just wait 'Roku. I'm not movin' an...an...anything," She finished, swaying a bit. She still bopped to the beat of the music pounding out from the bar, unable to stand still.

Miroku took his place next to her, sliding his hand back over her ass. The small country roads rarely saw traffic this late at night, even with the college bar hidden around the bend, so while he was waiting to win his game, he planned on enjoying himself in the meantime.

Abi squirmed and giggled under his fingers tracing gentle patterns into her skin, squeezing affectionately every so often. Abi had the finest ass on the entire campus. And he would know.

"You're tryin' to distract me!" she accused, finally wiggling out of his hold. "You stand over there on that side," she pointed to the other side of the yellow line, sliding over further herself. She stood in the center of the left lane now, striking that ridiculous pose again.

Miroku only smirked, knowing at the first hint of a headlight, Abi would leap into his arms, screaming her head and her dress off. He drifted closer to the side to humor her, studying the trees that lined the road in preparation of leaning Abi against one.

It couldn't be much longer now. They might be in the middle of a college town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, but they were still right outside a packed bar with half-naked, drunk coeds. A car had to drive along sooner or later.

But now he was getting bored. And every tree was starting to look real appealing. How much longer was this going to take? "Maybe we should start playing a different game-"

Abi slapped his hand away when he stretched it towards her, "No! I'm gonna win this! And then you can win something else," she finished with a drunken smirk.

Miroku returned the grin, his interest growing again. This was why he liked Abi the best out of anyone in his life. She was always up for a good time, ready for anything. Thoroughly uncomplicated and undemanding when it came to anything besides her own pleasure. And right now it pleased her to beat him at his own game, and he liked that a whole lot.

Maybe he should let her win the first round. Just once.

She squealed, bouncing on her heels, at the slow glow beginning to brighten the curve. "Here it comes! You ready, 'Roku?"

"I'm watching you. Better not flinch, Abi." He forced himself to stand straight and unmoving, keeping an eye on the retreating darkness. The coming car was just about to turn the curve of the road, the sound hardly audible over the bar noise.

"Just worry about yourself. I told you, I'm winning, and gonna see you standing naked." She giggled, holding her stomach.

Miroku wasn't going to let it get that far. He'd give her his shirt, but that was it.

He forced himself to wait, not wanting to look like he was letting her win this round. The car spun around the curve fast, its bumper barely visible when he threw himself to the side of the road.

Abi waited a moment, smirking in the light, before following him off the main road with a giggle, ignoring the car's blaring horn as it flew past. "HA! This is gonna be easy if you chicken out that fast. Shirt!"

Heart still pounding hard, Miroku drew his shirt off, hoping Abi didn't notice the tremble in his arms. The crazy idiot had actually waited even after he chickened. She stood there, daring death, grinning like a reckless fool.

And fucking hell that was hot. Forget the rest of the game, he wanted her up against that tree right now.

"I forfeit," He declared, crowding close to her, "Let's go play a new game."

She played with the waistband of his jeans, pouting. "But I haven't earned these yet."

"There's more than one way to earn your way into my pants," He breathed against her lips, teasing her before backing away completely. He fumbled with his belt buckle, trying to draw her into the forest. He leaned back against a tree, crooking his finger at her. "C'mere."

Her frown dipped lower, hands propped on her hips. She stubbornly planted her feet on gravel road connecting the bar to the highway. "I told you, I wanna win-"

And then she was flying up, flipping into the windshield of the car speeding down the driveway of the bar.

Blood splattered across Miroku, dotting his face and chest. The car slammed to a stop, brakes screeching and someone screaming. Abi falling into a slack pile on the road, her body splayed out in strange angles.

"Abi. ABI!" Miroku fell to his knees next to her, his hands hovering helplessly over her broken body. He didn't know how to straighten her arms, turn around her head, to fix her. To try to put her back together.

His stomach turned, a strange roaring filling his ears and a sick realization settling over him. This was his fault. Beautiful, fun Abi was bleeding out on the side of a road outside of a dirty bar because of him.

He threw himself away before he could ruin her further by vomiting on her corpse. Her blood burned hot on his skin, staining his hands.

His. Fault. There was no fixing that.

Where time doesn't exist…

Sango could see nothing.

She kept her eyes sealed tight, unwilling to wake up just yet. She wasn't ready to face awareness yet.

There were no more days, no more nights. Just periods when she was awake, and times when she wasn't. Time no longer meant anything, and she had no idea how long it had been since it mattered.

She had always learned quickly. Sleeping meant unconsciousness. Sleeping meant she wasn't aware of her prison. It was her only possible escape.

Home still existed in her dreams. So she dreamed of her community, the village of demonslayers she grew up with. Her family lived with her in her sleep. She could walk the woods with her father, train with her brother, and fly the skies with Kirara. Every detail of her former life, etched in her mind, painstakingly played out when it was safe for her to remember them.

If she could, she would go to sleep and just never wake up.

Finally, Sango let her eyes drift open, staring up at the plain wooden planks of her prison. There was nothing inside when she came here. Just the pallet she was lying on, and a thin sheet covering the door frame. There was even less 'outside', only a bit of grass surrounding the building that she could jog around in a circle. The grass abruptly ended within a few feet, hitting gray metal walls that curved up into a high ceiling. There was no source of light, yet she could see her surroundings well enough to study them. Well enough to realize there was nothing interesting to study.

Her claws flexed into her pallet, threatening to punch through and tear the fabric apart. But because it was the only thing she had left, she couldn't destroy it.

Instead, she set her claws to the wooden walls.

Outside, she carefully carved designs into the wooden structure as a way to literally whittle away the time. Images, lines and swirls covered the surface, keeping the boredom at bay for just a little bit of her new existence.

Inside was just for her anger.

Wood curls littered the floor, threatening her feet if she hadn't taken to sleeping in her boots just to protect herself from the splinters. Her claws sliced across the walls, dulling her claws as she swallowed her screams. There was no one to hear them and the constant carrying on just hurt her throat.

In the early days of her imprisonment she used to scream herself hoarse, praying for someone to hear her. Praying for something to do.

She attempted to keep track of time by trying to judge how long it took her throat to heal, before quickly realizing there was no point. No light or shadow existed here, no way of figuring out how much time had passed unless she wanted to lay on her pallet and count the seconds aloud. And as time consuming as that had been, it had gotten old fast.

So now she woke up. She slashed up the wood on the inside of her wooden structure. She jogged around the outside of her hut hundreds of times, until she couldn't breathe and had to fall to the grass. Then she would do sit-ups until she couldn't breathe again and fell down again to her back. Then she rolled over and pushed up and down and up and down and up and down endlessly, until her muscles were burning and raw and she was shaking from weariness. Maybe she would carve a bit, if she had a design in mind. But usually, she would drag herself to her pallet, collapse and pray she would sleep longer. Forever.

Instead she woke up, and did the same thing over. And over. And over. And over again.

It was endless. It was monotonous.

It was driving her insane.

Especially today, or whatever today or tonight or whatever was. Underneath the boredom and the frustration, she had been waking up with a sense of expectation. Expecting what, she had no idea. It wasn't like she had been expecting a whole lot, trapped as she was.

She plucked her claws free of the walls finally, sliding down to sit against the rough surface. Running in thousands of endless circles usually helped her cope with the jittery, restless feeling that something was about to happen. But not this time.

Sango stretched her arms out in front of her, shocked at the shaking in her muscles. It wasn't because she had worn herself out already. Something was coming. She might not have had much to practice her new demonic instincts on, but everything inside of her was trembling, waiting.

And at this point, she was really good at waiting.

She closed her eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out. Forced her tensed body to relax. It wouldn't be much longer now, no matter what it was.

Death. Freedom. She'd even be happy to see Inuyasha or Midoriko again at this point, no matter how angry she was at them. Whatever. She'd face it, if only because it was new.

And maybe it would be better.

Then she smelled the blood.

She sprang up, uncaring when she ripped the cloth hanging from the doorframe. She threw it on the grass, studying the outside of her hunt. Amazed there was something to study.

Little trails of red blood dripped down from the ceiling, running down the metal walls in slow trickles. There was no source. Just blood inexplicably soaking through her prison, coating the steel surrounding her.

The first drop hit the grass. Steam hissed from the ground where it landed, a small black dot appearing. She quickly sidestepped the next one, an identical dot darkening Sango's lawn.

Dot, dot, dot…

Sango forced herself to look down. The blood wasn't making black dots in the grass. It was creating holes.

Hissing steam swirled around her ankles, the holes larger, the floor feeling weaker under her feet. Blood was raining around her in a steady drip, splattering into her hut. Flame sparked and caught on the roof.

She threw herself out of the structure, fire beginning to eat away the wood.

On her skin, the blood only felt slightly warm, even as it was destroying her prison. She let it drip over her, more concerned with the increasingly larger holes in the ground. She could only see darkness below her. Was she meant to fall forever? Lose the little bit she had even now?

She was tempted to wrap the discarded door hanging around her like a security blanket. Brave the raging fire of her hut to try to rescue her sleeping pallet. Just so she would have something.

Instead she drove her claws into her hut, until she could feel them come out the other side. She sawed out a tiny square, small enough to slip inside her boot. So she could feel the rough imprint of her family's names carved out in wood against her skin.

So she would have something.

Not just her duty.

There was no point in dragging it out now. She was sick of waiting anyway.

So she jumped.

Darkness surrounded her as she fell. She kept her hands tucked tight to her body, her legs loose and ready to hit the ground.

If there was a ground to hit.

Sango felt the jolt of her feet impacting the wooden floor boards beneath them. There was no other warning. One moment she was falling through the dark; then she was falling painfully to her back in a strange wooden structure.

Tears nearly sprang to her eyes before she could stop them. Trapped, again. Just in a brand new prison.

Except there hadn't been any boxes piled around in her old hut. The ceiling hadn't been as high, dust hadn't floated in the air and coated the beams, shining in the light of a tiny window set near the ceiling.

There had been no light.

Her bones ached, her body protesting the hard surface, so she forced herself to rest a moment longer instead of springing up. Dust overpowered her, but she could catch faint hints of flowers. Fresh air. Something disgusting metallic and harsh. Grass had been her only scent in her prison, and all the new scents in this place nearly made her head reel.

But something was making her heart pound. Her hands sweat. She breathed more deeply, cinnamon, and frankincense, settling over her. She felt...comforted by it. For the first time, in what had become her very long existence.

Her expectations were big. And higher than ever. Whatever she had been waiting for...it was here.

A sharp point pressed into her neck. The rest of her body took over. She jerked out from under the sword, allowing the blade to slice her skin as she twisted under it. She grabbed the man's wrist, intending on ripping her sword from his grasp, but found herself frozen instead.

He was beautiful.

And not only because he was the first person she had seen in however how long. He looked early twenties, maybe even the age she had been when she was locked away. Longish black hair framed a sharp, intelligent face, thin lips, and large blue eyes. He was slighter than the burly warriors she had grown up around, but she still had to tilt her head back to stare at him, uncomfortably aware she couldn't stop. He was a bit too pretty for her usual tastes. He looked like more of a scholar than a fighter. But there was still something about him that she couldn't tear her gaze away from.

Miroku….yours. Something whispered inside her, knowingly. Lovingly. Mate. You've found him.

Right now, it didn't matter why he had had the sword that imprisoned her, where she was now, or if she still had to complete her final duty from Midoriko. Right now, instinct was guiding her. Right towards him.

"Miroku." She said softly, testing his name, unable to stop the shiver from hearing it aloud. "I've come for you."

Blood teased at her, reminding her just how he had been able to free her. Ignoring her sword still grasped in his hand, she lifted their arms, intent on the gash across his wrist. She hadn't had much experience being a demon, but she knew she had to seal them together. Even if she hadn't been trained as a demonslayer, her instinct was insistent on it. Not just to bind them, but to heal him.

Miroku abruptly tore his hand free of her, backing away quickly. His eyes stuck on her claws, her fangs, his face white and terrified.

Sango held her arms up, bloodied palms facing him, "I'm not going to hurt you." She didn't understand the impulse, but she gave into it anyway. "I could never hurt you."

Maybe there was a gift within this curse. Something for her that wasn't just duty. "My name is Sango. I mean you no harm."

He dove for a brown box, searching through it frantically. "Demon…" He muttered. "Demon! Abi still tormenting me."

The sharp twist of jealously distracted her. "I know not who this Abi is, but you are mine to torment now." She had listened enough to Lady Kagura explaining how Lord Sesshomaru 'tormented' her in delicious detail, so Sango knew exactly what to do.

For some reason, that made him pale more, though that was something she understood mates and demons enjoyed together. He jerked a string of pale purple beads out of his strange box, flinging them at her.

They separated in midair, forming tightly around her wrists. Dread turned her stomach, "No-"

"Down!"

The beads jerked hard on her arms, hurling her to the ground. She jerked her wrists, only to find them frozen in place on the wooden floor.

From this angle, it seemed like she hadn't left her prison at all.

It was her fault. She shouldn't have hoped.

My 10 year anniversary in fanfiction is coming up! Send me any prompts, ideas or suggestions you have on how I can make it special.

Thanks so much for coming back to this universe with me.