All right, I'll warn you in advance. This is not Sess/Kag. It's not Kouga/Kag. Ships are overrated. And that's all you get out of me on that score.

This is an experiment, an idea I've had in my head and my notebook for far too long to ignore.

And I hope that you enjoy it. 'Ware the angst, Captain! Rough seas ahead!

-Ash

Darkness.

Her world was filled with darkness—and then sound. She had thought that death would be……quiet. Shouldn't it have been? She struggled, her fogged mind ticking through what she'd been told about death. Serenity? Yes…peace, completion…yes, yes, those had merit. But where the hell was the quiet?

Nowhere had it been mentioned the resounding barrage in her head. Her dark world became sound, as if the dull roar that echoed through her ears was all that remained. Her existence was a rhythm, a steady pulsing rumble that marked time through her heartbeat.

She came to herself slowly, blinking as she struggled to open her eyes and discover what remained of the rest of her world. In the interminable darkness before her, images flashed in her mind's eye, then steadied, expanded, and began to flow into memory after hated memory. Memories that flowed into unrelenting reality. And in reality she found how much she hurt.

Death wasn't supposed to hurt, either……was it?

As that thought registered, so did something more powerful. Her limbs, what she could feel of them, began at first to throb, then increased to an intense, consuming fire that began at her core, as if she was burning from the inside out. That molten core was seeping laboriously through her veins, leaking through her pores and blistering the very skin that bound her. The pain…Oh..Kami...

In fear, in agony, her eyes opened wide against the world. She had time to take in white-- searing white that branded her eyes before she could take no more. She drew one long, punishing breath to scream—just as she passed back into the darkness.

Blessed, merciful darkness.

Sesshomaru stood over her now-still form, silent and enigmatic, pristine white silks for once covered in muck. Blood, gore, and dirt covered him, leaves and random bits of earth adorned his long hair. His customary refinement shattered, he felt as he looked—tired, filthy, and discontent. But alive--which was singularly more than he could say for most of his surroundings. He pulled his gaze from the unconscious miko who would be the last to recover and surveyed the damage.

The destruction had been absolute—and the cost high. The blasted earth floor of the clearing was covered in a fine, slick film that clung to his boots like clotted mud. It was almost as if Naraku was trying—again—to regenerate with every footfall, with every step that gathered more of the caked mud on the soles of his boots. It did not ease his mind that the blood of those who had fought against Naraku was mixed with his foul remains. It seemed….dishonorable. Perhaps even more shameful than the mixing of his brother's human and demon blood. …Perhaps.

The trees and canopy encompassing the clearing sustained damage as well, the foremost blackened, still smoking, or dripping in more of the same foul substance that caked the ground. Several were uprooted, and still others would carry scars across their trunks for many years. He glanced again at the motionless miko, sure that the trees would not be alone in those scars.

Three humans dead; no matter how he had despised them, they had fought bravely and died well. Their names would be honored.

One young fox-demon. Thrown far from the battleground, the child's form lay still and lifeless, still clutching the bloody fur of the nekoyoukai sprawled next to him.

A pile of ash and bones lay nearby, all that remained of the detested miko from his half-brother's past. She, too, had died well, sacrificing herself as was needed--finally. Her demise had given the living miko the power to do what she could not have done alone—purify Naraku and complete the Shikon no Tama.

And finally, the last of the tragic dead—his half-brother. Wounds criss-crossed his body, his blood scattered throughout the clearing. Tessaiga lay quiescent not far from him, crimson saturating the grip and tang of the blade. Not even his youkai could have saved him from his fate at Naraku's hands—or tentacles, as the case had been. Even in death he seemed angry, agitated that he had not outlasted his enemy. Sesshomaru wondered idly how much more agitated Inuyasha would have been to learn he had not outlasted the wolf.

Though the wolf demon was badly injured and unconscious, he would survive—much good another wolf would do the world.

Tensaiga held uselessly in his hands, he surveyed the scene before him, wondering if what he felt was guilt….or was it shame? He was tempted to throw the sword away in disgust, ineffectual contraption as it had proven itself to be. The final insult to this day had been its defiance, its refusal to revive those who had lost their lives in this final battle against Naraku. Not even a whisper came from the sword, not a single, solitary sign that it wished to revive the deceased—just a mocking quiet that raked against his already fragile patience.

Movement distracted him from his thoughts, and he scented the breeze that had finally deigned to enter the clearing. His eyes narrowed. Wolves…probably after their leader. He turned, examining the wolf demon where he lay, a broken bleeding mess. Both legs were severely injured; Naraku's brutal removal of the Shikon shards from his legs had left them fractured in a dozen places and the wolf unconscious.

Let his own followers take care of him—he'd served his purpose.

When the clay miko had finally met her end, the resulting power transfer to Kagome had surprised them all. The wolf had kept Naraku busy as the living miko found and destroyed Naraku's heart, the resulting blast throwing them all in various directions across the clearing, landing haphazardly wherever they might—and completely obliterating Naraku.

Had he known…that damned miko. In the end, he supposed she had killed his half-brother as she had always swore that she would, simply by staying alive until he'd died. She'd kept her power from the girl who'd traveled with Inuyasha, keeping the stolen part of her soul until it was too late for Kagome to save him.

Sesshomaru recognized this emotion all too well—disgust. He should have killed her himself long ago. But ill-advisedly, he'd left that task to his brother. The fool.

Crashing in the undergrowth surrounding the area signaled the arrival of two demons that pulled up short just at the edge of the clearing. Wolf demons by their smell, they were quickly flanked by scores of their lesser, four-legged brethren. He turned toward them and they shrank back, his youki overpowering them—but as he was taiyoukai, they observed protocol and at least lowered their heads in deference. Despite the observance, they shook, and the lesser of them whined quietly, slinking backwards into the shadows of the forest, tails between their legs. The two in front held firm however, determined.

"You come for the wolf." Sesshomaru did not ask—more a statement than anything, which tacitly gave them permission to collect their comrade.

A gulp. Two. A slow gathering of courage. "Y..yes, Lord Sesshomaru." Despite their unease, they looked past him and in turn surveyed the carnage, gasping and whispering quietly to each other. Sesshomaru chose to ignore most of their exchange, but did catch the phrases, "we were too late.." and "sister..".

"Take your leader and leave this place." His voice startled them, and after a moment they bobbed their heads, rushing to the fallen wolf's side and grasping him under his arms to drag him to the edge of the clearing. They were careful….almost. The injured wolf emitted a low growl and then subsided, as the two holding him ducked their heads sheepishly.

"Take the miko as well." This time his voice stopped them short and they turned as one to stare, mouths agape, almost dropping the wolf they held between them. He barely managed not to grit his teeth. "She is alive and gravely injured, as well as exhausted from her ordeal. I have neither the time presently, nor the means, to nurse a human back to health." He turned to face them, right hand infused with a deadly green aura, light whip readied in case they missed his intent. Wolves could be dense at times. They found it easy to dismiss commands as requests—but not his-and not today. "And I would be gravely displeased were she to die."

Surprisingly, both nodded and the darker of the two hurried over to the prone miko, gently lifting her small frame with a quietly whispered, "Sis…"

Good. That was taken care of. He reached out a clawed hand and stopped the wolf carrying the miko as he passed, startling the young demon. "Your companions can see to the humans and the kitsune. The neko too. Take them to the village that was their home with my half-brother…Edo, I believe."

The young demon nodded distractedly, his glance shifting from the irritated taiyoukai before him, to the fallen hanyou, and back again. He opened his mouth to speak, but looking back at Sesshomaru's hand—which had not completely lost its green tint—he snapped it shut again.

Sesshomaru released the wolf with a curt nod to send him on his way and surreptitiously wiped his hand on his hakama, dirty and bloody as they were. Better than the smell of wolf on my hand… His gaze, too, followed that of the wolf's to his prone brother. Ah, Father. Defeated by the memory and expectations of his noble father, he refused to follow that trail of thought; what would his father think of the outcome of his half-brother's life? Or his own, who had survived while his brother had given his life in battle? It bore consideration—later.

For now….

"I will tend to my brother."