Kagome sighed and sipped her diet cola as she quickened her pace. She was tired and a little anxious. That paper had taken her hours to research and write. She had finished just before the library locked-up for the night, and if she didn't hurry to her car, she would be out past curfew. It had been careless to lose track of time.

She glanced around her as she walked; the university campus was deserted. Even if it wasn't quite yet time for curfew this wasn't surprising; being out after dark was dangerous, and the sun had set a few hours ago.

She paused to consider briefly if she should take the longer route to her car through the parking lots or chance a quick short cut through the woods. She grinned, taking in the cool night air. Being out this late didn't happen often, and she wasn't about to pass up such a chance.

The wind rustled through her thick hair, cool against her neck as she trudged through the under brush, finding the beaten path which she knew would lead to a small lake. She had stumbled upon it one night and reveled in the breathtaking image of the moon glowering across the placid water. That memory seemed so long ago as she paused now, eyes scanning the blackened surface of the lake, disappointment splayed across her face.

The sound of approaching footfall caused her to whirl suddenly, a look of horror marring her beautiful features at the possibility of what she would see. A demon? She relaxed visibly as the young man stepped into the clearing, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. It was clear that she was still shaken as she offered a nervous laugh and raked trembling fingers through her dark locks in an effort to appear calm. "God, Chema, what are you doing here?"

She started to make a cliche remark about how he had scared her half to death, but the words died in her throat as he answered ominously, "I was following you."

She barely registered the sound of her cup as it hit the ground, the liquid contents seeping slowly into the dry dirt. He was holding something in his hand which called all of her attention. She knew what it was, and yet her mind couldn't seem to grasp the situation–the more she stared at it, the more time seemed to slow. She looked away from the syringe and watched as the cola pooled and trickled across the ground in dark rivulets. It seemed to draw her in, mesmerizing in its utter blackness, and as he rushed at her, she thought absently if only tonight hadn't been a new moon, it might have been worth it.

She felt her body impact with the hard earth and instinctively rolled to the side, a scream tearing from her throat to shatter the night calm. Strong fingers gripped her hair, and she kicked out, jerking her head away. Pain could come later. Her books were lost in the scramble to her feet. When she was knocked down the second time, her head connected with the ground and the wind rushed from her lungs painfully, stunning her in a momentary daze.

A startled yell snapped her back to her senses. Her eyes widened at the sight of the boy with his long black hair as he stood with his back to her, blocking the other man's path. Where had he come from?

That was the question Chema was now asking in so many words. She couldn't make out the boy's response before he attacked. She backed away slowly due to the searing pain and clutched her car keys where they had spilled from her bag. Every pulse of her heartbeat was screaming at her to run.

She glanced up and watched as the boy punched Chema square on the jaw. There was a sickening moment where his knuckles connected to the bone and then her attacker crumpled to the ground unconscious. The boy turned to her then, cracking his knuckles before jerking the syringe from his left arm and tossing it into the under brush.

He turned angry eyes on her then. "What the hell are you doing out this late, wench?"

Shakily, she rose to her feet, clutching the car keys tightly and somehow managed to keep her voice steady. "What do you want? I don't have anything."

He scowled at her and promptly spat, "ingrate," before turning to walk away. He managed a few wobbly steps before he passed out.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she let it out in one long gush and the world came rushing back to her. She was on sensory overload as she tried to take in her surroundings–the cool, moonless summer night, the earthy smell of the woods, her own racing heart, her scattered school books and the two men unconscious on the ground. She could leave if she gathered her things quickly. But that wouldn't prevent this from happening again. She retrieved her cell phone and dialed the emergency number with unsteady fingers. She reported the assault to the 911 dispatcher and listened to the instructions. The police would arrive shortly. She needed to get to her car.

She gathered her belongings, pausing long enough to kneel beside the crumpled form of her unknown savior when she heard him groan lightly. Unable to help herself, she carefully rolled him onto his back. Brushing his thick bangs out of the way, she pressed her palm to his forehead in a comforting gesture. She watched his chest rise and fall deeply as his eyes blinked dully up at her. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn they held a dark violet coloration.

"Are you okay?"

He marveled at her concern for him and realized that it must be due to this night. "What the hell did he give me?"

He tried to get up but his vision blurred, leaving him dizzy and nauseous. His throat felt like he was trying to swallow cotton and his limbs felt unnaturally heavy. Damn this weak body.

"Probably some date rape drug," she commented sadly, her fingers brushing gently along his cheek.

Then again, the way that she looked at him made it worth it. "You shouldn't still be here. If he wakes up," he let his voice trail off, feeling a sudden urge of panic at the thought.

"The police are on their way. We need to get to my car. I won't leave you here, but I can't carry you, so please try to get up," she offered encouragingly.

The damn girl was putting herself in danger for him. He would have laughed at the thought had the situation not been so serious. "I can't talk to the police," he made it a statement while trying to roll over onto his side. The effort was met with little success.

His words set warning bells off in her head, reminding her that he really was a stranger, seemingly benevolent or not. "Why?"

Again she was met with the pressing urge to make it to her car. She shouldn't be out here.

"That's none of your concern." He winced at the harshness of his tone. And yet he was angry. Angry that he had failed her after watching out for her for so long. Angry that she wasn't yet his. Angry that she never would be. He turned his face away painfully. "Look, just get out of here. Worry about yourself."

She sighed deeply. He was right, and yet, "I said, I'm not leaving you."

He let her wrap her arms around him then and help him to a standing position. If he stayed here, the police would find him. It wouldn't be hard to figure out what he was through fingerprinting or a blood test, and then he would no longer be able to watch over Kagome. Then he would be dead.

Her embrace only made it more painful.

"Look, I'm fine," he tried, pushing her away. He turned to leave her and make his escape into the woods but found his ability to balance was still greatly impaired. He dropped to his hands and knees and vomited.

She held his hair out of the way and rubbed his back as if she had known him for years. It was utterly humiliating.

"Please, leave me alone."

At his request, she moved away, sadly resigned to his wishes and turned to go. She paused and called to him, "why did you do it?"

She could have meant a number of things: why had he saved her, why had he risked his life for hers, why had he followed her into the woods. The answer was the same. "Because, I love you."

Might as well be honest. She was never going to see him again.

Startled, she turned to look at him, but he was gone.