(So this is a story I wrote a very long time ago. Like... near two years ago, if I had to guess. This is the prologue which, as you'll soon see, doesn't actually fit into the rest of the story. And I doubt it ever will. I stopped working on it last year, after completing three chapters (prologue included) and almost finishing a fourth. I post all of this here, though. No one beyond one close friend has ever read this. Hell, I don't even remember what it's about. I know it skips around in time a lot. Anywho.

Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha. Nor do I claim to. I don't own any of the characters, as much as I want to. That honor goes to Rumiko Takahashi.

Read and review if you want. A quick word of warning: the grammar in there is scary bad. I should go through and fix it all, but I have a reputation of being impossibly lazy to maintain.)

Prologue:

A promise is a promise.

He cursed himself for making it, of course. Putting his friends love before his own was something he could not fathom ever doing, and yet, it was done. He snarled as he ran through the thick undergrowth of the forest. What was he thinking? She was only human, after all: with no special training to keep her safe. Yet he had sworn to save the slayer first. Her fate was probably sealed because of it.

The terrain became less wooded as he darted on, the trees around him that were once a thick green blur slowly diminishing. Soon he was crossing bare ground, the trees cleared away for the development of the land. He skidded to a stop, a wall before him. It rose towards the sky, constructed of thick stone and topped with sharpened wooden pikes. He snorted. Something so ancient would not keep him from his goals. He took a few steps back, sizing the wall up as he would an opponent in battle. Then, with two short bounds and one final great leap, he was sailing over the pikes, his cape whistling in the wind. He smiled at his feet, looking down into the amazed faces of both guard and invader alike. He landed, stooping to his knees. No one drew near him. In a flash he was in motion again, his toes digging holes in the dirt beneath his heavy footfalls.

It was his tears.

Seeing the proud monk break before him was what motivated him to go find the Demon Slayer. After so many denials and rebuttals of accusations he was finally able to admit how deeply his love for her ran. She was out of his arms and out of his sight, and even he did not expect to see her again. But he could not let her go. Tears rolling freely down his cheeks, he had fallen to his knees and begged.

The once noble doorway and high arching ceiling now lay in piles of debris and ruin. The solid oak door had been battered through, its large splinters sticking in the floor and in between rocks like headstones. The siege was in full swing, and going well for the townsfolk. The Citadel guards had been caught with their pants down: they had been too comfortable under the power of their master. They were kids playing dress up in shiny armor, and now they were paying for their folly. But these were not concerns for him. He was bound by an oath to a grieving friend, and to whatever end he was going to fulfill his errand. Beyond the door was the vast castle. It was rank with the scent of blood and tears, human fear and above all death. With his nose, however, he was able to sift through all of these and find a particular scent. Following the faint smell of her blood, he dashed through the castle. He passed through grand seating and entertaining areas, lavishly decorated and untouched by the war outside the castle walls. The pillagers were going to have a field day. His nose led him finally to a hall lined on both sides by doors. It was narrow and dimly lit. He passed through the door and the air became stagnant. All the fragrances off torment and hell that had been so evident in the air were suddenly vanished. Nothing moved in this hall. No breeze followed him as he left the living castle and entered into the realm of death. He snorted indignantly. There was no path for him to follow now, and he was sure he was on the right track. He had no intention of turning back now.

"Fuck!" Spat InuYasha as he sniffed desperately at the air, "This place is like a maze!" He pulled open the nearest door to him, only to find a solid wind behind it. "Damn!"

To protect themselves from looters and invaders, the rich owners of castles had gone to great lengths to hide their most valuable possessions. They built labyrinths under their castles, where their enemies could wander for years in circles. Doors that led to walls or to black, depthless holes were commonplace in old citadels such as this one. This was but the first of many traps he would have to overcome before the end: of this he was sure.

With no other choice before him, InuYasha began to criss-cross through the long hall, opening every door. With every dead end, gapping hole, or useless room he found his frustration mounted. Soon he was ripping the doors from their metal hinges. After what felt like an eternity of wasted time and effort he found what he was looking for. His blood was boiling, his anger and annoyance at its peak. He ripped the final door from its mountings, not bothering to notice that this one, unlike the others, had been locked. It ripped clean away, taking with it a large chunk of the surrounding wall and ceiling. The half-demon entered the room quickly, small piles of debris collecting behind him. A wave of scents rushed at InuYasha, blowing into his face violently. Death was a regular visitor here. He closed his eyes and took a moment to sift through them. Her scent was there, stronger than ever. He was close.

"Sango!" He called suddenly, a cold sense of urgency wrapping itself around his heart. The scent of her blood was strong in his nose. Too strong, he feared.

The room around him was bathed in an almost tangible black. It was not pitch, however, and his keen eyes were not deterred by the darkness. After a moment of adjusting he was easily able to scan the room. He took a slight step back towards the wrecked doorway, taken aback by the decrepit conditions of the dungeon. From the door the walls circled, then met again to form a long hallway. As he passed through the circular portion of the area his eyes were fixed upon the numerous weapons and torturous gadgets that hang from the stone walls and were shoved haphazardly into drawers and other containers. They were all covered in layers of blood, probably never once cleaned from the day they were first used. He shuddered and quickened his pace, entering into the hall.

Flanking him at a larger distance than the hall he had just been in were rows of cages. Some were smaller than others as he passed them, peering in and sniffing, but each one held a level of cruelty that made his stomach lurch. Some of the cells were used as storage, piled near to the ceiling with the dead bodies and rotting skeletons of the more fortunate prisoners. Others held the larger torture devices, such as caskets lined with needles and a wheel on which a prisoner would be strapped and rolled until his back broke. As he continued on towards the end of the hall, InuYasha began to pass cells that were still inhabited. The pathetic creatures, some so beaten their species was undeterminable, screamed at him, begging him to let them free. He was their last hope, the only hope they had had in a very long time. He ignored them, his face stiffening in grim determination. He heard their weeping, piercing and inhuman, but did not turn to them. He looked in to their cells only once, avoiding eye contact, looking only for the Demon slayer.

He felt his footsteps unconsciously slowing as the darkness around him grew deeper. It was choking, and he stretched his out his arms in an effort to keep from running in to anything. Even his half-demon eyes could not see past his nose. He reached the last of the cells, his hands feeling the moist stone of the moldy wall. He peered hesitantly into the cell, still smelling his friend in the air. If she was anywhere, she had to be in here. The cold grip seized him again, slowing his heart and running ice through his veins. There was nothing. No crying prisoners. No dead bodies. No instruments of torture. He rumbled angrily, a deep-throated growl that rose from the depths of his demon soul. He let out a defeated yell, slamming his fists against the bars. They bent and threatened to give way, buckling in protest.

"Damn it!" He pulled away reluctantly, turning his back to the bars. "Where is she!"

In answer, there came a slight, almost inaudible rattle of chains from inside the cell behind him. InuYasha span on his heels and, at the same time, swung his claws at the pitiful excuse for a lock, removing it and most of the bars that had surrounded it in two passes. The door swung inwards as he rushed inside, creaking on its hinges. He cursed. The darkness and his deep feeling of futility had tricked him in to missing her.

She was hidden in the very back of the cell, covered in shadow. Her arms were drawn up above her head, suspended from the ceiling by a thick iron chain and rusted manacles. Her toes barely touched the floor. InuYasha approached her slowly, squinting through the darkness.

"Sango?" He said softly, stopping before her. She did not raise her head from its lifeless position against her chest. InuYasha was suddenly aware that his feet were submerged in a thin puddle on the floor. It was warm, and he did not have to look down to know that it was her blood. He wrapped one hand around her waist to support her and used the other to slice the cuffs that held her. She fell into him, her arms falling weightlessly to her sides. InuYasha slowly lowered himself to the floor, taking her into his lap. He was aware that he was sitting in blood, but he could not be bothered with that thought. "Oh… Sango…" He breathed.

Her body was cold in his arms. Without light, he could not make out her injuries very clearly. He used his arm to pillow her head tenderly, his other hand tracing her body delicately. The first thing he noted was her nakedness, which he found disturbing. He could think bring himself to think what that might entail about her torture. He ran his hand down her back, his fingers slipping into numerous bloody grooves. She did not wince as he did this. The wounds on her back were all very deep, and reasonably fresh with the amount of blood on his hand when he pulled it close to his face to investigate. But they were not fatal, as far as he could tell. They were not wounds of battle, but of torture. How long she had been suspended and at the mercy of these demons he did not know. He then ran his hand across her smooth stomach, where he found a worrisome wound. It was crusted with blood, and obviously much older than the cuts on her back, but it was deep and still weeping. He did not aggravate it by poking it too much. It was a stab wound from a short sword or a knife, probably what had lost her the battle and had gotten her caught. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He could not linger here longer with Sango in such a condition. He would have to get her to the monk.

He rose to his feet slowly, taking her into his arms. Her body was feather light, her head lulling lifelessly over his elbow. He looked down at her, and he pitied her. He stooped once more, resting her in his lap as he took off the cape Kagome had given him not a week before. After he had wrapped her in it her got up once more, cradling her against his chest like he would a child.

"You have to hold on, Sango!" He whispered fervently. "He's waiting for you."

Getting out of the citadel was as easy as it had been getting in, even with the unconscious passenger in his arms. Amid the flames and chaos he went unnoticed. They were all too absorbed in their futile war to care about the Half-demon at the moment. That suited him perfectly. In a matter of minutes, InuYasha was clearing the stone perimeter fence for a second time, and then was kicking up foliage as he raced through the forest as quickly as his feet would carry him. He reached the run-down house they had taken as their shelter and slowed himself to a walk. The Monk was standing in the doorway, leaning on his staff, waiting for InuYashas return. InuYasha walked up to him, panting heavily. It was a solemn greeting as InuYasha gingerly handed Sangos limp body over to Miroku. The Monk nodded and took the Demon slayer into the house. InuYasha stared after him for a moment, eager to see if she was going to be all right. But he was compelled, now more than ever, to find Kagome. If Sango had been beaten so badly, he dared not think about the condition the human would be in. He clenched his fist, his resolve hardening, and turned back towards the castle. He would save Kagome, or die in the process. There was no compromise.
Miroku put Sango down on a makeshift bed he had created out of sheets and discarded pieces of cloth. There was nothing in the small hut besides what they had brought with them, and the people of the town had little else. Poverty was something everyone shared here, under their maniac ruler. He stood over her for a moment, staring down at the cloak InuYasha had wrapped her in and recognizing it. He flinched and turned away, going about the house and gathering what little medical supplies they had in their packs. Kirara, ever faithful to Sango, crawled across the floor and let out a mournful whimper. She put her head on her masters' ankle, shivering at the touch of her skin.

Miroku returned, his arms full of bandages and small bottles of ointments. He knelt beside Sango, taking a moments pause before pulling back the cape. He looked on her naked body and felt a stab of pain and regret. She was so helpless now, without her armor and weapons. How could he have let her go without him? Shaking his head and hardening himself, he looked her over for serious wounds. Across her temple was a large gash that had swollen her eye closed on that side. Her hair was matted with blood. Miroku touched two fingers to her colorless lips. There were raised welts on her bare breasts and neck, probably from being strangled. Her left arm was broken, the bone visible through a great, gory hole. This seemed to be the oldest of all the wounds, clotted thick with blood and discolored horribly from infection.

Miroku dropped the bandages and ointment he had been preparing to use suddenly, bending over her. He placed an ear to her chest, eyes shut tightly.

"Sango… please wake up!" He whispered through clenched teeth, listening to the stillness of her body, "For me… for me, Sango! I… you can't go… not without me. I love you, Sango!" He took her into his arms, burying his face into her breathless neck. His sobs shook them both violently, and Kirara jumped. The animal paced desperately at her masters' feet, meowing helplessly. Miroku let out a moan of utter despair, his voice carried on the wind.

InuYasha, mid leap over the wall for a third time, was struck suddenly by that cold grip that had been following him. He tumbled out of the air, plopping on the ground gracelessly. He did not move, blinking dumbly. Death loomed over him ominously in the form of black rain clouds. He stared at the ground that cushioned his face, his single tear rolling slowly down his cheek. He closed his eyes and leapt to his feet, letting out a scream that caused any human near by to buckle at the knees and fall to the floor in terror. Eyes ablaze with the thought of revenge, he looked up at the citadel before him. Where ever the demon was hiding with Kagome, InuYasha would find him and exact his revenge for all of this suffering.