Disclaimer: Let's see... I don't own InuYasha or Windex or copyrights to The Gunslinger or anything else I may happen to mention in here that obviously isn't mine by legal right, and I ain't making any money off it or nothin'...

And this is also an alternate universe/ Inu-Yasha in modern times kind of thing. Aren't those kind of boring after awhile?

Dearly Beloved

First Installment

Have you ever felt like you were alone in the world? Most people have at one or two points in their lives, perhaps more. Some even feel like that for the majority of their lives. Inu-Yasha wouldn't exactly say that he was totally alone, but right now he had to admit he felt stand-offish. Anti-social. Depressed. He didn't want anyone near him right now. That was the problem. The people wouldn't leave him alone. Everyone kept apologizing, saying their sympathetic words, trying to give him shoulders to cry on. He understood their efforts; he knew they were only trying to make this a little easier for him, but he didn't want them right now. He didn't want to cry. Not on anyone's shoulders. He wanted to be alone. But at the same time, he wished he wasn't alone.

He and his older brother—half-brother, he reminded himself—Sesshoumaru, had just returned from the funeral of Inu-Yasha's mother. When people asked how she died, the brothers made excuses not to answer. To be honest, they had not a clue as to what caused the dear woman's death. She had been young and in perfect health, the kindest of women without any enemies. Except for her step-son, Sesshoumaru. Sesshoumaru had despised Izayoi with a passion which put Inu-Yasha's love for his mother in the dust. The boys' father had told Inu-Yasha that Sesshoumaru was only jealous because his own mother had died long ago. Little as he was at the time, Inu-Yasha hadn't thought much of it; he actually felt sorry for Sesshoumaru... until Izayoi's death.

It seemed like all fingers pointed to Sesshoumaru. Looking at the woman's dead and freshly-waxed body in the coffin at the wake would tell you straight away she had not been beaten, shot, or injured in any outside physical way. But as he studied poisons in college, Sesshoumaru could have easily snuck something in her food without her knowing. In fact, Inu-Yasha was sure of it, Sesshoumaru had made her coffee that morning; he never made her coffee for her!

Inu-Yasha got out of Sesshoumaru's car and into the house. He felt numb all over. It had been bad enough that his father had died when he was young; now, when he was only a few weeks from graduating high school, his mother had to leave him too? He didn't totally blame his older brother right away; after all, Sesshoumaru had arranged the funeral and everything else Inu-Yasha had been too scared to do after they found Izayoi lying unmoving on the living room floor. And when attending the funeral a few days later, Sesshoumaru had kept a lot of relatives and friends of the deceased from bothering Inu-Yasha too much. He had to admit he appreciated that, despite their strong dislike of each other. He glanced into the living room and shuddered; the image of his mother...

The door slammed and Sesshoumaru left his keys on the kitchen table before running up into his room. Inu-Yasha couldn't give a damn what he was doing up there. Instead of wasting his time worrying about it, he made his way to his own room downstairs.

Why him? Why did he get stuck with no parents before his eighteenth birthday? Before graduation? He had worked hard to improve his grades—just for his mother. He had taken up cooking and sewing and foreign language and geometry just to make himself useful to his mother. Sure she could be annoying sometimes, but she loved him. She loved him a hell of a lot more than Sesshoumaru did. He felt a few tears slide down his cheeks as he leaned against his bedroom door. He loved his mother...

There was a knock. Just one. It was short, sharp, and to the point. Meaning, it was Sesshoumaru. Inu-Yasha knew it. Few people ever knocked once and once only. It annoyed him how Sesshoumaru did it this way. He spun around, knocking his nose into the frame. Rubbing it with his right hand, he used the left to open the door. Sesshoumaru held a scabbard out to him horizontally. On that scabbard was a note, written in their father's handwriting: INU-YASHA. That was all. Inu-Yasha took the gift from Sesshoumaru and unsheathed the blade inside. It looked like a beat-up, rusty old piece of junk. Sesshoumaru said, "It is called Tessaiga, the Steel-Cleaved Fang." Inu-Yasha nodded and returned the sword to the scabbard.

"That all?" he asked, placing the sword beside the doorframe. "You came to give me my heritage?" Sesshoumaru neither nodded nor shook his head. He stared as cold and emotionless at Inu-Yasha as a computer might.

"May I come in?" Ugh. Apparently he wanted some kind of "brotherly talk," now that the woman who had housed him was dead. Inu-Yasha nodded nonetheless, and sat upon his bed. Sesshoumaru closed the door behind him. "You must be wondering why your mother died so suddenly."

"Damn straight," Inu-Yasha replied, and crossed his arms. He tried staring into Sesshoumaru's eyes to intimidate him, or at least get as much access to what he might be thinking as possible, but failed in total vanity; it was a useless thing to do, his eyes were so cold. The color of them was like a thin sheet of caramel, but it was more like frozen caramel than anything else. He averted his gaze to the door instead, wishing Sesshoumaru would walk through it and disappear forever.

"I have given them permission to perform an autopsy. If that is all right with you. I am just as curious to find out what killed her as you are." Inu-Yasha stared at him in surprise. Before he could think, he blurted out,

"You mean you didn't kill her?" Sesshoumaru shook his head.

"I didn't, no. But I think I have an idea of who did."

"Tell me!" Inu-Yasha demanded and stood, ready to beat Sesshoumaru up if he didn't obey. Again, Sesshoumaru shook his head.

"It is no one you know, and even if you did know him, it is foolish to jump to conclusions. Sit down and calm yourself." In spite of himself, Inu-Yasha sat down.

"Just why would you care anyway?" he asked with a bitter tone. "It's not like she was your mother. You hated her."

"I did," agreed Sesshoumaru, stepping closer. He stopped and looked to the window. Inu-Yasha had put black shades up yesterday to block out the sunlight. He turned back toface himwithout a single difference in his expression. "But I hate seeing you in such pain. No matter how much I dislike you, you are my little brother." Inu-Yasha huffed and looked away.

"Yeah, so?" Sesshoumaru sat beside him on the bed.

"I'm trying to help in any way I can."

"Whatever." Inu-Yasha refused to look at him. "You can go and burn in Hell for all I care."

"And so can you," Sesshoumaru replied as calmly as though this were a daily occurrence. "But you probably wouldn't go unless I dragged you there with me."

"Feh." Then came the silence. Sesshoumaru stood up and left without a sound, opening and closing the door slowly so it wouldn't make too much noise. Inu-Yasha remained sitting on his bed for the next half-hour. His mother had died. He had loved her. His brother hadn't killed her. What should he do? Where was the manual to life when you needed it? Truth was, the only person he would have known to write it had left him. So what he did was leave his depressing hole of a happy kid's room and went upstairs to find that person.

"Sesshoumaru," he said after opening the door of his big brother's room without knocking. "Remember when we were little and I drank the Windex?"

"Yes," Sesshoumaru answered, book-marking his page in The Gunslinger and placing the novel on his desk. "You nearly killed yourself. Why?" Inu-Yasha entered fully into the room, shutting the door with a tiny click and making his way to Sesshoumaru's bed.

"Remember in the hospital when you came to visit me? And Mother and the nurses decided to let us talk alone? Remember what you did? Could you do it again?"

"Inu-Yasha, I—"

"Please, Sesshoumaru? It made me feel so much better. It was the only time I've ever felt loved by you. The only time I felt like you wanted me around." Sesshoumaru sighed and cleared a spot for Inu-Yasha to sit on the bed.

"All right. Come here." He obeyed instantly, like a well-trained dog, sitting cross-legged in the spot his elder brother indicated. Sesshoumaru sat opposite him, watching his eagerness with a perplexed glint in his eyes. But what Inu-Yasha wanted, he got. Sesshoumaru leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. Inu-Yasha returned it just before he pulled away.

"That was too quick."

"You want it longer?" He nodded vigorously for one who's mother had recently passed on. Sesshoumaru shook his head as though thinking about how silly his little brother could be. He gave him another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer. Just as he was about to end it, Inu-Yasha pulled his head closer, entwining his hands behind Sesshoumaru's head. It seemed apparent the younger brother was reluctant to let go of his last living relative. Upon Inu-Yasha's will, they kissed in this fashion for another twenty minutes, until they allowed the kisses to become deeper and more intimate, adding tongues and shedding clothing. This was most certainly not what happened in the hospital.

Inu-Yasha lay on his back now, his head resting upon the very same pillows his brother slept on, his clothes discarded and disregarded on the floor. He knew this was wrong; just the thought of kissing his brother disgusted him. Then he reminded himself—half-brother. It was like a cousin, he told himself in hopes of making the situation less shameful. How could it be shameful when he loved his brother? Couldn't they at least pretend to hate each other as they had in the past? Or was this change of events a change in both of them? Sesshoumaru was gently rubbing Inu-Yasha's stomach to settle out his short breaths.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" For what felt like the tenth time today, Inu-Yasha nodded.

"You and virginity are the only things I got left to lose. Hit me as hard as you can, Onii-chan!" Sesshoumaru rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Surely you can't mean that?"

"I do! If anything is going to make me hate you for the rest of my life, it's this. Now please, start!" It was evident. Inu-Yasha truly was depressed. Depressed and hormonal. Sesshoumaru was almost afraid of disobeying him.

Within the next twenty minutes, Inu-Yasha wanted to scream. Not in pain, not in misery, not even in pleasure. He wanted to scream in pride, and laugh. He also couldn't make up his mind as to whether or not he wanted Sesshoumaru to go slow down or go faster. So many pain-numbing feelings coursing throughout his body... He didn't want to climax and have it end, but he didn't really want to not climax. As his body eventually contracted and his breaths became so shallow it was almost hard to breathe, the final few strokes caused him to gasp and whimper. Warm, white liquid jetted its way out of him—and into him. He was panting, trying to cool his now hot body down. Friction was sometimes too much. He felt Sesshoumaru, almost distantly, pull out of him, and lay next to him, panting almost as much as he himself was. He glanced over at him with glazed-over gold-colored eyes. Warmed up caramel gazed back. They exchanged only half-aware smiles.

Then Inu-Yasha remembered his mother was dead. It was a good thing his brother hadn't been the one to kill her. One less thing to worry about; as now, he was more alone than he would ever be.

END/Installment One