Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

The Guests

Inuyasha opened his eyes as Kagome ran her fingers over his sweating forehead. "You still have a fever," she murmured in a voice so soft that he doubted any of the other humans in the hut could hear it. "I'm starting to get worried—you shouldn't be taking this long to start recovering."

"Keh—Miroku just needs to ease off on his weapon ofuda," he retorted, trying to keep his voice light. "He doesn't need to put to much in that even Sesshomaru would say 'ouch.'"

Her brown eyes warmed briefly. "I'll tell him you said so. Not that I'd want him to test your theory."

"He ain't that stupid."

"No, he's not." Her smile faded. "Are you sure you won't lie down? Even in the back room? You'd be warm enough, with the blanket."

Shaking his head very slightly, Inuyasha leaned his head back against the wall, tightening his grip on his sword and on the Shippo-magicked, warm blanket. His gut might still hurt like hell, but he wasn't about to leave Kagome alone with Keshin's family. They might only be a woman and her three children—one barely a toddler—but the air in the hut was so thick with their fear and their resentment, and in the boy's case, his hate, that he didn't dare leave her alone. His warm, trusting Kagome might not have noticed the covert looks, but he certainly had. And he didn't trust them. Not one little bit.

She sighed, and picked up a shallow bowl. "Here, drink this."

He sniffed. Kagome gave him a long-suffering look. "Broth, some herbs for the fever," she said. "Nothing else."

Inuyasha lowered his head, and allowed Kagome to give him the drink, grateful that she hadn't tried to continue the argument since this morning, when he had adamantly refused to accept anything for his pain, or to make him drowsy. It was part of how she had changed in the three years apart, he reflected as he leaned his head back against the wall again. She didn't try to insist on winning all of the arguments. She'd somehow learned to tell when he was willing to argue, and when he wasn't.

Another reason, why he loved his Kagome.

Kagome retreated back to her low table near fire pit, trying to smile at Mari who was nursing her youngest. The older woman glared at her. "Why haven't you started supper?" she demanded. "Reiko's going to wake up from her nap any time, and she'll need food. And there'd better be fish tonight—Taro's a growing boy, and he needs it!"

Keeping her annoyance at the whining, demanding tone, pushed down, Kagome put her medicine bow back on its shelf, and then reached for the large bowl she used for washing the rice. "I'm just starting it now, Mari-san," she said as she picked up the bowl. "Does Reiko-kun like pickled vegetables, or plums? I can open a crock, if she likes them and doesn't want to wait."

"She shouldn't have to wait! If you were a mother, you'd know that!"

Having no answer to that, Kagome turned towards the tall jar of rice, taking advantage of her position to briefly grimace. Mari's argument was specious: 'instant gratification' was an unknown concept in this time. And if the woman were so concerned about the timing of supper, she could have offered to help start it. Instead, she'd spent most of the day complaining, criticizing, and demanding that Kagome do this or that.

It was enough to make her regret inviting the family to stay.

Kagome scolded herself as she scooped out the rice, adding an extra cup over what she'd taken at noon. Mari-san couldn't be blamed for her reaction: it must have been horrifying to wake up and find herself covered with blood, and with her house gone. And Kagome was certain that she had would not have waded through the snow to this place without her husband insisting on it. The woman had a very trying time; and it had been Kagome's decision to ask her to stay, so she had no right to complain or show unhappiness.

If only Kaede or the headman would show up!

And why hadn't they? It was late afternoon! Surely, it couldn't take this long to make a decision! She would have at least expected Kaede to show up, if only on Shippo-back!

And, please, gods, let the headman find someone else to take in Mari and her children! Inuyasha needed them gone! He was fighting his pain, refusing to relax, his expression wary and his ears flattened for so long that they surely must be aching. Kagome desperately wanted to get him to lie down, get his wounds treated again, get her strongest pain and soporific medications down his throat so he could fall asleep and spend his energy healing, not tensed and prepared to attack. She still felt it was the right decision, to not force Mari and her children back out into the cold and snow, until they had a definite destination. But, why was it taking so long!

Inuyasha throttled down his anger as the woman criticized how Kagome was cutting up the dried fish. She only smiled and nodded, but he could smell Kagome's growing frustration. Stupid woman, he thought, reaching up to swipe his forehead and pull on one ear as anodyne for his growing headache. Kagome's generosity was an amazing thing, but why couldn't she have displayed just a bit more common sense and even hard-heartedness this morning? Why couldn't she have realized that she would need all her patience and generosity just to care for one cross-tempered, impatient, and hurting hanyo who wanted to be cosseted and comforted, instead of being forced to remain silent as a greedy, ungrateful woman took advantage of her?

He shivered, and pulled the blanket closer. Damn, he was cold! Though why he should be, when he had insisted on putting his fire rat back on, when the fire in both the fire pit and the fire-clay chiminea were built up higher than he thought was safe. It didn't make sense!

The stare was back.

The boy Taro was staring at him again. He had been doing it most of the day, looking away only when Inuyasha turned his head to look at him. It was a hateful stare; a patient stare. Inuyasha had tried his best to ignore it, mentally labeling it as meaningless threat. Taro was only a boy who'd lost his home, and who had watched his father make a fool of himself. Of course, the boy was angry and feeling hate. Inuyasha was used to people hating him: he could ignore a mere seven-year old.

Except, suddenly, he couldn't. The stare was suddenly on his nerves, and he'd had enough! He was tired of trying to ignore the interlopers, tired of trying to ignore their existence, tired of trying to pretend their unfriendly stares didn't make him tense and make his gut hurt more than it otherwise would.

"What the fuck do you want, boy?" he demanded, whipping his head around and meeting Taro's gaze. "You've been staring at me all day—don't think I don't know it!"

"Inuyasha!" Kagome, dismayed.

He ignored her, baring one fang as he glowered at the boy. Who, for some reason, was not looking away, and who had not even shifted out of his position of sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs.

"Well?"

Incredibly, the boy smirked. "Just waiting to see how long you take to die."

"What?" Kagome, again.

"Dad always puts poison on his youkai-hunting spears. Family secret." The boy's smile widened. "You're dead."

Inuyasha stared back, frozen for a moment in sheer disbelief.

Then, rage exploded. He tore the blanket away, jumping to his feet—

And crashed to hands and knees as his head spun and black dots danced in front of his eyes, and his belly spasmed with nausea. He vomited, and blood came up…

Author's Note: This was written for the prompt "Fever" for the "At First Tweak" LiveJournal community. It was originally posted on May 20, 2012. It won the contest.

(9/12/2012) - I meant to get this uploaded a day or two after the first chapter, but real life in the form of a sick cat and hassles at work just drained my energy. It's somewhat better now, so I'm back to posting. The final chapter should go up Friday, 9/14.