Think of it as an early Christmas present.

Happy Holidays!

Aika had refused to allow anybody in the room while she was working on Kurama, or even anybody in the observation room. Bryce , ignoring his more important work, was pacing back and forth in the waiting room outside Kurama's door. Yusuke had arrived earlier and was now comparing different brands of hair gel with Hiei while Kuwabara leafed through a magazine that advertised freckle remedies on the corner. Botan had claimed that she was too far behind on work to wait around and had gone to ferry more souls to their ultimate destination.

As the minutes ticked by, Bryce's walking became more and more frenzied, although his abstract muttering claimed even more attention. After the third time he ran into a wall, Kuwabara forced him to sit down.

"Dude, did you drink something? You look sleepy." He squinted at Bryce.

"Sleep is…not important!" He tried to stand up.

Kuwabara forced him back down. "That's not good, man, my uncle died of alcohol poisoning. I hear you can die from no sleep, too. Drop like a fly!"

A demon a few chairs over in the waiting room made an attempt to cover his laughter with a coughing fit.

"Kuwabara, I—"

"Either way, running into walls isn't gonna make that chick work any faster." Kuwabara grabbed a magazine and shoved it into Bryce's hands. "Read something!"

It was only another thirty minutes before Aika emerged, supporting a shaky-looking Kurama with one arm. Yusuke jumped up and had Kurama lean on him almost as soon as they emerged.

"Miss Kendi! May I have a word?" The demon that had coughed earlier hurriedly walked over to her, pen and paper in hand. "Inquiring minds want to know, what really happened to Kurama? Is it true that you're over a hundred years old? Is there a conspiracy pl---"

"Excuse me, but we have more important business with Miss Kendi," three doctors stood in white lab coats behind him, looking intimidating.

"The demon world wants to know what Koenma's been hiding from the public!" The demon whirled on the doctors. "News is important!"

"Yes, well I'm sure a garbage reporter like you would think that," said a middle-aged doctor condescendingly.

The reporter steamed. "The NEWS reports the TRUTH about Koenma to the unknowing public! Without us, Koenma and his tyrant empire would conquer the whole of demon world!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure what you meant to say was that your garbage, muckraker newspaper tabloid wants to print more lies." He smirked that the reporter had no reply, and turned to Aika. "Now, Miss Kendi, we really do need to document how you cured this young man for our medical records, it'd be very helpful if---"

"The only lies are the ones Koenma tells the public!" Shouted the reporter, startling a few passing interns. "Aika, was it true that you were King Yamma's personal assassin? How do you feel about that?"

"What do---" Began a doctor.

"How do you---" began another.

"Is---" began the reporter.

Everyone was interrupted by what happened next.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Bryce screamed, grabbing Kuraa by the neck and throttling him. "You SAW her! You saw Weira and DIDN'T TELL ME!" Where is she?"

Kurama, too weak to defend himself, choked for air and tried to answer the delirious doctor, but Bryce paid no attention.

"You BASTARD! She's your lover, isn't she? ISN'T SHE? I bet you've been seeing her…for….for…" Bryce's eyes fluttered. There was a thwump as he hit the floor, unconscious.

Security guards rushed to the spot along with medics. The guards ushered everyone away from the scene; kicking anyone who didn't have clearance out of the building completely. The reporter left noisily, shouting back threats at the doctors and conspiracy theories at anyone who would listen until the guards pulled him out of sight.

One doctor leaned over Bryce and examined him. "I think it's just sleep deprivation," said a doctor as a few orderlies wheeled him away on a gurney. "We're going to put him on an IV with some sleep medication for a while." He said to a few bystanders. "How is your neck?" He turned to Kurama.

Kurama, stopped rubbing his sore neck so that the doctor could examine the bruises. "Just sore, thank you." He said hoarsely.

"I see. It looks like there's no damage beyond the bruises and a bit of swelling. I suggest you have your friends take you home for the rest of the day." He pulled off his latex gloves as Kurama walked away and threw them away in a nearby garbage disposal. "Now, Miss Kendi, if we could---"

He had turned to an empty chair. Aika had disappeared long ago in the confusion.

Bo felt like he was on fire. Was he in hell? No, that was absurd, only humans believed in hell. Was he in a fire pit in demon world? Was there really much of a difference? Bo didn't care; either way he was on fire.

He sat up, wincing as it made his inflamed joints hurt even more. It took him a moment to open his eyes, because they were crusted over with dried tears.

The room was sparsely furnished and seemed to have very few luxuries. The only source of light in the room was from an emergency light panel on the cracked and water-ruined ceiling. The plaster on the ceiling was cracked and falling of in some places, while the sheetrock walls had never been painted. There were no windows, but there were two doors. One was closed, the other showed a dimly lighted, and even dingier bathroom.

A flushing sound came from the bathroom and Whit exited the bathroom, zipping up his rather grungy old jeans. He looked over towards the cot Bo was on. "You're awake. That's faster than I expected." He mumbled and looked away.

Bo looked down at himself and was repulsed. He was not only in horrible condition, but he was hideous. His pale skin was tinged with green and black where it wasn't covered in bandages; the bandages themselves were all showing signs of a green pus that was determined to seep through the bandages to dry and leave a sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh behind. Bo wanted to gag. His arm was broken and roughly splinted, along with three fingers on his left hand. Even though he was healing so quickly, his wounds were horrendous.

"Daichi didn't break your arm," Whit confessed as he wiped his hands on a semi-clean rag. "I did, by accident when you were having hallucinations. Had to hold you down somehow…" He wiped his forehead and sat on the bed, clearly exhausted from taking care of Bo.

"What day is it?" Bo croaked.

"Wednesday. It's been a week exactly since you were bitten. You shouldn't be awake yet."

"I feel like I shouldn't be alive," Bo would have laughed if it wouldn't have opened up at least ten wounds on his chest alone.

"You're alive because Daichi wants you alive, it's nothing to be happy about." Whit stared dully at Bo. "You'll find out soon enough just what that venom in your veins can make you do, now that you're his absolute slave." He was so tired from taking care of Bo that he didn't even have the energy to feel bitter.

Bo gulped, noticing the bandages covering his adam's apple. "When will he…I mean…what will he…?"

"Torture, most likely." Whit stated blatantly. "He probably won't summon you until he thinks you can stand again…Probably," he added as an afterthought.

"What does he do?" Bo was almost too afraid to ask.

"Whatever you're imagining…" Whit hesitated. "It's worse," he admitted with a sigh. Whit looked down at his feet. "It's not just a beating, or even normal torture. He'll break your mind, and "rape" doesn't even begin to cover what he can do to your body,"

Bo thought he could see a shiver run across Whit's shoulders and remembered that he was speaking from experience.

"How do I…How can I…Appease him?"

Whit's head snapped up. "You dare to ask me for advice? For guidance?Me? You forget how much I hate you. Nothing could make me happier than to see Daichi destroy your soul piece by piece…Except maybe to see you die." He glared hatefully.

"I…I thought…You took care of me…" Bo tried pitifully.

"Ihad to take care of you, under Daichi's orders. You'd be dead right now if I had my way." Whit's glare was so fierce that Bo had to look away. Bo didn't reply and Whit didn't expect one. What was there to say to that, anyway?

"You haven't asked me…Why," Bo said, watching a roach climb the damp wall.

"I don't want to know. No excuse you've thought up to make yourself feel better will change what you did to me." He looked at Bo. "Your throat is bleeding again. You talked too much." He grabbed a cup off the nightstand and filled it with water from the tap in the bathroom. He poured a powder into it, and then held the cup out to Bo. "Drink this," He gave Bo the cup, "and hold still. I'm going to re-bandage your neck."

Whit grabbed a fresh roll of gauze from a box in the corner, noticing Bo's hesitation. "Oh, grow a spine. If I were going to poison you I wouldn't have waited 'till you woke up. If you die, I die. So, for now, I guess you have to live." He started to unwrap the old gauze bandages from around Bo's neck. Bo gulped down the foul solution in one swallow, grimacing at the taste. He tried to hold still as Whit leaned in close to him. As Bo unwrapped the bandages, he couldn't help but notice that Whit's hair was wet, and smelled of some kind of shampoo. His hot breath on Bo's skin gave him goose bumps, and he clenched his fists, fighting back urges that had laid dormant for fifteen years.

Whit leaned over Bo; just above him one knee resting on the side of the bed for balance as he unwrapped the old gauze and examined the bite marks. He leaned in close, looking for infection in the mauled skin. A vein pulsed in he side of Bo's neck. Whit noticed how strong his shoulders were, even after fifteen years. The soft dip in-between Bo's collarbones almost…Enticed Whit. He concentrated his mind on re-wrapping Bo's neck.

"Is that too tight?"

"A little," Bo grunted.

"Hold on," Whit said, placing one hand on the side of Bo's neck to hold most of the bandages in place while he unwrapped with the other. "How's that?" He said after he finished.

"Good."

Whit started to tape the gauze, but his knee slipped off of the loosely placed bedsheets. He would have fallen if not for Bo wrapping his splinted arm around Whit's waist and steadying him.

"Thanks," Whit grunted as he finished and left the room.

Bo groaned in frustration and pain as he fell back onto his cot.

I think I may have re-injured my arm just then, He thought as his broken arm throbbed in protest. He ignored it and went to sleep.

Whit stood outside his own room, shaking.

"Get a grip, Whit." He hissed at himself. "The past is the past. You hate him now."

But you aren't the one who ended it… whispered a small voice in the back of his mind.

"No! That's wrong. I hate him for what he did. I could never, ever forgive him for it."

"Talking to yourself? That can't be healthy." Laughed Weira, who had rounded the corner moments before.

Whit stiffened. What had he said aloud and in his mind? He couldn't remember. "Do you need something, Lady?"

"Oh, Lady is it now? You didn't speak so highly of me in the past." She walked up to him and ran a claw up his delicate arm. "Oh, yes, I remember you. I'm sure you think I've forgotten…but I won't ever forget that delicious pain I heard from you as a result of my killing Daichi's little friend." She laughed to herself a bit and walked away.

"W-wait! What do you mean? WHAT DID YOU DO?" Whit yelled after her.

Was it really not Bo's fault?

"Rio…Rio! Rio, wake up!" Someone shook her vigorously.

"It's not time for work yet, let me sleep!" She tried to roll over, but was rather forced to sit up. She opened her eyes.

"What?" She snapped into Kurama's face. "…Oh…" Recognition dawned on her and she looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine," he rushed. "Hurry, get dressed. You're leaving."