Author's Note: This is where this story earns its M rating (a few times over)... contains incest and lemony content, feel free to skip this chapter if it squicks you. Thanks.

Sango was growing worried. Angry as she was with Miroku, she was still desperately worried about him. She had slapped him...

He was probably just worried about her – goodness knew, he always was. Miroku had probably just misconstrued her interactions with Kohaku as something darker, deeper, more wrong.

She was not quite ready to agree with him.

But remorseful as she was, his betrayal still hurt. The taijiya went to the kitchen to fetch herself a drink. "Where is that pouch of tea we have around here..." she mumbled to herself. Her hand brushed against a strange, smooth object. Puzzled, Sango pulled it out.

It was a bottle of sake.

"Sake?" She frowned, trying to remember the last time they had bought it. She guessed eventually that Miroku had bought it while out on an extermination.

It would do. Sango did not consider herself a drinker; on the rare occasions she drank during the quest for Naraku, a few cups made her tipsy and Kagome had promptly stopped her from drinking, sensing nothing good would come out of a drunk taijiya.

To hell with that now.

She broke the seal, poured a small amount into the tiny saucer and knocked it back with a grimace. It was good-quality stuff – Miroku knew his way around alcohol – but it burned her throat as it went down, and Sango chalked it up to not having drank in a long time.

After a few more cups, the burning sensation at the back of her throat subsided into a dull prickle. Sango felt warm inside, and the hurt was becoming a little hazy.

The young woman sighed, downing yet another cup. So this was why people drank. Wetness cascaded down her face – but she did not recall crying, not in that sense; she felt none of the pain in her chest she usually got when she cried.

"Ane-ue?"

Sango sat bolt upright, hastily rubbing her face dry. Kohaku's lean body was framed in the doorway, worry in his eyes.

"Kohaku! Your face – what happened?"

He made his way to her side, arms embracing her shoulders, pulling her forehead to his chest. Her protests were effectively silenced. "Sshh, Ane-ue. It's alright now, I won't let anyone hurt you any more." The young man lowered his face to her hair; she smelt of sake and tears. Not a good combination, but it could easily be turned to his advantage... A wicked glint entered his eye. "Ane-ue, have you been drinking?"

"Mmm. Just a bit." Something in his voice startled her; she pushed a little at his firm grip. "I – Kohaku, what do you mean? There's – fresh blood all over your clothes – " Sango stared at the sticky wetness on her palm. " – Miroku, is he alright, where is he – " She stumbled to her feet, only to fall back down against him.

The young man looked down, arranging his features into a tender expression. "I haven't been a good brother; I haven't been protecting you like I should have. You've been looking after me for so long, now I'm almost a man, I should take care of you."

She parted her lips slightly, as though wanting to say something but he rested a finger on her lips, closing her mouth quickly. All her instincts were buzzing, telling her something was wrong but Sango was strangely numb; she felt like she was drifting, unable to focus on any thought.

"I'm unharmed – so is Houshi-sama," he told her gently. "We were attacked by a stray youkai. Houshi-sama is taking care of its burial – to prevent the blood from attracting other youkai, as you know."

"Houshi-sama was worried about you being home alone and asked me to come home first." The younger taijiya patted his sister's hand.

She attempted a sigh of relief which came out a drunken moan. "You've grown up so fast," she said eventually, wrapping her arms unsteadily around his back.

Kohaku's heart thrilling, he cupped the back of her head with the palm of one hand. "I know." He shifted his weight so she lay almost in his lap, cradled securely in his body. Sango's body was fully relaxed against him, her eyes fluttering shut as she began to nod off.

"I'll always protect you," he whispered against her ear.

"Mmph." She pushed herself off him a little unsteadily, rubbing her face with the heel of her hand. "I must be more tired than I thought I would be."

"Go to sleep, then," he said, padding over to the cupboard where they kept the bedding. "You've had a long day."

"But...Miroku..."

"He'll be coming any moment," he soothed. "You need to sleep off the sake. Houshi-sama'll be here when you wake up tomorrow."

"Kohaku..." she murmured. Her fingers clenched in the loose fabric of his clothing; he fought to keep the smirk of his face.

"What is it, Ane-ue?"

"... Don't go."

He dropped back down, folded his arms around her waist and let her snuggle into the crook of his neck. "I'm not going anywhere - Is something wrong, Ane-ue?" he inquired soliticiously. "I know Houshi-sama said some hurtful things this afternoon..."

"I'm fine." She hiccoughed. "Is it that bad? I must look a mess."

"Not a mess; just a little tired." Kohaku combed back her fringe with his fingers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sango hesitated.

He smiled. "I understand. Here – " The young man lifted his sister easily and walking over to her futon, laid her on it. "Sleep."

The young woman mumbled something incoherent. Kohaku bent down and kissed her flushed forehead – even dead drunk, she was beautiful.

His lips lingered over heated skin; dared he even – ?

The young man slowly grazed over Sango's eyelids, the bridge of her nose; his lips came to rest, pressing gently against her own.

Blood thundered in his ears at this forbidden contact. Cautiously, Kohaku's tongue traced the curve of her mouth and his hands came up to cup her face –

Sango's body arched and a moan escaped her. Her eyes fluttered open blearily. "Kohaku – ?"

He took advantage of it to slip his tongue inside her mouth, probing her own tentatively. Sango tasted of sake and something sweet he could not quite identify – but kissing her had been as exciting as his fantasies were. She was kissing him back, the movements of her tongue and lips growing bolder – her hands snaked around his neck to pull him closer. Kohaku readily responded, one hand cradling her jaw, stroking the soft skin.

Kohaku broke the kiss, both for air and to watch her expression; Sango's eyes were closed again. "... Ane-ue?"

"Kohaku..."

She leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his again. A jolt of excitement ran through him; she knew, she wanted this as well...

"My Ane-ue," he muttered against her lips, dragging his hand down her neck. His fingers brushed her chest and she moaned again. "I love you." He tugged her sleeping kosode open, baring her breasts.

"My beautiful sister." Kohaku took one nipple into his mouth, suckling and teasing the tender flesh with his tongue; he was more confident now. Her hot breath in his ear; she was gasping, panting, sighing...

"You don't know how long I've been wanting this." He slipped his hand into her kosode and rested it on her hip. One finger traced the scars that mapped the skin there, alternately tickling and stroking. There was a sharp intake of breath; Sango's hand gripped his face almost painfully. He chuckled, deft fingers untying her obi and pulling the kosode from her. Her naked form exposed to his eyes, Kohaku drank in the sight of her.

"Years, Ane-ue. Years. Since I was a boy, and you were already my universe." His hand traveled lower and found her dripping wet and ready for him. His other hand reluctantly let go of her breast and pulled open his own clothes, letting his penis spring out. Impatiently, he shed the entire garment, flinging it over to join Sango's.

"I was so lonely then and you didn't notice me." He hovered over her, his hands supporting his weight on either side of her body. The tip of his manhood grazed her sex and Sango arched upwards.

"But now I'm a man; you finally noticed me." His lips twitched; he was willing to postpone his own pleasure in favour of hers. Kohaku put his fingers down there, stroking furiously. She ground her hips into his hand, rapidly soaking it in her juices.

"I loved you more than a sister, even at that tender age." The words were getting harder to speak; he was panting himself from watching his sister writhe in pleasure under his ministrations. His fingers found her clitoris and began massaging. Sango mewled, her pelvis thrusting upwards.

"I know everything about you; things your monk can't even begin to imagine." Kohaku withdrew his hand and bent down; the instant his tongue touched her folds, Sango moaned his name. Licking, sucking, tasting every inch of her – Kohaku was dizzy with exhilaration. He had obtained the ultimate prize at long last; the things he had done, the atrocities committed, the tears caused; he would go through it all again for this moment.

"And I love each and everything about you." She cried out as she climaxed; Kohaku lapped up her juices eagerly. He shifted his body, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss; the taste of her inside and outside his mouth, which coated his tongue drove his senses afire. "Kohaku, please..." she moaned, and he was ever ready to oblige.

"Always." He grasped her legs under his arms; they were both ready. The young man teased her, his hands caressing her thighs, his penis rubbing against her opening until she seized it and directed it in. A gasp escaped his lips at the feel of her small fingers gripping his length.

Kohaku thrust once; felt her cry out in response, felt the fragile barrier break. He smirked; his sister was a virgin, and he was the one to deflower her; not that monk. Her nails raked the skin of his back as his arms cradled her shoulders, holding them together. The sensation of her muscles tightening around him – so very tightly – was sending him into euphoria and conscious thought was hard to maintain. Her beautiful long brown hair – the exact same shade as his own – fanned out behind her head like a pillow. His goddess.

They moved as one, the thrusts becoming steadily more rhythmic. Kohaku marveled – even through the waves of pleasure coursing through his body – how perfectly they fit together.

He knew they would, being of the same flesh and blood.

"Kohaku..." Sango moaned again, and he moved to kiss her.

"Shh." He bent his head to nip on her breast, his hands massaging and rubbing the other. They were still joined and he felt no desire to break that intimate contact. Her body bucked against his, demanding more; her hands were fisted in his hair. Kohaku kept up the rocking motion, shuddering with every movement inside.

Sango's eyes were heavy-lidded, clouded over with passion and lust. It was hard to tell how lucid she was – not that Kohaku cared. She was now his in every way, and that was all that mattered.

He planted wet kisses all over every inch of exposed skin he could reach, until finally they both climaxed; he for the first time, she again. Sango's fingers gripped him tightly, holding on for dear life.

His flaccid length slipped easily out from her; they lay facing each other, both red-faced and gasping for air. As much as Kohaku wanted it to never end, to hold her in his arms and bask in the sticky-sweet afterglow of sex, he was afraid. Afraid it might be a dream, that any moment he might wake up and find her as remote as ever.

Kohaku did not have to worry about Miroku walking in on them.

Throwing caution to the winds, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, feeling gratified when Sango muttered something and snuggled into him.

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you." When the woman in his arms did not respond, he angled his head down to look at her face.

Sango had fallen sound asleep, her head resting in the crook of his neck, the combination of alcohol and sex having taken its toll on her. Smiling, Kohaku closed his eyes and followed her.

The younger taijiya awoke with a start; he had been having a pleasant dream about his sister. They were having sex, only this time she was fully awake and willing, without the influence of alcohol... Her full soft lips were parted as she moaned under him, screaming his name in throes of passion...

"Good morning, Ane-ue," he said, brushing her cheek with his fingers. She slept on, dead to the world.

Ah. To know it was not merely a dream...

It was still dark out. Laughing, the younger taijiya scooped his sister into his arms, carrying her down to the well, ladling water over her sweaty body. He could not resist stealing a kiss on the way there.

He redressed her in the slightly rumpled kosode, his hands feather-light over her skin, lingering a little over the scar on her back. Regret furrowed his face.

"I'm sorry, Ane-ue."

Kohaku pulled the covers up over her peaceful form; with a last look, he left for the river for a good soak. The frigid water would do wonders for the raging erection which had sprung up again.

Fully immersed in the icy waters, the young man found it impossible to keep the smile from his face; Sango was his again, taken back from the monk. They were siblings, friends, lovers... the bond between them was undeniable, perfect. She returned his feelings and made him whole with her acceptance.

Shrugging on his kimono, he returned to the village at a leisurely pace. Tired as he was, Kohaku had no intention of sleeping, because it would make the entire thing feel as though it was just a dream.

But then again, entering the hut and gazing at the beautiful face of his angel – he smiled, taking out his own futon and lying down. A nap would not hurt...

Sango's eyes fluttered open - and squeezed shut again. Sunlight drilled into her aching head. She felt... sick. Hungover. How much sake had she consumed before crawling over to bed and passing out?

Strangely enough, she was not merely suffering from a headache; her muscles ached as well. When she moved her legs, it felt deliciously sore down there...

The taijiya had never been drunk before – idly, she wondered whether this was one of the side effects of consuming her weight in sake. Along with the vivid dreams...

Sango blushed. The dreams she had been having – of Kohaku finding her, and having sex with her – it was so wrong, and sinful and so many other things –

– but it had felt so good. Repaying the love she felt for her brother in tangible, physical ways; indulging the secret feelings she had for him. In her dreams, she had been uninhibited and wanton as she pleased, satisfying her lust and desire.

Ignoring the fact incest was forbidden – it had only been a dream after all.

"Ane-ue?"

She smiled at the boy's sleepy question; Kohaku sat up and stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, Kohaku. Sleep well?"

"Yeah." She squinted at him through the haze of pain that was her headache; Sango could have sworn he was smiling a little too smugly to be a mere answer. "And you?"

"Yes," she blushed. The older taijiya would rather die than share her – explicit – dream with her little brother.

Kohaku got to his feet and rolled up his futon, putting it away in the corner. Walking over to her, he knelt behind and rested his face against her shoulder.

"Ane-ue," he breathed, in a tone of voice that sent both thrill of excitement and shudder of revulsion down her spine.

"K – Kohaku? What is it?" she queried. His nearness was overwhelming, reminding her so strongly of her dream.

"Don't you remember?" His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him, her body settling into his lap.

"Remember?" Sango was blushing hotly now, startled by her brother's unsibling-like behaviour – even Miroku was not allowed to be this intimate with her. But even then, she had not the heart to push him away – she gasped at the hard length she could feel, even through their clothes, pressing into her lower back...

"Why are you behaving like this?" the woman demanded, pushing herself away, "Kohaku, is something wrong?" Her heart pounded madly in her chest.

Hurt shone in his eyes. "You don't remember what happened last night?"

"I was drunk, and I fell asleep!" Sango racked her brains for anything else – and remembered the dream. Sickening, hot realization sank into her gut. "Oh gods – it wasn't a dream – "

His jaw had gone slack. "You thought it was a dream?"

She could not hear anything save the thumping of her heart in her ears – she had slept with Kohaku, it was not a dream – and the clammy cold hands digging into her flesh. Sango staggered to her feet, rushing for the door. She made it to a nearby tree before she threw up.

Her shoulders shook as she continued to vomit the contents of her stomach; the sick feeling lingered despite her efforts, shrouding her body with guilt, with disgust, with revulsion –

She and Kohaku. Her only little brother. His eyes and hair, the exact same shade of brown –

Sango heaved but there was nothing left to bring up. Hot tears mingled with the fluids on the ground.

So dirty – unclean. Filthy. The taijiya tore at her skin, feeling it give way under her frantic scratches, the blood running over her skin to cleanse her sins.

"Ane-ue, stop it!" Kohaku's large hands shot out of nowhere, seizing her wrists and shaking.

"Get away from me!" she shrieked, tearing her hands out of his. "Don't come near me." The anger in her voice gradually bled out into a despair-filled sobbing.

She fell to her knees, the arms suddenly around her not making a move to arrest her motion. "Shhh," he said in that voice she remembered from last night, his warm hands cupping and caressing her face, neck, arms –

"Leave me alone," wept Sango, her body trembling uncontrollably. "Don't touch me." She struggled feebly in his embrace.

Kohaku kissed the side of her face, the tear streaks and the fresh tears. "Ane-ue."

When she had calmed somewhat, he leaned back, fixing his gaze on hers sternly. "Ane-ue, last night... I don't regret what happened." His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. "I love you and I did what I thought was natural."

"It's wrong," she mumbled in a dead voice. Now that the fight had gone out of her, the young woman was completely exhausted, her body sagging against her brother. "You're my brother."

"I am still your brother." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "More than your brother. I love you," he repeated, as though expecting the words to make everything right.

She would not be reassured. "Miroku," Sango said dully. "I can't face him – "

" – you don't have to." Kohaku's eyes sparkled with a new light she had never seen before. "We can leave now, before he gets back, and live somewhere else – somewhere with lilies, and you and I can rebuild the taijiya village and carry on the traditions – just like we planned to all along when we were young – "

Sango laughed, a short bark devoid of humour. "We aren't children any more, Kohaku. We can't run away to live in fantasies and hope everything will work out."

He fell silent.

"I... shouldn't have done that to you." She rested the palms of her hands on his shoulders, easing away from him. "I was wrong. I was drunk; I should have known better."

Anger coursed through Kohaku's veins. "It was the monk's fault!" he burst out. "He hurt you – he always hurts you – and you were suffering... it's not your fault. It's never your fault, Ane-ue."

She wobbled to her feet. "I have to tell Miroku before I leave," she said decisively. "Even if he can't forgive me." There was a maniac light in her eyes which only Lord Kagewaki had seen before; a woman who had lost everything she held dear and was preparing herself to follow.

Kohaku remained in a kneeling position on the ground, an odd look in his eyes. "I have a feeling Miroku won't be coming back, Ane-ue."

"... What?"

Miroku awoke suddenly, body jerking with convulsions. He coughed up the clot of blood which was obstructing his windpipe and rolled over on his back.

He was alive. The cold earth under his body, the chill of the morning air, the pain that shot through his muscles when he tried to move; they reminded him of the fact.

The robes he wore were little more than ribbons, having been thoroughly slashed by Kohaku's kusari-gama. The monk knew he should be dead, but yet –

He raised a pale hand with difficulty; it was filthy, coated with dirt mixed with his own blood. The dirt. It caked his exposed wounds, stopping the bleeding. Miroku had been lucky; if he had collapsed in the grass, he would have been dead now, lying in a pool of his own congealed blood. As it were, the earth had clotted, mixed with his blood, and stopped most of the bleeding.

Even alive, he was in no condition to move.

Blood loss made the young man dizzy; he thought back to the events of the previous night with difficulty.

Kohaku refused to kill him outright, toying with him just like that bear demon not that long ago. Shallow cuts decorated every inch of skin; the young taijiya had clearly wanted Miroku to bleed to death.

Thanks to the loose earth which now coated most of his body, he was not – but it was a close thing.

Every time he had attacked the taijiya, his efforts had been rewarded with another cut, and all without managing to injure the young man; he was just too fast. It did not help that the cut on his forehead dripped blood in his eyes and affected his vision.

Sango.

He was alive – he could still protect her. The thought of her enough to force him to sit upright, ignoring the pain of the many wounds covering his body.

Miroku placed one tentative foot on the ground, struggling to stand up – and fell back with a cry. A few cuts opened up and warm blood flowed over cold skin.

It was no use. He was in no condition to move anywhere – and without proper medical attention, he knew he would die. He had lost quite a lot of blood.

Sango.

The man lay back, closing his eyes. Kohaku had probably gotten back to Sango, filled her ears with his lies, told her he was never coming back. Dead, perhaps; maybe even having ran off with one of the myriad of pretty maidens.

At least she would be taken care off. He knew she would not be able to bear being left alone.

But the thought of Sango being with that man – not Kohaku any more – infuriated him.

Sango.

Gritting his teeth, he placed his uninjured hand on the ground – he would get up, or die trying. Slowly, forcing what blood which remained in his body through sluggish limbs, the monk hauled his body upright –

– his legs wobbled a little, but they held his weight. Miroku managed to take a few unsteady steps forward and leaned against a tree, gripping the rough bark for leverage. His head was already spinning, throbbing from the blood loss.

It was all too much for him.

His fingers loosened their grip and he slumped to the base of the trunk, resting his head back. It was over; he would die here without anyone knowing, not even a proper burial to ensure his soul went on to the Pure Land. He would linger in hell for his sins – his many sins catching up with him in the end.

He was accustomed to the idea of death, after so many years of carrying the Kazaana and was ready to pass on peacefully. No regrets to tie his soul back to earth...

... except for Sango.

Sango. I'm sorry. I was too weak. Goodbye.

As his vision faded to black, Miroku focused his remaining energy on creating an image of Sango in his mind's eye; she was smiling at him, and he smiled back.

I love you.