Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club (manga, anime, characters, pets places, etc.) It's all Bisco Hatori and her accomplices.

Author's Note: Spelling, punctuation, sentence structure and wordings in this story are horrible and the plot-line is luke-warm, for that I apologize. I must say though, I have never written anything other than poetry and essays so... I'm okay with it.
Please, feel free to read and review! I would love your thoughts!
(constructive criticism, nothing blatantly rude, please.)

With warm showers, warm food and clean clothes the two were refreshed and a new faculty of hope restored. This day would mark the end of the tragedies, the end of internal suffering and a long trek toward the road of recovery. He observed her from the shadowed corner of the mansion's library, her face etched in contemplation as she translated the English words from the novel in her hands. At least she looked normal sitting cross-legged at the oval table hunched over a book and a tea cup sitting empty on the table in front of her. Yes, at this very moment, she looked every bit the part of 'honor student.' She looked unfettered and it was like a breath of fresh air.

He tilted his head down to position the thick hood lower over his eyes and face shielding him from the bright afternoon sun beaming through the windows in brilliant rays as he traversed the distance. Placing a fair hand on her shoulder, he gave it a small squeeze. Her eyes lifted and shone with a faraway glint.

"It's time, Haruhi." Slow and soft was his voice as the heat bloomed in her chest and her lungs felt like hard plastic beneath her ribs. Today, she would be freed, but something inside of her kept clawing at her subconscious. Something alike apprehension. She took his outstretch hand in her own as he pulled her to a stand, looking at the small reassuring smile he was sending her through the folds of hood and tendrils of black, the feeling melted away.

~O~O~

"Haundo, do you have the information I asked you for?" Kyoya impatiently hissed through phone, jaw aching with his the force of his gritted teeth. "Are the supplies ready?"

"Ohtori-sama, the plane lands 1200, from what I heard the meeting is scheduled at 1330. Your supplies are secured under the seat of your personal vehicle." Haundo grinned in satisfaction. The smear on his reputation would be exacted. He didn't even need to get his hands dirty. Dead air greeted on the end of the receiver as he Tucked his phone into his pocket. Leaning against the first-class seat he looked out the circular window to the runway and chuckled to himself. Kids and their extreme emotion. Yes this would be a very relaxing vacation indeed.

"Please make sure seats are in the upright positions and all electronics are powered off. From all of us here at Japan International: Have a comfortable flight!"

~O~O~

It felt bizarre navigating the extravagant halls and exorbitantly crafted staircases of Ouran Academy once more. Everything was the same though on the same beat, different. The halls lacked the echoes of swooning fan-girls and childish giggling. The air lacked the thickness of an impending debt increase and the whooshing of and imminent rib-cracking glomp. It lacked the simultaneous devious commentary. It lacked life. Ouran Academy never seemed as barren as it did now, even with all the bodies standing round whispering behind their hands with silent tears. It never felt this lonely, even on her first day in a completely different world.

It will never be the same. The demon of guilt cackled loudly at her, burrowing into the back of her brain with its razor-sharp claws.

Black double doors stared at her and a comforting familiar arm encircled her shoulders and Bereznoff rubbed her with a soft felted paw as an elegant hand pulled on the handle, the ominous creak going completely unnoticed. A small candle with a dying flame greeted the two as their slow procession continued. Candle-light and cold surrounding them, their steps echoed in slow motion; drawn out and deafening. A hushed murmur of voices could be heard as they stood in the door way, a wave of inky black in the form of an incomplete circle surrounded by sharp-lined markings skirted with murky black and blood-red tapered candles. In the center of all lay another incomplete circle of felt and eyes around an wide empty space. Nekozawa's warm fingers entwined with her own and squeezed, gently leading her to the center of the circles of felt, bodies and flames.

It was made blaringly clear to Haruhi stepping into the room, that she couldn't have kept herself sane without the warm man beside her. He'd been there nearly every step of the way, figuratively and, currently, literally. He was the only reason she hadn't given up and taken the easy way out. He was the only one that hadn't abandoned her. For that, she would be forever grateful.

"Haruhi," His smooth voice reached her ear as he gave her hand another squeeze. "It's time. When I get into place, you need to verbally renounce your permission to the spirits of darkness." Nekozawa's blue eyes flashed up at her as he set Bereznoff in to it's respective place, completing the felt circle. He stood, gingerly placing his heated hands on either side of Haruhi's head, he bent and set his forehead against her own as his voice, as soft as a child's lullaby, soothed her. "We'll take care of the rest. Please, don't worry...don't be afraid." Turning, he found his place and took it amongst the sea of black fabric.

"I don't want this darkness! I don't want these souls!" She cringed at her own voice, more shaky and whiny than deliberate and commanding. She was confused how saying something so simple could do anything. Doubtful. It just didn't make sense.

Her fingers and toes began to tingle, the sensations began to inch across her skin. Crawling almost, washing over her in a way that made the expanse of her skin feel foreign. Her eyes burned as if the moisture were being sucked out of them with an invisible sponge. The tingles were almost immediately replaced with a harsh freezing, a blast that sent her body into violent jerks. Her body felt frozen solid, heavy, and yet it was moving without her permission. She watched through unblinking eyes as her body moved to hit the cloaked masses crowded in the circle, she saw as her body stumbled back from an invisible blast when it got too close. She felt nothing as her limbs collided with the stone floor. The screams she howled with all the force she could muster never came to be.

"YOU CANNOT EASILY RID THIS VESSEL OF HELL!" The voice seemed a collaboration of multiple: rumbling, gritty, high pitched and low, screeching and mumbling. Sounds that she could hear coming from herself but could not feel herself speaking. It was terrifying to see her arms thrash so wildly but all she could do was watch in unblinking horror. Horror and confusion, she almost wanted herself to black out like every other time these spirits took over her. Almost. Something, some little voice in her mind was telling her that she would need to be conscious. That some -thing- was going to need her cooperation. So, does that mean she willingly blacked out the times before? It was a highly confusing ordeal. Her mind reeled of this possibility, however abruptly stopped. Movement. Something she couldn't see because her eyes were not currently hers.

"Haruhi." An inky silhouette purred in a dangerously amused tone, backed by the luminescence of the opening to the hall. "You have accrued a new debt and I have come to collect payment." The souls ventured her gaze to the source and a new terror was rising. Something about what he said, the look on his face; something was very wrong with the former cool-type. What happened between last night and now? She couldn't help but wonder, her worry was outweighing terror. He was here in the same room with her not herself. It was too dangerous. She wanted to scream for him to run, to leave... But wait? New debt... payment?

The gasps that sounded around her possessed body did nothing to still her terror as it broke through the previously impenetrable invisible barrier directly toward the figure at the opening. Cackles and shrieks erupted her unwilling throat, as her heavy hands gripped the figure's neck knocking it off balance and spinning it into the furiously dancing light of a candelabra. Kyoya was now beneath her laughing with constricted chuckles right along with the cackles coming from deep within her foreign body, staring at her with maniacal amusement and reckless abandon.

Two loud bangs cut through the laughter when a jolt of fire and pain bolted through her previously numb shoulder as a familiar hand yanked at her foreign elbow, stumbling away from the shooter and tossing her body back into the now incomplete circle.

"BIND HER!" Nekozawa cried out as Kyoya's cold crazed glare settled on him. An arm raising and gun pointed directly at him froze him in his tracks. if he were to move now, Kyoya would spook and shoot reflexively in any directed he'd go. He couldn't risk his club mates, couldn't risk Haruhi. So there he stood, still, waiting for the pain to come. Maybe he'll miss. Maybe he'll miss. Maybe he'll miss... Hell, he's only six meters away at most. That's not in my favor...

The tingles and numb faded quickly as the gun caught her burning eyes. She jumped from the circle of mumbling voices and her body started growing heavy. Like she was fighting a strong current, she was being dragged by invisible hands back into the magical enclosure. She fought with every fiber of her being on legs that felt like lead pushing through and gaining speed as her panic arose.

She saw the finger curl around the trigger as if time were standing still. There was no pain when the revolver fired as she threw herself and another to the ground, only warmth and a squirming body rolling from under her as Nekozawa ran to the other boy. An anguished sob caught the attentions of Haruhi and she hitched her eyes onto the sight in front of her.

"No!" Nekozawa yelled as he ran, his cloak billowing behind in loud flaps. Kyoya's glasses flashed as he looked up directly toward Haruhi's sprawled form. The gun-wielding fist raised to the boy's own temple as he flashed her a sad smile full of regret.

"I'm sorry."

The gunshot rang in her ears as the boy slumped onto the stone convulsing in short movements. A splash of blood and bodily debris morbidly decorated the sidelined furniture and a rapidly growing pond of crimson slinked out onto the floor.

The cloaked boy stumbled backward, whimpering and trying in vain to catch his breath. Flipping to his knees, Nekozawa fought quickly to compose himself. Moving knees and hands in tandem to catch balance and reach the terror-stricken brunette that didn't know she was wailing between frantic sputters for air. He pulled her into the warm embrace in his cloak, picking up her sob wracked body bridal-style he pulled her deeper into the folds.

"I'm so sorry..." He whispered into her ear between sobs of his own. "I couldn't save him for you..." He tried, he really did. She didn't need have that haunt her for the rest of her life and Kyoya didn't need to die. It was obvious he blamed Haruhi, but he apologized. Did he blame himself?

He moved carefully over the distance dodging candles and his club mates safely. Her body sunk into the center of felt, bodies and flames once more, plunging from standing to a tight ball with her knees, elbows, hands and head on the rough stone surface.

"I-I-I d-don't w-w-want this." The tiny voice was resigned and trembling but concise and sincere. A breeze seemed to swirl around her as the damnable frigidity formed in her core seeping up and out of her spine leaving her feeling strangely light.

The atmosphere shifted, the air thicker and the breezes turned into gusts. A low rumbling of voices, united as one, became the ambiance amongst the wind. She wept quietly in the center of a veritable tornado of black crystalline fog. The vigorous emerald glow rising from the lines forming a pentagram in the floor sent a wave of peace through her grief-filled terror-stricken form, leaving her almost breathless in a lull of serenity and awe. Slowly, unknowingly, she raised her upper body arms wide and up, her face tilted to the ceiling and a soft low voice joined in the chants of the others, light in contrast with the booming low-toned interconnected weaves. This light swirled with the blackness as it breathed life into the felt. -CRACK- the light shot from the black mist whirlwind overhead as the lightening branched into five. The whirlwind spun to a stop, drifting downward opening in the center to settle around the brunette.

One last chorus of the ancient chant seemed to allow the companions to absorb the mist. As the words came to a halt, all the flames in the room died out leaving it in absolute tenebrosity. A moment of repose settled over the circle before a low hum escaped her throat and reverberated off of the cool walls. The room filled with the haunting sound conveying the sound waves as a downy breeze, breathing a violent scorching life into the wicks.

Faces could be seen raising from dark hoods to look upon the girl as she lay unconscious upon the floor.