If you flee from the things you

fear, there's no resolution.

Chuck Palahniuk

Fight or Flight

You are a butterfly.

I bit my lip, shuddering as the phantom of his breath brushed against my ear again. The words maintained the same gravity that they held when spoken an hour ago, each tight, bitter, and grounded in truth. My mind reeled against them, combing desperately through every possible alternative theory, yet each time I came up empty. Once or twice, I almost fooled myself into believing those words were a bad dream, then my wings would move of their own accord and reality flooded my senses all over again.

They were moving now, attempting to wrap around me as another stiff breeze whipped across the porch. Snow clung stubbornly to the smooth planks, save where I had swept it aside some time ago and sat down. The light drift from the night before still blanketed the courtyard, and the sun did little to warm me or the monstrosities on my back. Thick hair cushioning my head against a support beam, I closed my eyes, willing all of this to go away. I wanted to go back to the way things were before I left the safety of Hiei's barrier in the woods, before I kissed a complete stranger in an alleyway:

Before I learned I wasn't human.

My heart ached as images of wooded castles and laughing children came again.

Every child smiled and offered gifts as we walked along together: a flower wreath, a piece of fruit, songs composed from innocent lips and fingers. Those same fingers clung at my skirts, my hair, my hands, giggling as multi-colored wings fluttered against my cheeks, pulling me towards the topmost leaves of the great trees. Bell-like laughter spilled from my lips – laughter which did not belong to me – and the green-eyed children laughed, too, each calling "Marta, briyante! Mean melenas yor!"

Marta – mother.

Those loving faces were immediately replaced by ones flooded with fear and pain, blood coursing from fatal wounds as they screamed into the night. Our home cumbled to the ground, flames reducing it to mere ash as we fled our pursuers. Men in tactical armor struck down the paladins one after another until only my guardian remained, urging as many of us on as he could. His golden hair stained with the blood of both our enemies and his siblings, he carried as many children as he could, seeking an escape route, but it was too late. The Spirit World deemed our kind a threat, and not even the strongest of my children could stand against its might. The forest screamed around us as we fell one-by-one, my guardian and that man shielding me until their last breaths.

The open desire in those violet eyes chilled me more than the fatal wound in my side.

I ignored his glassed-over gaze and crawled to my oldest child, reaching for his honey-wings and pale, blood-flecked face, already frozen in death. My screams joined those of the forest as those men laughed me to scorn, ripping the wings from my shoulders, spitting both on me and the bodies of my young. As darkness descended, the last things I saw were those man's lust-filled eyes and his torn crimson wings, waving like banners as our souls were escorted into the Spirit World for judgement.

"-ron. Aaron?"

I gasped as my eyes shot open. Yukina looked as startled as I felt, round eyes staring, hands firmly gripping a tray bearing steaming clay cups. Concern quickly replaced her surprise and she stepped closer, socks padding confidently through the snow.

"Are you all right?" She asked, stopping an arms-length away.

A respectable distance.

I shook my head, banishing the foreign voice which sounded so familiar. The words were clipped, lofty and abrasive; a voice which reverberated like cracked ice. I would remember a voice like hers, though I was sure I'd never heard it before.

I realized too late that Yukina misunderstood the motion. Instantly, the tea tray rested on the porch beside me, and her delicate hand reached for my back, seeking the still-tender flesh around my wings. Fear gripped as the memory from moments before returned and I grabbed her wrist instinctively. Before my body could follow through with breaking bone, however, I stopped, hissing as Hiei's marks literally simmered against my skin. The pain grounded me, brought my mind back to the present as I blinked owlishly first at my hand, then at her. Yukina's bewilderment lasted only a moment before fresh resolve settled into those ruby orbs, eyes so much like someone I knew; she copied my movements, glancing first at my hand before shifting to hold my gaze. Something close to a challenge rested in those soft eyes, not quite asking me to follow through with the action, yet questioning my resolve to do so. I immediately released her, wincing at the deep red blemishes on her otherwise milky skin; those were going to bruise.

"S-sorry, Yukina." I stammered, pressing my hands against the brands hidden within the folds of the soft purple robe. "I –"

"It's okay, don't worry about it." Her smile melted away any lingering confusion and she gestured to the tray, bringing the nearest cup to her lips and taking a tentative sip.

I followed suite, smiling as the steam wafted against my cheeks. I've always loved hot tea – a rarety, given where I'm from – and the green tea I my hands was a welcome comfort.

Blowing on the hot liquid, I allowed my gaze to travel back to the makings of a winter wonderland, willing my heart to slow back to a proper pace. Whose voice was that? The only voices I had ever heard in my head were Hiei and Kurama's, and each man's voice carried its own unique traits: Kurama's fluid water over the expanse of my consciousness, every word carrying a certain reservedness, an oasis surrounding by an unforgiving jungle; I'd long ago learned to withstand Hiei's searing heat, which coupled with his unpredictability reminded me of a churning volcano, either spewing lava and changing the landscape or silently smoking, whichever suited his fancy. The woman's voice, however, contained no defining characteristics, and hearing it seemed as natural as thinking, breathing –

It was terrifying.

"Feeling better?"

"Huh?" I turned to Yukina, who smiled in return. Her doe eyes would be the death of a man one day. "Oh, yeah. Sorry." I took another sip of tea, running my thumb up and down the soft ridges of the cup. "I was just thinking."

She nodded, raising her own cup to her mouth again before glancing at the blanketed courtyard. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I nodded, not taking my eyes off the cup in my hands. Despite myself, I was waiting for the voice to invade again, for more strange visions to come. "Do you like snow?" I asked half-heartedly, willing myself to make small talk.

"Yes." Her smile brightened. "It reminds me of home. The snow is a bit colder in my village, though that's because of the glaciers."

I nearly choked on the deliciuos blend. "Glaciers?"

She gave an affirmative hum and closed her eyes, relaxing against her own post. "It's always winter in Hyouga, but that helps keep dissuade invaders." The smile fell away as hints of red peeked between her lashes and she traced the clay ridges with hesitant fingertips. "Many want what we have, and the elders have taken every precaution to keep us safe."

I felt my brow furrow as I studied the soft-spoken girl, the demon with kind eyes and healing hands. Who on earth would want to hurt her? "Safe from what?"

"The outside world." Her gaze roamed to her exposed wrist, creamy skin riddled with puckered scars. "My people have a unique ability – whenever we cry, our tears turn into ice gems."

My mouth fell open, despite my best efforts to hide my surprise. I was not Hiei, though, and quickly gave up trying imitate his self-control. Setting aside my cup, I shifted to consider the ice apparition. "Did you say gems? Like diamonds?"

"Yes, though our tears are far more valuable than diamonds, at least to other demons and humans." Her lips lifted in a pained smile. "We Koorime see our tears as valuable only as gifts to our newborn children." She lifted a necklace from the inner confines of her kimono, hands angling where it shone best in the sunlight.

The necklace, composed almost entirely of frosted gems, sparkled before my eyes, the sun catching the best angle of every individual stone. For a moment, I could only stare. There were far more gems than I could count hanging from her slender fingers, and that each represented a single tear blew my mind. I knew God kept track of all our tears, but having a physical representation of one person's was almost too much. The tear gems were arranged according to size, with the smallest lining Yukina's neck and the largest resting comfortably in the palm of her hand. Some were no bigger than my pinkie nail, while the largest was easily the size of a small egg. She nodded at my inquisitive glance, and I touched the gemstone in her hand, shrinking back slightly from the cold emanating from it.

"These are the tears my mother shed while giving birth to me." Yukina said softly, reverently, as I turned the precious stones over in her palm, taking in every detail. "It is also the only clue I have to finding my brother."

"Brother?" I asked, withdrawing inquisitive fingers to meet her gaze.

"Yes." She glanced down at her lap. "Normally, Koorime give birth to only girls – our race can reproduce parthenogenically, or without male interference."

I nodded, eyes wide. The only beings I knew which could do that were certain reptiles, like Komodo dragons, but I wasn't going to bring that to her attention. Yukina licked her lips. "My mother broke the rules of our people and mated with a man – a man who controlled flames. When she gave birth, she had two babies, a boy and a girl–"

"You and your brother."

She nodded, tucking the necklace back beneath her garments. "I don't remember much about my brother: we were seperated soon after birth, and then the elders expelled him from the village." Worrying her lip, she stared fixedly at her hands. "The only thing I know for sure is that we both have a necklace made from mother's tears."

Yukina appeared to be on the verge of tears herself. Unwillingly, my mind went to Asher, my older brother by only a few minutes, who since childhood could finish my thoughts and sentences. I winced. How different would my life have been if my family threw him away just because he was born a boy? Try as I might, I couldn't imagine growing up without my protector: the boy who banished bad dreams, dissuaded bullies with a single glare, who kept me from seeing our parents die – the man who died so I wouldn't have to.

Mustering what I hoped was a comforting smile, I reached out squeeze her hand. However, the moment my skin touched hers, I was transported into another world:

Mommy's crying.

I can still feel Sissy's hand in mine as the ladies pick me up, wrapping me in scratchy fabric. I can't move – they're too strong. Don't take me from Sissy! I want to see her smile again –!

The cloth hurts; I'm cold, I can't get warm . . . Mommy's screaming.

It's too much.

I'm scared, but I can't scream – I'm afraid. The ladies have pretty blue hair, but they look angry. Why are they angry? I can only stare at the stranger carrying me, holding me into the wind. Everything is white, but it's cold.

Aren't they cold, too?

The woman is speaking to me; she looks sad. I don't understand. Mommy's screaming again; they're hurting her! The woman slips something pretty into the itchy cloth – a necklace? – and suddenly I'm falling.

The ladies disappears and still I'm falling. Screams won't come; the wind batters me back and forth and I can't see the ground. I'm scared; I can't move, everything hurts –

I want Mommy and Sissy.

"Aaron! Aaron, what's wrong?"

Yukina's desperate voice drew me back to reality. A strangled gasp escaped my lips as my eyes shot open. Everything looked the same in Genkai's courtyard, only now Yukina's frame obstructed my field of vision. Snow coated the ground, just like in the dream, though now the only blue-haired woman sat beside me.

I sighed, leaning further into her supporting shoulder. The intermingling scents of her kimono and skin grounded me – who knew linen soap and sweet pea went so well together? – and thankfully no further images came when she gripped my arm. What on earth was that?

A grimace emerged as my hand brushed her leg – during that little episode, I spilled my entire cup of tea on Yukina's lap. "Sorry." I mumbled, moving to get up.

"It's okay." She replied quickly, hands steady as she helped me lean back against my post. Yukina moved closer, eyes critical as she took in my complexion, fingers sure as they brushed back my bangs, pressing her inner wrist to my forehead. Her touch remained feather-light as she continued her examination, moving next to my eyes, throat, and finally my stomach. To my surprise, no pain sprouted when she prodded my midsection and my mind shifted unwillingly to Hiei – his healing abilities were really something.

"Good, you don't seem to be hurt." She sighed, ruby orbs serious as she met my gaze. "What happened? What did you see?"

I blinked, taken aback; I hadn't told anyone about the disturbing dreams and visions, not even Hiei. "W-what are you talking about?"

Her face hardened. "When you touched me, your eyes glazed over and you passed out. No matter what I did, you wouldn't wake up." My eyes widened at the steel in her normally gentle voice. "You kept saying 'Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!', and you cried the entire time." I reached up to touch my face and, sure enough, my cheeks were wet. "I was about to call for help when you finally came around." Her expression softened, though she kept the same firm tone. "Now, what did you see?"

"I-I'm not sure." It was true. The specifics of the memory were fading, though the overwhelming fear remained – terror and budding anger mixing into a toxic tonic. "There were . . . A lot of people. It was cold, and someone was afraid. That's all I remember."

My hands shook as they gripped the cotton cloth of my robe, heart still pounding from the boy's fear; for some reason, I couldn't meet her eyes.

Yukina's hand covered mine in a comforting squeeze, a gesture initially intended for her. For some reason, her touch comforted me and as my pulse slowed to its regular pace I managed a small smile. Yukina gave a smile of her own, tightening her grip once more before allowing her hand to simply rest on top of mine. Her tea sat cold and forgotten an arms-length away; my cup lay on its side in Genkai's flower bed. A fresh breeze pulled at our hair, highlighted by the sun shining through bare tree branches; it truly was a beautiful morning.

The sun hung much higher in the sky when I slipped back into the sickroom. A final gust of wind beat against the door as it slid shut, and I shivered in spite of myself. The now damp socks Genkai lent me clung to my ankles and between my toes, the hem of the robe plastered itself stubbornly to my calves – a lethal combination for a clumsy person. Clucking my tongue, I sat down and immediately set to work removing the offending garments, tugging off the socks with abandon and rubbing warmth back into my feet. As feeling returned, I allowed myself to relax in the semi-darkness, breathing a sigh of relief to finally be alone. I needed time to think, reflect, plan, to do . . . something; anything.

If I was being completely honest, I needed a place to hide from Hiei.

Another sigh fell as I began working on removing the thick belt – had Yukina called it an obi? – at my waist. First, I needed to get out of this thing and find pants, or some semblance of pants. Pretty as it was, the robe restricted my movement, and I couldn't –

"As charming as the view was the first time around, I don't believe you want me to see you naked again."

I froze at the satin voice before forcing myself to turn, the ends of the belt still gripped in each hand. Kurama lay right where we left him earlier, reclined comfortably against his pillow palisade. He did not look up from the book in his hands, though I knew intuitively that his attention was focused on me. I could just barely make out the novel's cover in the dim room – Great Expectations.

Funny; I never pegged him for a Dickens fan, but Kurama's love of words alligned him with the author perfectly. "Is that in English?" I managed.

He glanced at me, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Of course."

Of course; he was reading one of the world's literary classics in its original language and didn't see it as a big deal. I allowed the obi to fall, at a loss for how to retie it. Instead, I settled for holding the kimono closed at my chest, staring at him incredulously. "Is there anything you can't do?"

A dry chuckle escaped his lips, bereft of humor. "At the moment, walking appears an impossible feat."

I winced at the bitter undercurrent in his voice; though as his eyes continued to hold mine, I could tell I wasn't the source of his anger. Unwillingly, my attention went to his exposed legs, the blanket long discarded. The two limbs were wrapped in thick bandages from ankle to where his simple robe covered his knees, though I knew the bindings stretched at least to his hips. Pity rose in my heart at his weakened state, though I refused to let it surface; that would only insult him. Instead, I looked around for the familiar glass bottle. "Did Yukina make more ice flower ointment? Hiei and I drank the first batch before we found you."

"She did, although I told her it would not be necessary." His gaze hardened at my obvious confusion. "While that remedy does indeed dull pain, it numbs the mind as well –I refuse to incapacitate myself further."

I stared at him in disbelief, attention shifting from his face to his legs. The exposed bandages were clean, though if my perception of his injuries last night was accurate, I had no doubt the bindings beneath the unassuming robe were dyed crimson by now. "That has to hurt."

He shrugged, a slight movement I caught only because his garment slid against the pillowcase. "Pain sharpens the mind," He said simply, closing the book before placing it on the floor. "And now more than ever, I need for my mind to be clear."

My mind went back to Aisuru's memory from earlier and I nodded. Kurama kept his attention fixed on the discarded novel, lost in his thoughts. All the brain power in the world, yet immobilized by a pair of broken legs . . . I couldn't imagine what he was thinking.

He surprised my by breaking the crippling silence first, traces of amusement in his voice. "Hiding from Hiei?"

"Yes." I admitted after a moment, hands tightening around the soft cotton cloth. Could he read minds, too? "I don't know how to face him right now."

Kurama nodded, eyes fixed on the capital e in 'Expectations'. Somehow, he seemed vulnerable, and I knew it wasn't due to his injuries. From what he and Hiei told me months ago, Kurama had suffered far greater injuries than these, so that couldn't be it. No, I watched as he actively resisted the temptation to retreat inside of himself, vague, various emotions flashing through those perceptive irises in rapid fire. He never allowed them to surface, yet they flowed like the twisting current of a river, simultaneously placid, raging, frothy and smooth.

In that moment, he reminded me of Hiei.

His eyes refocused on me as I stepped closer; thankfully, someone thought to put the other futon away earlier. Stopping an arms-length from him, I sank to me knees, arranging the lilac fabric carefully around my thighs. I licked my lips, and immediately regretted the nervous gesture. This was the closest we'd been to each other in almost a month, since he'd given me the scare of my life in my bedroom. For his part, Kurama kept his face fixed in a schooled calm, just as effective as the cold mask Hiei wore. Could he smell the perspiration on my palms? "I haven't thanked you, yet."

His eyebrow arched yet again, yet otherwise he didn't move. "For what?"

"For this." My eyes swept down his legs, focusing on his perfect toes as I raised my hand to my neck, fingers grazing where I knew his injuries lay beneath all the gauze and cotton strips. His other eyebrow rose to join the first; apparently I had surprised him. "For saving my brother." My mind went back to the plateau littered with small bodies, and I pushed down the anger which erupted at the memory. "For what you had to do to keep him safe."

For the briefest of moments, pain danced in his emerald eyes, darkening them to an unsettling seaweed green. He quickly regained control, though his fingers slowly tightened into a fist atop the novel. The title glared up at me beside that slightly trembling hand; of course he'd choose a book about children whose lives are ruined by adults.

I started at the gentle inner nudge. Closing my eyes, I focused on the prodding, mulling over the half-familiar sensations I knew belonged to her. Again, I saw the smiling children, each eager to offer gifts to their mother. I felt her love for those children, calling each by name as the boys and girls flitted about, carried by their powerful wings. Then, I saw those same children lying dead against the unfeeling rock, killed by Kurama's hand. Her anger was real, the pain palpable as it pounded through my body, a frantic heartbeat with a life of its own. Yet when she noticed his tremoring, the eyes which couldn't quite mask his self-loathing, she stopped. Kurama was indeed grieving, mourning children he did not know – he hated himself for what he had to do. He'd made the decision to survive at all costs, to protect someone both she and I cherished, and now he had to live with the consequences.

As she nudged my consciousness once again, I opened my eyes. Kurama's position had not changed, eyes fixated on his scarred knuckles, each bone-white with tension. He stiffened as my hand folded over the betraying fist, and I felt a smile tugging my lips – her smile. "She forgives you."

His eyes darted to mine, their depths betraying shock as he took in my expression. I could tell there was something maternal about it. Perhaps that's why neither of us fought as she lifted my hand to his hair, gently running my fingers through the matted strands; she carefully avoided the various seeds residing there, knowing each played a role in her former rage. Kurama's expression remained guarded as he accepted the comfort, even as his body relaxed of its own accord under her expert caresses, holding my gaze. Why Aisuru chose to appear now, I couldn't say; I was just happy she let me keep control of my mind, even if she wanted to borrow my body for a little bit.

Fingers slidding through his glossy hair once more, I felt her receed back into a place I couldn't reach. No matter how hard I pressed or gently nudged, she did not respond. Finally, I gave up; apparently, our fledgling relationship would remain one-sided for now.

Kurama smiled, the curl of his lips genuine as he continued to watch me. "She's gone." I said, before letting go of his still hand.

He nodded, all traces of anxiety gone and radiating silent confidence. I offered my own smile in return; this was the Kurama I knew. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to speak. "Can I ask you a question?"

A slight tilt of his head, and my mouth readily took the invitation. "From what you and Hiei said before, your soul went into an unborn baby before its own soul could form." The mirth left his eyes immediately as he nodded, waiting for me to continue. "So that means you've never had to deal with a human's voice in your head, a voice that wasn't your own, right?"

"Correct, although the time spent in this human body has changed my perception of quite a few things." His mouth tightened in understanding. "I have never dealt with a voice other than my own governing my thoughts and actions."

I nodded, shoulders slumping. "I figured as much."

Another silence laspsed, and suddenly I remembered why I wanted to hide from all of them, the people who'd come to mean so much to me in such a short period of time. "When were you planning on doing it?"

A slight tightening around his eyes, trying to gauge my meaning. Nausea pinched at my stomach; that was all the evidence I needed to know what I felt deep inside was right. "When were you guys going to carry out your mission?"

Kurama went unnaturally still beside me, calculated mask slipping easily into place. Though his sudden change was painful to watch, knowing I could rely on the butterfly's knowledge almost made up for it. Almost. "How long have you known?"

"A few hours." I traced the kimono with surprisingly steady fingers, despite the churning anxiety. "Aisuru told me when I went outside." Before the strange half-formed memories, her voice had reached out to me with all the potency of Hiei's, a call I couldn't ignore. I didn't want to believe her, which was largely why I decided to hide, especially from him. Out of everyone here, I knew Hiei wouldn't, couldn't, lie to me; and hearing the confirmation from his mouth would have been too much.

Gathering all my courage, I glanced at the fox. Kurama met my gaze unflinchingly, guarded as ever. "What happens now?"

"That depends largely upon you." He replied carefully, moving both hands to his lap. Part of me appreciated his trying to appear non-threatening, but the other couldn't help noting the tension in his shoulders.

I licked my lips, lowering my gaze to my own hands. While my left still clutched the robe closed, my right sat palm-up in my lap, allowing me to see the dark moon – Hiei's mark. My eyes traced over the intricate black strokes, taking in the unknown tongue once more. The flames beneath the kimono sleeves breathed in response, each brand begging for his touch. It was almost funny how everything within me yearned for him so much: to sink into the subtle scent of pine and ashes, to stare at those otherworldy eyes, to feel his fire between my fingertips –

To press my mouth against his soft lips.

My eyes closed of their own accord, mind conjuring a perfect picture of him in the darkness behind my eyelids: an inch or two shorter than I, tan skin appearing pale against his black clothes, muscles well-formed and taut, calloused hands hidden in deep pants pockets. I wanted to run my fingers through his thick hair, the tufts right at his nape, though I knew he would never let me. Sadly, Hiei was too stubborn for that, even in my imagination.

Kurama had yet to move when I opened my eyes. From his body language, I knew he would wait as long as necessary – he had all the time in the world. Curling my fingers to touch the crescent moon, I addressed him. "Will Hiei be hurt?"

"No."

I smiled at his automatic response; I couldn't help it. Kurama's expression didn't change as he continued. "King Enma will sever the bond between the two of you, and then the butterfly soul will be extracted from your body."

He made it sound so simple, yet he left out one important detail. "What will happen to me after that?"

His silence was telling enough.

I continued tracing the mark, not quite able to mask the pain his words brought. My body, my mind, my soul cried out at the thought of being seperated from Hiei, but I wouldn't take him down with me. We had come too far for that. "Does Hiei know about your plan?"

"No, nor does he need to." The steel in his voice was oddly comforting – he wanted to protect Hiei as much as I did. Kurama surprised me further by marginally softening his expression. "You have the right to know the two of you became bound before we were given this assignment – Hiei would never take on the trials of mating willingly."

I laughed despite myself, remembering his initial anger. "That I can believe." The humor quickly evaporated as I remembered the night before: the comforting feel of Hiei's body against mine when I woke up, strong arms wrapped around me like a safety blanket; how he'd claimed me as his mate before not only Aisuru in the forest, but in front of everyone just that morning, without hesitation or shame. We had both changed so much since that fateful day in the alley, and I couldn't imagine my life without him. Strange what a few months and creepy demonic brands will do to you. "Hiei isn't going to like this –"

"He does not have a say in this matter." He replied flatly, all thoughts of not appearing intimidating forgotten.

I raised a brow, taking in his nearly-ruined legs. "How do you plan on getting me to Spirit World without him knowing?"

"Yusuke and Kuwabara are meeting with Koenma as we speak."

Something inside told me that this 'Koenma' was a big-shot, which didn't help me feel any better. Kurama's being remarkably forthcoming wasn't helping, either. Maybe he saw no reason to conceal my fate, anymore. "And those two are on-board with your plan?"

"Kuwabara is . . . less than enthusiastic." He admitted, some unidentifiable emotion morphing his lips into a frown. "Yusuke is not pleased with the idea, either; though he realizes we must act now, before Aisuru fully awakens."

My thoughts travelled to the meeting in the forest, or what I could remember of it. Aisuru had emerged against her will, in answer to my grief, believing my life was at stake. The fact that she referred to me as a vessel left a sour taste in my mouth, but I pushed it aside, wondering what I was missing. She didn't want to wake up . . . She didn't want to be here. Aisuru had gone back into my body willingly, allowed me to regain control when she could have easily killed both Hiei and I. If she posed such a threat to the world, why would she give up so easily with freedom in her grasp?

Before I could voice any of these thoughts, a voice slithered through my mind. The voice belonged to my nightmares, with images of Hiei bathed in his own blood; dark places where I lay helpless, consumed by conniving caresses. A voice which belonged to my past, a childhood spent with a boy with black hair and purple eyes – the same eyes which stared into Aisuru's the day she died centuries ago:

Kain's voice. "Sik."

I froze, hands tightening into fists. His voice invaded every part of me, urging my body to act with just one word. Every instinct demanded I obey, yet as my nails dug into the soft skin of my palms, brushing against Hiei's mark, I realized I didn't have to. I resisted the sickly sweet voice, even as it drug icy fingers against my gut, squeezing my lungs, my heart, anything it could reach. The touch hurt, though it was nothing compared to Hiei's branding just the night before. Feeling the mark comforted me, a welcome anchor as my blood kissed the lip of the dark moon. Soft lavender light shone from my hand and beneath the sleeves of the robe; the pull of the voice ceased.

"Aaron?" My head snapped up to meet Kurama's perplexed face. Judging from the concern biting the corners of those emerald eyes, the tension which pulled the flesh around his cheekbones I gathered this wasn't the first time he'd called my name in the past few moments.

I stared down at my tremoring fists, noting my burning lungs. Hyperventilation was trying to take hold, but I clamped my mouth shut and forced myself to take a deep breath, for all the good it did. The ice inside did not dissipate; in fact, it grew colder as I resisted.

"Kain." I whispered. Kurama's eyes quickly narrowed, trying and failing to sense what only I could. The call grew louder, the voice living velvet, massaging my ears even as everything inside went numb.

I refused to submit to his will.

Even as my legs somehow managed to help me stand, I heard the most comforting sound in the world – Hiei snarling.

"You're not taking her!"

The cold gripping my organs faded at his voice. My feet moved of their own accord, taking me to the sliding door even as Kurama cried. "Aaron, wait!"

I glanced over my shoulder, catching his attempt to rise from the sickbed. His arms had little difficulty supporting his weight – the problem lay in his wasted legs. Even as he attempted to rise, I heard the sickening sound of fragile bones rubbing against one another, accompanied with the mental image of shattered slivers flaking off his femora. Kurama only made it halfway up before his lower body gave out on him and he sank back to the floor with a pain-filled groan, sweat beading his brow.

"I'm sorry." My whisper came as the door slid open, allowing sunlight in. Kurama's torso rested against the pillows, eyes shut, jaw clenched in pain. He couldn't stop me, and we both knew it.

I hated myself for it, but I left him there, safe to recover while I searched for Hiei.

Thankfully, I didn't have to look for long. Darting around the corner of the temple, I saw him standing with his back to me, bare arms shimmering with heat. His legs were spread, knees bent in a defensive crouch. The snow melted into steaming puddles at his feet as he bared menacing fangs at the unperturbed offender.

Yusuke met his glare head-on, all-business. I had never seen that look on his face before, and couldn't really say I liked it. The boy's red jacket sighed as he lowered his arms from behind his head, slipping rough hands into his jean pockets. Kuwabara stood near him in a loose blue coat and khaki pants, refusing to look at either man.

"It's not like I want to do any of this crap." Yusuke's voice trailed off as he sighed, straightening his shoulders. Hiei's eyes narrowed, watching him; the ever-tightening grip on his sword hilt wasn't lost on Yusuke. "Look Hiei, I don't like this any more than you do, but the least you could do is stop busting my balls long enough to –"

A growl sounded deep in Hiei's chest as Yusuke shifted his weight – I had no doubt he would strike if anyone stepped near the temple.

Frustration finally got the better of Yusuke, and he began screaming. "It's either you or her, all right? If I don't take her in, the SDF are going to kill her, and where will that leave you?" The growl deepened, but he ignored it. "If she dies, you'll go down with her, and I ain't gonna let that happen! If we bring her to Spirit World, though, King Enma can sever the bond between you and –"

A full-fledged snarl escaped Hiei's lips and he crouched lower to the ground, ready to draw his sword. Yusuke's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't back down.

Kuwabara finally looked up, his voice a low rumble. "Man, I don't agree with any of this."

Yusuke spared him a glance and Hiei's voice died back down to a low sound in his abdomen. Kuwabara ground his teeth, glaring at the leader of their rag-tag group. "Aaron didn't ask for this, Urameshi; for any of it! She'd never hurt anyone–!"

"Hello?" Yusuke turned on his companion, each word dripping with sarcasm. "Did you forget the light show from last night? Or the freaking wings, Kuwabara?" He raked a hand through his jelled hair, inspiring a few strands to escape their imprisonment. "Aaron isn't the problem here – it's the thing inside her."

Kuwabara's brow knit in confusion. "Can't we just seperate them? You know, take the butterfly soul out?"

"It's not that simple! Didn't you hear anything binkie-breath said?" Yusuke refocused his attention on Hiei, who had not moved a muscle. "Aisuru implanted her soul inside Aaron's body about the same time her own soul was forming."

"Yeah, so?" Kuwabara demanded.

"So, if we take out Aisuru's soul, Aaron's will go with it. Apparently, humans are clingy like that." He dismissed Kuwabara with a wave, addressing his short friend who remained deadly-still. "If Spirit World gets her, her soul will disappear when they seal Aisuru away. If Kain gets her, he'll go all cannibal on us and eat her heart!" Yusuke's tone was level, as if he were talking about the weather or some other mundane subject. "Either way, she's dead."

Hiei's growl sounded again, knuckles on his sword-hand white with the intensity of his grip. "You don't think I can protect her?" He asked quietly, radiating anger and injured pride.

Yusuke's expression softened a little at that. "No offense, Hiei – you're one of the strongest guys I know – but if Kuramacouldn't beat this guy, what makes you think you can?" When Hiei didn't respond, he continued. "Fox boy is older than all of us combined, and Kain's minions almost killed him! Kurama never even touched him, Hiei! Why do you think you'll fair any better?"

Hiei was saved from responding when Kain's call sounded once again. I gasped as the ghastly notes of a song filled my ears and suddenly the scene before me transformed:

Snow blanketed the temple grounds in thick layers, pure white interrupted intermittently with splashes of crimson. Soft blue hair caught to my eye amidst the clashing colors. I saw the adjoining body move, albeit at an agoninzing pace. All at once, the face belonging to the hair lifted from the downy tufts, a face I recognized –

Yukina.

As she continued her slow crawl, a trail of red followed in her wake, and I realized she was hurt. Forcing her elbows beneath her torso, she unintentionally exposed her bleeding stomach to me, and I noticed that for some reason she couldn't use her legs.

Finally, she reached her destination – the first of several thick snow mounds. Brushing away handfuls of stubborn flakes, Yukina's fingers revealed unmistakable pumpkin-hair, along with a slack face normally brimming with life:

Kuwabara.

His lips were blue, blood frozen in its flow from his ears, mouth, nose, and eyes. Those eyes were thankfully closed, though there was no denying he wasn't breathing.

He was dead.

Quickly, I took in the rest of the snowy lumps, panic setting in as I found a recognizable trait in each. At one, an exposed strand of faded pink hair; another boasted the mangled sleeve of a red jacket and loose black locks, freed from the ever-present repressive gel. Kurama's glazed eye peeked out at me, unblinking even as flecks of white clung to the unusually dull iris. A long blue ponytail whipped in the wind from yet another pile, a flag flying at half-mast for the fallen.

My attention fell to the last mound as Yukina reached it, glowing hands useless in the face of the inevitable. She dug the last body out with a desperation which tugged at my heart, her crystallized tears falling onto the unfeeling ground. I wanted to look away; I knew what she would find and didn't want to see it. I couldn't see him this way; he was all I had left –

I barely recognized the broken man she pulled from the deep white. His mangled body flopped from her hands to her lap, exposing him fully to our view. Normally taut muscles were slack, limbs twisted in ways his bones should not have allowed, each growing stiffer by the moment. Frostbite was setting into the tender flesh of his chest and fingers, more of his skin covered in frozen blood and open wounds than not. Three eyes stared up at us unseeing, vibrant ruby reduced to a muddy rust. All of this I could ignore; I could pretend this was someone else, anyone else, until I saw his naked shoulder and hands. A dark sun with sprawling rays spanned the length of the mutilated neck; twin leaves that belonged on someone else's hands: someone who was always irritated, always protective, always . . . Warm.

Hiei.

"Netvear." The voice from my nightmares spoke, chuckling. "Neia mea.

"Sik tou mea."

"Is she all right?"

The gruff words were garbled in my ears, as if I heard them underwater. Multiple colors blended together in a brilliant kaleidoscope – white, red, black, brown, peach, orange, blue – each leaking into the next seamlessly, threatening to drown me in a rush of spilled paint. I stretched my hands into the wash feebly, desperate to press through before they pulled me back under. The bloody scene behind me called serenely, offering stability amongst its sadistic images. I shook my head, fingers reaching for something, anything, to ground me in reality. All the colors were bleeding together, forming a tidal wave of sickly purple which lapped at my ankles, similar in shade to a pair of dead eyes staring from the edges of my memory –

Tentative fingertips brushed something solid and I latched on mercilessly. The surface yielded slightly against my vice-like grip yet held strong, warm and surprisingly soft. That same warmth flooded my body without warning, banishing the violet wave even as it surged.

I embraced the palpable sunshine.

As the water receeded, the first thing I became aware of was Kuwabara's voice. Every word dripped with genuine concern, steeped in worry, each syllable surprisingly loud. Bright pumpkin hair registered next – his pompadour – then the outline of a tall frame. Definitely Kuwabara.

My palm and biceps hummed as the warmth grew to a genuine heat – a thick balm flowing through aching veins – slowly clearing my vision. Patches of black appeared, oily paint smearing the white around us, before forming definite shapes. Rounded tan circles emerged from the black, joining together into straight lines – arms. His arms. A defined collarbone marred only by dark whisps of ink on the left side; a neck which boasted sculpted muscles, yet still remained tiny, proportionate to the body it belonged to. The head came last, nearly the same size as mine. Black hair my body knew was soft, locks stretching for the sky, personifying deadly, flickering flames. Well-shaped ears, weathered skin, a delicate nose, defined jaw and cheek bones; lips pulled into a careful, neutral frown. Finally, what I loved best: beautiful, fire-filled eyes; eyes which could hide any emotion, yet felt much more than anyone else could know; irises which even now drowned in varying shades of ruby, crimson, scarlet, garnet, with faint traces of rose. The only person who truly mattered in my world anymore, the one I would give anything to protect –

Hiei.

Hiei's eyes bore into mine, swirling masses struggling for neutrality. Hiei's body knelt before mine, seperated by less than an inch. Hiei's heat blanketed my body, coating my insides, forbidding any other sensation or thought. Hiei's cheek was grasped firmly in my left hand – my lifeline to the real-world.

For a moment, I could only stare. The bruises and harsh swelling from only hours before were gone, replaced by healthy, refurbished skin. A cherry red extended from where my fingers pinched his cheek against my palm, tugging at the side of his lips in a way that any other time would have been comical. His gaze never wavered, even as my hand began trembling; the bloody trail which marked Yukina's progress only moments ago resurfaced as I released that cheek, revealing inflammed flesh. He did not blink as my eyes filled with tears, haunted by dear, dead faces: Kuwabara's cold lips; Kurama's dull eye; Yusuke's blood-soaked hair; and lastly, Hiei's torn frame, limbs worried as if by savage teeth, body filled with gaping wounds, marks glaring accusingly in the harsh winter light, refusing to answer to mine.

A sob tore from my throat and I leapt towards him, burying my face in his chest. His arms wrapped around my shoulders without hesitation and I clung to him, digging desperate fingers into his back. He offered no further comfort than his touch and heat, each invading with abandon until the images faded, but it was enough. The tension in his lean muscles, the barely perceptible shortness of breath, the way the snow around us instantly melted to slush said it all:

Hiei had seen Kain's warning.

"Sik tou mea."

He stiffened as the the call swept through my mind again; I heard his jaw clench over my own whimpering. I pulled away as ice fought to replace his fire inside my stomach, urging me to act, to obey. "He's coming."

Hiei's eyes narrowed as my declaration filled the air, trailed by frosted breath. Kuwabara and Yusuke stared from behind my protector – when had they come onto the porch? – before sharing a heated look. Apparently, no clarification was needed.

Yusuke carefully stepped to Hiei's side, towering over the crouched man. Hiei shot him a glance and growled low in his throat. "She'd be safe in the Spirit World, Hiei." Yusuke pleaded, brow furrowing. "Heck, even in the Demon World! He can't reach her in either one."

The growl deepened, only to stop as Kain's voice sounded again. Yusuke and Kuwabara gaped as my body trembled of its own accord, everything within me desiring to answer that call. Going to him would be so easy; my body instinctively leaned towards the sound of his voice, more than willing to answer in the language my heart knew so well: Reta sik. Reta–

A white-hot touch seared my brain, slamming me back in control of my rebelling flesh. Hiei's hands gripped my biceps, feeding his fiery aura into my marks. Something bordering feral anger flashed in his eyes, curling those thin lips into a snarl as one word slipped through the normally impenetrable fortress of his mind:

Mine.

Hiei's anger didn't dissuade Kain's siren call. In fact, the voice rose to a near deafening clamor, mixing the lethal command with amused laughter. I stared at the other two men, who while appearing ready for anything didn't look nearly as concerned as they should have. Could they not hear–

"Sik." Kain whispered.

I touched Hiei's shoulder, and his growls immediately ceased. Ruby eyes found mine, filled with anger, frustration, and other emotions I couldn't identify. There was no time.

"He's coming." My voice quaked, though he refused to let me stand. Kain's warning replayed in my mind: all of my brave protectors dead, Yukina dying . . . All because I lingered here, because I did not answer the call. "Please," My fingers gripped Hiei's rough shirt, begging him to understand. "Please . . ."

Hiei considered my trembling hands, the despair in my voice, and relaxed his hold. Before I could thank him for letting me to protect them – to keep him safe – he stood, sweeping me into his arms in one swift motion. My wings tingled at his firm grip on my shoulders and knees; in both holds, his forearms touched the sensitive inner and costal margins. My eyes widened as he pulled me to his chest, our marks humming in synchrony as his pinkie flexed against my flame-tips and the same thought flowed through our connection:

Mine.

"Hiei, what are you doing?" Yusuke demanded, daring to step closer before Hiei's glare gave him pause. Though I could only see his profile, the look Hiei gave his friend chilled me: detached, predatorial, borderline sociopathic; death warmed over. He would incinerate both of them if they moved towards us, and they knew it.

"Y–you can't!" Kuwabara stammered, face stuck in open disbelief.

Yusuke was a bit more forward. "He'll kill you, stupid! Hiei, think about what you're doing –"

"Follow and I will kill you." Hiei's voice sliced through Yusuke's, cold and brimming with malice. They held eye contact a moment longer – a silent stand-off of wills – before he tightened his grip on me and darted into the forest.

A/N: Hello everyone, and thank you for being patient with this update! I don't know what was so difficult about this chapter, but is was hard to write! Out of curiousity, would any of you like a little fluff between Hiei and Aaron? There hasn't really been any so far and this story is intense, so I'm curious.

From here on out, I plan to have scheduled updates once a week. So, barring technology fails and sickness, a new chapter should be posted for Black Angel every Tuesday! Thank you for all those who read, follow, favorite and review – you guys are awesome!

BelleFairy13: Thank you for your input! Kurama is one of my favorite characters, but he is challenging to write whether from his perspective or someone else's.

So now Aaron and Hiei are on the run: from Kain, their friends, and the Spirit World. How long can they elude their pursuers, and what does this mean for their future? See you next time!