A/N: Yay, another chapter! -^_^- And the boys get to cuddle! X3 This is my favorite kind of story to write; absolutely loaded with sexual tension- and by the time I'm done, you're all gonna want to smack me from all the unresolved sexy bits I'm planning on. *evil chortle*

Sesshoumaru's POV.





"Losing Yourself In Someone Else"





"This above all: to thine own self be true."

~Shakespeare; "Macbeth"





I awake to a feeling of strange, soft warmth, and automatically nuzzle into it, thinking with nostalgia of the days when I used to sleep by my parents' sides. A hand briefly smoothes my hair off my face, and a voice murmurs, "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," in a tone that I haven't heard for years, maybe decades. Maybe ever.

My eyes blink open slowly and I pull myself to a sitting position, finding my process halted by a staff across my chest and a strong, slender pair of arms. "Wha . . . ?" I mutter, still mostly asleep. Does it really take humans so long to wake up? No wonder they're so easy to kill if you catch them in bed.

"It's alright," that same voice promises in that same tone, and I half-turn in the embrace to find that pet monk of my brother's smiling at me in that infernal way he does. Oh, I hate such smiles. They are low tricks, deceptive and constantly hiding the true feelings.

I idly recall one of the few times I saw him without it- right after he swallowed the poison of the wasps I'd released. Thinking back on that now, I feel slightly ill. I imagine it must have something to do with being human. Yet at the same time, I feel a sort of morbid pleasure for having been one of the rare creatures who could shake that precious mask of his to its very core.

"Are you okay, Shou-sama?" the monk asks, and I am reminded that he doesn't recognize me. Well, why should he? I certainly don't look like myself, and on top of that, I am filthy and wounded; two conditions that I very rarely enter, especially not in tandem.

"I am fine," I say stiffly. "Release me."

"You may not want me to do that," he warns, tipping his head to the side.

I automatically glance in the indicated direction and barely keep myself from flinching. Three huge onii are lounging at the edge of the clearing.

"Don't worry. I've a barrier up, so they cannot find us unless we break it ourselves. Just don't move if you can help it and we'll be fine," the monk says softly. What was his name again . . . Mi-something?

He has a nice voice.

The position I've managed to get myself in is awkward; my stomach pressed up against his chest and my back uncomfortably arched. Worse, his mouth is at my throat, so when he talks, his breath tickles me.

"You don't have to worry," he promises again, and I barely choke back a chuckle at the sensation, much to my own humiliation. He raises an eyebrow at me, then understanding dawns in his eyes. "Oh- ticklish much?"

"Sh-shut up," I gasp out past my suppressed laughter. "I have- sensitive skin."

A truly wicked look crosses the monk's face and he laughs as well. "How sensitive?" he asks with innocent curiosity, which immediately arouses my suspicions. I give him a glare; he chuckles again and . . .

. . . blushes?

How odd.

"They're finally leaving," he says in relief, looking over my shoulder at the retreating onii. I sigh in equal relief and also with a trace of the annoyance I feel at BEING relieved. If I were still youkai, those weaklings would have been no more than a moment's trouble.

The fact of the matter is, they wouldn't have been ANY trouble, because they wouldn't even be out like this. But with the great demon of the western lands having mysteriously "vanished", the demons in the area all appear to be celebrating their newfound power with a bloodbath.

The monk is alone. I wonder if my brother and his bitch are dead.

The monk slowly gets to his feet, body kept tense just in case, and careful not to knock me over. "It's safe," he whispers after a long, strangely alarming pause. "They're gone. Come, we must get away from here while we've the chance."

"How long was I asleep?" I ask quietly, ignoring the hand he offers me and standing on my own, only then realizing how badly I ache and recognizing that I wear almost as many bandages as clothes. The cloth around my wounds is stained so dark with blood that it looks almost purple. Then I look at his outfit and recall than there had been another layer to it, and that it had been this color.

"Most of the afternoon, and all night," the monk replies, idly tucking a few loose strands of hair behind his ear. The rain has lightened to a very faint drizzle. "The sun's barely risen."

That long, and still I am bleeding? I shudder in disgust and wince as the motion pulls at unhealed gashes. The monk again offers me a hand and I just glare at him.

"You can't walk on your own; you'll make yourself sick," the monk says, sounding vaguely annoyed. As if I care what he thinks of my situation.

"I don't need help," I snort at him and spin on my heel to leave. Unfortunately though, when I stop the world keeps going and I wind up falling straight backwards into that bastard monk's arms.

"Sure about that?" he asks dryly, smiling slightly as he looks down at me. He looks remarkably attractive upside down.

. . . exactly how much blood have I lost?

"I really am ill, aren't I," I admit unhappily.

"A brilliant deduction indeed," the monk retorts. "Let me help you."

I hate the idea of allowing anyone to do such a thing, but I have always known my limits, and this body is wet and wounded and definitely not in any shape to be lollygagging about in a forest full of youkai. I grudgingly acquiesce and he smiles . . . what a low trick . . . and squats on his haunches.

"Get on my back," he directs. "I'll carry you 'til you get your full strength back." What an ironic statement. That might be a while, thanks to Jii.

I give him another angry look, but do as he says. He is right, disgusting as the idea is. I cannot say that I enjoy being so close to a human- another human, now that I think of it- but he isn't exactly hideous, nor is he cruel, so I suppose that I'll survive.

I don't think I've been carried like this since my mother died.

He starts walking, humming some inane tune or another under his breath, and I let myself relax slightly. My muscles nearly sob with delight. Neither of us speaks for a long time; he too busy tracking something and I too busy worrying about the safety of a couple of people I'd rather not have to.

"What did you say your name was?" I ask when the silence between us finally becomes too much to bear and my thoughts of Rin and Jaken's fates too disturbing to dwell on any longer.

"Miroku," he replies, seeming unperturbed by my poor memory. He turns his head to look at me and grins wickedly. "It means 'deranged monk.' "

Figures.

I glare at him and he chuckles. "You are a very interesting person, Shou-sama," he tells me.

"Go to Hell," I growl.

"Maybe later," he replies glibly, and I'm about to snap at him again when I hear a delighted girl's voice shouting. For an instant, the ridiculous hope that it is Rin enters my head and my breath catches.

However, a moment later Inu-Yasha's human mate appears out of the trees with a fistful of broken arrows and a kitsune on her shoulder, throwing herself at the mon- at Miroku. I mentally kick myself for getting my hopes up.

"Miroku-sama!" she cries in relief. "You're okay!"

"It would appear so, Kagome-sama," he agrees with a faint smile. "Where are the others?"

A worried look crosses her face, and she pulls away. "Sango is making sure there aren't any more youkai in the area, and Inu- Yasha snuck off around dawn," she says softly. "He didn't even leave a note . . . "

"Are you sure he can write?" I ask with no small amount of acidity, and she blinks in surprise, seeming just to notice me, as Miroku rolls his eyes in exasperation. Okay, let's take away all YOUR powers and see YOU be chipper, rosary-boy.

Wait, scratch that- he WANTS to get rid of that "Air Rip," or whatever it's called.

Damn. Well, there goes a perfectly good analogy.

"I'm pretty sure he can . . . " Inu-Yasha's mate looks thoughtful, actually taking my barb as a serious question. Considering the literacy rate in this area, it's not such a surprise, I suppose, but I WAS going for insulting. Inu-Yasha is a lord's son after all, no matter how slovenly he acts.

"Come on, Kagome, this is Inu-Yasha that we're talking about," the kitsune retorts flatly.

"Good point," she mutters.

"I HEARD THAT!" a voice bellows, and my brother storms into the clearing, Tetsusaiga slung over one shoulder and glaring at his woman and the kit with an expression not unlike the one he wears when glaring at me.

"So you can't, then," the kitsune assumes, and gets whapped upside the head for his troubles.

"Of course I can!" Inu-Yasha fumes, and I try to shrink down behind the monk's shoulders, praying for an act of God. If he recognizes me, he'll eat me. And I do mean that literally.

"Don't worry, he's only half-youkai," Miroku assures me as he utterly misinterprets my desire to remain unseen and simultaneously defeats my purpose. "He's just an overgrown puppy, really."

"Who's a puppy, bozou?!" Inu-Yasha snarls.

"Osuwari," his mate says flatly, and my half-brother is instantly eating dirt.

"See, Shou-sama?" Miroku chuckles at the sight, and I have to admit that it was amusing to watch, though it made no sense. But judging by my brother's necklace's sudden, unbreakable attraction to the ground, I think I can safely assume it to be a spell of some variety or another.

"It's a miko thing," the girl explains when she notices my stare, smiling sweetly at me. "Anyway- my name is Kagome; this is Shippou, and the dog-boy JERK down there is Inu-Yasha. Who are you?"

"Ah . . . " Strange, I can't seem to speak. Am I . . . shaking? Why on earth am I suddenly so nervous?

"This is Shou-sama," Miroku says cheerfully. "I met him last night after we were separated, Kagome-sama."

"He . . . He saved me," I say quietly, slightly uncertain as to why I feel the need to point this out. I tighten my grip across his shoulders and he looks back to smile at me.

I shiver and bury my face in the back of his neck, only now realizing how very cold I am; my clothes and skin still damp with rain and a bit stiff with the blood caked there. My brother growls in disgust; and I barely bite back my own answering snarl, nuzzling in further just to be certain that I make no noise.

How strangely comforting it is to be this close to someone again. To be able to be weak, and hide in someone else.

To be anything . . . but myself . . .

Miroku gives me a thoughtful look and another smile, and for some reason I am not quite so cold anymore.





* tbc . . . *





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