***IMPORTANT***  When I first posted this story, I decided chapter one was too short so I added a more onto it. If you only got to the first scene when Miroku wakes up in the middle of the night, go back and read the rest of it or else you won't know what's going on….sorry that I'm such a dip ^_^;; Arigatou minna san…

::Chapter Two:: A Living Nightmare

"Nani?? Doushite?" Kagome shrieked.

The five of them were gathered into a rather large room with four sleeping pallets on the floor.

"Don't we get separate rooms?" Demanded Kagome.

"We were all out of room," said the innkeeper in a bored tone, "but if you want somewhere to stay, this is the best you're gonna get."

Sango glanced over at Miroku and saw a funny little awry grin on his face. A small blush covered his cheeks.

"Don't even think about it," she mumbled, grinding her elbow into his side, and he laughed softly.

"Well, guys!" Kagome stood in front of the group, "it looks like we're in a bit of a bind here, so I have to lay down some ground rules for this room! One-Miroku! Behave yourself, or else Sango will break your arms. Two, you all have to promise not to peek when we're changing. And three, girls and guys will sleep on opposite sides of the room. Except for Shippou, because  he would never do anything. Right Shippou?"

"Keh! Why do we have to sleep over here?" Asked Inuyasha, "The floor on this side of the room is hard concrete! This room is meant for everyone to sleep on this side!" He gestured to the front portion of the room where there was a straw floor covered in blankets.

Kagome sighed. "No."

"Yes, dammit! I don't want to wake up with a freaking backache tomorrow morning!"

"But Miroku's a perv!"

"Who said anything about Miroku!?"

"I did!"

"Control your urges, dammit!" Inuyasha screamed at Miroku, and he backed away a few steps in fear. Inuyasha really could be really convincing sometimes.  

"And you, too, Inuyasha?" Kagome asked sweetly.

"Keh, like I would. All I want is a decent night's sleep."

"Miroku? What about you? Promise you'll behave?" He glanced down into Sango's shimmering brown eyes, looking so innocent, so trusting. "Sure. I will. Monk's honor." He bowed to her with his staff in front of him, and she smiled.

"Hai. Well, I'm tired. Let's go to sleep now so we can get back on the road tomorrow."

A massive, searing pain in his right hand. He glanced down at it and saw that the blackness had engulfed it. Slowly, it was traveling up his arm, covering his chest, his shoulders, and eventually reaching his head. Air. He needed air. He was suffocating. And the pain-throbbing, and just not going away. He was dying…

Again, it took several seconds for him to realize that it was only a dream. Just a dream. The blackness of the room slowly faded in the moonlight, and he saw everyone sprawled across the floor, their figures illuminated. Kagome had somehow curled up next to Inuyasha and was using his chest as a pillow, and Sango was tucked into a corner, her legs neatly folded beneath her. Shippou lay against Kagome.

Somehow, the normality of the peaceful scene brought him a slight comfort. He was just starting to relax from the dream when he noticed his hand.

The pain hadn't alleviated. It bit at his cursed palm, as fierce as it had been in his sleep.

"Oh, gods…" he whispered into the night. His father had died when Miroku was only five years old-he'd been about twenty seven. Right now, Miroku was twenty, but that didn't mean that he would die at the same age as his father. In fact, his sempai had told him that he would probably die younger.

Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. This means nothing, he told himself. It's hurt before; it doesn't mean anything. Except before there had been a reason. He hadn't been in any battles lately; the only thing he'd used his hands for was to grope Sango.

Still, the uneasiness wouldn't leave him, and the longer he sat there feeling his hand throb, the more panic built up. Try counting to ten, he thought.

Ichi…ni….san….kon…

He ran short of breath at four. It seemed the more time passed, the more the pain engulfed him. Is this it? This one night, so innocent, so like any other. He thought of what he'd accomplished in life so far.

He hadn't killed Naraku, hadn't even been able to produce an heir for himself. Worthless. His gaze flew over to Sango, who was still fast asleep in the corner. He hadn't even been able to muster up the courage to ask her to marry him. He didn't want  to die yet. Life was too interesting.

The room, which had seemed so spacious at first, seemed to be closing in on him. And everyone else was stealing his air, and instead of oxygen he was gasping in heat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he must be having a panic attack. Air, precious air, he thought. Outside.

He stood up quickly and stumbled over to the door. Kuso, Sango's legs were stretched out over the entrance. His mind did a quick, shaky debate over what he could do. At this point, he didn't care how many times he got slapped, because he needed to get out.

Grasping one leg in each hand, he slid them over a few inches until he could get to the door. Unfortunately, he didn't do it gently enough.

Her eyes flew open to the sight of him with her legs in his hands. "Houshi sama! What are you doing!" She hissed, kicking out of his grasp and leaping up to slap him.

"It's not what you think…really. Trust me this once." His voice sounded strange, trembling. Weak.

Then he pushed her aside and left, leaving the curtains flapping behind him. "Miroku…?" She whispered in confusion. Something hadn't sounded quite right in his voice. She decided to follow him.

He'd been walking fast. When she entered the hallway, he was already gone. Where's he going? Is he leaving? She hurried down the corridor, her heart in her throat. What was wrong with Miroku?

When she burst out the front door of the building, she glanced around her. The only light was that coming from the moon, and it provided her with a mediocre view of the area. She scanned the roads around her for a solitary figure clad in robes. Finally, after a few seconds of terrifying emptiness when she thought he was gone, she saw him.

He was standing, just standing at the edge of the town, gazing into the dark forest before him. The cool air rippled through her sleeping robes, and she shivered. But she couldn't abandon him. She needed to know what was wrong with him.

She hurried over to the spot where he stood but slowed down as she approached him.

"Houshi sama…?" Sango walked up to him, the sounds of her footsteps seeming painfully loud in the silence of the night.

"What's wrong?"

She saw him draw in a long, shuddery breath, and at that moment she was acutely aware of his manliness- the broad shoulders, the Adam's apple quivering at his throat, his height, his strong hands.

Finally, he held up his hand without a word. The right hand, covered in purple cloth and blue rosary beads, looked the same as usual. But when she peered in closer, she gasped.

"It's-it's fading!" She cried. And indeed it was. From a relative distance, no one would notice, but up close, she saw the blades of grass vaguely through his fingertips.

Her panicky eyes met his. "Oh my god…Miroku….why didn't you say anything?"

He kept his head lowered, but his eyes raised up to her. "What could you do? My time is coming, I think. There's nothing you, or I can do about it now." His calm acceptance shocked her. He'd always been like this-sometimes blunt and logical…but how did he come to terms so quickly?

"Demo…" she found herself at a loss for words. "You could have told me! Don't you trust me?" Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks in angry, hot rivers.

Suddenly she felt his two warms hands on her shoulders, and for a split second their eyes met- his, pained and panicky, hers full of tears. Then he seized her into an embrace, abruptly pulling her into his chest. 

For a moment, she was shocked, but then a faint, fluttery feeling exploded in her stomach. His warms robes sheltering her from the night, and for a moment she felt that they were safe from anything in the world. She cautiously brought her arms around him and held on, as if that would prevent him from slowly drifting away.

He was clutching onto her equally tightly, feeling a tight need to just hold on to her.  

"Why do you just accept it?" She demanded, her words muffled by his chest. "Why don't you fight? That's what I would do, Miroku." She forced her head upwards and spoke directly up to him. "There is still a chance. If we kill him, then you could survive. Don't just give up!"

His head was still buried in her shoulder. She realized, with a start, that her robe had slipped off to the side a little and his cheek was touching her bare skin. "Sango, if you will fight with me, I promise I won't give up," he said in a near whisper. She could feel his lips brushing against her neck as he spoke, and she shivered.

He pulled away from her, but his hands were still on her shoulders. "Will you?"

Sango stared up into his eyes- so pain-ridden, on the edge of losing all control. "Of course I will."

He smiled a little bit, a faint, half smile, and then said "let's go back to the room now."

They walked back in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When they reached the room, Miroku glanced down at his sleeping pallet and stopped.

"Sango…"

"Hm?" she was already settling down into hers.

"You're a youkai exterminator when you're awake…but maybe you could keep the night demons away, too?

It took her several seconds to realize what he was getting at.

"You want to…?"

"Sango, can I please sleep with you? Just to lie next to you? And you already have my honor."

She looked at him with a serious, sad expression painting her face. He looked like a little boy.

"Get in," she said softly, and he crawled into the corner next to her.

Sango felt her heart beating hard against her ribs. Calm down…it's just Miroku. But she couldn't…not when they were like this. Their bodies where intoxicatingly close together, and the heat generated by them was almost too much to bear.

She opened her eyes and saw him staring straight into hers.

"Sango…" he said suddenly, and reached up to push a stray strand of hair aside. She felt herself blushing-gods! why did she have to blush? Hopefully he couldn't see it in the dark room.

His face, which had been smiling at her, suddenly contorted into an expression of agony. "Miroku! What's wrong! Miroku!"

"It….hurts….it hurts so much…."

Panic gripped her. Seeing him in so much pain almost made her hurt, too. She didn't know what to do, so she just grasped his cursed hand in hers.

Miroku wouldn't tell anyone unless it was really bad. He was always like that, keeping his problems to himself and locking himself away.

Suddenly his hand relaxed in hers. "Does it still hurt?" she asked, fear lacing her voice.

He nodded. "A bit, but it's not as bad as before…Sango, I thought I was dying."

For the first time, she felt fear within him. Not just within him, but all around him. I don't know what to say to him…or how to comfort him…so I'll just keep holding his hand.

It was warm. It certainly didn't feel cursed. It was just a normal, soft human hand. The rosary beads slid in between their hands and she shifted her fingers a bit.

There seemed to be no other parts of her body-just her hand, connecting her to Miroku. Her Miroku.

"I'm so scared, houshi-sama," she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand.

"Me too." He was almost asleep. She sighed and let herself drift into a troubled sleep.

How do you like the story so far? So far this has been one of my favorite chapters to write…and I already have the whole thing planned out due to obsessive writing at school. When I SHOULD be paying attention. ^_^ Tell me if you have any suggestions for the future!

x~Aurora chan