Who: Okay what more can I say I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho and I don't know what else to say but thanks for reading my lameness.

Chapter 3

A cathartic realization would have broken the deep tension of the moment. However, there was no explanation to what was going on, and even less comfort in the reality of the strange occurrences.

Everyone was quickly caught up with the strange events of the dream, and Kurama's situation. Kuwabara was looking at the redhead as if the boy had contracted the plague. The whole thing had sent a chill through the carrot top's blood. Kurama was still looking drained and gray. Kuwabara wondered just how Kurama could be so calm. If a dream nearly killed him… Kuwabara shuddered at the thought.

Giving a hard gulp the boy opened his mouth as if preparing to say something but Kurabara quickly lost his nerve, and closed it again. Silence continued to bounce off the walls at bit more until Kuwabara finally and rather absentmindedly spoke his mind.

"So uh what's the red-eyed dude want your soul?" Kuwabara inquired, then his hand flew to his mouth.

Kurama looked lightheartedly at Kuwabara, then he shook his head. "I'd like to be able to find out myself." Said Kurama, still looking ashen, a result of the events from the night before. He was grateful it was not a school day he knew he never would have been able to survive. Lassitude, threatening to take hold of him; Kurama took in a labored breath, and gave a surprised wince as he felt a jolt of pain.

-

The sound of laughter had long since faded from the room only death, and cold silence hung in the firmament.

Kurama, felt his face lying a cold stone surface. The boy's green eyes shot open he lifted his head from the ground, looking down at the glossy surface. A rush of realization shot through the redhead's mind as he ascertained just where he was. He seen this place enough to know.

Wearily Kurama struggled to lift his torso off the ground pushing, only to have his body shudder from pain. The strain caused Kurama to cough fermenting some of the blood that had settled in his throat. Tiny circlets of blood fell to the floor. Looking down at the floor in horror with wide eyes, Kurama prayed that he could wake up. Finally, though his arms were shaky Kurama was able to keep from slamming his face onto the floor. Kurama looked down at his reflection in the floor. The red head blinked a few times, out of shock. His face his hair it was all as it should have been, but something was off. I'm I dreaming or is this real.

Kurama began to feel a strangely surprised, surprised that he was alive. The boy's body was racked with pain, and the wound in his stomach still bled profusely, and for some reason Kurama knew that his fate was still decided. That within a few minuets, or an hour at best it would not matter if he was alive now or not. He would most assuredly bleed to death. But, I'm not bleeding Kurama pleaded with his mind, but he could see the blood. It was all over the floor, dripping from the corner of his mouth and trailing down to his chin he could taste it.

Suddenly a hand wrenched itself into Kurama's fiery red hair. Kurama was slightly shocked, unable to move is head, and too weak to break free from the painful iron like grip. The boy felt his head being pulled back forcefully, exposing his neck, which would make his throat easy to slit, if the offender so decided to do away with him like that. No matter how much he wanted to fight Kurama could not, his body was not working for him. The boy found himself staring into a face shrouded in shadow, then he saw the eyes. Gleaming triumphantly, and full of deep malice.

Kurama's emerald eyes widened with shock. If he could have found the breath to scream he just might have. Instead, Kurama just stared into the eyes paralyzed by fear. But, it was not his fear, it was someone else's. The figure smiled underneath its hood, reviling in the Prince's fear.

"Why... why have you spared me?" Kurama, heard his voice, it was broken, weak, yet somehow slightly commanding even through the fear and pain. Kurama realized that it was not him who spoke those words somehow he was living in a moment of someone else's life. Watching through his eyes and the eyes of the Prince that had haunted his dreams. Kurama wore a mask of authority, even though his body convulsed from pain in the dark figure's grip.

The dark figure was far from threatened by the words of the wounded Prince. Its eyes began to glow brighter, and Kurama could feel himself draw in a sharp painful breath.

"Why not just kill me?" Kurama heard his voice say. Then he felt himself chocking on the blood and bile that rose in his throat. He fought the urge to cough knowing it would only cause him pain.

The figure continued to stay silent, displaying no emotion in those virulent mincing glowing eyes.

Is this what he said? Kurama asked himself now more desperate than ever, to want to escape. It was one thing to feel helpless in a desperate situation. It another thing entirely to actually be helpless against insurmountable odds.

A violet light began to flow from the hand that the figure had entangled in the Kurama's hair. Within seconds the Kurama's body was enveloped in violet tendrils of light, that writhed, and squirmed all about his body.

Kurama found himself suffused within a haze of pain, and despondency. As the Prince's mind threatened to cave in to the pain. So too did Kurama feel himself willing to capitulate. The pain was enough to force Kurama's mouth open as if to scream, yet not a sound came out of his mouth. Then Kurama squeezed his eyes closed, wishing for some form of escape. But, it seemed there was no escape, and he had been forced to endure a slow mind-blowingly painful death.

Then the pain ceased, as numbness flowed through Kurama's body, and he slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor again. The rustling robes of the figure let Kurama know just where he was. His head tilted upward to look somewhat defiantly at his tormentor.

"Why… are you toying with me?" Kurama heard himself crock, weakened from pain and already, wanting for death.

"Two lives. One past. One soul." Stated the figure cryptically. Its voice harsh and angry.

Kurama realized something and would have shuddered had he been in control of his body. Then Kurama felt the Prince's confusion. It was a hollow feeling shrouded with sorrow, and the Prince sneered.

"What do you think to do… with me?" Kurama heard his voice, and felt the Prince's desperation and his anger. The figure looked down, with it's head cocked to the side. Obviously not caring.

"If you leave me alive. I'll survive this, and I shall hunt you down. And make you pay." The Prince seethed. "Whoever you are you shall pay dearly." Kurama, could feel the Prince's voice gain more bearing as his anger rose, and he pushed back all other feelings and emotions.

The figure impatient, raised its dark booted foot and gave the Prince a rough blow squarely in his temple. The blow was enough to break the skin and leave a trail of blood dripping down from the prince's head. That is, before the Prince's, and ultimately Kurama's head hit the floor. Kurama found himself staring up at a booted foot for a moment, before he could feel it pressing into the side of his head. With each growing moment the pressure of the figures foot on his head grew ever stronger.

Kurama's eyes closed tightly as the pressure continued to grow. Kurama began to hear what sounded like glass was creaking, but the cracking was not glass. The pressure grew even stronger. Something was bound to gave, and it did not seem like it was going to be the stone floor.

-

"Kurama, you failed history your history test!" Kuwabara, voice drifted into the redhead's mind, and he quickly turned toward the carrot top's voice.

Kuwabara smiled accomplishedly. "See I told you that would work Urameshi." Stated Kuwabara happily. Yusuke rolled his eyes.

"Yeah whatever." The boy stated. "Hey Kurama you okay? You just spaced out on us." Said Yusuke looking at Kurama Yusuke had concern etched in his brown eyes. After all, since all the weird business, with freaky dreams, Yusuke had worried about Kurama. Especially after what Hiei had told him.

Kurama nodded and offered a weak smile, then thered head took a deep breath, obviously this dream had not been as potent as the last, or maybe he was just lucky. Seeing as he did not start bleeding as he did last time. "I was just, thinking." Stated Kurama with a wry smile he went to rub his temple, but quickly pulled his hand away, deciding against it.

Hiei who, as always was standing off in an obscure corner of the room, looked toward Kurama glaring slightly. Of course he knew the boy was lying. The fire demon only wondered why. Why did Kurama feel he had to lie?

You almost died last night, Fox. You do know the gravity of your situation. Do you honestly think silence will benefit you at the moment?

Better than worrying over every unconscious thought.

Hiei shifted uncomfortably in the corner. Folding his arms more tightly over his chest. His eyes still angry and accusing but otherwise he displayed not one emotion.

"I'd pay money just to know what the hell the two of you are thinking when you do that." Said Yusuke, showing a bit of his usual levity.

Kurama offered Yusuke an innocent smile. "It's really nothing that you have to worry about."

Hiei gave an angry, "hn" from the corner, fidgeting once again. Kurama's smile grew a little larger.

If bleeding to death because of a dream is nothing to you.

Kurama heard Hiei mentally reproach him. The redhead shot a clandestine look toward Hiei. Then quickly turned his attention back toward Yusuke.

"Yeah right you're probably talking about me or Kuwabara aren't you?" Yusuke chided jokingly, bringing down the tension of the of the moment. At least for most of the spirit detectives in the room.

-

A snapping sound resonated in the air of the room. The figure looked disdainfully at the floor. The mess was no matter to the creature that, stayed hidden in the shadows of the billowing cloak. For a moment the dark figure lingered in the still of the wake of death. Now only accompanied by silence. The figure took in a deep breath sucking the smell of fresh blood into his nostrils.

Despite, its failure at the moment the smell of fresh blood was always a welcomed scent. The feeling of disparity brought by death would be enough to wash away the stench of failure, and the one it sought, was out there waiting to be found, and would be soon enough.