Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, though I know I'd like to.

A/N: I would first like to thank those of you who reviewed the last chapter, you guys rock! I shall be updating once a week, most likely on Mondays. I personally think that this chapter is much better than the last one, but that it is for you to decide. Oh, and I don't think I put it on the last one, but the song 'Bottom of the Bottle' is sung by Smile Empty Soul, and I do not own them.

Rehab. Short for rehabilitation. He nearly laughed. He was supposed to go and live with some people who were probably crazier then he was, get in a group and talk about his feelings, take some medicine and then, in just a short and painless few months, he would be cured!

It was a load of shit.

He'd been to one of those rehab centers more then once before. He wasn't as helpless as everyone assumed he was. He'd tried to get help, but every time he did, it either turned out that the people weren't even capable of helping him, or that he was just, yet again, another charity case.

And Kami, he hated those places. All the people in their clean scrubs, smiling happily or glaring at you for being a burden every time you asked for an extra blanket. It was as if they only worked at those places, volunteered at shelters, so they could make themselves feel good; so that they could hold their head up higher, because they were superior to those whom they were helping.

They all made him feel like he was a lower being, someone who was lucky to even be in their shadow. He closed his eyes, silently wishing that he hadn't done all the stuff in one sitting. Maybe, subconsciously, he had been trying to kill himself. 'Would have done some people a favor if I had.' At least, if he was dead, he wouldn't have to be going into this center. And he wouldn't have to try and escape either. He knew there was no way he could stay there. Even if those places didn't make him feel like he was some circus freak, he still would have had to get out of there. He did have a promise to Naraku to keep.

"Turn that radio down Inuyasha," Kagome said, hitting the man in the shoulder.

"Ouch!" he said glaring at her.

She sighed, clicking the radio off. "I'm sure he's still really tired. He doesn't need blasting music giving him a migraine."

"It's soothing," the white haired man said.

"Soothing?" she scoffed. "Tell me, Inuyasha, what is soothing about three guy's who sing about drugs, sex, violence, and say the words 'ho', 'mama', and 'booty' in every other sentence?"

After a few moments of silence, he answered, "Lots of things."

She tilted her head to the side, looking at the brown haired man who was sitting in the back seat of the piece of junk metal her boyfriend called a car. He was starring out the window, his face looking impassive. His eyes were swimming with emotions, many of which she couldn't place. She tried to smile at him. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes lingering on her face before turning back out the window, keeping back a snort of disgust. 'She feels sorry for me.'

"We'll be there in a little while," Kagome said, attempting conversation for the fourth time since their trip had begun. Since he had been the one to find him, Inuyasha had been asked to escort him to the Rehabilitation Center. The policeman that had came to visit him in the hospital earlier in the week had offered, but he had refused quickly. She wondered how he knew the officer, and why he apparently had such a problem with him, but she decided it was none of her business.

"Leave him alone. Can't you see the guy doesn't want to talk?"

"I'm just trying to make him feel a little more comfortable. You could try being friendly you know."

"Keh. I'm always friendly."

'Do these two ever shut up?' He watched the bickering couple, silently glad that he hadn't tried to do anything to the woman when she had been helping him to the car. He probably would have been put right back in that hospital by the man she was with. He had seen him around a few times. Heard him cursing his TV and other inanimate objects around the apartment building. He seemed like an…interesting fellow. Though, he'd never really had the desire to know him personally. 'Oh well. At least Tsume didn't take me.' He didn't think he would have been able to get through it without screaming. He didn't really know why, but he hated that man. Even though he was always trying to be so nice to him, he could see it was fake. He supposed he would always blame him for his father's death. He nearly groaned. 'Oh damn it, I'm probably going to have to go to group therapy to.'

He wanted to scream, bang his head against the window, throw the door open and jump out of the speeding car. This Inuyasha guy drove like a maniac, so he would probably be dead on contact. He contemplated this for a moment. The picture of him, falling out of the car, his head making contact with the warm concrete, his blood spilling around him. Would anyone cry for him?

'There you go, feeling sorry for yourself again. Damn it, you are so weak. And now look at you. Going to go into that place again, where all they'll do is look at you and shake their heads. They hate you, you know. You're just a burden to them. An inconvenience. No use to anyone really. You would have been better off if he didn't find you. At least then you wouldn't have to go through with it; you wouldn't have to be brooding over it every fucking second.'

He hoped they would get to the Hellhole soon. The faster they got there, the faster he could get out. The faster he could get it all over with. He closed his eyes, holding back tears that threatened to spill. 'You agreed to do it. Or, do you not remember how desperate you were? How you were willing to do anything for some more. How you were willing to pretend to be anyone, take anyone's position, spill anyone's blood for just a little discount?'

He opened his eyes again, starring out at the buildings they passed, watching as the evening sunlight played on the tops of the tall buildings. He had been willing to do anything, but he hadn't meant it. He suddenly chuckled softly. 'I really do need help.' His eyes lingered on one of the office buildings. He wondered if maybe he could have worked there. If things had been different, if he hadn't gotten into drugs when he was only fifteen, if he hadn't been moved in and out of foster homes, if he hadn't hidden away from the world, maybe he would be working in one of those places. He could see it now. He was in a business suit, sitting in the highest floor of the tallest building, making a sleazy deal with a client as he snuck a look up his secretary's skirt.

Ah, how tempting the high life seemed it at this moment. High life. It was funny, because he did lead a high life, where he was literally high. Get it? Oh…fuck it. He thought it was funny.

Inuyasha raised up a bit, looking at the man in the back seat of his car. 'What's he laughing about?' Suddenly, the mental image of the man pulling an ax from his baggy purple pants pockets and hacking himself and Kagome into little pieces flashing through his mind. "No! You crazy psycho bastard! You will not get blood over my car. It's brand new leather!"

The other two occupants of the car starred at the white haired man blankly, blinking at him in utter confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. Kagome simply laughed nervously.

"Oh, don't be worried, he's not really crazy or anything, he's just over-stressed!" she said, her voice high pitched, causing him to wince a bit.

"What the hell…" Inuyasha began, then trailed off, his gaze going back to the man who was blinking at him. He smiled a bit. "Um…what she said." Muttering a curse under his breath, he stepped even harder on the gas pedal, causing the other two to cry out in shock as he dodged a car.

His eyes widened, clutching to the side of the car for deal life. This guy was crazy. He was going to kill them all. 'Ah well, at least I had a full life.' He cringed at his bitter thought, then turned his attention back outside the window, once again indulging himself in his fantasy of being rich, powerful, famous, and living the high life.

There was irony.

That's what made it funny.

He sighed. He'd always been told he had a twisted sense of humor.

Finally they arrived at the center. It was exactly how he remembered it. Clean, white, cold, empty. There were some people on the outside, some sitting around the gardens, other's just starring out past the gates, looking as if maybe they would be able to blow it away with just the power of their minds.

'Good luck guys.' And maybe if it worked, he could have a chance of getting out too. As instructed, Inuyasha and Kagome escorted him inside, making sure that he got signed it. They said goodbye to him; actually, Kagome said goodbye, smiling and hugging him tightly, telling him they would come back to visit and make sure he was all right. Inuyasha just sort of stood back, looking around, scanning as if he was searching for someone he knew

The two left, and for that he was thankful. The last thing he needed in this place were two more people trying to help him on his way to recovery. The woman at the check-in desk stared at him, her blue eyes emotionless as she handed him a small slip of paper. On it was his room number and a schedule of events. He smiled and her and nodded his head in thanks. She simply starred ahead of him, starring past him. He turned away, grabbing his pathetically small bag of belongings as he begin walking. What did he expect? No one ever looked at the trash.

He walked around, desperately looking for the hall that he was supposed to go down to reach his room. He had no sense of direction, and apparently lacked the common sense to find the third hall to the left from the bathroom door. He frowned and scanned his eyes across the lobby.

There was a group of people sitting near a large bay window, playing a card game, another group huddled around them in excitement.

The gamblers.

A few men and women were leaning on one of the walls, watching as a black haired man pounded angrily on the pop machine, cursing every type of carbonated drink under the sun, the rest of them just shaking their heads.

The alcoholics.

Another group, around five people, were just standing around, looking rather dazed and depressed, glaring at those who walked by them, whispering to one another suspiciously.

The potheads.

A man was sitting, blinking at the television screen, sighing heavily as the woman next to him kept flicking the channels. About four other people sat on the floor in front of the green couch, each of them mumbling something.

The cocaine, harrowin, methanphedomine, ecstasy, and any other drug under the sun doers.

Ah, his people.

He began walking over to them, going to ask if any of them would possibly be able to help a fellow captive in his quest to find his room. He cursed himself for mentally labeling all of the people who had surrounded him. Instead of going to them, he just stood standing like an idiot, looking around like a lost puppy. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he didn't want to be here. He felt sick again. He just wanted to be back in that little café, smiling at the people and then secretly spitting in their coffee for whispering about him behind his back.

A young woman walked briskly past him. She was dressed in blue scrubs. Assuming naturally that she worked there, he stepped in front of her, reaching for her arm.

"Excuse me," he said.

She quickly pulled away from him, turning her head and narrowing cold eyes at him. "What?" she questioned.

'Sorry to inconvenience you.' His lost look turned into a bitter glare and he shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "I'm fine, great, wonderful, don't need help at all. Besides, it's not like it's your job to help me anyway," he said sarcastically, a fake smile twitching his lips upward.

The woman pressed her lips into a thin line. "Listen," she said, her voice obviously annoyed. "I've got things to do. I'm sure someone else can help you."

Before he even got the chance to cuss her out, she had already turned on her heel and walked away from him.

He tried the same approach with the next three people that walked by him, all of them coincidentally being much to busy to help him find his room. He felt ashamed, not being able to find his own damn room. But then again, why should he be beating himself up? Lazy ass bastards; making him feel guilty because they weren't feeling exactly generous to those who were less fortunate then them.

Taking a deep breath, he promised himself that he would punch the next person in a uniform. His eyes narrowed at a couple who were walking towards them, both in scrubs. He clenched his fist, cracking his knuckles, then began walking towards the two people, ready to give them both broken noses if they didn't help him find a room.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The sound of a voice behind him made him stop. He turned, more then slightly annoyed. His gaze softened when he saw who had spoken. It was a woman, around her twenties he guessed. She had long dark hair which was pulled back in a low pony tail. The top of her scrubs was pink, and the bottom was green, accenting her, as he quickly noticed, very nice figure. 'She is going to bear my children.'

She smiled softly at him, blushing just the slightest under his intense gaze. 'Oh great. Another pervert.' She watched his facial expression, seeing his scowl turn into a charming smile.

"Are you looking for your room?" she questioned, still smiling kindly.

He nodded. "Why yes," he told her.

She reached out, gently taking the small scrap of paper from his hand and scanning it over. She clenched the back of her teeth together and a small, annoyed sigh escaped her pale lips. For a moment he wondered if she was upset because he couldn't find his room like all the other's had been. He hoped not. She was really to beautiful to punch in the face.

"No one else would help you would they?"

Startled by the soft spoken question, he gave her a small nod in reply. She just shook her head. 'Kami, sometimes I think I'm the only who actually works in this place. Besides me and a handful of other people, everyone else is completely useless.'

"Come with me," she said smiling. "I'll show you where it is."

He blinked at her. Was she being…nice? Even friendly? Impossible. The people who worked at these kinds of places could care less about him then the rest of the population. Why should this woman be any different? 'Maybe…maybe she is.'

He could have slapped himself right then. All it took was a pretty face, soft words, and not to mention a very nice body, and he could find hope in the world again. He was to soft; to easily swayed, especially by a beautiful young woman.

Noticing that she had already begun to walk down the hall, he quickly grabbed his tiny bag and jogged to catch up with her. The silence of walking down the hall unnerved him a bit, but it also caused his thoughts to focus a bit on the woman he was following. The echo of her footsteps wasn't ringing in his ears, and he realized it was because she was taking such soft, slow steps. She was walking casually, her hands down at her sides, her body relaxed. She wasn't lifting up her feet like she was ready to bolt off as soon as he found his room. It was funny; she wasn't acting like he was diseased.

After a few moments, they came to a door with his room number next to it. He was about to reach out and open it, but found the woman's hand already on the knob, turning it and swinging the door open for him. He starred at her, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. She just opened a door for him. The gesture was so small, laughably unimportant, but to him, it made his world stop for just a half-second. Someone, another human being, of the opposite sex no less, was opening a door for him. She was talking to him; not at him.

"Here you are," she said. "It's not much. You have a twin-sized bed, there's your dresser, and a table where you can play cards or something with your roommate. The TV is in the wreck room, sorry you don't get your own. Sometimes people like to argue about what channel to put it on but I'm sure you'll get used to it."

He took a few small steps into the room, surveying it quickly. The walls were white, the floor was white, the beds were white; he was in so much white it made his head spin. He hated white. It was so annoying that everyone always painted places that color. The image of his cramped hospital room flashed through his mind and he shuddered.

"Are you all right?" she asked him, noticing his sudden change in facial expressions.

He turned to her, his purple eyes showing no trace of the surprise he was feeling that she actually asked him if he was okay. "Fine. It's just…I hate white."

She laughed softly. "A lot of the…patients dislike it," she said, speaking the word patient quietly, feeling almost guilty for using it. "I don't really think it's that bad."

"It is," he said softly, sighing as he dropped his bag on the floor. "It's annoying. The complete absence of color, like your surrounded by some type of void." He touched the wall, tapping a finger on it and clucking his tongue. "Makes you feel like you have to take a hundred showers to be worthy to step in here, it's so damn clean; their only reminding us of how dirty we are."

She blinked a bit, a soft gasp of surprise escaping her lips. For someone who she had first labeled a perv, he was acting surprisingly deep. And sad. Sympathy fled into her gaze, and she wondered if maybe she could get him some kind of poster or something; they really did need color in the room.

He met her eyes, disappointment filling him as he saw her look of pity. 'Just when I had hope that someone was actually going to care. Stupid me.'

"If you need anything," she began, "don't hesitate to ask."

With one final, real smile, something that still surprised him even though her face showed a look of sympathy for the poor bum he was, she turned to leave. He stared at the door for a few moments after she had gone, just blinking. 'Strange woman. She actually seemed like she cared. But…then she looked at me like…' Shaking his head, he walked over to the bed, letting himself fall face first into the pillows. 'It doesn't matter anyway. She's probably just the same as everyone else here. Besides…I'll have to get out of here soon anyway…if I want to pay Naraku back.'

In the land of dirt and plaster
Lies an army of a thousand nowhere kids
Losing ground and falling faster
Into a life that no one should have to live

We are the people that you hate
We are the bastards that you created
(The fucking bastards that you created)
A generation with no place
A generation of all your sons and daughters

Behind the fake family image
Behind the smile of a thousand moms and dads
Inside the cage that we've been given
I see an image of the future that we don't have

We are the people that you hate
We are the bastards that you created
(The fucking bastards that you created)
A generation with no place
A generation of all your sons and daughters

And what did you expect - a perfect child
Raised by TV sets - abandoned every mile
We never get respect - never a fair trial
No one gives a shit - as long as we smile

Nowhere Kids: Smile Empty Soul