Thank you so much to my reviewers – you guys have kept me going, for real! Sorry it's taken me a while. School got away with me for a while… But I'm back, and here's another chapter. The final chapter? You decide!

Fades Away

The silence was deafening. It roared and rang in her ears, distracting from how very alone she truly was.

What bitter irony, that she, a slayer, should die alone. Slayers hunted in packs; even after she had lost her entire village, she had soon met the others and joined their party. She had never truly understood what it meant to die alone. Now she did.

And even as the echoing loneliness reverberated through her soul, she couldn't help but to jadedly berate herself. She had charged into this, her battle cry that of a woman with nothing left to lose – and that is exactly what she had been. And yet now, lying here, slowly losing consciousness to the world, she realized that dying wasn't as easy as she had thought it would be.

She had saved Miroku, she had saved Inuyasha and Kagome and Kirara. She had avenged her family, and she had freed Kohaku. It seemed unduly malicious twist of the sword that now – now that she had accomplished that goal that would have allowed her to finally live after all these years - that it was all drawing to a close.

In her mind she had known that she couldn't fight Naraku and live. She had known, in theory, that this mission would be her last. Her life had been the price asked, and it had been a price she had willingly paid.

Kikyo was right: it was over.

She had no right to linger.

No… linger wasn't really the right word. Linger inspired thoughts of lounging, of languid indifference. There was nothing languid or indifferent about it.

Sango didn't linger: she fought.

She couldn't slip quietly into that eternal darkness that threatened to claim her. To do so would go against everything she believed; it would go everything she was. She was a warrior, from the moment she had been born until the moment she died. It was a losing battle, a battle she knew she couldn't win, but she fought anyway. She fought with everything she had, with every last slipping trace of energy.

It was who she was.

The world was beginning to grow shadowed, but it wasn't from the setting sun. Every passing moment it became harder to see; it had long ago become impossible to focus. Her eyes were becoming veiled, but it didn't really matter so much. There was nothing in this empty, cursed castle that she wanted to see, anyway.

Every breath was getting harder to take. It was as if her chest were constricted. Her breathing had become shallow and rapid, difficult and pained.

At first she had been certain that she would die shortly. Every moment her life force pumped steadily from her grievous wounds; the pain alone should have stolen away her life. And yet as she lingered, fighting the impending doom, the sharp throbbing had dulled to a more bearable all-consuming ache, which in turn had faded to a numb coldness. The borrowed moments had slipped into minutes, and minutes into hours and tentatively she had lulled herself the false hope that she might live long enough to be reunited with her friends, if only for a short time.

Somehow, she couldn't help but to entertain the notion that perhaps it would be easier to let go if only she were given the chance to say goodbye to the one person who wouldn't leave her thoughts…

As her vision became shrouded, however, she realized that she wouldn't be able to stave off her looming death for much longer…

'Forgive me,' her very soul chanted with each sluggish heartbeat. 'Forgive me. I don't believe I will see you again after all…'

P O V

Even Inuyasha knew it could mean nothing good when they found Naraku's castle, unshielded and unshrouded, silent and deserted, exactly in the direction Kikyo had pointed to.

The place reeked of blood. The coppery scent of slain youkai was so thick that he almost missed another fragrance that wafted and mingled with the others in the breeze.

Almost.

But then he sniffed a little more carefully, and sure enough the wind paid clear testament to what the undead miko had told them.

Sango bled. A lot.

"Where Inuyasha?" Kagome demanded impatiently, her eyes bright with worry. Shippo clung to her chest, silent with a lack of anything to say for once. Miroku, meanwhile, stood slightly behind the miko, his own eyes filled with silent pleading as they darted to and fro. He gulped and breathed deeply, obviously fighting off overwhelming emotions.

Inuyasha wasn't the most sensitive person in the world. He knew that. Kagome certainly told him often enough. But even insensitive as he was, the hanyou still hesitated.

But he knew that had their positions been switched, he would never have forgiven Miroku had he kept him from Kagome's side, even if only for a moment, had it been she who bled. And so, the hanyou averted his eyes guiltily and extended a single claw.

He didn't know what exactly to say. Thankfully, the monk was gone before he had the chance to verbalize just what he smelled…

P O V

"Sango." In but a single word a hundred warring emotions battled for supremacy. It was breathed in shock and horror, in recoil and anguish. She must have been quite a grotesque sight by now, lying pale in a startling pool of scarlet blood, sweat mussed and impaled, blurry eyed and weak.

She couldn't focus on him. He was just a blur of comforting colors before her, but memory easily filled in the blanks where vision failed. Even if he hadn't said a word she would have known it was him; his aura enveloped her in comforting warmness, making her want to cry for the sheer relief she felt at having him near.

"I was hoping you'd come," she choked, managing a weak smile. The words echoed those he had greeted her with only two nights before, the words that he had welcomed her with when last she had come to bid him shrouded farewell. It seemed only fitting that she should return the same greeting to him, now, as she bid a not-so-shrouded farewell.

"Sango..." His voice was shaking uncontrollably with suppressed tears. "Save your strength, Sango… Please…" With a stifled sob, he gently – oh so gently – wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a feather-light and yet passionate all the same embrace. Her insides, though wrought in torment, still fluttered with wild abandon at his touch, and still clenched with excitement as she realized his face was so near to her own.

"Was saving my strength… hoping you'd come…" Her words were slow and breathy. Time was stealing her breaths away as the moments slipped by, and so she hurried on.

"Thought it might make it easier… to say goodbye…" Now, true sorrow and heartache crept into her voice; a single tear trailed lazily down her cheek. "But it doesn't."

"Then don't!" Miroku cried urgently, desperately, pleadingly. "Don't leave me, Sango! I have nothing without you! Nothing!" This time, the sob wasn't so stifled. "I love you, Sango! I love you!"

"And I you, Miroku…" With trembling fingers she reached to tenderly stroke his cheek, making sure he was real, making sure her mind wasn't playing some final cruel trick on her.

The gesture left a trail of blood across his cheek, staining even the fleeting innocence of the moment. Before she could remove the offending hand, Miroku caught it in one of his and held it tightly, warmly, fervently against his face. With gentle fingers he eagerly rubbed the back of her icy hand, as if the ministrations might coax more life into fallen taijiya.

With the gentle fingers… of his right hand. A right hand uncovered by rosary beads. A right hand with no wind tunnel. A right hand uncursed.

A normal right hand.

Sango smiled contentedly. Weakly, she reached to stroke the fruit of her efforts, that hand that had both pushed her away and drawn her closer at the same time since they had met so long ago. In that moment, she knew with all her heart that it had been worth it.

"It was my life for yours, Houshi-sama… A price I gladly paid…"

He hugged her warmly against himself; she felt his tears on her fingers, still pressed tightly to his cheek.

P O V

Her skin felt so cold to him; with careful desperateness the monk clutched the fallen slayer in his arms, trying to warm her. He couldn't stop his tears; he didn't even try. He tried to murmur comforting words, he tried to convey how much he loved her – he tried to distract her, as if he might get her to forget her grievous wounds…

He felt her going lax in his arms. When he loosened his grip on her hand it slipped gently from his face, falling limply to her side.

His heart hurt more badly than he ever could have imagined was possible.

He hugged her a little more tightly to himself, ignoring as her blood covered him. "Sango – Sango! Concentrate!" More desperately, "Sango – don't leave me!"

But her eyes were already blurry and distant, fixated on some distant point he couldn't see. When she spoke it was so soft he needed to place his ear right to her lips to hear.

"I think – I think I see Kohaku."

"Sango – please – you can't leave me like this!" he pleaded, knowing full well how futile and childish his begging was. He didn't care. He shook her gently, stroking her cheek desperately. "Not like this!"

"If ever… there were a way…"

He didn't hear Kagome's horrified cry, Shippo's sorrowful little sob, or Kirara's heart-broken mew. He didn't even notice them. He didn't notice anything but the slackening taijiya he embrace protectively in his arms.

"If ever…"

Her eyes closed, and Sango was still.

Miroku pressed his lips desperately, repeatedly against her cool face. He pressed his lips roughly and fervently against her cheeks, her lips, her forehead – he kissed away the tear marks on her beautiful face. A low, broken moan escaped from his lips, but it wasn't enough.

Miroku clutched her tightly to his chest and screamed, a wordless sound bourn of naught but swirling torment, anguish, and defeat.

Naraku had won after all.

The End?

Oh my. What do you think? What, you don't think that should be the end? Well, I think a dozen or so reviews (and emails, perhaps? ) might "persuade" me to write an itsy bit more… grins and winks