When Kagome awoke, she instinctively reached for her twin blades as she rolled off the cot. When she was suddenly able to place the unusual aura permeating the room, she relaxed, feeling sheepish at her paranoia. Right, he was being kept here. Still, waking up to any non-human aura was unnerving. She could feel his youki pulsing against her skin like the calm crash of the ocean, firm and demanding while silently pulling her closer as each wave receded. She forced the sudden longing for him aside, and as she re-sheathed the swords, she suddenly felt very tired again, though she knew she must have slept for hours. She waited for Inuyasha's biting remarks concerning her over-reactive behavior, but they never came. A bit surprised, she rose to her feet and surveyed the room. Sango was lounging by the table in the midst of a single-player card game, at the same time keeping watch on the now gagged hanyou. Kagome glanced to him, eyes wary, but oddly, he no longer seemed full of anger and defiance. He seemed, somehow, subdued.

"Sango-chan?"

"Yes, Kagome-chan?"

Did you hurt him? Kagome gave a shaky smile, "Thank you, I feel more rested now. It must be late this night; I will take watch now. You should sleep."

Sango nodded and took her position on the cot, grateful for the relief. It wasn't long before she was sleeping heavily, clutching her hiraikotsu protectively as she slept.

He couldn't look at her. She was beautiful, wearing a cream colored kimono with a pattern of light blue fans, the obi in matching light blue fabric wrapped tightly around her waist, indicating how thin she was. Delicate and somehow fragile. Precious. Every time he looked at her, he was met with the image of his claws ripping through her neck. The thought of it made him shut his eyes tight. Was he really such a monster? Unfortunately, he knew the truth to that question all too well.

"Inuyasha?"

Shit. He hadn't noticed her approach. He was distracted by too many things—too many things that drained his energy. He hated feeling weak. Despite himself, he growled deep in his throat. She sat next to him, her side pressing against his like a comforting weight. His fingers jerked as he fought the urge to struggle against the chains. Didn't she know what she did to him? He finally relaxed against the wall, letting out a groan.

Something is wrong with me, she thought, absently. He has be-spelled me. "It's going to be a long night. We might as well pass the time together."

He searched deep into her chestnut eyes looking for motive but found none. He could lose himself there. He shrugged finally, looking away, and she removed the thick cloth securing his mouth.

She waited for a long while, but he remained silent. She had felt him grow tense as the minutes passed but knew not how to ease him. Finally, she rose to her feet, pushing back the heat from her face. How could she harbor such silly emotions? He was nothing to her.

She heard a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl and turned as he began to jerk violently against the chains–the struggles sparked by frustration at her sudden absence and fueled by his prolonged state of emotional strain. She stepped back in momentary fear at his strength but let out a gasp, dropping to her knees when she saw the pain in his face.

"Inuyasha, stop! You'll only hurt yourself," she cried, forcing his shoulders back against the wall. She looked away, racked with guilt at the knowledge of her creation's purpose. She had designed the chains with his strength in mind, after all.

He snarled at her as he struggled against her force on his shoulders. Her eyes widened at the action and she released him to move a safe distance away, unable to keep from brushing her fingertips over the smooth skin of her neck. Had Sango watched him like this until he could no longer provide resistance? Of course she had. And suddenly that thought seemed cruel. For the first time she considered what it was like in the moment he was chained and found himself unable to escape his bondage. The realization was crushing. Sango had fought Inuyasha, but it was she who had caged this animal–this beautiful, wild, and dangerous creature.

"Inuyasha. Please stop." Her voice held all the anguish she felt in that moment.

"Can't," he panted, now on his stomach on the dirt floor. She watched his muscles flex and move underneath his skin as he twisted against the chains. "Can't die yet."

He will have scars. The thought saddened her, and she clenched her fists, unable to comfort him. If he lives. The reality made her throat tight. She felt dirty and a traitor, yet it was an emotion she could not face.

Finally, Inuyasha shuddered and fell still, his chest heaving and his bangs covering his closed eyes. She reached one hand to brush them away but stopped midway. "Do you remember your mother?"

"Bitch, how dare you ask me about her, like you know something about me!" He jerked away from her outstretched hand, rolling to his side, fangs bared, threatening her touch. The hurt was evident in his voice as the anger fought to hide the emotion from his face.

She watched him briefly, the fury revitalizing his body and dropped her hand.

"Mine smelled like roses," she said simply. "She used them in her hot bath sometimes. They were pale pink and beautiful like her heated skin."

He stilled when he heard her words. Why did she–?

She leaned down, taking his weight against her shoulder when he let her and helped him sit back against the wall. "I'm sorry."

It said everything and nothing at the same time.

He snorted, embarrassed about his vulnerability and angry at the same time. He had lost control, and she watched him. The thought made his jaw clench. If he couldn't control his situation, he should control himself at the least.

Gently, she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling the texture of his white under-kimono against her cheek and closed her eyes, letting a sigh leave her body. She was letting her guard down; she should fight it, but this need to touch him was so raw.

He blinked, startled at her actions. How could she be so trusting? He could surprise her–this was his chance. His heart raced as he leaned into her slightly, fangs bared, his wide eyes focused on the smooth skin of her neck. This could be his only chance. Then he breathed the sweet scent of her hair; it smelled of cherry blossoms. He felt the softness of it against his face and closed his eyes, contented. He could wait–linger here for just a little while in her sweet comfort.

"My mother used to tell me every night, when she would tuck me into bed, that one day I would tame a dragon and save a lord, but that I was destined to marry a blacksmith."

His heart skipped a beat. And here he was the son of a taiyoukai, yet he was the unworthy one. "Then she was a wise woman."

"I will never marry. I will be free."

He laughed abruptly, his hot breath tickling her skin. "You, who make men weep at your feet?"

Kagome ignored his compliment and the feel of his lips against her ear because it surprised her and instead tried for a different topic. "Why does Naraku want you?" she asked quietly, her hand playing carefully across his chest causing the softest growl of pleasure to emanate from his throat at the comforting gesture.

"Because I'll be the one to kill him." He didn't want to think about such things right now. There were more important things occupying his mind–like Kagome. No, he thought distantly, like how to get away. Those things didn't matter now; they could matter later. He frowned, feeling confused and pulled away to peer into her face. "You would betray me to a youkai who has slaughtered thousands?"

She didn't answer because she didn't know the answer. Instead, she reached up and cupped his face as she kissed him.