Because talking about your feelings doesn't always help.
---
She leaned against the back of the tree, and turned her gaze skyward. Once again, they had failed. She had failed. Her brother was still enspelled by Naraku, and there was nothing she could do.
Kagome was with Inuyasha, helping Kaede tend a serious wound. They had all fought hard, and had it not been for the sudden appearance of Sesshoumaru, the battle may have ended much differently. As it was, it would be a long while before they were prepared to face the malicious hanyou in battle again.
But at the moment, Sango didn't care. The last image of her brother haunted her. His eyes terrified and saddened her. They were shallow pools of murky detachment, unaware and uncaring of the atrocities comitted. They were not her brother's eyes.
It was late, thank God, and the others were either asleep or otherwise occupied. Kirara was curled at her feet, a wobbly sort of consciousness slowly giving way to the need for sleep. She was alone. Miroku had woven a barrier around their camp, but hiraikotsu leaned at her side should she need it. But she didn't want to fight.
A sickly sort of fear, cold and watery, had pooled inside her chest - followed closely by an indescribable sadness that outweighed everything. The love for her brother was irreconsilable, tempered by her knowledge of who he was, and how much it would hurt him if he ever found out what he had done. He was not a violent soul, indeed, she had wondered many times if he would not be better suited to another life, other than the one of a demon slayer. An apothecary, perhaps, or a healer. Mind you, that was no longer his choice, especially not now. And there was nothing she could do to help him.
Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked, and she buried her face in her hands. The weight of her brother's enslavement was building with each passing day that she did not save him. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to bear it. It was only at rare times like these, in the silent seclusion of the night that she could let herself mourn for a brother that might not even exist any longer.
Sango did not hear the footsteps until they were behind her, and she looked up sharply, grabbing hiraikotsu. Miroku stepped forward to face her, and she gasped.
"Houshi-sama, I…"
She was at a loss for words. So was he apparently, and she began to blott at her tearstained face with her sleeve. He sighed, and she met his eyes. She had half-expected them to be filled with pity - she was thankful they were not. She doubted she could have faced his sympathy at a time like this. They held, rather, a resounding respect and concern, which warmed her more than the deepest compassion could have.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, the movement carrying more than just affection. Her eyes fluttered shut as the quiet moment expanded to include him. Miroku leaned in gently, and pressed his lips to hers in a soothing motion. Her hand slid from hiraikotsu's strap, and pressed itself over the hand that stroked her cheek.
Speech wasn't necessary, at that moment. He understood, and that was all she needed. His other arm slid around her waist as they broke apart, and she leaned against him for a long while after that, until the soft dawn of a day when she could try again began to slip through the trees.
---
Because first kisses are always cute, and when asked what I thought that there first kiss should look like, this is what I came up with. So thanks (and damnation) go to J, for asking me that question.