There's a reason why addiction was a disease that slowly manifested over time, and didn't just explode onto the scene. It liked to take its time. Carefully crafting and planning its unexpected arrival, like a sort of cancer that grows slowly; safe in the warmth your belly has to offer. And so, it sits...and sits. Growing, manifesting itself evermore in the crevices of your organs...your body...your mind, making itself more and more at home as you live your life oblivious to its existence, carrying on day in and day out with your routine.

Inuyasha knew that as he sat on his couch, staring at the bag that sat on his coffee table. Amber eyes narrowed as he ran his fingers through his long silver hair. He had seen what addiction could do to one's life. He had seen what it did to his father, the pain it brought on his family. As a child, he swore not to touch a drop of alcohol in his life if it meant he wouldn't put others through what he was put through.

He failed himself in that department. Repeatedly. On numerous occasions.

If he was being honest with himself (and that happened rarely), the people he was hurting the most was really only one person.

It was Miroku. That man had dedicated his life to Inuyasha, he wouldn't deny it. His brother had too, but he wasn't stupid. He knew Sesshomaru was really onboard because he smelled money and followed its scent. So really...who was he letting down by doing this that he hadn't let down already?

He sat there long after Miroku had left, staring at the plastic, airtight bag, ziplocked and taped shut, daring him to open it. He pressed his hands against the sides of his face as he stared at it, wondering if it was worth it.

It would have been quite obvious to a sober Inuyasha that the best thing he could have done, was flush the contents of that bag down the toilet, and forget that night had ever existed. Instead, he rose to his feet, stumbling a bit as he leaned forward, grabbing the bag off of the coffee table. He pressed the pads of his thumbs gently into it, letting a heavy sigh escape his lips. He walked to his closet, and divided the curtain of clothing that covered the wall, he looked down at his feet to see the knee-high safe box he kept in his closet, hidden from view. He grunted as he dropped down to its level, taking a minute to let himself get over the nausea that came with his excessive drinking. He squinted his eyes as he put in the code, and opened the door to it once he heard the lock click out of place. He paused for a second, and took a cold, hard look at bag. Even inebriated, he had some handle on what exactly he was doing.

Or at least, he liked to think he did.

Shaking his head gently, he dug out packets of money and jewelry from the safe box before he threw the bag the bag into the very back of the safe box, his ears twitching at the sound it made upon landing on the metal floor. A heavy, audible thud. His head turned to look at the pile of money, and jewelry he'd been keeping in there. One by one he put them back in their place, and closed the door. He heard the lock click back into the place.

His vice would continue to be drinking, for the time being.

His body fell back on the floor of his closet, his arms covered his eyes from the light. Usually when he got like this, he much preferred to lay on the cold marble floor of his living room or bathroom. Not really for the pleasure for the experience, just because he knew that if he hit let himself go hard enough, he'd knock himself out, and wouldn't remember a thing when he woke up. He figured that out the last few times he had awoken on his living room floor, with a broken bottle (or many) and sticky hair. The plush carpet of his closet floor just didn't do. Nonetheless he laid there, too lazy to get up, and too inebriated to get up even if he wanted to. There wasn't a damn thing that would move his body from this floor.

"Inuyasha." He heard a voice say, and he turned his head lazily in its direction. "Inuyasha...get up you son of a bitch." He grumbled in response. "I said get the hell up!" he felt a gentle kick to his ribs, he swatted an arm in the general direction of the kick. "For the love of god," he felt his arm be taken into a pair of hands and his body be dragged. From warmth, to cold. "Sober up, bitch." Water.

Lots, and lots and lots of water.

He gasped as he sat up in the shower, a hand over his chest as he slicked back his hair with his other hand. He felt a hand grab him by the shirt, pulling him closer to the face that belonged to the voice. It was Sesshomaru, his brother.

Why the hell is he here?

"Cocaine?"

What? What is he talking about?

"Are you out of your goddamn mind, Takahashi?! Cocaine?!" He felt a stinging sensation on his cheek, instantly a hand flew up to nurse the wound. "Have you an ounce of self-respect?"

Quite frankly, no. Inuyasha thought as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "What are you rambling about?"

"The fucking drugs." Sesshomaru said angrily, pushing Inuyasha away from him. Inuyasha felt his back come up against the glass wall of the shower. He watched while rubbing his head as Sesshomaru shook off his arm, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

"What drugs Sesshomaru?" Inuyasha muttered under his breath, finding his voice after what seemed like an eternity. "I have no idea what you're talking about." he responded, earning another, much harder slap from his brother. "...what the fuck?"

"You lied, little brother." Sesshomaru responded, as he crouched down to Inuyasha's level. He could usually sense a tinge of attitude in everything Sesshomaru said to him, but today was different. There was anger, and hatred in his words. "Try again."

"I don't know!" Inuyasha yelled, his voice cracking slightly. He sighed as he tried to push himself up. Sesshomaru placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down. "I don't fucking know!"

"You're still lying, Inuyasha." Sesshomaru said calmly, his usual stoic expression on his face. "Where is it?" He questioned again, squeezing his brother's shoulder. "Where...did you hide it, Inuyasha."

"I flushed it down the toilet."

"When?" Sesshomaru asked sternly, staring intently at Inuyasha. He squinted his eyes slightly.

They both knew they could still smell the drugs; its scent was undetectable to the human nose, but not to them. Sesshomaru dared Inuyasha to lie to him. He dared him.

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" Sesshomaru shot back quickly, nodding his head a little bit. "Okay." He rose from his position, and adjusted his sleeves, stepping out of the shower. He glanced down at Inuyasha, who sat in the corner of the shower, his back against the cool surface of the glass. He turned his back on him, and adjusted his shirt in the mirror. He pulled his hair up into a pony tail, and brushed away his bangs from his crescent moon marking, and sighed. "You have a few hours to sleep before we leave for Vegas." He threw over his shoulder, and adjusted his suit jacket.

"Oh, by the way." He turned back to Inuyasha, watching as he stumbled over to the toilet, vomiting into the bowl. He walked over to him, and crouched down to his position. "Because of Miroku and I working tirelessly over the past few days to fix your mistakes we managed to only lose two of your deals. Two. So, the next time I here that you want to 'feel something' try feeling fucking appreciative. Of what you have, and the people who have sacrificed everything for you to be in this apartment." With that, Sesshomaru was gone.

Inuyasha was gone too, just in a different way. Tears streamed down his face as he felt his body heave, expelling the liquid contents of his stomach. He coughed, and groaned, only to feel his body heave and shiver again a few moments later. "Fuck..." he cried to himself, taking a deep breathe, "you, Sesshomaru." He sighed after a few minutes, feeling that his stomach had finally purged itself of the alcohol. He pulled himself up to his feet, and walked slowly toward the kitchen, dragging a hand across the wall behind him. Once reaching the kitchen, he opened the fridge, and noticed the empty spot where his beer was usually stored. He opened the freezer compartment and noticed that all of his vodka had been wiped away as well. Frustrated, he slammed the doors of the refrigerator shut.

He screamed.

He let himself give into the force of his emotions, swiping away anything that was on his kitchen counters. Falling to his knees, he bent forward in his spot pressing his fists into the cold of the stone floor. "Dammit!" He yelled into the empty walls of his apartment. "Damn it all!" He screamed, punching into the floor. "I..." He started saying, choking on his words. He sat back on his knees, pressing his hands against his mouth, sobbing silently.

He sat there, in that position for a while, letting himself cry. His emotions came to him in waves, and each time he let himself give into them, perhaps more than he had let himself in the past. Finally, he found the strength to push himself up from his spot on the floor, and trudge over to the couch, slowly letting himself lay down.