Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, but this idea is my own.

Summary: Sesshomaru finds an orphaned infant stranded in the wilderness, gently cooing at the gathered animals surrounding her. Intrigued by the animals' reaction, he silently watches her through the years... Fuedal Era Sess/Kag (Part one in the Celestial Legends Trilogy)

Rating: T+ (for safety)

A/N: -sighs- This story was NOT meant to be posted so soon, but I promised a friend I would post it and I can't very well neglect such a promise... Oh, and thank you for the supportive reviews, you guys:)

Alright, now onto the actual story. -smiles- Hope you continue to enjoy this piece of heart-felt work, as that is what this has become... Yes, I've fallen in love with my own story... -sighs- I hope this story will, somewhere along the line, spark my interest in my old stories again. I really need to finish them...

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Tale of the Raising Sun

Chapter 1

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White. Stone white. Unmoving, solid stone. A statue that was once a man now drained of blood and life.

She stared uncomprehendingly, but she knew what she saw. There, in the back of her mind, she knew what it was that lay before her eyes, the sight drawn in and memorized by an unwilling consciousness. Yet, all she could think was of stone - cold and lifeless and white.

Then, her thoughts hitched and twisted, snapped and shattered. Reformed.

Red. Blood red. Fresh, liquid blood. A pool of warm, newly spilt blood that once painted the statue with a light blush.

Again, the thoughts shifted.

Statues do not bleed - beings do. Living, breathing beings who felt and bled and died.

Death. The statue was a dead man.

Her breath left her, the words swimming in her head. The statue was a dead man. It was the man's red blood that seeped from wounds given not more than an hour passed and stained the floor beneath and around his stone white body. The floor was of her own home - the home she shared with her infant daughter and husband.

The statue was her husband, laying in a pool of his own blood. Her husband was dead.

She could not look away from him, morbidly fascinated by the death of her love, but as transfixed as she was her eyes would not - could not - travel to his face. She was left to wonder, to imagine, what it was he felt in his last moments, what emotion covered his normally cheerful countanance.

Did he die suddenly, not knowing pain? Did he die fighting, adrenaline pumping through him? Did he die slowly, feeling every cut rending his skin?

Did his face show terror? Surprise?

... Peace?

She doubted there was any peace to be had in his death. The wounds that killed him were deep gashes, four quickly dealt lacerations sweeping across his chest and down his sides, exposing a broken rib cage. The way his body lay, twisted and mangled, fallen to the side but not quite so, suggested a rough toss into the air - an uncontrolable landing - where panic would have consumed any heart.

Yes, she thought, panic would be what he felt. Should she not feel panic as well?

But she felt nothing, her heart numb as it contorted - coil, beat, unwind, contract - in her chest. She knew she should feel tortued with grief and pain and hatred for the cruel injustice of the world that such a man, her love, be murdered for no reasons unknown - though she doubted any reason existed.

Yet, no pain was felt and no tears would come and no voice would cry out to mourn the man that she had openly and unconditionally loved and wed. The man with whom she had shared a home of security, a bed of warmth, and a child born of their joining.

A child.

Her child.

The woman looked down to the bundle in her arms to find the infant silently peering at her with those large, unnaturally gray orbs - watching her mother with wide eyes full of wonder, so curious and alive.

Alive.

Something stirred in the distance - or maybe in her heart, she couldn't tell which - and she fled, clutching her daughter close. There, she felt and felt panic she did, panic and terror and determination - the need and want to live. Live. Just as her husband had, just as her daughter would. My daughter. She would live, for years and years, free of the knowledge and sight of her father's death.

Her mother vowed to this as she ran through the woods, over hill after hill, and late into the night.

No one would take this life, the only living piece of the man she loved. The man she loved who lay dead and unburried in their home on their floor, his body white stone and resting in a pool of his own crimson blood.

Dead.

He was so alive, she thought, her pace slowing, and now he is dead.

Dead and gone.

Exhausted, breathless, and grieving, the woman sank to her knees and bowed her head until her face was surrounded by the soft blanket coccooning her daughter's fagile body. There, in the meadow she'd happened upon, by a well left dry and abandoned for years, overgrown by vines and assorted weeds, she wept in the dispair that threatened to choke her.

A mute sob.

Life is so short, so cruel. There is no peace - only hatred and war, love found only to be lost and mourned, innocence only to be tainted. So cruel, so short, so cruel -

A shutter.

The tendrils of anguish weaving an unyielding hand around her throat unraveled, it's grip slackened and fell. She whined; low and keen, the sound seemed to tear at her vocal cords, burning her throat as her eyes stung with the tears it expelled and those it held fast - unwilling to let go, let go, let go - in hopes that the dead would rise if not all was mourned away.

Death.

Life was short, but death was forever. Forever, forever, forever - let go, let go - so short -

Her daughter cooed quietly in response to the soft moan she uttered, a small hand rising to grasp her black hair. So innocent and so young she was, not more than nine months into the world and she had lost her father - never to know him and never to mourn the loss. Mourn and let go-

Her daughter giggled.

She gave a sharp bark of tearful laughter.

So innocent, my daughter. She shall live. Live and not know sorrow - she shall not know pain, this child. She will grow and remain as she is, in my memory, an infant of innocence and purity, she thought, sniffling as she sat back and leaned against the well, watching the small child gurgle and sneeze as the hair she held tickled her tiny nose. "Little one," she murmured, brushing her fingers across the chubby cheeks of her daughter. "You will not fall with the world's hatred. You will find love in all things, find light in the darkest hearts. You will grow into a beautiful woman, with a pure and innocent soul, and will die old and happy and loved and in love."

She cooed again.

The woman smiled, "yes, you, my daughter."

"Amah," the child chirped, eyes sparkling as she plopped her thumb into her mouth.

She will live so - I will raise her here in the forest, away from humans and their hatred, until the day she reaches sixteen summers, when her heart will be shaped to love and do nothing more and her spirit is strong and free, open to all joy and closed to all evil. The woman sighed deeply, bringing the child closer to her again. It was too much, seeing the life and love and joy those innocent, peculiar gray eyes held. These things she will know - love, and peace, and joy, and honor. Hatred, and war, and sorrow, and betrayal will not touch her.

Her daughter's eyes drifted and clouded over with sleep, lids falling shut as she cheerfully sucked on her thumb, and the mother laughed, "I promise you this."

Leaves rustled in the shadows of the forest line and the woman's awareness to her surroundings grew. Shifting soundlessly away from the well, she watched and listened, only to let out a soft chuckle as a fox kit poked its snout out of the brush to examine the area. For a moment, the kit explored the clearing, sniffing at the ground as it scuttled about, before giving a sharp bark of alarm as its eyes landed on the woman. To the forest it returned, only to reappear and inch closer to her, forever cautious of any move she might make.

She gave a watery smile at the adventurous nature that came with youth. Always so inquisitive, so naive to danger - or too curious to be bothered by the possible peril of wandering off alone and inspecting the unknown.

"Just like this fox," she whispered, kissing her daughter's forehead, "you will be a curious child. I can tell. After all, you are my own, aren't you," she chuckled softly, "my little Kagome?"

The kit gave a keen whine and bound away, fleeing into the darkness of night, and the wind, gentle as it had been, faded away.

All fell silent.

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"-and the Lord of the Eastern Lands is asking assistance for a rebellion that's brewing on his northern border. Hitoumi-sama suspects it has something to do with that hanyou that's been roaming about destroying the human villages."

The demon walked on, tuning out the drowning imp strolling beside him. The upheaval taking place in the north was old news and of no immediate concern. The north was weak, seeking alliances with its neighbors and the human settlements on its lands. The east was no better, having a young youkai ruler with no true battle experience of his own and no loyal vassels. The place was falling to corruption depending on a youth. Perhaps, in a few dozen years, these downfalls would become a problem for him as well, but as of now, it did not matter.

"-rumored to have been seen in the east, somewhere north of Edo-"

Something called him to attention, causing the man to pause mid-stride.

"-and Hitoumi-sama says-"

Holding back the urge to sigh in aggitation, the demon sent his retainer a sharp glance. "Enough, Jaken."

The toad youkai sputtered in shock, hurrying to stop his tirade. "Ye-yes, Lord Sesshomaru."

In the following silence, Sesshomaru waited, concentrating on finding what had caused his sudden alertness - though, he would never admit to such an oversight as neglecting his senses. Many moments passed, the woods abuzz with life and the sky lighting brilliantly with thousands of stars and a waxing moon, before there was a shift in the air currents.

Upon the wind, the scent of tears and blood and life and death overtook all else, calling out for attention and attention it found in the mind of the Lord of the Western Lands as it filled his nose and lungs, creating an insatiable itch for knowledge. Curiousity, they call it, but he wasn't one to fall to such a frivolous motive to inspect an unknown of no importance.

Again, the smell assaulted him, crashing into him harshly like the waves of an ocean beating on the shore. Tossing him away, then dragging him in. Rolling over, swelling, crashing, drawing back. The sea called; he ignored it, turn away, take a step -

Something in him pulled, sharp and undeniable, toward the stench of murder and sorrow.

Stop -

He waited, torn by the instinct that tugged at him, drawing him away from his previous preoccupation, and the desire to pursue the path he had been following moments ago. It was either fall to animalistic instinct or stand for civilized wisdom - both of which he kept in high regard. Wisdom gave an extra edge of advantage to any encounter; insticts were never wrong and, as such, should never be doubted or ignored.

When it called again, he followed without hesitation, steps even and measured, telling his retainer to await his return. Over and over, the smells bombarded him and his instincts urged him forward late into the night. He found the beckoning siren in a clearing in his brother's forest, just on the outskirts of Edo, as dawn melted away and the sun peeked over the horizon.

A woman, who couldn't be more than twenty years in age, lay limp and lifeless over the rim of a well, drying blood blanketing the surrounding grass. Her body was battered, but he was startled to find that her face showed no sign of fear, no display of pain - simply peace, as if her killer had given her what she craved in death. Freedom from the agony of living a life in times of war where surely she lost all which she cherished.

In retrospect, he should not have been so surprised. It was not an unusual sight in those days - death and blood and bodies - and it was not unusual to see one so tortured having such a countanance of peace. Many sought death as a way to end misery, and welcomed it much as the woman must have.

Cowardice befitting a human, he thought, his eyes narrowing in disgust. Humans were weak creatures - in body, in mind, in spirit, in will, in everything - and gave into death so easily, albeit their lifespans were short in the first place. They shuffled in and out of existance - candles that lit, flickered, and burned out - so quickly that, compared to a demon, their lives were not more than a blink in the everlasting timeline. With such a scant amount of moments at their disposal, very few mortals ever accomplished anything worthwhile. Humans were cowardly, weak, and useless.

Sesshomaru scowled as an acute feeling of irritation pierced him. They were useless, and here he stood, pulled to the sight, gazing at a deceased human woman and he had no clue as to why he was drawn to the place. Whatever had compelled him to sidestep his search for information regarding Testusgai's whereabouts was either a flutter of offtrack intuition, no longer present, or he had yet to comprehend what had called him here, all of which were rather irksome possibilities. It was greatly disconserting that one such as he might have such difficulty understand what brought him to where he stood or that, for once, instincts had betrayed their master.

As he pondered this, his frustration grew exponential. To think that his journey had been interrupted for a reason still unknown - which, he dispassionately assumed, would never be known to him - had him feeling a bit offkilter. A terrible vexing sensation, if he did say so himself. Add that to nearly sixty years wasted uselessly on a quest for a sword that clearly did not wish to be found, and Sesshomaru felt that nothing short of dispatching a few dozen worthy opponents would cure his staggaring aggrevation.

At that, his eyes narrowed further in resentment for the life Fate had bestowed upon him. On his trek through the entirety of Japan, he had yet to find so much as a rumor of an opponent deserving of his time. He valued his time, though he had eternity at his expence, and it was now being unproductively spent staring at a deceased human female who could do no more than wait to decompose. And this is where his instincts guided him. Disappointing.

A flurry of activity sounding from a nearby blackberry bush brought a frown to the demon's lips. The animals were already coming to feast on the body, it seemed. From the corner of his eyes, Sesshomaru watched as a young fox kit approached the well to inspect the woman, only to stop and smell the blood-caked grass. There it stayed, sniffing and yipping gently.

Useless, he thought, eyes straying to the forest encompassing the well's meadow. Inuyasha's forest - the forest in which he slept eternally, spellbound to Goshinboku. What irony that he, a hanyou, with the dark soul of a demon and the weakness of mortality, be pinned to the so called Sacred Tree and the forest in which it thrived be given the name of a half-demon. Rediculous. Foolish. Everything here is useless.

Impotent whelp. His half-brother - a creature shunned by both demon and human races - fell for a miko and was felled by her. The ultimate betrayal - and a betrayal well deserved, in his eyes, as the insolent pup was senseless enough to love, and love a human - a priestess - no less.

He first learned of his brother's fate nearly thirty-five summers ago when word spread through the youkai community that the Shikon no Tama - a jewel sought for its unimaginable power that was believed to have the ability to grant one's deepest desire - had vanished.

"Taken into the afterlife with the miko," Jaken had squaked breathlessly, trying to keep up with his lord's pace. "She sealed that foolish hanyou to Goshinboku with the last of her strength, then ordered the Shikon be burned with her body. They say she died from a wound inflicted by Inuyasha himself when he tried to steal the jewel."

Perhaps he realized his error and sought to correct it, Sesshomaru thought, giving no indication that he had heard his follower. He continued his trek about the Western Lands, his mind sifting through his information.

No, that is incorrect. It was impossible, his brother's supposed betrayal. He had seen the way the hanyou pup watched the miko, eyes full of adoration and of uncertainty. He had been scared - of her intentions, of her feelings, by his own emotions - yet he followed her all the same. Devoted, that was what Inuyasha had become.

Then, more recently, word had circulated of a shapeshifter - a hanyou possessing the ability to change form - who sought the ultimate power of the Shikon jewel. The hanyou was said to have been human once.

"Known as the spider thief. A man named Onigumo," Jaken said, reciting the knowledge gained from the rumor mill. Although not being the best of sources, rumors always held some weight to them. "The miko Kikyou treated his burns, but he was unable to recover completely. He called for demons to gain a working body."

A thief, one who sought out things of high value, had come across a woman carrying a jewel of unsurmountable worth and had become a shapeshifting hanyou to aquire a moving body. Supposedly, the miko had died at the hands of a man whom loved her and he, in return, was pinned to a tree. It all fit together so well that to think of it as mere coincidence was foolish in Sesshomaru's eyes.

Foolish. Humans, hanyous - all worthless.

His gaze landed on the woman's still form once more and found it hard to keep the deep frown from marring his normally stoic facade. There is nothing to be found here. Sesshomaru turned from the sight, his anger growing as he noticed the sun nearing its zenith. Hours had been spent on useless ponderings prompted by a dead human woman and absolutely no answers had been found. How terribly vexing.

A soft rustle of cloth brought the demon to a halt as his ears told him the impossible. The sound had come from the direction of the corpse. The itch for knowledge returned and, growing weary of the persistant curiousity, Sesshomaru relented, returned to his previous Watch Spot, and indulge the annoying thirst.

The fox, having also heared the movement, had approached the still lifeless body - although, if Sesshomaru thought she had resumed living, then he would have more problems than he wished to admit even to himself - and gave a keen bark of excitement, or incredulity - of which, he could not tell. Then, slowly, the kit burrowed beneath the body, between it and the well, and wriggled back with a light red bundle of cloth clenched in its teeth.

The youkai stared.

The fox yipped.

The bundle giggled.

A child, his mind supplied as he unconsciously blinked in bewilderment. So the woman died protecting her progeny.

Again, not an unusual happening, but the fact that the child still lived was a shock. Yet, if the demon that had attacked - as only a demon could inflict wounds such as those she sported - was merely there for the kill, it was possible that the bloodlust consuming its mind had blinded it to the fact that an infant was present. After all, a demon in bloodlust was a demon in chaos.

And demon in chaos was not to be taken lightly.

Perhaps that was why his instincts summoned him here - to find and dispose of the potential threat.

Sesshomaru breathed deeply, taking in all the scents surrounding the area, before sighing. The demon was no threat at all. In fact, the telltale stench of miko energy - the smell of burnt flesh and smoldering ash - quickly informed the youkai that whatever had done this to the woman had turned to attack the village and been purified in the process.

So, again, he was left wondering for what purpose his instincts had urged him to this place of a broken body and orphaned infant.

The fox, at that moment, scampered to the edge of the forest. Briefly, its eyes strayed to the demon, but, finding no reason to fear him, it continued on its way. To the blackberry bush.

Sesshomaru frowned at the curious actions and bided his time, watching as the world, that had fallen silent, burst to life at a shrill cry from the kit. Various creatures - a squirrel, a chipmunk, a fawn, and three small songbirds - advanced from the woods, each quiet and in agreement with the others that this thing - this child - was worth inspecting.

The sight, the solemn unity between the animals known for their playful nature, was, to say the least, unsettling.

Each animal, one at a time, stepped forward and examined the infant, quiet as they did so, and, after carefully judging the babe, inclined their heads in a bow of respect, of acknowledgement. To them, this child was special - precious - and one of their own.

A forest child.

Sesshomaru blinked, perplexed. To have the babes of nature accept a babe of humanity was disturbing and unnatural.

Intriguing.

For the next three hours, Sesshomaru observed as the young ones periodically left only to return with new occupants of the forest who, as the youths had done, inspected the child silently and bowed their heads in honor. Animal after animal, the child was found worthy of life and of the forest; sometimes, it seemed to Sesshomaru, it was even found worshipful - a beast here and there bowing lowly and leaving small foods (berries and mushrooms, and the occassional mint leaf) in reverence.

Astounding. Unbelieveable. Impossible. Sesshomaru's mind continued the train of thought, continuously leading to a one thought. This is unreal. Unnatural... This child is - unnatural.

Why do they behave so?

Then, as if it had never ceased, that sharp tug in the center of his gut began again.

He had found the reason for his calling.

He needed to find out why the animals regarded this child as they had; why did they responded to it in such a way; what was so different about this child.

For the first time in nearly five hours, Sesshomaru felt eyes upon him. The creatures still surrounding the child and come to acknowledge his presence, taking what appeared to be cautious defensive stances, unaware and curious of his intentions.

But, then again, he was unaware and curious as well. What would he do - what was he supposed to do? He could not - would not - take the child with him. After all, it was human and he did have business to attend to. Was he to leave it here, alone in the forest with no protection against predators and the seasons?

He shouldn't really care.

This time, the feeling of insticts was a harsh, painful twist in his core.

A definate disagreement to his thoughts.

He should care. For what reason - or reasons - was unknown, yet inconsequential. He should care, and that was all there was to it.

Sesshomaru inclined his head slightly to the beasts before him. "I harbor no illwill to your child. I am intrigued by it and wish to see that which you have found notable." A low growl of approval met his words and with their permission, as they parted way for him, the demon approached the infant.

The instant he came to see that which was wrapped in the red blanket, he was certain of one, undeniable fact. With silvery eyes like that of the moon - darkened to grey under the cover of shadows - and wisps of hair that were blacker than a moonless night sky, the child was all but normal. And, though all natural senses hinted that the babe was other-worldly, there was a small, faint but noticable, feeling of truth - that the babe was real, alive, female...

And powerful.

How he knew this, as no particular sense told him so, and why the information was relevent - as all humans, as powerful as they may be, were still weaker than to be concidered noteworthy - were, as everything else that day seemed to be, unknown to him.

This is getting tiresome.

With his inspection complete, Sesshomaru forced himself to show a sign of respect to the infant girl - as not to offend the woodland creatures - in the form of a bow. Laughable, bowing to a human.

Then, he turned and, with less hesitation, bowed to the animals again. "I see and respect your decision. I shall leave her guardianship to you - this curious being of the forest."

And so he did, returning to the clearing periodically through the years, watching her grow from a distance and, when instincts commanded, assisting the forest creatures in the task of raising one so young.

The first year, when winter came around, Sesshomaru instructed the fox kit and his family to relocate the child so that a shelter could be made without her existance being exposed.

The well house was built by a few random lowly demons and a curiously questioning, and grumbling, Jaken.

The animals, in reverence, presented him with turquise jems found in a nearby den.

In the second, third, fourth, and fifth year, Sesshomaru brought food for the girl, as a famine broke out and the animals barely survived on what they had.

They gave him gold.

Year after year, he returned, giving assorted items and watching the girl blossom - wild and carefree.

Every time they met, Sesshomaru and the child, it was in the dead of night, and with the end of each encounter - in which he presented and explained each item and its use - he erased his existance from her mind.

The child was not to know of life outside the forest - of humans or demons. This was an unspoken agreement between the animals and himself - and it could not have been spoken at any rate as Sesshomaru did not understand the sounds of the beasts like the child, whom grew up with nothing but their utterances - and it was an agreement they would stick to.

During the summer of the eleventh year, Sesshomaru returned to find the child as she always was, playfully prancing around with the first fox kit's offspring. Yet, as normal as everything was, there was something very wrong with the scene playing out before his eyes - so much so that he could not view it for but a moment's glance.

Replaying the sight in his mind and immediately noting the problem, he left.

That night, with the daytime activity fading into the nocturnal, Sesshomaru returned and cautiously approached the girl, as his presence always startled her for a second or more - but she became accustomed to him disturbingly fast.

With a low grunt, the demon caught her attention and, as always, she jumped and panicked, though remained where she sat outside the well house.

"Child, I mean you no harm," he said slowly in what he hoped - as usual when confronting her - was a reassuring tone. "I have brought something for you."

He watched as the fear in her eyes disappated. She nodded twice - measured and clear.

"Clothing," he stated simple, placing the bundles on the ground.

As usual, she replied in repetition, "clothing?"

He guestured to the sleeve of his haori, "clothing."

"What is this for?" she asked quietly, moving from her spot to examine the fabrics on the ground.

Sesshomaru averted his gaze, looking toward the heavens. "To cover your body. Protection from the cold air and for modesty."

"My brothers and sisters do not cover themselves so," she whispered, fascinated with what lay before her. "And the fur in my home is protection from the cold."

"Yes," he agreed. "However, unlike your brethren, you have no fur to cover your body outside of home."

"I do not see a reason for such things."

Holding back a sigh of frustration at the tiring situation, he tried a different approach. "And you would refuse my gift for not seeing its reason?"

Duty. It had been ingrained in this child, it seemed - an unrelenting sense of honor and duty.

The girl's eyes widened in alarm, "no! That would be most disrespectful."

"Then you will use them."

"Of course," she replied softly. "Everyday. This is a most generous gift. Yet, I do not know how to use these," she admitted.

"Then I shall instruct you."

For the next few minutes, Sesshomaru did just that. As before, the girl learned quickly and easily became accustomed to the feeling of being dressed. She did not complain, she did not argue. She did as she was told and found no reason to doubt his words.

"Thank you, kind stranger."

"No gratitude is neccessary, child," he replied as he turned to leave.

"Not neccessary, but given regardless." There was a moment of silence as he walked away. Then, as a curious shout, "may I ask your name?"

She is inquisitive.

"It is of no concequence."

"I still wish to know the name of an angel - would you not?"

She is innocent.

"I am no angel."

"Then the name of a saint?"

She is naive.

"This Sesshomaru is no saint."

"Then I thank a ghost, Sesshomaru. Surely, you can be nothing else."

She is weak.

He did not reply, only entered the forest and disappeared from her sight.

And, as every time before when they had met and spoken, he used his youki to erase his presence from her memory.

She'd remember nothing but a dream. "Then I thank a ghost, Sesshomaru..." How oddly appropriate.

However, when leaving that night, Sesshomaru was struck dumb as one thought - simple, yetoverwhelming- entered his mind:

How does she know the human language?

And he cursed himself a fool for not wondering sooner.

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A/N: Before anyone says anything: I know Kagome is out of character - but she will not remain this way! For the moment, she is, even at eleven, an infant who does not know sorrow or pain or anger. Please, bare in mind she has had no human contact and I believe a person living in such a way - if this was a possible situation - would not know such things. She will NOT remain this way - you will see Kagome's real characteristics later on - about two chapters, okay. For the moment, I'm going to focus on how she was raised. The next chapter will be, mostly, in Kagome's point of view... and you'll see just how it is that she kept her name over the years with her parents dead and gone...

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I can already tell you that some things in the following few chapters will be confusing, but will be explained as the story rolls on. Most questions (Like how Kagome understands the human language) will be answered in the story - but, if for any reason something remains unclear, ask and I will explain in the Author's Note at the end of a chapter...

Anyway, I want to know how you feel on the idea of this story and the way it is being written. Please, review and tell me what you think thus far.

Love,

Sakura-chan88

P.S. I am going to be opening an account on MediaMiner under the name Alter-Evermore, so a lot of my stories will be seen there as well. I am also concidering opening an account on A Single Spark and submitting this fanfic there, possibly my story Closing the Back Door as well (if my interest in it revives itself -sighs- (I really need to finish my older fanfictions...)), and a soon up-coming one-shot called Keep Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. If you have another place you wish to see me post my work at, tell me where so that I may do so.