"What do you mean he isn't here?!"

Kagome began to panic as her eyes darted frantically around the guys' room.

She had woken a bit late this morning; so after getting dressed in a rush, she took Sango next door to hand out her emergency ration of breakfast bars to the others.

She had half expected to find Miroku still MIA from the night before, but she was shocked to find that though they did appear to be missing a group member, it was not the amorous monk.

"Like I said Kagome-sama, I returned last night and the room was empty."

Dropping her heavy backpack with a thud, Kagome rubbed her hands down her face in utter frustration.

She felt a headache coming on, and hoped to ward it off early by massaging her temples with her fingers.

"Why didn't you come tell us?"

With her eyes closed, Kagome missed his dismissive shrug. That was probably for the best.

"I thought he was with you."

That casual statement caused her to crack one very impatient eyelid in the monk's direction.

"And what would he be doing in our room?"

Both women found his answering grin incredibly inappropriate, for several reasons. Kagome managed to resist rolling her eyes heavenward. Sango did not.

"Living the dream," he finally implied. "I didn't want to interrupt."

"This is bad. This is really bad."

Sesshoumaru was not ready to be traipsing around town on his own yet. The two times he had been taken out in public since becoming human had ended terribly.

And Miroku claimed to have come back to the inn hours ago. What would Sesshoumaru possibly be doing out there alone for hours? Kagome could think of several possibilities, none of which were good.

Why would he leave without telling them? What if something happened to him?

Maybe he had been taken somewhere against his will. What if he'd been killed? It was entirely possible.

At any rate, this changed their plans. Again.

Now, instead of interrogating townspeople about tigers, they would need to form a search party for their unpleasant travelling companion.

But where to begin? Kagome began thinking about likely places for him to have gone.

"Where could he be?" she asked aloud; more to herself than the other two. "We need to leave immediately and see if we can find-"

Her rambling was cut short when at that moment, the man in question let himself in through the door.

He was greeted with a stunned silence by everyone in the room. Partially because of the way he was carrying himself. There was something confident, and dangerous in the passive glare he produced.

But the other reason was because of what he was wearing.

His silk haori, which he had been relieved of just last night, was on his back once more. He wore it proudly, and looked just like he always had... aside, of course, from being human.

The other difference was the blood.

Large, still damp stains of dark red blood blotched, and stained his normally pristine garment. Against the white of the silk, it was very obvious and striking.

He just stood there in silence, putting them all on edge with his chilling stillness as he simply looked at them coolly.

After a moment of this, Kagome was the one to break the tension. Her eyes never left his face; she seemed to be regarding him with a sort of cautious awe, as she addressed the others in the room.

"Sango, will you and Miroku fill that washtub up with cold water for me? Like, ice cold."

But the two only shared an uncomfortable glance before turning back to the miko, whose intent focus was only on the former demon in front of them.

Something in Sesshoumaru's aura was different. A far cry from the awkward human they had grown accustom to over the last few days. This one seemed scarier. More dangerous.

And they did not like the idea of leaving him alone with Kagome in that moment.

"Kagome, are you sure you are going to be-"

"Halfway is fine," she interrupted; more no-nonsense than either had ever heard her. "Or three quarters. You don't need to fill it all the way. Thanks."

They could tell by her tone that she would not accept their refusal.

Kagome knew what she was doing. She had spent more time around him than any of them, and he hadn't hurt her yet. Then they remembered his promise, and finally acquiesced.

With a look over their shoulders, the couple left the room in search of the wash tub, as requested.

When finally alone, they remained silent for a long moment. Each, with their chin held high, searched the other's face... looking for hints.

Once again, it was Kagome who broke first.

"Are you injured?"

As still as he was, she thought he might not answer. Then, with a subtle shake of his head, he generously replied. He never dropped her gaze; the intensity of it held them both captive.

"No."

His eyes widened fractionally when she released a heavy breath, as if relieved.

"Good." She relaxed her posture, and crossed over to her book bag. He, however, remained still. Standing tall, with his chest puffed a bit, as if standing at attention. "Take that off."

He faltered at her casual command. For everything he had expected her to say to him, that was certainly not a contender.

Sensing his reluctance, she threw her head over her shoulder as she crouched to dig through her bag.

"I need to wash it. We can't have you walking around today covered in blood."

She did have a point, he supposed. If they were going to be spending the day with villagers, having blood on his clothes might raise a few eyebrows, and red flags. It was hard to be charming when you were up to your neck in blood stains.

He removed his reclaimed garment, and held it out to her silently as she approached him. He recognized the hooded sweatshirt in her hand as the one she had lent him before. But she also had another smaller shirt in her hands, likely to be worn underneath.

She grabbed his haori from him, careful not to touch the bloody parts; but when he grabbed for the other items in her hand, she pulled them out of reach.

"That too."

He followed her line of sight to his juban, and answered her request with a delicately lifted eyebrow.

"It's still got blood from your lip on there." She gestured her full hands to his chest, where the reminder of his encounter the night before still remained. "I will give you these in the meantime."

With another long, considering look at her, he finally relented, and began undoing the ties. Holding his gaze suddenly became too difficult a task, so she averted her eyes to the side with a faint blush staining her cheeks.

She didn't see it when he smirked; divesting himself of his remaining layer, and bearing his impressive upper body to her view. He held the shirt out to her for a moment, and she tried to keep her eyes on his face when she went to grab it.

But when she pulled to claim it, his grip remained tight. After a moment of surprise, she realized what he was doing, and furrowed her brow impatiently.

His earlier smirk was gone, but there was amusement sparkling in his violet eyes, and then he finally let go.

She didn't appreciate his games, and as far as she was concerned, he had no call to act playful. He'd had her worried sick. The least he could have done was to leave a note, or something.

Oh well, she figured. Too late now, and there was no harm done. At least, not to any of them.

She finally caught sight of his broad, strong chest as she hastily plucked his ruined clothing from his grip. It couldn't be helped; he was close enough to touch, after all. Close enough to touch, and half naked.

She remembered the night before, only a few short hours ago. She felt his hips, felt him pressed so insistently into her hip; keeping her pinned to the table beneath them with the threat he posed. The promise of things to come.

She remembered that muscular bicep, right beside her cheek as he planted his good hand to the side of her head for support.

His bare, heaving chest was close enough to touch then too, and she did.

Her hands pressed against him, but lightly. For some reason, she didn't want to give the impression that she would push if he advanced. But she didn't know if she would have. She supposed that now she would never know.

She remembered how, just for a fleeting moment, she'd had the urge to move her hands lower. Give into temptation, and trail her inexperienced fingers over each well-defined cut of muscle along his taut stomach. Trace the valleys between each one, and create a scorching path around the outline of every perfectly shaped abdominal.

In her momentarily lust-fogged mind, she'd wondered how they would feel if she dragged her tongue across them; how they would taste. Would he taste even a little salty, or just as clean and rich as he appeared. How he would react if she moved her mouth on him lower?

She realized she was staring now. And for his part, he didn't appear to be offended. He only watched on curiously as she appeared to meticulously rake her gaze across his beautiful form.

But as she took him in now, as she fully absorbed him, she suddenly noticed a jarring difference from last night.

His body, once littered with bruises and abrasions, was now flawless.

Even where there should be - at the very least - scars, was only perfect, unmarred skin.

The most notable had been the wound at his shoulder; the first one she had tended to in the cave. Now, there was no evidence of any attack on his person.

She lifted her hand, and he watched in mild surprise as she actually touched him. Feather light, and almost too soft to feel, she traced her delicate finger tips over the spot that only yesterday had been an unsightly gash.

He allowed it to continue another moment more. Her touch became firmer, and she stroked his skin back and forth, as if transfixed.

He allowed her to explore. But when he started to warm, and revel in her gentle caress, he willed himself at last to put an end to it.

Finally, he grabbed her, forcing her to stop. In his left hand, he held her fingers tightly, and pulled them back just an inch.

She wasn't startled when the action drew her gaze back to his face. She only looked up at him curiously; seemed to be studying him. As he was doing to her in return.

All those marks; the cuts and bruises, the remnants of two black eyes, all that had once blasphemously disrupted what was an otherwise impossibly beautiful face... they were all gone. He looked as if he had never been touched. Mint condition.

"Speaking of your lip, it looks to have healed up." It came out breathier than she had intended. She was staring at his perfect mouth again, now in much better shape than when she had been more intimately acquainted with it last night. "How is your arm?"

He released her hand, and they both observed his previously damaged left elbow.

"Also healed."

She took a step back to get a better overall look at him, and to even out her breathing. She was still a bit off kilter as she questioned him.

"That was fast. What happened?"

He paused thoughtfully, and she waited on baited breath for his answer.

He kind of liked having her unrivaled attention, but decided not to drag out her suffering overly long.

"I am not certain."

She was back inside her head, trying to make sense of all of this. While she thought on it, he got himself into his borrowed clothing. She couldn't decide how she felt about that.

She watched him peel the t-shirt over himself with an immense sense of loss. She had bought the boy's style shirt from her high school to sleep in, but it fit him only perhaps a size too small.

The hoodie was much larger, and hung off of him comfortably. Still, she fought the urge to pout.

"Well, seeing as you got your shirt back, I don't think I need to ask what you were doing all night." She held up the haori in question, and he offered no dispute. "Did anyone see you?"

He only stared at her, and she lowered her arms with a frustrated huff.

"Will anyone out there be able to recognize you if they see you today?"

"There is no one alive who saw my face last night."

She read between the lines of that tidy little statement, but all she felt was relief. They had enough going against them without being wanted for murder as well.

"Good."

But that was not the response he was expecting. He raised his eyebrow at her again, but she was busy placing his clothing down on the table to her side, so she didn't notice. "Then we should be able to move on as planned. If anyone asks, we don't know a thing about it, okay?"

He just continued to look at her; perplexed. But as she stared back at him, obviously expectant, this time it was he who relented. A slow, almost dumbfounded nod was enough to satisfy her, and she looked back over to his clothing at her side.

"How many?" she asked casually. His response was just as plain.

"Three."

"Three soldiers?" She looked up to him to verify, which he did with a sharp nod.

"Yes."

That was good, she decided. Nobody innocent got hurt.

"And their bodies are-"

"Never going to be found. That, I promise you." That cold, convincing tone of his rarely did not instill fear. That was something about his transformation that hadn't changed; his voice. He still had liquid honey rolling off his tongue and into her ear, in a way that on any given day, in any given second, straddled the boarder of scaring you out of your pants, or seducing you out of them.

This time, however, she was simply pleased. If he promised no one would find his victims, she absolutely believed him. In her relief, she smiled.

"Well then, I guess we're done here. We can soak your clothes when they get back, and they should be ready to hang by the time we return from across town."

But while she mulled over how long his clothing might take to dry, or how much longer Sango and Miroku would be with her laundry water, Sesshoumaru stood amazed. And confused, over how this woman could change topics so quickly, and turn off her heavy thoughts like she was simply closing a spigot.

It wasn't at all strange for him. He could compartmentalize beautifully. But in his experience, the miko had always been decidedly less rational with her emotions. Had she changed? Or did he not know her as well as he thought he did.

"Have you eaten?" she asked, crouching again to get into her pack. "I have some granola bars in my bag if you-"

"Are you not upset?"

She paused her rummaging to look up at him over her scrunched nose.

"With what?"

"With me. I killed those humans without mercy. I had expected your dissatisfaction."

Truth be told, he was not looking forward to the reception upon his return to the inn. His clothing had not made it out of the soldier's quarters unscathed, and he knew it would be no great mystery what he had been doing.

It didn't matter at the time, as he thought he was back to being a demon for good. But when he transformed back into a human in the wee hours of the morning, he had come to terms with the fact that he was beholden to these mortals he traveled with once again.

He had heard her berate the hanyou; foolishly lament any killing she viewed as 'unnecessary.' He had more than expected her to demand he explain himself, and he had a nice short speech planned to inform her of why killing those soldiers was indeed necessary.

But to his surprise, her incessant nagging had never commenced. He was pleased to avoid it, but he also did not like being taken by surprise.

She got what she needed out of her pack, before zipping it and standing again. He watched her intently; predatorily.

Studied her features carefully when she offered the smallest of smiles, and began a slow approach.

"Sesshoumaru," she began simply; almost deceptively so. "While I do prefer only to kill - and even use violence in general - as a last resort, there are things about the world that I have come to understand while living in the sengoku jidai."

She took another step closer, so that she now had to tilt her head a bit to look up at him.

"One of those things being; if you plan to lay a finger on the Lord of the Western Lands, you must be prepared to die."

As practiced as he was at schooling his features, he could not prevent the briefest flashings of shock to make themselves known.

But her wry, almost mocking smile, quickly caused a smirk of his own to curl up the side of his lip.

"Now, are you hungry or not?"

It was a comfortable silence, as she held out the breakfast bar to him expectantly. While he shook his head in refusal, his smirk remained.

"No."

With a shrug, she put in in her pocket for later.

There was something he was hiding, but she wasn't going to press him. She was confident that once he felt comfortable sharing it with her, he would.

Maybe whatever happened to him last night replenished all his strength. It seemed to at least heal all of his wounds up very nicely.

It was the first time she had seen him as a human without those bruises tarnishing his good looks.

He looked... incredible. Especially with that little smirk he was wearing. It made him almost look happy. Was that because of her?

"Did you get enough rest?" she asked, willing her blush to recede. "We have a long day ahead of us. I hope you didn't waste all of your energy last night."

He sure looked well rested, especially considering he was up all night performing ungodly acts on those foolish soldiers. Whatever happened must have definitely recharged him.

He looked about the best she'd seen him since the change.

"I am rested." She smiled at his assurance, and peered out the window for her friends. She considered going to see if they needed any help carrying the water up.

"Miko..."

When she looked back over, his troubled countenance gave her pause. Giving him her full attention once again, she inched closer and waited patiently for him to speak.

"Last night, I became a demon."

He hadn't said it, but that was pretty much what she had assumed. She couldn't think of any other way for him to heal himself so quickly. But why, or how he changed back was still a mystery to her.

"You changed back to your old self?"

He shook his head. With a frown, he ran his fingers through his hair in apparent frustration.

"No. I transformed back into a demon, but... I was not me. Not entirely."

He rarely had trouble articulating himself, so his current loss for words was new to him. Seeing her obvious confusion, he tried his best to explain.

"I looked as I once looked," he gestured broadly to his own body, "and I had all of my power once again. But something was missing. Something I cannot name."

Last night, he had been a demon. That was indisputable. But he was not as he had once been. Part of him was still gone, though he could not explain what.

The first thing to cross his mind was that it was some form of magic. Perhaps the miko knew more about her powers than she let on.

"Your potion... did it do this?" He didn't even try to hide the hopeful note in his tone.

He would not have appreciated consuming dubious potions under false pretenses. Though a part of him wished that was the answer. If she had that ability, then perhaps they could work on the cure together.

As displeased as he was to have possibly been tricked, he knew it would have been out of a misguided notion to help him.

"My potion? You mean the pills?" At his nod, she frowned. "No, they are nothing magic, just pain killers." She tried to think of a way to help him understand. It would not do to have him thinking she placed a spell on him or anything. She didn't want that kind of reputation. "It's like opium, but in pill form. Nothing that would trigger transformations. The only thing it could turn you into is a drug addict, but two little pills aren't going to hurt you."

He could no longer discern deceit with his scent, but he was becoming accustom to using his other senses to aid him in this endeavor. After a lengthy once over, he decided as best as he could that she was telling the truth, and sighed. That would have been too easy, wouldn't it? Can't have that.

"Then I do not know what triggered the change. Had I known I would revert back within a few short hours; I would have used my time more... wisely."

Frustrated with himself, he turned from her. Kagome tried her best to reassure him.

"What could be a better use of your time than sticking it to those guys who robbed you and broke your arm?"

Kagome didn't understand his raw need for vengeance. She herself had been wronged, but even then, it did not seem worth it to spend so much of yourself seeking out your enemies. To her, it just seemed like that made them win.

If you waste all your time obsessing over someone, doesn't that consume you? Isn't that what they want?

Sure, she could understand. When it was Naraku, she could understand. He was an unrepentant, evil man and he really needed to die.

But he was impossible to ignore. He forced himself onto them.

These soldiers... they were nothing. This was a vanity project. An ego thing.

But she wouldn't fault him for it.

He was a proud guy, and not used to getting treated badly. And, seeing what they did to him, she couldn't say they didn't deserve... well, at least a little of what they got.

But the Western Lord was a bit touchy about these things. He refused to accept a certain kind of treatment.

So why did she? Why did she accept lesser treatment from her enemies? Was she more forgiving? Less vengeful?

Or did she allow others to get away with a bit too much?

She reckoned perhaps she could learn a thing or two from Sesshoumaru. If only they could meet somewhere in between...

He paused a moment, doing his best to calm himself. With his eyes still closed, he threw his answer over his shoulder.

"Finding Rin."

She approached him slowly, but his back was still to her.

"I could have scoured half the country in my demon form last night. I could have killed those men quickly, and been on to more important things." He cringed angrily, and nearly spoke through his teeth. "I thought I had time, so I took my time with them. Their deaths were slow."

It was nothing she didn't already know. She neither needed, nor wanted the specifics of his night on the town.

When she was close enough to touch him, she reached out and did just that. When she placed her hand gently on his bicep, he didn't react.

"The time wasted on my revenge would have been better served on other matters."

"That's the problem with revenge."

He instantly opened his eyes, to see her looking up at him sympathetically. He would have despised that look in the past. He would have mistaken it for pity. But she didn't pity him.

She understood. At least, it looked like she did. Though he couldn't imagine how.

He briefly wondered if she had ever lost someone. If it had been her fault as well...

"But now you know. If you get to change again, next time you won't squander it, right?"

No, he wouldn't. That was for certain.

If he ever found his way to becoming a demon again, even if only for a night, he would dedicate his time to tracking and finding Rin. The revenge could come after.

After holding her gaze a long moment, he looked down to where she was touching him, and remembered something else from the night before.

Then, as if he was a hot surface – which, to be fair, he was – she removed her hand quickly. Suddenly, she felt very nervous around him.

When he looked back into her face again, she took a step back, and started babbling.

"This is a great sign!" she announced, almost too cheerfully. "You changed back, if only for a little while. At least we know that you can do it."

Relieved to see the others finally making their way up with the washtub, she immediately rushed over to help. But she turned to him before she got to the door.

"The only thing we need to find out now is how you did it. But don't worry. We'll help you."

He was devastated when he had changed into a human again. He thought it was over, but it had just been a tease.

But now, thanks to the miko, his hopes had lifted once more.

She was right. He had been able to change back. For the most part, at least. Even if he would never fully be himself again, it was at least better than not being a demon at all.

Last night breathed new air into him. Nurtured his nearly broken spirit, and reminded him of what it was like to be Sesshoumaru again... and why it was worth fighting to reclaim him.

He'd bathed in the healing pool. If only for a night, all of his injuries had been soothed, and his weary muscles had been rejuvenated. He was a new man.

And vanquishing his enemies had been... beyond sweet. That was perhaps the best feeling of all.

He couldn't help but think of the tiger clan, and what he vowed to impart on them the second they were located. it was the greatest motivator he could receive.

He watched as the others brought in the tub, and placed his bloody garments in the water to soak. The deep red from the soldiers instantly bled from his priceless clothing and into the freezing creek water they floated in. The last remaining traces of those vermin would soon be out of his clothes, and thus out of their lives forever. It was a comforting notion. If only a simple bath would wash out his own filthy blood; return him to his former glory. Cleanse him through and through.

But for now, he would make do.

He didn't know if these humans could help him. But he could not deny, returning to them in his mortal skin felt much more comfortable than going out on his own.

A/N: So I'm not much of a torture porn person, but I love sess for doing it.

Are you disappointed that I didn't describe his misdeeds... or relieved?

This chapter was def shorter than the last, but quicker, eh?

Let me know if you liked it, and I will make more!