Unseelie # 15

Inuyasha didn't let go of her hand until they'd reached a third-floor hotel room by way of a detour to collect shampoo. He pushed the room open and flicked his light around, revealing that there was a mattress on the floor, more mattresses piled against the wall, some broken chairs under the window, bedspreads in a heap tumbling out of a closet, and glowing runes-of-warding on the window glass.

They'd already established that the bad guys could break through Willow's runes.

Kagome viewed the runes warily for several minutes, wishing she knew enough to reinforce them. While she was staring at them, Inuyasha stepped into the bathroom. She heard the shower start.

Shaking her head at his singleminded interest in getting clean, she finally and reluctantly turned away from the window and pushed the hotel room door shut. It was so dark that Inuyasha could probably walk around in his altogether and nobody would notice, but privacy mattered to her. Particularly since she had every intention of joining him in that shower. Though for all she knew, something wicked nasty was going to come through that glass while she was butt naked and had shampoo in her hair, rendering the point of shutting the door moot.

And it amazed her the number of demons who got googly-eyed when they same a naked human female, even though their biology rendered them incompatible.

Finally, resolving not to think about enemy attacks for the short period it would take both of them to clean up, she kicked off her filthy jeans and t-shirt and stepped into the bathroom. Inuyasha's flashlight was on a chipped and battered vanity, pointed upwards at the ceiling. It lent a dim orange light to the room; the batteries were about dead. Even as she pushed the faded shower curtain open it flickered, though it wasn't quite to the point of going out.

Inuyasha was standing with his face turned up to a hard stream of lukewarm water. In the low light he looked like an alabaster god -- pale skin and white hair, and filth slicking off to reveal his flawless body under the hard spray of water. There wasn't a mark on him; even his charred hand was entirely healed now. With his hair wet and plastered to his skull, she could see the not-quite-human shape of his skull more clearly. He had his ears flattened to keep water out of them, but they were still quite prominent without the body of his hair to hide them.

Then she spotted the stitches in his arm from the gash only a day ago. That injury was long repaired without a scar. She retreated to her jeans, where she retrieved a pocket knife. Useful things, pocket knives -- she'd started carrying one five years and five centuries ago.

Inuyasha glanced at her briefly when she touched his arm, then realized her intention and held still while she cut the sutures and pulled them free with her fingernail. The stitches came out easily, and she let the water wash the little curled bits of black threads down the drain.

"I'll do your hair," he offered, when she was done. He'd already scrubbed his own mane clean -- she suspected, by the litter of four or five tiny bottles of shampoo in the bottom of the tub, he'd washed it through more than once. There had been dried blood crusted in it, and worse things.

"Sure."

His claws were heaven against her scalp as he worked the shampoo through. He kneaded her hair with just the right amount of pressure, making her melt against the shower wall as he worked. It felt so good to be clean.

When they'd both satisfied the urge to scrub, he stepped out and shook like a dog -- Kagome winced at the water that went flying, and, in lieu of a towel, threw comforter from the pile of bedclothes at him. "Don't be such a barbarian."

She bent over to pick up her regrettably still-dirty jeans when Inuyasha made a sudden move behind her. "Kagome ..." he said, in a strangled voice, as he caught her and half carried, half pushed her towards the mattress on the floor. They tumbled onto it, and he pinned her down and pressed his mouth to hers with urgent, desperate hunger.

He didn't say anything beyond the single use of her name in the beginning. He just claimed her, first kissing her and then shoving her knees back with his hands, flipping her feet over his shoulders, and thrusting into her. He was almost like an animal -- wordless, fierce, singleminded. He wasn't gentle. He wasn't kind. He wasn't anything but raw power and ferocity.

She could have stopped it at any time. A quick swipe with her miko powers or a firm shove so he wasn't over the top of her and a Sit, boy! and it would have been finished. But she knew he needed this. She knew he needed to know deep down that she wouldn't reject him, not even when he was at his worst.

This was was about affirmation, and trust. This was about confirming that she accepted him for what he was, even if sometimes he was rude and crude and rough and obnoxious . It was confirmation that she accepted the totality of what he was; that she loved all of him.

He would not have been able to put communicate those feelings in any sort of coherent fashion ... but she understood him.

It hurt at first, the way he shoved into her without preparation or much warning, and with force and depth and speed, but then the pain turned to pleasure as he kept hitting the right spots just perfectly, and when he came she shuddered with him and they both cried out together. Breathing hard, he flopped beside her and draped an arm over her ribs. Slowly, his breath slowed even as her heart rate did. He was silent, still without words, for long minutes.

"They're going to wonder where we are," she said, finally.

"Kagome, I'm a monster."

She thought at first he was apologizing, Inuyasha-style, for the rough sex. She'd be sore later -- and he'd gripped her thighs so tightly he'd left bruises -- but she hadn't minded. Hell, she'd initiated it by joining him the shower, expecting that he might do this with her after. He had not been in a tender, sensual mood. She knew him well enough to know what she was getting into, and had truthfully wanted it herself. There was something to be said for being grabbed and thoroughly fucked by a man you loved more than life itself. She snorted. "You don't hear me complaining, do you?"

"I hurt." His grip on her tightened. "Don't you leave me, ever."

"Inuyasha ..." she stretched up and kissed him and let her actions tell him just how unlikely that was.

After a moment, however, he pulled away and wrapped his arms around her and clung to her. "I ... hurt, Kagome. Things happened. With Buffy."

"She didn't hit on you, did she? Or hit you?" Either was possible, Kagome figured.

"No." His grip tightened around her, like he never wanted to let go. "The vampire -- the bracelet. It was spelled so if I killed her the pain would stop. 'Least, that's what the vampire said."

"Oh, Gods." She'd seen Inuyasha hurting before, but never anything like that. The bracelet had scared her. This was a man who could survive being impaled, and still fight on afterwards. Inuyasha rarely acknowledged any sort of hurt. And he'd passed out from the agony.

"Didn't want to." Inuyasha sounded grouchy, though she knew he was mostly just being defensive. He didn't like talking about his feelings. Still, he huffed a sigh and explained, "But ... Kagome, it was so bad. And she could have killed me. She was so scared of me. I could smell it. I think that's what the vampire planned -- one of us would kill the other, and he didn't care who lived. He was just being evil."

She smoothed his damp hair back. "It's over."

"I wanted you there. You could have made it stop. Knew that." He nuzzled her neck, a lot gentler now. He needed to shave; his cheeks were sandpaper rough against her skin. "You weren't there."

"I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault. Buffy ... held me. Let me know I wasn't alone. She was terrified of me, but she cared." He ran a hand down Kagome's side, claws lightly, sensually, trailing over her naked ribs. It would have tickled if she wasn't so relaxed in his arms. "I ... I wanted to kill her. To make it stop. But I couldn't. Because she cared. I was so angry at her. Have been, for a long time. I had to let it go. Or I would have killed her. Killing her would have been wrong."

He exhaled raggedly. "I ... I had to let the anger go. At her. Forgive her. Had to do it. Or I'd have killed her. Had to mean it. Did it. Didn't think I ever could, but I did."

"Oh."

"It was that or kill her."

"Inuyasha," she said quietly, "I'm proud of you."

She expected that pronouncement to be met with an embarrassed keh and perhaps a small smile -- though she couldn't see his expression in the dark room, just the faint glow of his white hair. The flashlight in the bathroom was growing ever dimmer.

After a moment, however, he said miserably, "I hurt."

She knew purely by his tone of voice that he was not talking about physical pain.

"Shhh. It's okay."

"No. It's not." He hugged her, suddenly, arm sliding across her chest, face buried in her shoulder. "Damnit. If it weren't for you, I would have no reason to exist. I'm a monster."

"Shhh."

"Don't leave me." He clung to her, claws digging into her shoulder with almost, but not quite, enough force to hurt. "I'd go crazy without you, Kagome. Don't leave me."

"Shh." Now was probably not the time to remind him of the difference in their expected lifespans, and the fact that Slayers tended to have even more abbreviated lives than usual for humans. "I'm not going to."

"Promise?"

"I promise I'll spend the rest of my life with you, Inuyasha."

It was an easy oath to take. She couldn't imagine a world without him in it. There were times she wanted to strangle him, but she couldn't imagine a life without him as her other half.

He was silent, then, and she thought perhaps he was done. He lay there, clinging to her in the dark, for a long moment. She considered initiating another round of sex -- he'd be gentler now, tender and thoughtful. But before she could slide a hand down his length and touch him in ways guaranteed to spark his interest, he started talking again. "I can't find the words Kagome. I hurt. I can't ... I can't ..."

She heard his frustration, and understood. He -- literally -- didn't know what words to use. He didn't talk about his feelings often, and was hunting to find the right descriptions. She said quietly, "The girls. The ones you killed. You're thinking about them?"

He nodded, shakily. She saw his the silhouette of his head bob, and felt the brush of his chin against her shoulder.

"If you're not angry at Buffy anymore, then who do you blame?" She prompted him, well knowing the answer he would give..

His ragged sigh was the only confirmation she needed that her guess was right. Without Buffy to turn his anger towards, he was focusing it inward. And there was blame there. He'd killed humans -- in self defense, yes, but his fighting ability was decidedly unequal to theirs. He could have reacted with more restraint, but he'd let anger and grief for Amelia fuel the bloodshed.

"Shh." She held him close.

At that instant, the flashlight finally faded out, plunging the room into complete darkness. In the darkness, he said, "I learned something, when I was with Buffy. I let the anger go ... all of it ... I allowed myself to trust ... and I became human. I needed to do it to survive. And survival was more important than the anger, even anger at my own self. Survival for myself. Survival for Buffy, who was my enemy. Survival for you. I had to live for you. I had to live because I wanted you."

The pain in his words made her want to cry.

"The demon in me is angry and that makes him strong. If I let the anger go, the demon becomes weak and I can force it out by sheer will, and then I become human. Anger is part of who I am, Buffy. Yet anger bred a monster who killed all those little girls."

She stroked his hair, and let him talk, as he finally found the words he needed to say. "I hurt, Kagome. My heart hurts. I don't want to be a monster. And now I know how to let it go, to become mortal and human. But I can't, if I want to live. And I will not leave you. It's selfish, but I won't. I want you."

Again he sighed. And then he repeated, "I won't leave you. But I'm scared I'll kill again, and kill someone that shouldn't be killed. I could end it. I could rid the world of the monster that is me. I could become human and die a very old man, within a few days. But it would mean hurting you. You would grieve me. And if I died, I wouldn't have you. So ... so I think I'll hold on to the anger and hurt a little bit longer. Because it lets me stay with you."

"Oh." She truly didn't know what to say in response to all this.

He continued, putting more emotional words together in a few short minutes than he normally spoke in days. "Kagome, do you think all the people I've saved in my life are a fair exchange for the ones I've killed?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Inuyasha."

"Neither do I. I'm not a fucking philosopher. You're the one with the smarts." He stood up in the absolute darkness. Without his arms around her, she felt suddenly very alone. He was hurting so much, and there was absolutely nothing she could think to do or say to help him. She wanted find him in the darkness and hug him again, but his words stopped that impulse. "Hanako's coming. She has clean clothing."

She didn't ask which of his senses told him that the girl was coming their way, much less that someone had been thoughtful enough to find them outfits that weren't disgustingly dirty. Quite possibly, as keen as his ears were, he'd overheard a discussion somewhere else in the building.

"Inuyasha."

"Yeah?"

"I'm still proud of you. For what you did with Buffy."

"Keh." A pause. She heard him swallow audibly. Then he added, "Thanks."