Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. That honor belongs to Takahashi-san.

Of Spirit and Spice

Chapter 2: Anticipation

"So, Inuyasha…you dare to sleep, only days before our final confrontation? What's more, you dare to sleep separated from the girl?"

The voice was naught but a murmur, but it carried far in the dark of the chamber.

The lips it issued from curved in a small smile, a chuckle.

"Kukukuku…you will regret it, soon enough."

Byakuya rolled his eyes as he sped through the cool night air on his crane, another, bright green, peeking out from his robes. First the infatuation with that dead miko, and obsession over the hanyou…what next? An infatuation with the other miko? It wouldn't surprise me…he muttered to himself, put out with his most recent orders.

I am not a kidnapper! I work in illusions, I'm a spy; how does he expect me to do this right? The hanyou's sure to notice me! 'Weave him a dream trap' indeed. There's nothing that would engross him that much that I could come up with on my own. Illusions are based on imitating and altering reality, not creating new ones!—

Byakuya…what rebellious thoughts do you harbor now? Do you dare question my orders? a low, quiet voice interposed itself on his thoughts.

He cut them off with a gulp. He hadn't realized how far he'd pushed it—would this be enough to off him finally? He collected himself, and started the necessary groveling.

"Naraku-sama, no, of course not, I am on my way to carry them out this very moment! Forgive my cowardly thoughts, but know that they would not have dissuaded me from acting according to your will," Byakuya answered quickly, though he kept the fear out of his voice well.

Of course not…because you know your death at my hands is much likelier than that at Inuyasha's. Make sure to remember that in the future. Idle thoughts lead to stupid, disobedient thoughts…and you know what I do to those who disobey me…

Slowly the presence faded away. Byakuya released the breath he'd been holding in a whoosh of relief.

He collected his thoughts, kept them under check, focused on the task ahead.

He was near his victims now…he needed all the focus he had to accomplish this.

Inuyasha bounded through the trees, the wind whipping through his hair, a warm and soft Kagome pressing into his back. Things were as they should be. He dared to smile a little, and tightened his grip on the girl's thighs, chuckling at her squeal of surprise and delight.

He closed his eyes, just enjoying the warmth of the morning sun hitting them, and took a deep breath…

And smelled nothing.

No animals. No plants. No Kagome, no him. Nothing.

He tried to open his eyes. It didn't work.

Try as he might, his lids seemed nailed shut. He was blind to the world.

He stopped moving—if he couldn't see or smell, he could easily crash into something, easily harm the girl on his back—but wait—he couldn't feel her any more.

"Kagome?" he barked out, surprised and not a little scared.

Silence.

"Kagome!"

"Inu—" a desperate voice cried, but above or below, he couldn't tell. Then came a thump.

"Kagome! Teme, answer me! What the hell is going on?!"

"I doubt you'd like to know," a condescending, smooth voice replied; it seemed detached, but an undercurrent of malicious delight weaved through the words, and Inuyasha couldn't fail to notice it. His fury and fear grew.

"Who the fuck are you?! Let me see your goddamn face! Tell me what just happened! If you've so much as touched her—"

"I did not need to touch her. Only my katana."

"Why's Sango so angry right now? I mean, more than usual?"

Miroku sighed, debating whether this was worth the effort of putting down his bowl of breakfast and shifting about his still weak body on the tatami mats and explaining the mind of a female to that of a young male or not. It wasn't really a hard choice.

Still, Shippou persisted, scampering in front of the monk to stare at him all the more insistently, tail swishing with impatience, lower lip large in a pout.

Miroku raised an eyebrow, setting down his bowl for the moment. "An interesting expression you have there," he admitted, but finished: "but it won't make me answer that question. Ask Sango-sama herself if you're so curious."

He had just reached for his bowl again when the kitsune had the bright idea of jumping between him and his food.

"Did you flirt with the village girls again?" he asked in an accusatory whisper.

"No," Miroku tiredly replied, stretching around the kit for his sustenance, much-needed to regain the strength he'd need to fight a few days from now—only to have his hand batted away by the fierce guard-dog of a fox.

"Shippou…"he threatened, his attitude less congenial now. His hand had just stopped throbbing only a few hours ago, settling to a dull ache—but that aggressive little paw of Shippou's had successfully set it on fire all over again. Couple that with the interruption in feeding himself, and he was not a pleased bouzou.

The kitsune had yet to realize his mistake, and stubbornly held his ground. "She's really, really angry. I think she'd hurt you if you weren't so hurt already. And not like she usually does—I think she'd knock you out for a week, if she could," he stated, quickly and intently.

The monk absently drew back his hand, rubbing it a little to ease the sharp pain pulsing through it, but he focused on Shippou's words. He listened, and forgot about his food.

"How…how did you come by this information?" he carefully asked.

Shippou looked surprised. "Isn't it obvious? It only takes one look at her face. Her eyes could burn down the forest if she's not careful."

Miroku closed his eyes, tired once again. "It is to some. As for why she is so…angry with me…that is not something you need to know right now."

Shippou looked frustrated, and opened his mouth to protest: "But—!"

"But nothing," Miroku interrupted, eyes opened and hard with meaning. "It is none of your business. If Sango-sama wishes to tell you, she may, but I have no obligation to and firmly choose not to."

"But—!"

"And Shippou? Don't bother her about it, either. Or I will be forced to punish you myself."

And so Shippou, annoyed and only grudgingly obedient, left Miroku to sip his stew alone, only thoughts of dilemmas and decisions and their unintended consequences to stir the gray silence.

Byakuya thanked the kami five times over when he arrived at his destination. He nearly undid his concealment with his mindless relief at sighting the hanyou napping restlessly in a tree—clearly, dreaming, but not about anything pleasant.

His gratitude to the gods only increased when he probed into the dreams Inuyasha suffered through; he could never have made such effective nightmares himself, but with foundations like those…he could keep the hanyou busy for the rest of the night, if he wanted to.

A tweak here…a bit more detail there…the all important change to the ending to make it continue indefinitely, and the illusion was set.

Inuyasha's normal, if unpleasant, nightmare morphed into a never-ending spiral of helplessness and loss and fear and self-disgust…

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, you filthy bastard?! If you've hurt her—!"

—A shift, almost imperceptible, but telling nonetheless, like the smallest pebble dropped in a large pond, whose ripples spread across the entire surface: thin, subtle, but undeniable—

"Why don't you open your eyes and look for yourself?" the voice taunted again.

He did not notice the change, too focused on the voice, the situation, the circumstances…he did not know he was dreaming, so he could not know the dream was tampered with.

"Because I can't, idiot—" he started; then paused when his sense of smell flooded back to him.

Eagerly, he breathed, desperate to ascertain Kagome's condition; was she hurt, injured, dead—though he dared not think the words, he sniffed for their meanings.

And came up with terror, pain, depression, despair, all hers, tearing at his core.

Without thinking, his eyes shot open, he leaped forward; "Kagome!" his startled, anguished cry.

The voice snickered. His eyes might have been open, but he saw nothing save dark trees and dirt.

"Behind you, baka," it prompted him, still chuckling.

He whirled around, angry, but no room left in his mind for a rejoinder, only Kagome—

She was in his arms, body limp, head falling back, skin pale, eyes wide and staring…

He didn't even see who it was that held her. He didn't care. He slashed and clawed, mindless of anything save not hitting her, and somehow she ended up in his arms instead.

She was cold. Still. Barely breathing.

Her eyes slowly turned to him, her blood-blackened lips cracked apart, and in a husky dry whisper, she moaned his name. And the word: "Why?"

The voice answered. Apparently he hadn't killed the bastard, after all.

"Because he is weak. Because he was blind to me, did not even notice my approach. Because it took him till a moment ago to even know where you were. Because he could not protect you.

"Because he is a weak, filthy, hanyou.

"Because you are a fool, and trust him.

"Because…"

The voice continued, each sentence dropping another stone into Inuyasha's gullet, digging another dagger into his side…and he was too weak to stop it.

This was almost too easy.

The hanyou was so wrapped up in his misery he wouldn't have noticed if he'd raped the girl, let her scream, then murdered her in the noisiest way possible—let alone simply stolen her away in the night.

The thought wasn't quite enough to make him quit his stealthy and silent method of approaching the hut where she slept though.

Not quite…but almost.

"Kaede? What's going on between Miroku and Sango? They're acting so weird right now…"

"It is none of your business, child," she tiredly responded, leaning down to pick up a mushroom that had fallen out of the basket Shippou perched on. She knew it wouldn't be enough to dissuade that red-haired ball-of-curiosity though.

"That's what Miroku said. And he said not to bother Sango either. So I came to ask you. I'm not bothering them, so why does it matter?" he insisted, agitated enough to knock out a few more herbs.

She raised an eyebrow. "If you stop doing that and truly help me as you said you would an hour ago, maybe I will tell you," she answered tartly.

The kit blushed in shame, whispered "Oops…," and hopped out of the basket to pick up the debris of his enthusiasm.

They hiked for a few more minutes, Shippou trying his best to help and not hinder, working to earn back her favor, before the old miko relented.

"All right. These old bones are tired, but this meadow is full of useful plants. I will rest while you collect them. If you keep working while I speak, I will tell you what I know of the current state of affairs between the monk and tajiya—but only as much as I think you have a right to know. Understood?"

"Yes ma'm!" the boy eagerly saluted, and scampered about, eyes locked on his task, but ears strained on her gravelly tones.

Miroku collected his things in silence.

Alone, he stood just inside the door flap of Kaede's hut. He was finally recovered enough (in his opinion, not Kaede's) to embark on this final mission of his. He took his preparation with an air of seriousness that clashed strikingly with his typical behavior.

But charm was of little importance to him now. Now, all came down to his mission, and its success. It was his last shot, after all…

He cut that thought off. He could not dwell on anything that might suggest failure; and in this case that translated to anything regarding the future… Instead, he focused on the practicalities of the present.

Straw sandals…check. Fresh kosode…check. Cleaned robes…check. Shakujou…check. A wealth of sutras, running the gamut of uses from food-buyers to demon-slayers……check.

Speaking of demon slayers…it seemed the lovely tajiya would not be accompanying him, angry as she was with his decision.

Didn't she see that this was his last chance? Didn't she see that this was her last chance? Didn't she understand that the worst way he could die would be on a pallet, leaving her to face the problems he couldn't? He had to do this. It was the only way he could die in some measure of peace. Even if he didn't succeed, at least this way he could have done something…

But he stopped his thoughts again. Every time his mind strayed, his movements slowed. And he couldn't afford that, could he? So he severed ties to thoughts of all else but that moment, and himself.

It was like the old days, before he ever met a pretty girl in odd clothes and her possessive, aggressive hanyou and the loud-mouthed kitsune that traveled with them. Before he ever met an old miko living in a small village with an odd well.

Before he ever met a strong, fierce, beautiful woman with the power to capture him and tie him to her…

No. That was the past. He could not think on it. Nor could he think on his future.

Only the present, and the road outside the flap of a doorway.

He tucked the cloth bundle of food and sutras in his robes, and exited the hut.

He left without saying goodbye.

"I believe it started quite a while ago…

"But Sango cares very much for Miroku, and he for her; and that is the root of the problem." Kaede stated as she contemplated the roots lying in her basket, alone—but only for the moment—much like problems...

"Huh? Isn't that a good thing? Doesn't that mean Miroku will finally stop chasing all those other girls and getting Sango angry at him and and and—" Shippou asked, popping up from some thick bushes, laden with the useful bark.

Kaede shook her head. "No, it is about that no longer, or so I think. The problem is much deeper than Houshi-sama's fondness for females in general. It has much to do with his curse and Naraku though," was her quelling answer as he deposited his load and scampered off for more.

Shippou, waist deep in pungent plants, such that he had to plug his nose, opened his mouth to form a small, round 'o'. That is, before he started jabbering again, his tone especially nasally thanks to the pinched nostrils.

"But what does that mean?? I mean, I know his hand is getting worse and Sango is worried about him pushing himself, but Miroku doesn't want her worrying about him because he doesn't want her to get hurt but that doesn't make any sense—"

Kaede chuckled a little. "Calm yourself, Shippou. You are very close to understanding already.

"The truth of the matter is: if Sango is distracted in a battle because she is worrying about Miroku, she will get hurt. And if Miroku is weak and cannot fight in general, her likelihood of getting hurt goes up as well, because she will have to fight more to make up for his missing presence. Overall, no matter if she thinks on him or not, she is hurt by his weakness," Kaede explained, a somber cast coming over her previously mirthful face. It seemed even Shippou's exuberance couldn't keep her amused for long.

"But…" Shippou bit his lip, absently shifting from foot to foot as he thought it all through; it just didn't add up… "But doesn't Miroku getting weaker affect everybody, not just Sango?"

Kaede sighed. "Yes and no. It does in general, but it seems to me that the problem of Sango's worry over his state is much more pressing to his mind—and that certainly weighs on her more than the others. She's lost too many loved ones before; I doubt she's willing to lose another."

"Oh…Yeah, and she is pretty worried…But what does this have to do with how it is now? All that's been happening for forever, and it never got this bad!" Shippou shot back around the pile of roots in his arms.

"Be careful with those…" Kaede cautioned as he dumped them in the basket. Satisfied that he'd collected enough for the day, she motioned him to sit; eagerly he did.

"The problem now is that it seems Naraku has designed some new trap, and Miroku is going to face it—and him—alone. He sees it as his last chance to win against the fiend; and if he does not, at least he will have died trying to protect those he loves."

"But Sango doesn't want him to do it, because she's scared he'll die?" Shippou looked up at her, eyes large with worry.

"Exactly," was her tired sigh.

A long pause fell between them.

"But he won't. She's just worrying for nothing," Shippou concluded suddenly, and dashed off before Kaede could convince him otherwise.

She sighed, long and low, then creaked to her feat, herbs in tow.

She murmured as she slowly walked back: "I hope you are right, Shippou.

"I hope you are right."

Kagome woke groggily to an almost sub-sonic growl—and an uneasy feeling besides.

In her sleepy state, she didn't question the compulsion she had to leave the hut and investigate. So, slowly and quietly, so as to not disturb Jinenji, she rose to her feet and exited the hut.

She looked around a bit. Where was Inuyasha? Something told her to try a large tree a little to the east.

Its limbs were in shadow, but she could just make out a glimmer of silver in the moonlight; she walked toward it without a thought.

As she neared, she noticed how he seemed to twitch and writhe a bit in his sleep; was he having a bad dream?

"Kagome! Fuck, no, I didn't, I…" he gasped out, eyes still firmly shut. She jumped at least a foot in the air.

Finally collecting herself, she opened her mouth to call out and wake him from his nightmare—but smooth silk stopped her.

"I'm afraid you're not allowed to wake him up, girl. I need him asleep to accomplish my goal," a low voice whispered in her ear, in tones as suave as the silk he'd stuffed in her mouth.

Angry, she fought to see her captor—and, catching him by surprise, she managed to turn in his grasp enough to see his face.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise; she could not see his face for the blackness that hovered there; then they furrowed in renewed anger. She might not have her bow, but she wasn't going to just stand here, was she?

But even as she called on her powers to purify her shadow-hidden assailant, the inky mask he wore melted to congeal around her eyes, her ears, her nose…and, unable to see, hear, scream, or breathe, she fell unconscious.

Sango watched, livid but helpless, as the purple figure strode purposefully below her.

She had caved in and decided to come with him anyway—but was much too proud to admit it, of course.

So she followed.

She stalked through the trees on the sides of the road—or, if there were no trees, like today, she rode Kirara a few meters back, hoping he'd never think to look her way.

So far he'd never looked behind him though…and that somehow depressed her as well.

Didn't he see that this would be the end for her? Didn't he see that this would be the end for him? Didn't he understand that the worst way he could die would be in this absurd facsimile of seppuku, and that she would die as soon as he did? She had to prevent that. It was the only way she could keep her sanity. Even if she didn't succeed, at least this way she could have done something…

She shook her head; Kirara growled, worried about her.

"It's fine Kirara…I'll be alright…" she reassured her friend, patting her strong flank.

The cat understood, and looked away.

But her ears were keen, and they twitched as they caught the sadness in her mistress' tone as she added in a whisper:

"…but only if he is…"

Kagome did not wake again until her face met cold, hard stone.

She blinked a little, sat up, coming to her senses gradually, trying to remember how she had ended up here of all places…

It was a cave. A dark, wet, deep cave. The little light she had to see by came from a strange formation ahead, that tugged at her memory; but she ignored it for the moment in favor of assessing more important things, like her overall health. Her body seemed disheveled and a little scraped here and there, but otherwise all right. She still didn't remember how she'd gotten here though…she looked around, and gasped as she recognized the crystalline forms ahead.

Naraku watched her from a few feet away. As of yet, she hadn't noticed his presence. But soon…

"Kyaaa! Naraku! What are you doing here!" she exclaimed, eyes large and wide as she whirled around to face him, still seated, her miko senses finally noticing his dark aura.

Shakily, she got to her feet, her fear replaced by anger. "And what am I doing here! What did you do, kidnap me or something?!"

Fierce, proud indignation laced her tone and scent and every curve of her frame; he lapped it up hungrily.

Taking his time, he slid forward a little across the damp, rough cave floor. He grinned a little when she held her ground. Excellent…

"In a way, yes. Though it was Byakuya that actually carried out the task," he answered slowly, gesturing at something—or someone—behind her.

She whipped around, surprised she'd missed his youki too—but there he was, looking bored but attentive as he leaned against the other wall, arms folded, the bright green noticeably absent—though she hardly had time to think on it.

She backed up a bit, turning so that she could watch both at once—unintentionally putting the light to her back as well.

"You never answered my question! What am I doing here, and how in the name of every sacred kami in all the worlds did you manage to enter this cave!?"

Naraku chuckled a bit, pleased with her fire, and the quickness of her mind. "You wonder how such corrupt youkai such as Byakuya and I could be allowed entrance to a sacred chamber such as this, no?" he easily answered back, sweeping a baboon pelt-covered arm to encompass the entire cavern.

She gulped a little. How…?

"I'll tell you," he smirked, his arm finally resting at his side. "Even Midoriko's spirit cannot compete with her own creation, when it has been corrupted fully and listens no more to her."

With a larger grin, he shifted forward, so that the pink light hit the blackened jewel resting at his throat.

It was a sickly combination; the jewel seemed to almost suck in the light…she shuddered instinctively.

"It does not please you, to see it in this form, does it?" he laughed at her.

She could only shake her head no, her mind spinning around screaming somewhere a few feet above her head.

With effort, she collected herself, and calmed her mind. Her voice steely, she asked: "So. What do you plan to do with me now? You showed me you can enter Midoriko's cave. So what. It's to be expected, after all. It's not like we didn't know you had the jewel anyway. I don't see why you thought bringing me here would prove your power in any way—"

It's amazing how fast someone can backhand you when they were at least ten feet away a minute before…her mind mused, before she crumpled to the floor and passed out.

"Naraku-sama…what now?" the real Byakuya murmured as he watched the illusions he'd created collect the girl's body and leave the cave.

The image in the liquid was fuzzy, thanks to the powers of Midoriko's spirit still guarding her burial chamber, but he could make out enough to see that the young miko had been knocked unconscious by the blow.

Naraku raised an eyebrow at the attendant so dangerously testing his limits. Byakuya was leaning over the spelled urn of liquid depicting the scene…and dangerously close, at that.

The liquid in question was his own miasma; hence the connection with the eyes of Byakuya's constructs. It only took a moment for him to shove the less-than-perfectly-subservient-incarnation into the urn, face-first.

He watched with slight amusement but general boredom as the youkai struggled to right himself as quickly as possible. The shouki was painful to his creation, though it wouldn't inflict any permanent damage on him.

Once the man had extracted himself and spat out the majority of the wretched stuff, Naraku deigned to answer his question.

"Firstly, should you forget your place and ask questions like that of me again, you will stay in my shouki for a week, rather than a moment."

He waited to see that Byakuya understood; satisfied with the deep nod and bow, he continued.

"Secondly, as to your question…you do not need to know all that will happen, but know this: the hanyou, when he awakes, will rage and attempt to track her down so that he can kill you."

Naraku paused lazily, taking enjoyment from the fear and dread that spiked from his incarnation's form.

Turning away, he added: "so I will send you with a message detailing where he will meet me to resolve our differences, as per the proposition you communicated to him yesterday."

Byakuya knew better than to push his luck twice in one meeting, and kept his protests to himself; but the large lump that formed in his throat at the reception he'd get from that message could not be denied.

Naraku chuckled, well aware of the predicament his messenger was in.

"He will probably try to assault you, it is true. However, if you intimate to him quickly enough that it is I that have the girl in my keeping, and that she is still alive, I doubt he will kill you. He will care for your information too much.

"So go!" he shouted suddenly. And Byakuya knew better than to argue; he left like the wind.

The shout rang in the stillness of the fortress for a while. After it passed, Naraku returned to the urn, still intact despite its abuse.

The image had finally reformed. It was a close up of the girl now, as the constructs carried her back here, to him…

A few light scrapes adorned her cheeks, and added a rich red contrast to her otherwise pale skin. Her mouth was slightly parted, her eyes closed and still behind their lids, a few locks of dark hair brushing her forehead, disheveled, but all the same…

He watched for some time as she lay limp in the arms of the illusion of himself.

Finally, he spoke, though his words were so soft, he probably didn't even hear them.

"And in the meantime…I will wait in eager anticipation."

A/N: It was a bit confusing at the end here, but I didn't want to give too much away. I guess what I'm trying to say is: if you're not all that sure what just happened, it's ok. It will be explained later, or, if you happen to be impatient (like my little sister; it's nothing to be ashamed of), I can explain it on request.

My apologies for the late posting. It was not my fault. Seriously, it was not. FFnet hasn't been letting me do anything with my account since Sunday, when I spent most of the day trying to post this... And I know of at least three other people similarly affected, so please believe me. I beseech you! I'm in an odd mood, if you can't tell. All the tangent planes are getting to me...but yes. Couldn't post until just now. Hence the lateness. Sorry. Still not my fault though...*grumbles*...

Anyway. Hope you liked it.