Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

A/N: No prompts were used for this one. PhoenixBlade did submit three, but I'll be using them in the next drabble, as this one was already half-written!

"This isn't happening. This. Is. Not. Happening. It can't be."

"I'm very afraid that it is," an eerily muffled voice came from somewhere in the bedroom.

Kagome whirled about with a shriek, eyes darting wildly about the room, wondering if she was hearing things. Well, she was, a strictly pedantic voice inside her head pointed out, but the question was – was she hearing them in reality or in imagination?

Knock. Knock.

The voice in her head shut up as she stilled in fright, trying to decide if it was worth risking her life to investigate her fiancé's crazy games. Because it was a game, she could tell. Somewhere in the point between this life and his last, Naraku had grown a sense of humour. The trouble lay in her uncertainty of its degree of lethality; the half-demon had always found the most awful things funny, taking fiendish delight in his murderous schemes. But has he grown out of it, she wondered, and then wondered why she was bothering to analyse.

This Naraku might be human, through and through, but he clearly remembered all of his previous life. Remembered it enough to have no regret for it.

Remembered it enough to want to cap his defeat with revenge, because there could be no other reason for worming into her life, tormenting her like this.

Do I want to dance with him? Do I want to know why he is reborn? Why he found me, HOW he found me? Do I wish to engage with this humanoid relic of an ancient monster who killed all my friends before I managed to take him down?

The answer, from all the voices in her head, was a resounding and final no.

The knocks came again, this time clearly from within a closet tucked into the far corner of the room and Kagome lost her patience.

Marching up to the closet – really an armoire, now that she had a closer look – she yanked the doors open and plunged the knife she was carrying deep into his heart. The smugness on his face faded with each new drop of blood blossoming from the wound, and she could feel the familiar bloodlust rising in her at the sight.

She stabbed him again. And again, again, again and yet again, till she'd torn him almost to ribbons.

And then she watched, with murder clouding her eyes and satisfaction writhing through her, as he collapsed on the floor, vision glazed and body torn, staring at her with some emotion she couldn't be bothered to identify.

"You…were supposed to say….'who's there,'….silly woman….Didn't you know…..joke?" he wheezed, using the last gasps of air left in him to make one last attempt at getting to her.

The priestess was tempted to ignore the question. But it was his final stand, she supposed, even if it was a pitifully ineffective one. Poor half-demon. Can't do a thing without his tentacles raising hell about him.

He didn't deserve any mercy. But he did perhaps deserve a punchline.

"I am done with you. All of you. I was done with you when I destroyed you, so many years ago."

Something twisted his face then, again, something she didn't care to know. All that mattered to the former warrior was that her nemesis was bleeding to death on the floor and he wasn't doing it quickly enough. She thrust the knife into him one last time, keeping it there till the last twinkle of life fled his eyes.

Then Kagome slipped out of his house and returned to her life.

Note to reforming villains – don't bait a priestess who can kill you dead without needing to think about it. Review, review! :D