Chapter Two: Why you don't piss off the person holding your drink

It burned. The need to see the jewel, to feel it, to hold it, to possess it, was indescribable.

He had chased to jewel for half a millennia. Having possessed it briefly in Japan's feudal era, he knew its capabilities, its limits….

…and it was limitless.

It was also clever. It had chosen its guardian carefully, built a veritable fortress of purity around itself that had prevented him from getting near it for five hundred years now. It had concealed itself cleverly, and he had scoured several continents in this lifetime alone looking for it. Finally though, he had cornered it here. It didn't want to be caught. She didn't want to be tamed. But it would, and she would.

All he needed was patience.

He hated being patient.

Unfortunately, it came with the territory that was his job. And, really, compared to some places he had waited – dumpsters, seedy bars, back corners of the enemy gangs alleyway – this was far more preferable.

Inuyasha was kicked back in an Irish pub, nursing a friggin' water - as much as he wanted a foaming pint, he knew he couldn't afford the alcohol in his system - while the ferrymen puttered about his boat, trying to figure out what was wrong with the engine.

Finding Naraku - or, Oniguimo as he was sometimes called - should have been easy. The island was only, what, thirty-two thousand square miles? Roughly the size of Indiana in the United States. He shouldn't have been that difficult to locate - they not only knew who he was, but what he was after and where he was looking for it.

It should have been easy - so why wasn't it?

The bastard had eluded him for over two years, leading Inuyasha in a merry chase across Japan, then China, even Egypt and parts of the United States before finally coming here, leaving a trail of destruction that the deaf and dumb could have followed. He had mysteriously disappeared for about six months in the southern US, and Inuyasha had thought he'd lost him, but the murder of a small child had betrayed him.

The child had been only six years old, a bright, happy little girl with long, silky dark hair and big blue eyes. The state they had found her in...Inuyasha shuddered slightly at the memory. She had been found with numerous deep gashes in her sides and rib cage, strangled, tendons slashed so she couldn't run. The only thing they had found that had linked them to Onigumo was drawings of that same pink ball that they had seen everywhere else. No one knew what to make of the drawings, but everyone agreed it was a simple enough way to recognize him.

Bang!

Inuyasha glanced up, startled out of his thoughts, only to find himself staring into a pair of angry brown eyes. The bang had been a foaming pint being slammed down onto the table by an equally angry fist.

'Well, not brown really…' He mused, ignoring the slosh of cold beer on his hand. 'There's too many colors to simply be "brown." But angry…? Definitely.'

"For you sir." The girl said pleasantly, the tone belied by the glare. "Courtesy of the girls over there." She added, jerking her head towards the bar across the room.

Inuyasha glanced in the direction of her gaze. Two girls were sitting at the bar, giggling over their own pints and smiling at him. One fluttered her fingers in his direction.

'Damn. Damn damn damn…'

"Sorry," He said, smiling and waving his hand at the proffered drink. "I'm not interested."

The girl quirked a brow and something kin to respect might have shone in her eyes. "No? Not may people refuse Foina and Colleen."

Inuyasha glanced over. He could certainly see why not many people refused them. One had bright red hair, the color of a copper penny and laughing green eyes. A sprinkling of freckles dusted her cheeks. The other had equally pale skin, sans the freckles. Her hair was deepest brown and her eyes were pale, icy blue. Both women had lithe, willowy figures and generous…assets.

In short, they looked like every other stuck-up, vain and shallow woman he had gone to school with. Well, a bit more exotic maybe, but the signs were all there. Their clothes obviously weren't from around here. Their hair was expertly tousled, and probably sprayed to stay that way. Inuyasha had seen - and been with - enough high-class women to know that the majority of their looks were make-up and the red head wore contacts.

"I can see that." He said wryly.

The girl in front of him quirked an eyebrow. So what's your problem? it said.

Inuyasha grinned. Oh this would be fun…

"Why would I hit on them when you're so much prettier?" He asked pleasantly. He expected a blush, a stammer, a saucy grin.

Anything but what he got.

Dark brown eyes clouded over, turning nearly black with rage. Color suffused her cheeks, bright red against ivor skin and her formerly full red lips thinned into a pale, white line. That was all the warning her got before the foaming pint was pitched across his face.

"Wh-what-?" Inuyasha sputtered, leaping up. "What the fuck was that for!"

"You bastard." The girl hissed, spinning on her heel and storming out of the room, right past the girls by the bar not sparing their shocked gasps and horrified faces a second glance, leaving Inuyasha gaping, with a sopping shirt and roomful of people staring at him.

'Oh, this is the way to keep a low profile…'

However, Inuyasha pushed back his inner voice - which was sniggering - and stormed after the girl.

"Lou, I'm taking a break!" Sango shouted as she stormed out the back door, her voice thick with anger and tears. Lou glanced up from her sink - where her arms were to the elbows in soapy, sudsy water - just in time to see Sango's retreating back as the door swung closed behind her.

Not five seconds later, the door leading into the tavern swung open again, and an obviously angry young man with striking white-silver hair and burning gold eyes strode into the room. The smell of yeast radiated off of him and foam was still dripping down his cheek.

"Where did she go?" He bellowed, pining the elderly lady with and angry glare. The woman in question - who looked like she ought to have been baking cookies - returned his glare and folded her still sudsy arms across her chest.

"Why do you want to know?" She asked calmly, but with no less heat.

"Wench threw beer in my face, and I want an apology!" Inuyasha snarled.

The lady quirked an eyebrow at the young man, eyeing him. "What did you do?"

"Do?" Inuyasha repeated incredulously. "I didn't do anything wench! She threw beer on me!"

"Yes, but what did you do to provoke that? Sango doesn't usually go off without a reason."

"All I did was ask why I would hit on other women when she's much prettier!" Inuyasha ground out. "And she threw beer on me. I want to know why!"

The woman's other eyebrow quirked up to join its companion, and together they rose towards her hairline. "Aah." She pointed towards the door. "That way."

With a terse nod, Inuyasha strode out.

Sango bolted.

It was the only word for it. Cowardly, she knew, and completely beneath her, as a waitress and a woman. If she had any senseat all, she would turn around and march right back to the tavern and apologize for dumping the pint all over the ass's arrogant head.

But the nerve of him!

"Why would I look at them when you're so much prettier?"

The words haunted her, taunted her, floating around inside her skull and stabbing small, stinging barbs at her pride.

Plain, she was. Brown of hair and eye, pale of skin, she was nothing exceptional to look at. She knew. She had been told, and though she was nothing extraordinary, she was nobody's fools either.

Taking a sharp right into a narrow alley, Sango resisted the urge to stop and kick a wall in her frustration.

No need to get her shoes dirty.

So wrapped up was she in her anger that she never noticed the figure blocking her path until she bumped into it.

Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, holding her immobile. She glanced up, startled, into a pair of calculating brown eyes.

"Well now, what have we here boys?"

The voice was taunting, oily slick and cool. The boy himself couldn't have been older then seventeen or eighteen, but he was tall and lanky, with the unfinished look of someone who wasn't done growing. His hooded shirt was as faded and stained as his jeans, and his sneakers were scuffed and worn. Upon closer inspection, his eyes were glazed and had the blood-shot appearance of someone who hadn't slept enough and who partied too hard. His skin was sallow with ill-health and he reeked of cigarette smoke and the higher, sweeter fragrance of marijuana.

Sango's stomach turned.

"Looks like someone wandered into the wrong part of town." Came a voice – deceptively indifferent - at her back.

Turning her head, Sango noted that there were others beyond the two who spoke. Four total, all of them appeared. All about the same age, and all of them obviously stoned, high or one some kind of trip. Sango sank back, trying to lose her captor's hold. The boy, however, wasn't as out of it as he seemed, and tightened his grip.

"Aah now, no tricks, sneaky bitch. You're the one who walked in on our party after all. You must have wanted to party too, right?"

"Umm… no. I just made a wrong turn on my way home from work. If you'll please let me go, I'll be on my way."

"What, you don't wanna party?" Sneered the boy on the left. "You look like a party girl. Don't she Jake?" He asked the guy next to him.

"Not really, but we can make do." The young man – blonde, tall and stoned off his ass – muttered. "Kinda plain, but she's got a figure."

The second guy - the one standing behind her – came forward with a lit, and poorly rolled, joint. Her captor took a slow, hit as the guy held it out, then deliberately blew the smoke in her face, causing Sango to wrinkle her nose as she tried to hold her breath. The guy, a slow, cocky grin on his lips, held the still lit joint to her lips.

"Come on sweetie, take a hit." He crooned. His voice was low and persuasive, and his eyes dark and ugly.

Sango shook her head, lips pressed tightly together.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch.

"Stupid bitch!" He screamed, the back of his hand connecting solidly with her face. The force of the blow made her original captor lose his grip, and sent Sango stumbling as she tried not to land on the ground. Her mind spun. It was broad daylight! The road was only a hundred feet away! Could no one hear the commotion?

The man who had held the joint to her lips advanced on her, his eyes glimmering with malice. Regaining her lost footing – she had a bad feeling that if she fell it was all over – Sango dropped back into a defensive stance, calling on scattered knowledge from her Asian father. Right foot back, legs spread for balance….

"Oh…?" The blonde drawled, obviously amused. "Little bitch knows kung fu?"

"Little bitch wants to fight." Joint Guy said, and the joy in his voice sent shivers up Sango's spine.

'He's mad.' She thought wildly. 'Absolutely insane.'

Joint Guy idly flipped the butt of the joint to the ground before settling into a similar stance, flipping his overly-long dark hair out of his face as he grinned. "You want to play bitch?" He sneered. "I'll kick you ass."

Heart thudding, Sango waited.

She didn't have to wait long. Joint Guy threw the first punch, but drugs and idleness made his aim unsure, and his reaction-time slow. Sango dodged the blow easily, and lashed out, landing a solid fist to his jaw and sending the guy sprawling.

For one timeless moment, Sango didn't know who was more stunned; herself or her attacker. They all stared at her blankly, and Sango stared at her fist, which was still tightly clenched. An odd feeling of rightness sang through her veins, a brief, harmonic chorus before fading out, leaving er bewildered and confused.

How could she have done that? How could she have done that? She hadn't hit anybody since Tommy O'Brien had called her "wide load" back in sixth grade!

"Bitch!"

Apparently her original captor had gotten over his shock; he charged at her, screaming

obscenities. Sango only had time to let out a muffled squeak before she ducked, sidestepping the heavier boy and coming back up, automatically pulling both fists up in front of her; one near her nose, the other next to her chin. Without thinking, she leaned back, resting her weight comfortably on her right foot as she settled into her original stance. As the boys circled, Sango bounced a bit on the balls of her feet, thanking God that Margo insisted on comfortable tennis shoes for working in.

Blondie threw the first punch, and his reflexes weren't nearly as slow as Joint Guy's had been. Sango barely blocked, swinging her forearm up before jabbing with her other fist then ducking as his pot-smoking buddy – Jake - backed him up, steadying him before leaping at her, and ugly snarl twisting his features. Sango sidestepped again, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she lifted her foot and kicked him as hard as she could in the ribs before settling back into her stance.

Joint Guy was up again, Sango noted dully as she ducked Blondie's next wobbly swing. He looked mad; too mad to think straight as he picked up an iron pipe lying in a refuse pile and stalking meaningfully towards her.

'Oh shit…' Sango didn't' know where her newfound skills had come from, but she highly doubted they would do much good against the damage a lead pipe could cause.

Sango ducked as Jake swung, his swings growing more and more erratic as his anger grew. Sango ducked and dodged, occasionally lashing out, trying to catch his ankle or knee, but he was too unpredictable for her to kick, the drugs coursing through his system making him immune to the majority of her strikes.

'Shit. Hell-fuck-damn. Where is the pipe?' Joint Guy had slid out of her sight, letting her focus on his buddies instead. Sango whirled–

-Only to come face-to-face with the angry golden eyes of the guy she had dumped beer on at the bar.

'Shit.'

Sango had a brief internal struggle – friend or foe? She really wanted to hit him – but in that space between heartbeats, Sango quite suddenly realized she was out of attackers.

Damn. She couldn't hit him.

"Where'd they go?" She blurted out, immediately feeling a rush of heat surge to her face. 'That was smooth.' She congratulated herself. 'No "Hello", no "Thank you for saving me." Just "Where did they go?" Good one Sango. Real slick.'

However Golden Boy had ignored her rudeness, a wry grin twisting his lips as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Some guy had the bright idea to bash you with a pipe. You took out blondie back there and the other two ran."

"Aaah…" Sango was out of witty comments. So instead she settled for rather meek-sounding "Oh." However, Golden Boy wasn't listening to her anymore, and had instead pulled out a cell phone, casually flipping it open as he turned his back to her. Though he was speaking quietly, she could tell he was talking to Interpol.

Sango stuck her tongue out at his back.

Casually flipping her off, without so much as glancing in her direction, he muttered a few more muffled sentences into the phone before flicking it closed with a snap and turning to her.

"Well, the police will be here in a moment. Care to tell me what happened?" He asked casually.

Sango eyed him. "Why did you follow me?" She asked instead.

"You pissed me off." He said, frowning angrily. "I compliment you and you dump beer on me for no good reason. I wanted an apology. I still do." He added after a moment's thought. "So why were you in this alley again?" He asked again, switching back to the original topic as if she had never asked her question.

Sango blinked. Most men, when asked about themselves, were happy to boat about their accomplishments, to puff out their chests and assure her she was in "good hands." Most men were easily distracted by questions of loosely relevant things and could be diverted off the topic. Most men…

Obviously weren't this guy.

"What's your name?" Sango asked, once again wishing the connection between her mouth and her brain hadn't short-circuited and left her blurting out things like a fool.

"Inuyasha Taisho." Inuyasha replied. He opened his mouth – undoubtedly to repeat his question – when two things happened.

One, the police called squealed to a halt, sirens blaring, lights flashing.

Two, the guy on the ground groaned.

Inuyasha turned around, casually flipping blondie over with his foot, which he placed in the center of his back as he started to struggle.

The policemen rushed forward, chattering excitedly – apparently they'd been looking for these guys – and ushering Sango into the car, asking her kindly about the bruise on her cheek. She allowed herself to be led away, but not before she caught the look Inuyasha gave her, telling her that they weren't finished.

Sesshomaru wandered.

It was, really, the only explanation for what he did. The Aran Isles weren't especially large, a few shops, a pub, an inn and a few houses for rent spread out over several square miles. And though, by any other standards it would have been considered "crowded," The Aran Isles seemed to be one of those few places where you could travel decades in the space of a few feet.

Despite the weather, cold and wet, misting rain making every tree and blade of grass a vibrant emerald hue and ever stone on every building stark white or vivid brown, there were several people wandering the square. Moving between stalls, chatting, scolding errant children, haggling. Sesshomaru moved among them, restless, looking for something he couldn't see, couldn't touch, couldn't taste of smell.

It was here. He knew it…

'Fool.' He chided himself, deliberately slowing his pace as he stepped between two stalls. 'You don't even know what you're looking for.'

It niggled at him, tickling the hairs on the back of his neck with whisper-soft kisses, beckoning.

'Like a lightening strike.' He thought. The air was charged with it.

Growling, Sesshomaru whirled around, silver tail whipping soundlessly behind him as he strode away from the market and noise some people.

There.

It caught his eye, a flash in his peripheral vision, deepest black turning the stone wall behind it insipid beige. A flutter of stark white linen in the breeze, beckoning.

He turned-

An edge of a basket, dried river weeds against the pale ivory flesh of her arm.

Her.

He craned his neck, trying to look over the people blocking his way but he couldn't -

There. It was her. Palest white linen, bound under her breasts, molding to her hips and shins as she strode, barefoot, through the crowd.

Sesshomaru hissed under his breath, trying to cu through the suddenly-crowded market, whishing it weren't so busy.

"Hey!"

She turned, eyes flaring wide in her startlement, before she bolted, delicate toes and tiny feet carrying her into the fields faster then Sesshomaru could fathom. He ran, tried desperately to follow, but it was as if his feet were bound to the earth on which he stood; putting one foot in front of the other took tremendous strength.

"Hey, wait!"

She froze, spinning on the ball of her foot to stand at the edge of the field, skirts flaring wide around her before settling with a swirl of fabric into tame folds, to stare at him.

"Who are you?" He breathed, bound in her gaze as effectively as if she'd cast a net over him.

She blinked, eyes widening before narrowing into faint suspicion. Basket clasped in her left hand, her right raided, a single finger pointed into the distance. Unable to do otherwise, Sesshomaru's eyes followed her trail.

A circle of stones stood in the distance, much like Stonehenge in Britan of Scotland. He wrenched his head, back, wanting to ask…

But she was gone. Dust motes, glowing iridescent on the light of the full moon danced and swirled where she had stood.

"It's not the time now, My Prince." A voice whispered sweetly in his ear. "Soon enough. He's coming, and I'll not be able to escape him much longer. I need you, but you must wait."

Sesshomaru woke.