The Other Brother by fantaskie
Prologue
A/N: This story has been written in response to a challenge by KyouFan17 in A Single Spark. This story is based off the 1995 movie 'Sabrina'.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. That honour belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.
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Thunder and lightening crashed in the sky with a tremendous roar that sent a violent shiver down the little girl's back. She was huddled in a corner of the darkened room beneath a table. Her little round face was as white as the nightgown she wore, and tears streaked down her cheeks and misted her black rimmed glasses.
"Mommy!" she thought fervently, "I want mommy!"
Another clap of thunder and she buried her head under her arms. This was not good. It felt like the world was coming to an end, and there was no one else in this large mansion. What if there are ghosts, she thought to herself, and then whimpered. Ghosts were bad! She shouldn't think of them. Mommy had told her that ghosts were not real.
She peeked out over her folded arms, her glasses askew, and stared about her cautiously and fearfully. The shadows in the room played about her vision, looking like creatures from out of a horror movie. She shut her eyes tight, and began to pray fervently for the lights to come back on, or for the others to get back...anything that would make her feel safe again.
Something creaked. The sound was soft. But to the frightened child, whose senses were attuned to anything out of the ordinary, started out of her skin, her dark eyes darting to the door. She watched in paralyzed horror as the door knob turned ever so slowly. The door opened and a figure in white stepped in. Her worst fears realized, the child felt an overwhelming urge to scream.
And scream she would have done had she not suddenly recognized the silver hair that shone in the light that streaked through the sky and lit up the room. She wanted then to cry out in relief. But only for a second. For almost immediately she realized that this was not the one she thought he was, but the other. Gulping, she tried to make herself smaller, and if she could she would have disappeared through the wall or sunk through the floor. She hoped that he would not notice her presence.
Her hope was in vain for he noticed the bundle of white beneath the table when the next bolt of lightening illumined the room. Walking over to her, he knelt down and gazed at her.
He could barely see her eyes through the sogginess of her glasses, but her entire posture revealed that she was terrified. He moved to remove the glasses, but she flinched as though she feared he would strike her or eat her. A look of amusement shot through the eyes of gold before they settled into their customary blankness.
"You would do well to remember that if I wanted to hurt you I could have done it any time these past years you have been with us," he said coolly. Then he moved again and removed the black frames to reveal dark eyes that blinked owlishly at him. Taking out a white handkerchief from his white coat pocket, he wiped the glasses clean, and placed them back on the bridge of her nose. Then coming to his feet, he walked over to the window, and stared out into the stormy night.
The little girl sat still for a little while, studying the man. Any fear she had felt of him was now replaced by bewilderment, gratitude, and some curiosity. He didn't seem as scary as she had always thought him to be. If he was, surely he would not have gently taken her glasses and cleaned them for her! Besides, like he said, he had never hurt her all these years she had been with the family.
Her eyes traveled over him, noting the stiffness in his back and neck. She realised that he wasn't relaxed, and was unable to. She had always known him to be cold, and indifferent, and frightening. He was still all those things. But...maybe he was just a little kind?
Another roar of thunder, and she was huddled on the floor again, whimpering like a frightened pup. He turned sharply to look at her and then turned back to his contemplation of the rain outside the window. Once the echo of the thunder had passed he said in his blank, indifferent fashion, "It cannot harm you."
"My father once said that when we hear the thunder we know that God is very angry," came the tentative reply from the safety of the floor.
"Indeed?" He cocked his head slightly to one side, and then turned to look at her meditatively. She shrank from his intent gaze, but her dark eyes were fixed on him with a curiosity of their own. "My mother once told me that it is the angels playing football in the sky."
Her eyes widened at that, and she said incredulously, all fear and wariness forgotten, "Angels don't play football!!"
A faint smile entered his eyes as he turned away, and with a murmur he said, "Which would you prefer? An angry God or some happy angels?"
She gazed at her little hands and knew the answer. She liked his version better. It didn't make her feel all that frightened any more when she thought of angels playing in the sky. After all, even angels needed a break from caring for people, right?
The rustle of cloth made her look up to find that her companion had settled himself down in a sofa, his legs crossed and his head resting on the cushion behind him. Biting her lower lip nervously the child wondered if she could ask him a question. Deciding to take courage in both hands she said in a small voice, "Why did you kill your brother's dog when you were angry with him?"
His head slowly lifted in the dark as he gazed at her. After what seemed like hours he asked her softly, "What exactly are you referring to, little girl?" She gulped at his tone. "Well...they say that when you were both younger..much, much younger, you killed your brother's dog because he refused to listen to..." her voice tapered off as she realised the audacity of her question. She hugged her knees to her and prayed that he wouldn't kill her.
"It was an accident," he said as his head went down to rest again. "He got in the way of my car when I was speeding out of the gate."
"Oh," she said softly, and was relieved that he hadn't killed her, and that he hadn't killed the dog on purpose either.
The storm outside had lessened, and the rain had become a dull patter. Voices could be heard down below, and the little girl perked up. "They're home," she whispered joyfully as she jumped to her feet. The figure in the sofa did not move. She looked at him hesitantly, and then with a soft thank you she ran out the door, eager to see her mother and the others.
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