Disclaimer: I don't own jack!

Summary: Sins were like oil. No matter how hard one tried, they could never wash away.

Pairing: Okita/Kagome, One-sided Sesshoumaru/Kagome

Suggested Listening: Who Are You by Svrcina

Trigger Warning: Mention(s) of rape and domestic violence. All scenes will be kept as non-descript as possible in these circumstances, however these aspects are still a past event in the plot. Please be warned.

Crashing Tides

Chapter One: Monster Within

Sesshoumaru tilted the glass cup between his index finger and thumb. The amber colored liquid inside sloshed nearly to the brim; reflecting hazy golden eyes in its rippled surface. Four years he'd been sober. Four years he'd fought against the demons that'd haunted him and won. Now, here he was back at the crossroad that threatened to send him off the track of atonement he'd worked so hard to pave. Beyond the window of his loft, the lights of Tokyo's nightlife glimmered faintly far below. Midnight had already passed and still the streets were clogged with people—jumping from bar to bar seeking the thrill he once did. He stared intently at the shot of whiskey cradled in his palm.

It'd been eight years since the night he'd irrevocably screwed up his entire life. Eight years since he'd made that one horrific and utterly unforgiveable mistake. Memories he had tried to lock away threatened to spill to the forefront of his mind. The man tilted the cup in the opposite direction, watching keenly as the heavily scented drink roved along the ridged sides to nearly fall out of the top. It was his one true vice in life. Four years sober and still he couldn't drown out the horror of his crime. No matter how many times he drank and drowned his sorrows in the arms of other women, he could never truly get the image she made out of his mind. It was always there. It was always whispering to him in his moments of weakness. The faint sound of a police siren blared off in the distance. As was normal at this time of night, he'd been long since used to the disruptions.

Sesshoumaru stared at the demon reflected in the alcohol's placid surface, he could picture the way she'd looked at him. Her wide, terrified eyes. Her mouth that had been partially opened with the beginning of a scream before he'd silenced her with his violence. Eight years ago he'd been a drunk. He'd been a fool that hadn't the conviction to face his issues head on. He'd taken refuge in the rose-colored world of his inebriated state. For five years he'd lived in a drunken stupor. One year while he was dating her and the four years after she'd fled from him. Sesshoumaru was tempted to bury his face into his hands. If it weren't for the drink still being held so delicately between his fingers he likely would have as well.

Even now he could vividly picture her dainty hands at his shoulders. He could clearly remember delicate nails clawing at his flesh viciously, drawing blood and a vague sense of pain. He could still hear her muffled screams. He could also remember the moment her head fell back against the floor from the force of his strike. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the memories as they rushed forth. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep living in his past.

So many sins he'd committed against the one woman who'd loved him the most. She'd stood by him. She'd supported him. She'd offered him nothing but affection and care. She'd also been the first to tell him that his drinking was beginning to turn him into something monstrous. If only he hadn't been so stubborn and listened to her. The silver-haired male felt his stomach roil in disgust. It churned at the very thought of what his hands had done to her. Teeth gnashed together sharply. With a violent swing, he tossed the cup across the room. The glass shattered against the wall upon impact. Tiny shards littered his floor as the scent of whiskey permeated his now soiled carpet. Why? Why had he done it? Why hadn't he just let her go? Why hadn't he just listened?

Maybe if he'd been sober than he never would've hurt her. Maybe if he had been able to think clearly he would've seen how far he'd actually pushed her away from him. Maybe if he'd been in the right state of mind, he would've seen how much he'd harmed her with his addiction. Now because he'd chosen his demon over his lover he'd done something far worse than push her away. Sesshoumaru placed his elbows on his knees and covered his face; pressing his palms at his eyes as he tried to force away those haunting memories.

He'd raped her. He'd taken everything she'd ever held dear and tore it away. He'd been selfish. He'd been cruel. He'd been a complete monster. It wasn't the softness of her body that he'd taken pleasure in at that moment. In fact he hardly remembered what it'd been like outside of the violence. No, it'd been the cries of terror and the absolute thrill of the power he'd held over her that he enjoyed. He didn't care about any pain she felt. The only thing he wanted was to assert his dominance over her life. He'd sensed that he had been losing her and lashed out the only way his drunken mind could think of. Shame washed over him. He was sadistic. He was a bastard. He should never have laid his hands upon her. In the days following the attack he hardly registered what he'd done. It was as if it were all just some horrible dream he'd had. Like the vague sensation of forgetting something important.

Then headlines started to show up on the tabloids about their broken engagement. Things like how he'd abused her; beaten her until she had to be hospitalized for a week. Even claimed that he'd sexually assaulted her. Which had all been true. At first he hadn't a clue as to what they were talking about. He didn't even remember taking the ring back from her. All that he remembered was at the end of the night Kagome was gone and the ring was in his possession. Then the detective came.

It'd been a nightmare. In those few weeks he'd come to a quick realization of the crime he'd committed. He'd come to the conclusion that the night terrors he'd been having weren't just dreams at all; but the memories of the attack he carried out on his then fiancée. Sesshoumaru knew that he could've made amends right then and there. He knew that he should've done everything within his power to set her up with all the resources she'd need to overcome the emotional and physical wounds he'd inflicted on her. He also could have turned himself over to the police to face judgment… but he did not.

No, just like every other time, he'd drowned himself in his alcohol. He threw himself into the arms of other women to wash away the thought of her terrified screams. As the days passed the company his father had built from the ground up started to shake and quiver at its foundation. His actions had nearly brought it down. Sesshoumaru stood from his recliner. He'd been horrible to her. He slandered her name to whatever outlet he could reach. For weeks he set about ruining whatever reputation she'd had. By the end of it all there wasn't a jury around that would convict him. He'd had the majority of their district's populace convinced that his ex had been nothing more than a gold-digging whore out to tarnish his family's good name.

There was a roll of thunder in the distance. Black clouds obscured the night sky where his loft often had the optimal position of viewing. He'd raped her, beaten her and slandered her. So it'd come as no shock that she'd chosen to flee from him entirely. A month after the attack Inuyasha had called him. Between the strings of curses and threats of a slow and painful death was the news he'd dreaded. His ex was gone. She'd moved to another city a few hours away from him. She'd left Inuyasha to deliver only a single message:

You won.

Like it'd been some sort of game. He drank himself stupid that night and every night afterwards. It'd only been four years ago when he'd wrapped his car around a tree that he'd finally decided to sober up. He'd almost killed himself. It'd been the one moment in his life he'd had enough clarity to see the weight of his actions. That singular second in time that he thought he was going to die, he'd seen just how horrible he'd been. Between the withdrawals and the frustration, he began to feel desperate. Desperate for the need to reconcile; to apologize and prove himself to the woman he'd hurt the most.

Sesshoumaru looked over at the document that laid upon his bar. It'd been such a small detail but his sober mind was far too sharp to miss it. Omoikiri Enterprises had survived his bout of drunken stupidity to grow into a powerful force in the technological development field. Along side him, Houjo's humble family business had also taken off. With a branch in Kyoto, they expanded their Tokyo main office as well. Thus it was decided a partnership would be beneficial to both companies—with an emphasis on the sharing of their profits to boost their bottom line. He approached the bar and began to flip to the signatures on the back.

There at the bottom he spotted it. A name that would forever haunt him. Three signatures were lined in a vertical column. The top was his neatly scribbled autograph. Just below his was Houjo's and then finally, at the very bottom was the all too familiar curved characters of the woman he'd hurt the most. Except her name was slightly different than what he remembered.

Okita Kagome

It was her. He knew it was. His eyes lingered on her family name with a sharp sense of distaste. It felt wrong seeing that name attached to hers. He still remembered that man. Okita Souji, the only male who'd ever been able to take something so precious away from him. He'd stolen Kagome right out from under his nose. Sesshoumaru bit the inside of his cheek, drawing the coppery taste of blood. His nails buried themselves into the palms of his hands. He hated him. He hated everything he'd done to sabotage his relationship with Kagome. The silver-haired man knew he'd screwed up. He'd been fully aware of that fault. But Okita had done something far worse in his opinion. He whispered words of doubt into Kagome's ear. He'd fed her fears and flamed the fire of her distrust towards him. Okita had wedged himself firmly between them in their relationship. He'd interfered. That alone was enough to warrant his rage, but it didn't stop there.

So many nights he wondered how things would have ended if Okita hadn't gone to her. So many times he wondered if he should have been firmer in keeping Kagome separated from that man. They'd known each other since high school when her mother had, quite lamentably, taken the teen under her wing and opened her home to him. He and Kagome bonded quite well during those years but Sesshoumaru had always been skeptical of him. Okita had never hidden his interest. He'd wanted her just as desperately as Sesshoumaru did. The only difference was that he'd been quicker.

From the beginning of their relationship he'd been insistent that she put more space between herself and Okita. It was clear just in the way the male stared at her how interested he'd been. Sesshoumaru's fists clenched tightly. He'd seen the heated glances the other man had thrown Kagome's way when he thought she wasn't looking. The blatant want that flickered across his detestable countenance had been enough to send his instincts into overdrive. If Sesshoumaru was anything, it was possessive. That aspect of his personality had never changed. Even separated as they were, he still felt the inkling of possessiveness over the woman. Especially now that his fears were confirmed. His eyes narrowed.

He'd been so desperate back then. The further down the path of his addiction he traveled, the closer she'd gotten to Okita. He'd sensed it long before he ever laid his hands upon her. There was always something between them. Like the flicker of a sparking flame just before it'd crescendo into an all-consuming inferno. His lips pulled downwards. So, in part of his own jealousy, he'd urged her to cut the bond she'd shared with the other man. Yet no matter how many times he pushed for it, Kagome never budged on that particular topic. She'd always been firm in asserting that her friendship with Okita was something she valued. She refused to put a barrier between herself and the other male at his request. That drove him to a frenzy. They'd had several arguments over the man's involvement in her life. Whenever something went wrong and if she needed support, Okita was always there. Sesshoumaru stared at the signature that currently mocked him. She'd been his fiancée at the time but he was never the man she went to for support. No that particular honor had always gone to another. He dropped the pages of the contract back into its original place.

Sure, part of the blame was his own to bear. He wasn't necessarily the type someone would feel particularly comfortable around. He also hadn't much time back then. He'd been far too concerned with how best to lead his recently deceased father's company. The silver-haired male glanced towards his phone. He'd irrevocably screwed up his life. He chased out the only woman who'd truly loved him into the arms of another man. He'd harmed her to the point where she'd been forced to flee from the city entirely. Now that he was sober, he wanted to make amends. He wanted to prove that he truly did regret his actions that night. His fists clenched even more tightly at his side. Would she accept that? Would she accept his remorse over his absence in her life?

Golden eyes shifted to take in the chaos of the city below his feet. Consequences be damned. He was going to start the first step of righting his long string of fuck ups. Withdrawing his phone he pulled up a familiar contact. With a swipe if his finger, he dialed the number.

"I need a favor." The voice on the other line laughed lightly at his request. He didn't let them get a word in edgewise. "Get me the phone number and address of Okita Kagome."

The was a slight pause on the other end. A question filtered through but Sesshoumaru quickly shut it down. "I don't intend on doing anything. I just want to talk." He stopped, a vein pulsating over his temple. "I will inform you if such a need ever arises. Now just get me what I requested." With that he ended the call. The man slid his eyes over the city. Somewhere out there Kagome was in the arms of the man he detested the most. His teeth gnashed together. Even if he couldn't erase the horrors of his actions, he'd make damn sure that he'd make his amends. After all, he loved her. As such he still wasn't quite ready to give her up. Not when the gods had given him this one last chance to set things right.