New story, just like I promised! I'm back! I'm personally very excited for this story. I love it so far, but that's just me.

Note One: There is a lot of cursing, hence the M rating. This story will also contain other scenes, well you know what I mean... I'll always leave the option for those who wish not to read the lemons.

Note Two: Kagome is OOC but given her situation I'm portraying her as a girl who has been through terrible trauma and therefore, changed completely. There will be mention of the "past" her, which will ideally portray the Kagome we all know from the show.

Note Three: For this story, I'm going to use REAL towns and places. However, the name of schools, stores and motels will be changed. Not because I can't find them but because I feel odd about doing it. I don't know why, just letting you all know. Also, this is a world of HUMANS ONLY, which is why demons are bad and so on. It's present place and time.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

How To Kill Me

Chapter One: Welcome to Hell

"Then I was thinking to myself this could be Heaven or this could be Hell."

-Hotel California, The Eagles

To be frank, I'm one huge bitch.

This man in front of me seriously wasn't getting it.

"I said get out of the fucking house!" I shouted, my silver gun pointed at him. "It will kill you if you stay. Get out of the house!"

Yeah, I'm a bitch, but I'm a lifesaver – once you get past the whole gun-in-your-face problem.

In my defence, I'm trying to save this man. He was in his early forties, single, and lived in a house that his mother probably used to own. A bottle of Jack Daniel's was gripped tightly in his hands and his bloodshot eyes were glaring at me. For a moment, I felt pity. It wasn't his fault that his house was haunted by a beautiful woman that isolated him from the world. It wasn't his fault he stopped working because his gorgeous "wife" missed him so much. It was the demon's fault.

Yup, I said he was haunted by a demon.

And I'm the slayer.

"You'll kill her!" he hissed at me, his words coming out in one long slur. He was delusional, obviously drunk and out of his mind. I tried to remember that when I crossed the distance between us and whacked him in the head with the butt of my gun.

Stupid son of a bitch. He should've listened.

A piercing shriek filled my ears and I did a full three-sixty, my gun pointed straight ahead with my flashlight in my other hand. It was past midnight, and of course, pouring rain outside.

Because supernatural hunts would be nothing without a little rain, thunder and lightning to make the already dramatic scene cliché. But whatever, I was past it.

"Come on prissy, prissy, prissy," I cooed, my eyes constantly darting from one end of the house to the other as I searched the hallway. My drawings stated that the staircase was just at the end, and the mistress' bedroom was the first on the right. I found the stairs and climbed up them, listening to gut-wrenching sobs as I took each step.

"You bitch!" a female scream sounded, echoing through the empty, disgusting walls. "How dare you hurt my husband!"

There. I braced myself for a moment before standing directly in front of the doorway, seeing the pale figure of a female in my line of vision. Or, more specifically, my gun's line of vision. I didn't think twice. As the demon came at me, her eyes changing from colourful human to blood-red demon, I shot her – triple tapping her. One in her leg, her heart and finally her forehead. The sound of gunshots echoed through the broken down building, ringing in my ears. I was long used to booming sounds, something one had to grow accustomed to when they shot at something constantly.

I walked over to the shaking body of the demon, the true form now revealed. No longer did the demon look like a beautiful woman dressed in white see-through lingerie, but like an ugly rotting monkey from Hell. Yeah, no one said they were pretty.

"I'll kill you," the demon hissed wickedly, sneering as black blood poured out of its mouth. "We'll all kill you. There's a reason you're not free. There's a reason you're forbidden to lead a life of normality. You have a destiny – one in which you'll die."

"Yup, the number of times I've heard that has definitely surpassed my two hands. Look, you're going to Hell. Have a fun trip." I didn't smile, I didn't frown and I sure as hell didn't cry. Without any hesitation I placed my palm on the demon's left chest, where its black heart beat. Quickly, I scrunched up my hands, feeling the tug and pull of the demon's heart as I ripped it towards my hand, breaking ventricles and veins as it approached the rib cage that was already snapping.

The demon shrieked beneath my hand, agonizing pain searing through it. Still, I didn't flinch as I closed my eyes and clenched my hand in one quick, smooth motion. With my hand in a fist, the demon's scream ended and there was nothing but ungodly silence.

For a long moment, I stared at the demon. Its eyes were wrenched open, the look of pain evident on its features. I sighed and shook my head as I bent my hand over to close the lids. Yes, I was a bitch. Yes, I was a lifesaver. Yes, I was a demon slayer.

But I wasn't a terrible person. If I could make their deaths a little less painful, I would. The option was out of my hands, so to speak, considering it was my touch that purified their black heart and ultimately killed them. I waited for the storm to pass, for my own heart to slow its beating from the use of my powers.

There's a lot about me you don't know, but it's going to be a long ride anyways, so you might as well sit back and get comfortable.

I stood up and exited the house, carefully stepping over the unconscious homeowner. My car sat just outside, covered by the ugly brown sack I used to make it a little more inconspicuous. I went to the back, unclipping the lock and then moving to the sides to do the same. There was a final one at the front and when I was just about finished, just about ready to grab it, throw it in the truck and blow this town, I heard sirens.

Fucking fuzz.

Yes, the cops were wonderful people. The cops were loyal little hounds that did the work they were supposed to – the work that included catching thieves, robbers and murders.

Oh gee, me?

I grabbed the tarp and yanked it in the front door with me. I slammed the door, shoved the keys in and started the engine. My baby purred like a feline. I slammed the stick into first and drove away. One thing about Corvettes: they're damned fast if you have the right one. Now you can fully appreciate why I covered it up.

I looked in my rear-view, watching as the flashing blue, red and white lights lit up the scenery. The house was in the middle of nowhere, so they were obviously looking for me. I guess they thought I was a little suspicious about the whole haunted house story and thought I would do something stupid. Well, let's see. A demon is dead so all they'll see is a rotting monkey upstairs and the homeowner is alive. He'll have the worst headache of his life when he gets up, but he's alive. There was little to book me on for that: breaking and entering and assault with a deadly weapon.

Oh well. C'est la vie.

I turned up the volume and listened to my new Rise Against CD, happily singing along. I was so used to driving standard that the motions didn't even faze me. I stole this car two months ago, when it was fresh on the market – the new 2009 Corvette, but the really nice one. I had been stealing cars since I was little, when I was taught to hotwire a car and got it going without the keys. Certain events triggered this life of loneliness and murder (of demons, by the way); I'm not just a whack-job. So I primarily stole really nice cars that had a lot of engine power. Gas wasn't a problem because of my several thousand credit cards that, well, the bill never made its way to.

I was bouncing, singing loudly to try and drown out my thoughts when all of a sudden, my headlights caught a flash of beige directly in my path and I slammed the brakes, listening to the stutter of the wheels as I stopped nearly on a dime. I still had a few feet to spare, but looking at the man in front of me was almost as startling as actually hitting him.

"What the hell?" I muttered to myself, trying to get a good look. All I saw was a pale face, mostly blotted out by my headlights, amber orbs and long tresses of...blonde? I couldn't be sure, the lights were too bright and he was too close. He smiled, waved and then before I could even blink in response, he crouched and sprang up, completely disappearing.

"Fuck!" I yelped, realizing that all of my staring was useless since I had been looking at a demon. But amber eyes? Humans didn't have amber eyes and neither did demons. Humans had the basic colours: brown, blue, green, grey and all the little mixes in between. Demons had red. I'm sorry but amber came up nowhere on that list of mine. Still, no human could make that jump without help. I leapt out of the car, pulled my silver gun from the holster and looked around the dark night, staying close to the open driver's-side door. I waited and waited, looking at every inch of the night around me, but nothing flickered. My senses didn't even register that a demon was actually here. So...I was losing it?

I sighed and holstered my gun, making sure to buckle it in place so a fast one wasn't pulled on me. I grabbed the tarp out of the front and shoved it in my truck on top of my little vacuum and clear pressed bags. Getting back in my car, I took a deep breath, looking around and then started to drive again, searching out the nearest motel.

Let's go through a little history lesson, shall we?

Demons are real. They exist and they are out to kill you. You think this is a joke? Just wait until one snags you, and then we'll see who's coming to save your sorry ass. Demons can also perfectly blend into human society and they can do that in two ways: to possess a body or to mimic a body. A demon can possess a body in seconds, but usually, the human soul within tries to fight and makes it difficult for a demon to have complete control. The only good thing about possession for a demon is that if someone tries to kill it, they will only kill the body and not the demon's soul. It takes an exorcism to send the demon back to Hell. When a demon mimics a body, they take on the form of a human, like a blanket of invisibility over their bodies.

The greatest part of all of it? Humans don't know shit. Your best friend could be a demon. Your mom for Christ's sake, and you wouldn't know it. Demons are able to adapt in seconds, and it would only take a full day for a demon to get in the routine of the meat-shell. Oh, and as gross as that sounds, that's basically what it is. Our bodies are a meat-shell for our souls – if a demon takes over, it's their shell.

So you're probably thinking how the hell we can stop this. Considering the fact that humans can't tell the difference between a real demon and a real human, nothing can be done there. But – and this is a huge but – something can be done. This something is the biggest laugh of the universe: humans with holy powers. The powers stem from what most would consider priest or priestess powers – holy powers delivered from Upstairs. Me, I don't know what I believe. All I know is that I can kill demons.

For kicks, we'll call my powers mini-exorcisms or mini-purification. Same shit; different pile.

A motel finally drew in my sights and slowing down I turned into the dimly lit parking lot. Parking my car, I sighed as I turned it off and got out. There were only two other cars in the lot, leaving to me feel only slightly better that this wasn't a very popular road. Still, I removed my duffel bag from the trunk and covered my steal with the tarp. The motel wasn't exactly what you would call a five-star resort, but it was a lot better than sleeping in the car. I hauled my bag onto my shoulder and entered the lobby where an older man sat reading the newspaper. He hardly looked up when I appeared at the desk.

"For one, please," I whispered, intentionally altering my voice a bit.

"Queen?"

"Please."

The old man sighed heavily and put down the newspaper, barely sparing a glance my way while he wrote a couple things down on a pad of paper. "And you're choice of payment?"

"Do you accept Visa?"

The man grunted a nod.

Handing him the card, I took a quick look at the name on it, since I didn't really know what it was. I had approximately five Visas, three Mastercards and numerous other credit cards. I also had seven driver's licenses, two passports and thirty-six different kinds of badges and official ID.

None of them were real, in case you were wondering. Hence the whole bills-never-making-their-way-to-me idea. Okay, most would call this fraud and a various assortment of other names, but I choose to call this my life in a nutshell.

My name, then, you ask? Well, I probably should've mentioned that in the beginning. Sorry, I was too distracted trying to kill a demon. My name is Kagome Higurashi. I'm twenty-one years old. I'm a kick ass demon slayer but I have absolutely no life. I'm alone but I choose to be alone.

Once I had a normal life: a real, serious boyfriend, amazing best friends and an adorable but quite insane family. Once I believed that nothing could go wrong.

And then, on June 6th, 2006, my entire life was turned upside down.

Oh yeah, I forgot the irony. My life from normality to demon slaying changed on the day of 06/06/06. Not exactly the "number of the beast", but enough irony for me to want to weep in it.

"Sign here, please," the gruff man grunted, still not looking at me. I signed my fake name in a flourish and then gave the slip back while getting the keys from his hands and the room number. It didn't take me long to get settled in. The motel was decent. The mattresses weren't top quality but it was much better than a hard leather seat.

Quickly grabbing the bag of salt from my duffel bag, I salted the lining of the doors and windows, making sure that there were no breaks. As a demon slayer, I was on the most wanted list and the only thing that warded the buggers off was salt. When I finished, I got cleaned up and returned to my bed, flipping on the television and searching the news channels for anything that waved a red flag. For the longest time, I was relatively sure that all of the destruction had been caused by humans, until a small three-minute story came at the end.

Police are still looking for suspects in the murder of Ayumi Okamoto, a seventeen-year old female that was found dead on the side of Fifteenth Side-road and King Road. Police have not yet released any new information on the case, other than her body was paralysed. Medical examiners are still at a loss for the condition, unsure as to why her body is like a statue of stone. A memorial will be held at her school...

I took down the information of the memorial, making sure to pay attention to the names of the parents and friends. There was so little given though that I had to turn on my laptop and sort through news articles, none of which really provided anything more.

It's as if it's frozen, although the body temperature is always the same as the conditions provided... As if made of stone... Unbreakable... A horrible tragedy...

Tragedy was right. This certainly wasn't an accident. The word 'demon' popped into my head the moment the story was told. I shut down my computer and sighed, checking all of my salt lines before slipping out of my clothes and wrestling under the covers.

Tomorrow was just another day of Hell. I knew it. The world knew it.

Oh, but not the stupid little humans.

Nobleton Ontario was by far a very small town. It ended as soon as you entered it. There was one main street called Highway 27, and along there was a small plaza with a Tim Horton's, a grocery store and a few little bake shops. It really wasn't hard to find the place where the poor girl had been killed. Markers lined a fair chunk of field that strayed on the right shoulder and muddy footprints covered the surrounding road.

Pulling the Corvette to the side and shutting off the engine, I got out and headed immediately to my trunk. I shoved the vacuumed pressed clothes bags out of the way and slid a hidden latch to the side, opening a large compartment underneath my trunk. In it were weapons of all kinds. Any gun, knife, hook, bullet, herb, stick, rock you could think of, I had it. Demons could only be killed by one thing – my spiritual powers – but they could be subdued a million to one different ways, depending on the demon.

Grabbing my silver automatic, I checked the load and then checked the safety, sliding it into my holster and clipping it to my side. I grabbed my pocket knife and put it in my ankle bracelet and then added a couple of other various weapons to my body. You could never be too prepared. Re-latching the compartment I slammed down the trunk and took off to the field where the victim was found.

Summer was just ending, and the brisk air hummed through my windbreaker as I knelt to the ground, looking at the very obvious imprint of a human body. It had rained in the last couple days, but what really was strange was the fact that the imprint was still so clearly there. I frowned, tilting my head and noticeably picking out where the head was, the arms and legs... She had to be heavy as hell to leave such an impression in the dirt. Like she was a statue...

"What the hell?" I asked, carefully sliding my body closer. I took a quick look around to make sure no one was coming, but it was early dawn and very few cars were out on the road.

"You, of all people, should really not use that phrase."

I didn't even think about it; I jumped up, turning my body to face the sound of the voice and braced myself for some sort of attack. My arms came up around my face, my legs tensed and ready to sprint to my car as my eyes searched the dirt road.

He wasn't hard to find.

Leaning casually against my beautiful Corvette was a very attractive man, or what I would've considered to be a very attractive man had he not been a demon. I whipped my gun out and thumbed off the safety, my aim dead in the centre of his forehead. "Who are you?" I asked; my tone even. I studied his actions, watching the relaxed expression of his hands as he carefully traced the lines of my car. His eyes were downcast and his hair was the most magnificent colour of silver. He wore a sleeveless tank with jeans, but as far as trying to fit in, he really wasn't doing that good of a job.

"Fucking wench," the demon muttered, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "You would forget the fact that you almost ran me over a couple nights ago."

I almost wavered, taken aback by his statement. I almost hit him a couple nights ago? And then the memories of the demon-haunted house came flooding back, and the moment when I had to slam my brakes to make sure I didn't hit the object in front of me – the object that disappeared without a single bleep on my radar. "You waited in the middle of the road. You knew I'd brake," I replied, casually trying to make somewhat conversation.

"Pretty slow for a first-class demon slayer," he sighed, exasperated. "I really expected more."

I frowned. "Who the hell are you, of all things, to say that to me? I could shoot you on the spot."

The demon made a sound almost like a laugh coming from the back of his throat. He finally faced me, forgetting my car and turning what were the most amazing coloured eyes I had ever seen. Amber flecks peered into my own and again I was startled with the fact that I had never come across a demon with those coloured eyes. They were always red – always. There wasn't an exception.

Or maybe there was.

The demon smirked. "Aren't you the least bit curious as to how come you can't even sense my presence, wench?"

"Fuck off," I hissed. "The name's Kagome, jerk-off and I'd watch what you say. I have a gun pointed at your head, if you didn't already realize. Or is your brain too small to figure that out?"

If anything, the smirk grew wider. "You think I don't know your name? Kagome Higurashi, demon slayer extraordinaire. The only demon slayer that's killed over one-hundred of them. Now, why is that? Aren't you supposed to be set free of the life of treachery and danger after one-hundred kills?"

"Maybe I chose to keep killing you sons of bitches," I snapped.

"Shut up with the tough talk, wench," the demon barked. "You don't know shit. Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how loud is your internal radar going off on my presence?"

I held my face steady, never giving away to the emotions that fleeted across my face. Honestly, there wasn't even a little beep. Nothing. My radar was dead. It was like... He wasn't even there. But he had to be a demon. Silver hair? Amber eyes? The ability to jump super-human heights? There was no doubt about it; so why wasn't my radar going haywire at his nearness?

"That shut you up," the demon laughed, raising his eyebrows. "It must have really pissed you off when the Big Man didn't set you free of demon killing, didn't it?"

I knew he was taunting me. I knew he was trying to set me off and do something stupid. I had been in this business long enough to know how their minds worked. Whatever blackmail they had on me, they would use. I still didn't give a facial reaction but instead, gave a small smile. "Jump."

Without hesitating I lowered my gun and shot off a round directly at his foot, narrowly missing the soft tissue he managed to move. I instantly raised my gun back to its steady presence on his forehead. "Not so tough now," I cooed. "Don't worry. You haven't pissed me off yet. But tell me, why did you kill that poor girl?"

"Stone-girl?" the demon asked, suddenly very curious. "You think I killed her?"

When I raised my brows, he rolled his eyes. "Okay. Not too bright the first time around. I'll have to give you some credit though. My good-looks can be distracting."

I shot off another round, this time hitting him square in the leg, in his thigh.

"You fucking wench," the demon spat, his hand reaching down to touch the blood that pooled from his jeans. With my gun still properly aimed, I checked a glance at my marksmanship, watching as the crimson blood ran–

What the fuck?

I did a double-take, looking at the red blood as it flowed freely.

"You are such a pain in the ass," the demon hissed. "All I was doing was fucking talking to you. Jump the gun a lot, don't you. Well, fuck you wench. I'll be seeing you around. You can fucking count on that." Without another word, he jumped, disappearing into the forest just off the road. I didn't even shoot after him. I didn't follow his movements with my eyes. I just stood there.

Something was seriously, terribly, horrifyingly wrong. Demons registered on my built-in internal radar; he didn't even make a bleep. Demons only had red eyes; his were amber. Demons had black blood; his was red. Demons could jump crazy heights and run super-fast; he could and had before my eyes twice now. So what the fuck was going on?

What made it worse was that he said he'd be back. With a bullet in his leg, I'd bet that he would.

And guess who that was?

Please review! I would love to hear what you think!

Loves,

WitchyGirl99