Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all its characters do not belong to me.

About halfway through typing Until We Meet Again this idea started forming. This is something of a sequel to that story. It takes place in the same "universe", has the same Vincent and the same Sephiroth. Really this is more of an idea dump, so there will be no set plot. Kind of a collection of related one-shots of various lengths, but a little more than that. Some of it will be silly, but as always, there will be plenty of angst. I do like my angst. Rating will probably change...

It was mentioned in a review of the last fic that we never really knew what Vincent was thinking... That was mostly due to laziness on my part because I knew this fic would be coming up ._.; Gonna dive a little deeper into the weird, somewhat dysfunctional relationship Sephiroth and Vincent have. Gonna see what's on their minds, see what's on AVALANCHE's minds... I already kind of know what I want to write about for the next few (and by few I mean six/seven -cough-) chapters. I do have other unrelated ideas lurking in the back of my mind and I really want to write about those too... I suppose I'll just have to see how well I can plan this out.

Seventh Heaven was a small bar, but it was cozy. It had good food, good booze, and a number of faithful regulars who frequented the bar rain or shine, which was good news for the owner of Seventh Heaven as Edge was almost consistently overcast and rainy. Today the bar had been unusually quiet, the stormy weather forcing even the most loyal of regulars to stay in their homes and out of the downpour. Tifa was unconcerned with the lack of customers. Instead of taking orders and brewing drinks, she spent her time cleaning the bar and restocking her beverages. She supposed it was a good thing business was slow; she was expecting company and wanted all the time she could get with her guest.

The door of the bar swung open and Tifa quickly set the glass she had been drying on the counter before rushing to the entrance to greet the newcomer. She easily recognized the dark clothes of her guest and the familiar, high-collared cloak. Ushering the man into the warmth of the room, she smiled at his long, water-logged hair. Dark bangs almost completely covered his distinct red eyes and locks of hair were plastered to his face. His cloak was also drenched and a puddle was quickly forming at his feet.

"Maybe you ought to think about investing in an umbrella, Vincent," Tifa said, voice filled with lighthearted humor.

His eyes met hers from behind his bangs and his lips twitched upwards briefly before returning to a flat, impassive line. "Perhaps."

Tifa grinned and began to help her friend with his cloak. She turned towards the stairs and said in a loud voice "Cloud! Vincent's here!" then turned back to Vincent. "The weather's got him out of work. There hasn't been a delivery call in days. It's been driving him crazy and he insists on making it worse by locking himself in his room. I just don't understand him sometimes."

Vincent nodded in understanding, slipping his heavy cloak off of his shoulders. Tifa could hear boots pounding their way down the stairs and rolled her eyes as she moved away from Vincent to close the door. Rain and wind were rushing into the building and the warmth was rushing out. She gazed out at the dark clouds and wondered at the stormy weather. It didn't look like it was going to calm down any time soon.

Suddenly a dark form manifested in the gloom, walking at a steady pace towards the bar. A length of pale hair whipped in the wind and the figure's broad shoulders and confident gait struck Tifa as vaguely familiar. The figure lifted its head suddenly and Tifa gasped in horror as her wine-colored eyes locked with green glowing ominously in the darkness.

"Vincent watch out!" She yelled in alarm, her arms instinctively rising into a defensive stance. The towel she had been using to clean was clenched so tightly in her fist her knuckles were going white. "Cloud!" The man was almost upon them; his cat eyes burned into hers and his smirk was arrogant and mocking. This wasn't right. How had he found them, how could he have known where they lived? Were the others all right? He was supposed to be dead.

Cloud was at her side in an instant, a broom held ready in his hands. She could hear his surprised, sharp intake of breath. "Sephiroth," Cloud said lowly, his eyes narrowing and his face twisting into an expression of fury. He bent his knees and braced his feet against the floor, blue eyes watching closely for any indication of an attack.

Sephiroth finally reached the doorway and stopped at the entrance. His amused gaze slid over their tense forms and the makeshift weapons in their hands. Tifa silently cursed, times had been so peaceful she had found no reason to keep her weapons close. Her gloves were deep in a closet upstairs, useless when she needed them. If Sephiroth was anything like she remembered... Unease settled in her stomach. Would they even make it through this alive, she wondered.

"Have I become such a trivial thing that you think you can defeat me with brooms and rags? I used to inspire such fear..." Sephiroth's voice was smooth and filled with humor. His posture was relaxed and his gloved hands were empty, but Tifa and Cloud both knew his deadly sword could be summoned in less than an instant. Tifa's muscles tightened, her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing hitched. Her callused hands clenched nervously and she could feel a cold sweat forming on her body. Frigid rain was still pouring freely into the bar and landing on her bare arms, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were focused on Sephiroth's cold, handsome face; her mind pulling up old strategies and tactics taught to her when she had been a young girl. She had trusted her master Zangan with her life and had followed his teachings religiously, but even so she wondered if any of it would matter against the man before her.

Everything darkened suddenly and Tifa braced herself as the air around her pulsed. The blackness was oppressing, her breathing was quickly becoming labored. She knew this feeling, Sephiroth was summoning magic and somehow it seemed even more powerful than she remembered. Maybe it was because he was so close or because it had been so long, but the magical pressure was so ridiculously strong. He was only focusing his magical energy, he had not even begun to cast, and already Tifa could feel her body freezing in fear. There is no hope, she thought miserably, we're all going to die here.

"Sephiroth," Vincent's calm voice cut through the tension easily. His tone held just a hint of exasperation.

Tifa and Cloud both faltered in their battle stances and Sephiroth's gaze left them to look at the darkly-clad man behind them. The oppressing aura the man had been generating faded instantly. Sephiroth looked disappointed, "Vincent, you know I was only kidding..."

Vincent brushed his water-logged hair from his eyes and stared at Sephiroth flatly.

Sephiroth invited himself into the bar, easily brushing past the two people trying to stop him, and walked up to Vincent. He offered the dark-haired man a charming smile and lifted Vincent's chin with a finger. Vincent's expression did not change. Sephiroth was not discouraged, but he did step away, shrugging his shoulders.

Tifa stared at the pair with wide eyes. Her Tifa Senses were tingling. Was it just her or did their interaction seem almost... intimate? No one ever touched Vincent's face, yet Sephiroth had done so with such familiarity... Her head was starting to hurt. I'm probably looking too far into it... It's just too bizarre. A quick glance at Cloud told her he was oblivious to the subtle signs she was seeing.

"I think you're going to have to explain what's going on, Vincent," she said firmly, shutting the door.

Vincent heaved a quiet sigh. "I suppose I should have told you Sephiroth would be coming with me. I tried to get him to stay behind, but he insisted so I didn't have much of a choice. On the way here I tried to lose him... Needless to say, he followed me." He looked at Sephiroth and arched an eyebrow disapprovingly. The pale-haired man replied only with a self-satisfied smirk.

Tifa rubbed her temples. She could tell from the glarefest Cloud was having with Sephiroth that she would be the one asking all the questions. "But why... how is Sephiroth even here? How did the two of you even meet? And why, for the love of Ifrit, aren't we all dead yet?"

Vincent gave Sephiroth another sidelong glance. The man was as arrogant as always, the smirk he was directing Cloud's way nothing less than mocking and the blond looked like he wanted nothing more than to grab one of his swords and turn the bar into a battlefield. Vincent met Tifa's eyes once more. "It's... difficult to say." More like long story he really did not feel like going into. "Sephiroth approached me one day and I was convinced he was not our enemy. I... am confident he is being genuine," he finished quietly.

Tifa frowned, conflicted. She trusted Vincent with her life, but she could think of nothing more unpleasant than Sephiroth being inside her home. The entire situation was just... ridicuous. It was getting late, Tifa was not in the mood to think. She had just wanted to sit down and catch up with Vincent... Tomorrow, she decided. She would deal with this tomorrow. Maybe by some stroke of luck she would wake up and discover the evening had been an unpleasant dream. Tifa sighed inaudibly. "Fine, but I want you to watch him constantly. I'm sorry, but I just can't..." her voice faltered.

Vincent nodded, "I was planning on doing so anyway." He laid his right hand on her shoulder and she knew he understood. "Thank you, Tifa."

She smiled at him slightly, uncertain she had made the right decision. She would surely have to corner Vincent later and force the details out of him. Suddenly she realized that they were still standing by the door and Vincent was dripping on the hardwood. "Oh! What happened to my manners? Vincent, let me get you some towels... Cloud, help me get the futon out of the hallway closet. I think we're all about ready for some sleep..."

–

It was dark when she awoke and the clock on the bedside table told her it was just past five. Time for her to get up, but Tifa was content to lie a few moments longer and listen to the rainfall on the other side of her window. She closed her eyes briefly as she remembered the night before. Sephiroth... She was not sure she was ready to confront him just yet. Tifa was still wondering how the madman had managed to come back from the dead again and even more baffling, his connection with Vincent.

She slipped her legs out from under the covers and winced as her feet hit the cold floor. Her bedroom door creaked softly when she opened it and she crept as quietly as she could down the stairs as she made her way to the kitchen. Tifa did not want to wake anyone needlessly, especially not her guests sleeping in the living room. She was willing to bet Sephiroth was as light a sleeper as Vincent could be. Her dark-haired friend was one of the lightest sleepers she knew, but he was also oddly capable of sleeping like the dead on occasion. Perhaps it was a side affect from sleeping in that coffin for so long, Tifa thought to herself as she slid through the living room and into the bar portion of the house.

The warmth of the stove wiped the last remnants of sleep from her mind and the smell of the eggs scrambling in their pan made her feel slightly more optimistic about the coming day. After she had filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, Tifa took her plate and her slice of toast with her down the hall to the open doorway of the living room. She leaned against the door frame and gazed thoughtfully at the shapeless mass on the floor at the center of the room. The night before, Tifa had set up the two mattresses a fair distance from each other, but the pair seemed to have pulled them together. Perhaps she had not imagined their intimacy yesterday. Another forkful of eggs was pushed into her mouth and she chewed thoughtfully. The room was dark, but her eyes were adjusting accordingly. She could just make out Sephiroth's broad form lying on its back. Vincent, however, seemed to melt into the gloom and she could only assume he was the lump in the pale sheets next to the ex-general.

The lump shifted suddenly and Tifa could see a dark head separate itself from the mass of sheets and settle near the Sephiroth's sleeping form. Her eyes, having fully adjusted, could see that beneath the unruly, black hair, Vincent's expression was oddly serene. That alone was enough to make her stare. Never had she seen Vincent look so... open. Whenever AVALANCHE had made camp during their journey together all those years ago, Tifa had used to sneak glances at the sleeping Vincent; curious about his rarely uncovered face. She had been mildly surprised to find that even in sleep his face was schooled into a cool, impassive expression. She accepted it as simply the way Vincent was, but looking at him now she could see that there was more hiding beneath the surface. Had something changed in Vincent over the years? Perhaps he had become more open with his feelings and she had simply failed to notice. Or maybe it had something to do with his sleeping companion, though she found that hard to believe. Her eyes flickered over to Sephiroth as the thought came to mind.

She jumped when she saw the man's eyes open and bright in the blackness, calmly watching her watch Vincent. Heat quickly forced it's way up her neck and she was glad the room was dark, if only because it spared her the embarrassment of Sephiroth seeing her blush. Tifa suddenly felt like she had been doing something indecent. She suddenly felt the need to explain herself. "Uhh..."

Sephiroth only watched her with the same cool, detached interest he had when she had first seen him in Nibelheim. The thought was enough to kill whatever petty embarrassment she had felt. What was she doing? This was the man who had burned down her hometown, destroyed everything she had held dear. The grip she had on her plate tightened as the memories resurfaced, fresh as ever.

Her childhood home swallowed in flames. The homes of friends and neighbors she had known since birth burning. Bodies, all people and faces she knew and recognized. Nibelheim had always been small, the community of families close-knit and loving. The men of the town trying to stop the madman, all in vain. How Sephiroth had swiped at them with his masamune so effortlessly, how they had fallen so easily. His eyes wide and mad as he took in the destruction he had wrought. His dark coat fluttering in the fire, his hair stained the yellow-orange of the flames. The dread that had filled her when she had heard of her father's attempt to head off the crazed general. His body still and broken on the warm metal of the reactor floor, impaled by the glinting blade of Sephiroth's terrible sword. Tifa could feel a lump forming in her throat as the angry tears formed behind her eyes. She had taken that sword in her hands and rushed at Sephiroth. He had stopped the blade and cut her down; sent her body flying and tumbling down the reactor's hard metal steps. Her chest burned at the memory, the scar had never faded. The ugly, horrible scar Sephiroth had cut across her abdomen and chest. Tifa thought she could still feel a touch of pain, a reminder to make sure she would never forget. Sephiroth had batted her away like he would a fly and had not spared her a second glance; he had thought her so insignificant.

She was not leaning on the door frame anymore. Her hands were clenched around her plate, barely contained rage churning inside. Hatred was cold and rooted deep within her. Somehow she thought it would have faded over the years, after Sephiroth's defeat, but it was as powerful as ever.

"You hate me." Sephiroth's voice was low. Inflectionless. It was not a question.

Loathe, despise, detest, abhor. She narrowed her wine-colored eyes. "Being under the same roof as you, knowing you are here in my home makes me feel great pain and anger." Tifa barely remembered why she had agreed to accept the man into her bar.

Sephiroth watched her and she could see his arm snake beneath Vincent's body and around. Sephiroth's strong, long-fingered hand settled itself on the sleeping man's head. "I destroyed your town and killed you father. I even injured you." He remembered. The guide girl from Nibelheim.

Tifa could not believe how insensitive the man before her was. He had admitted such horrible deeds with no remorse, no emotion. Killed her father? Destroyed her town? "That was only the beginning of the list!" she wanted to scream. Aeris who had been both her close friend and her rival, the suffering he had brought upon Cloud, Hell, the entire Planet.

"I'm sure you would like to kill me."

There was no hesitation. "Yes."

Sephiroth slid his eyes from hers and gazed at the man he held in his arm. "Vincent did not want me to come because he knew it would hurt you and Cloud." Something dangerous flickered in his eyes; Tifa was not sure what it meaning it held. "I knew as well, but I came. You might think it was to hurt you, but I can assure you it was not though I am sure any attempt I might make to convince you would have no impact on your opinion." He paused then began again slowly, "it's strange, but for some reason I keep thinking if I let him out of my sight he will disappear again. Even though I know it's irrational." Tifa thought she saw a bitter smile curl his lips, but the darkness cloaked his expression well.

Her burning anger died just slightly, giving way to a wave of curiosity. "Just what is your connection with Vincent? Why..." she could not finish the sentence. Why do you care? You're supposed to be an insensitive, heartless bastard. Sephiroth caring about anything conflicted with her entire image of him.

He narrowed his cat eyes to slivers and he allowed his gaze to follow the smooth curve of Vincent's neck. "He cared when no one else would. He was kind before I even knew what the outside world was, what kind of place it was. He was... is..." Confusion flit through his mind. Deep in the green light of the lab with only science and cruelty for company, Vincent had been a blessing and Sephiroth had clung to him for as long as he could. Even now Sephiroth was following him, watching him, shamefully afraid he would vanish again. Sephiroth was supposed to inspire fear, he never felt it himself. "I don't know why I'm telling you this." His gaze fell on Tifa once again.

Tifa was not sure what to think anymore. Sephiroth had faltered, for a moment he had been uncertain. Never had she seen nor heard of such a thing. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to make her way back upstairs and roll back into bed; it was just too early for this. She hated this man, had hated him for many years, but a voice in the back of her mind was telling her that he was different somehow, that the situation had changed. She found herself breaking her lock on Sephiroth's eyes to look at Vincent.

When she had first met the man she had feared him and had lashed out at him to hide her unease. His glowing, crimson eyes and his dark, unruly hair had made him look inhuman. The pale skin had reminded her of the vampire stories she had heard as a child. Even his solemn, reclusive attitude had made her anxious and distrusting. Despite her negative opinion of him, he proved himself a valuable ally. Quiet, but polite. Occasionally he would voice his own opinions or give the group advice; his ideas sound enough to even influence Cloud's decisions. In battle his marksmanship was unmatched, his unnatural abilities made him incredibly strong and agile, and his sense of strategy was keen. His transformations were terrible and powerful, but never had they turned on his allies and Tifa could not help but admire his control. She learned to trust him and their years together had strengthened that trust. Though she barely knew more about him than she had at their first meeting, she had come to think of him as a good friend, someone she could talk to and rely on.

He had told her he believed in Sephiroth and she wanted to trust him, but her loathing for the once-hero was holding her back. It had eaten at her for so long, she just could not let go. She almost did not want to let it go; she wanted to be angry, she wanted to dislike and distrust. Sephiroth had destroyed everything that mattered to her, she did not want to forgive.

What a horrible emotion hatred was, great enough to overpower the love she had for her friends.

She was painfully aware the silence between the two of them had become pregnant and uncomfortable, at least on her end. Sephiroth had turned his attention back to Vincent, his fingers combing through the man's dark hair slowly. The ex-general looked pensive, Tifa thought the scene was strangely tranquil. She wanted to say something, but could not think of anything to say.

A high whistle broke the silence for her and she started. It took her a few moments to remember the kettle she had set on the stove what seemed like ages ago. She moved from the doorway into the hall and coughed uncertainly. She watched Sephiroth and Vincent a moment longer. If she could find it in herself to at least try... "Breakfast is in the kitchen. There's also coffee and tea if you want," she said quickly and pivoted with her plate clutched tightly in her hands.

"Thank you."

She glanced into the room one last time and could see Sephiroth's luminescent eyes in the darkness slide from her back to Vincent. Tifa pursed her lips and gave him a curt nod before walking back to the kitchen.

–

"Excellent as always, Tifa," Cloud smiled at her briefly, then graced Sephiroth with another venomous glare. Sephiroth took another sip of his coffee and ignored him.

She smiled back. "They're just eggs." She turned to Vincent. "Sleep well, Vincent?"

He nodded, narrowing his eyes as Sephiroth stole one of his toast slices. "Yes, I feel quite well rested."

"That's good, but I was thinking... It was really terrible of me to make you guys sleep on the floor." Guilt blossomed in her chest, Cloud was not going to be happy with what she was going to say next. "You guys should take Cloud's room."

"What?"

Vincent blinked. "That really wouldn't be necessary."

"No, I insist! I don't want you to think my hospitality is limited to making my guests sleep on hardwood floors, Vincent. It's not like Cloud ever really sleeps in there anyway."

Cloud looked outraged. "I'm sleeping in there now!"

She shot him look and he gave her one back. Really she was just trying to avoid a repeat of this morning. Giving Vincent and Sephiroth a room would give them some privacy and she wouldn't have to walk in on any more... intimate moments.

"What's wrong, Cloud? Is there something in that room you're trying to hide?" Sephiroth asked, amused and mildly curious.

"W-what? No! I just don't want homicidal maniacs in my bedroom," he growled and their glaring contest started once again.

Vincent ate his eggs slowly, seemingly oblivious to the arguing around him. Tifa groaned and pressed her forehead against the cold table. It was going to be a long day.