I.

Where the spirits of yesterdays past found their home in the eternity of the Underworld, some found something lacking in the beauty of Elysium. And torture of the mind was not consistent with simply the Fields of Asphodel. Often, some walked forward with more than the rolling fog kissing at their legs, memories caging the freedom that flitted through a wakeful mind so that the greyness, the numbness of death, liked to whisper into an ear that was trying desperately hard to not listen, but found its resolve weak. Because death hosted the memory of the living. And worry for these.

This was Bianca di'Angelo's destiny.

She walked with a purpose that could easily be suited to a child of Hades. The simpering arms of those around her swam close enough to sway at her limbs, and then retreated back into the shadows that engulfed the dwelling as though terrified, or ashamed at considering talking to her. She was the stone that skimmed the waves in the ocean, fish fleeing at the ripples that resounded with her every step. The Styx never hosted any fish, though. But she often saw her own mind as just as ghoulish as those waters. Sweet to consider, hard to survive, memories liked to present themselves to her; sweeter than any pomegranate seed ever could be. Sweet like her little brother had once been.

She had taken to following his endeavours into what was now both their domains, slipping into the shadows that surrounded the Underworld every time she thought his eyes could search to find her. But they hadn't done so as of yet.
The slow rise and fall of his breath as he moved worried her; as did the slender movements of shoulder blades far too thin under his jacket. Or the bruises of tiredness and ferocity that smudged under his careful eyes. It was a good thing he stuck to studying the ground so earnestly as he walked. There was a humbleness in her brother that hadn't diminished since the world of Olympians and demigods had greeted them.

Where was he going?

The spirits around him bothered him more than they did to Bianca, as if there was a promise of new life in his figure, reeking of the mere existence. Of being alive. But he simply swatted them away, flies on a fruit that required nothing. Not to be eaten. But to live as life had allowed him to.
And suddenly, she held her breath as words cascaded out of his careful mouth:
"Where are you, Bianca?"

The boy sunk to his knees in a callous kind of defeat, elbows on his knees as he mulled over a thousand memories in his mind. The spirits around him simply stopped to watch him, a new game found in this new behaviour. The Fields of Asphodel were good for this kind of thing.
Bianca wanted so desperately to move forward, announce her presence, but she knew this was not something she had to do. To watch over her little brother? Yes. To torture him with her presence? No.
She sunk back into the shadows and watched him pick himself up, dust his knees, and set off, ignoring the wails of those around him. Something strong burnt in his eyes as he made his way through the fog. Shoulders moved to bump into his own, but he barely swerved to disengage them from his presence. Acted like he didn't notice... Or he did, and it didn't bother him.

His resolve was strong despite the anguish, the loss of sleep, etched into his eyes. The youth of Bianca's younger brother seemed to disappear in every labouring breath he took, but one thing was for certain. He would always be her younger brother.

II.

The shadows concealing her seemed to disseminate as she watched him, now. Walking with a purpose that she'd never seen in him before, searching for... her. The thought warmed and numbed her all at the same time. She didn't want to be found: not to have him sacrifice his living for her. And yet he seemed to be doing this all on his own, anyway. Searching for her when he could've been searching for himself... Living a life away from the shadow of family.
This is how she would've taken care of him had they both been alive. She would have led him away from her, had him stand on his own two feet for his own good. And yet all she ever wanted was to have him next to her, siblings united even just for a moment, her caring for him.

He was caring for her now.

Both looking out for each other without seeing one another.

And yet, something caught her eye at the same time as something caught his. A girl, more alive than any dead person the di'Angelos had come across as of yet, and yet, the girl was as dead as dead could be. Gold eyes, caramel hair, smooth, brown skin. She held herself in a way that was uncommon to Bianca's eyes, but an overpowering pull of something demigod-like seemed to breathe from the girls presence.

She watched as her brother spoke to her, their voices muffling to become as thick as the fog that circled around them. His hand suddenly stretched out to her, and she watched as the girl's fingers closed in over his. Their feet marched a comfortable march together, away from the ghoulish pleads of those around them. The girl shrank in her presence away from them, fear lighting in her eyes, but her face was indignant, following Nico's every move.

Her eyes scanned his face, and Bianca craned her neck to hear any snatch of conversation between the two as they passed her hiding place:
"...Hazel Levesque."
"... you're family, now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Her brother's voice sparked a fire in her throat, tears welling in her eyes to hear his pride. She watched them, the light of living and the dead leaving the Underworld to leave it in relative darkness, words heavy on her mind.

Bianca, smiling at their hands clasped tightly into each other, let some of the worry about her brother seep away from her mind. She would always be looking out for him. He for her. And for that mystery girl. Because they were family.

And in family, no one could ever let the other get hurt.