Not that anyone really cares, but my penname is the two tattoos I have -thumbs up- And seriously, FFN and its formating tools can go to Hell.

Warnings: Disturbing imagery, bad language, possible mentions of gore, possible yaoi (though it'll be mild), and excessive use of metaphors and repetitive words (let's all break out our thesauruses, shall we?)

Dedications: I dedicate this entire fic (in all its suckiness) to Alvara19, Flowing Tears, Pushka, and now AmorBour as well. You're all amazing writers and I'm a happy fan of you all, in no way do I expect to be as good or better than you!

I suppose I could mention Blood of Dusk as well. I mean...I AM a fan of you as well, after all. Hope you enjoyed the review spam.

Loves to all my other reviewers as well. You're all amazing and I'm eternally grateful for your support!

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and its characters belong to Capcom, not me.

Chapter 4: Devour

Days passed since Nero's strange behavior began and Dante was fully admitting to himself that he was worried. Today he'd decided they should take a break, partly because he didn't feel like hunting, but mostly because Nero didn't even look like he could get up off the couch let alone fight demons. The kid had already sustained some injuries from his inability to concentrate. Those injuries had healed as they always did, but Dante wasn't going to risk Nero getting himself killed because his mind was wandering.

The half-devil had to wonder what exactly was wrong with the kid. From where he now sat at his desk, he could see Nero hunched over on the couch, arms wrapped around his middle and staring at the floor. Whenever he tried to engage the kid in conversation, he'd get nothing but attitude, though the younger hunter's temper seemed to be even shorter than usual and his replies were exceedingly more vulgar. Dante again had the thought that something could be seriously wrong, especially since as the days passed, Nero continued to refuse to eat. He hadn't seen him eat anything in almost a week, which would explain why the kid was getting so pale. Even Nero's devil bringer seemed to be reacting, the usually bright azure blue a dull, darker shade, almost black.

Something's up with the kid for sure, but he still won't tell me what it is. Is he sick? What could make him sick for this long? Is it something to do with the kid's demon? If it was, then why was his rapid demonic healing still working like normal? And he knew Nero hadn't lost his strength, he'd gotten punched enough times in the past couple days to attest to that.

So what was it? Come on, kid, I know I'm an asshole, but you know you can trust me…tell me what's wrong.

While the older slayer was lost in thought across the room, Nero lowered his head further, eyes drooping. He didn't think at this point he could even describe how awful he felt. The pain in his stomach hadn't subsided, if anything it continued to grow with each passing hour until he almost couldn't stand to have anything touching it. The skin was hot to the touch at first, but now it was ice-cold. Any interest he might have had in food was completely washed away, such a thing not even entering his mind. Just the thought of consuming something before had made him run for the bathroom where he still was throwing up that awful black sludge.

The memory made him try once again, to no avail, to swallow back the gross taste still lingering, causing a shudder and he bit back a groan as the subtle movement aggravated the pain in his stomach, making it blossom like a starburst of searing, stabbing agony. Not eating was the least of his worries at this point. He couldn't concentrate on anything, his brain foggy and thoughts disjointed. The real world seemed to fade away, leaving him trapped in this dark, internal torture.

Much like the nightmare that repetitively plagued him every night, he was trapped in the darkness of his own pain, unable to call for help or stop it himself. Nero was also finding it close to impossible to sleep, the dreams waking him and the pain keeping him from settling enough to relax and find any measure of peace. Even now, sitting on the couch, eyes heavy and dry from sleep deprivation, he could see the images from that recurring nightmare. Darkness. Pain. Blood. That horned skull cackling madly at him, taking pleasure in tearing him apart.

Nero felt as if he was slowly dying and considering everything, he probably was. Everything hurt, he couldn't think, couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and worst of all, he couldn't stop it. His own stubbornness kept him from asking for help, convincing him that there was nothing anyone could do. And really, what could anyone do? He was helpless to stop whatever was happening, how could Dante come up with anything different?

If this pain wants me to die, I wish it would just get it over with and kill me. Nero thought in silent despair, hands releasing his aching middle and sliding up to cover his face, suddenly hit with the urge to cry. I don't think I can take this anymore…please, someone make it stop.

The day passed agonizingly slow, with Nero huddled on the couch and not moving much and Dante trying without success to occupy himself and try to get Nero to talk. It seemed like the kid wasn't even listening to him anymore, no longer giving him scathing retorts or even cussing him out, like Nero had just lost the will to do anything but hold himself.

Dante finally got himself up and left the office after telling Nero he'd be back. The teen's eyes barely blinked in response, seemingly lost in his own world. He hated to leave the kid like this, but he'd decided that he had to try and get Nero to eat something, and he figured pizza probably wasn't going to cure this affliction, so he forced himself to go and find something that might actually be considered a 'healthy meal'.

Right…like the Son of Sparda knew what a healthy meal was.

Nevertheless, he was out until it grew dark, but made it back to the office in time for what he deemed was appropriate for dinner. His search had yielded very little, so he'd gotten desperate and bought soup. People had soup when they were sick, right? At least, the few times Lady caught a cold that's what she did, as far as Dante had observed. The thought of the devil huntress had his steps faltering as he went to the kitchen, his greeting going unheeded by the almost comatose teen on the couch. I should probably prepare everything…she's going to be stopping by soon to collect since there've been so many jobs the past week. He groaned at the thought and concentrated on just tonight. Mission Get Nero to Eat Something and Not Waste Away had officially commenced.

Though he had a feeling it would happen, Dante was still concerned when Nero refused the soup. The kid didn't speak his refusal so much as turned his head away like a fussy child and gave a half-hearted growl when Dante tried to force him, getting his fingers bit in the process.

"Alright, that's it, kid. I've had it." Dante set the untouched bowl of soup aside and sat on the low table in front of the couch, staring right into Nero's unfocused eyes, the blue even darker than usual, almost matching the midnight blue of his devil bringer that wasn't even really glowing anymore. "You've been like this all week and now you're almost mindless, tell me what's going on."

Nero's eyes suddenly focused on him before they turned away. "Nothing, old man. Leave me alone." The usual reply lacked the heat of temper, or even the strength of a normal tone. Weak and almost breathy, the words were laced with tension.

Dante frowned as he watched the kid shift uncomfortably where he'd been sitting nearly all day, the dark smudges under his eyes standing out even more, his skin seeming to pale more right before the devil hunter's watchful gaze. "That's bullshit and you know it, Nero. You haven't eaten in days, something's up. Just tell me already."

He would've refused again, but when Nero opened his mouth, all that emerged was a pain-filled gasp as he doubled over, arms tight at his sides because he couldn't stand to have them touching his sensitive stomach anymore. He swore he felt something moving around under his skin, but that could just be a delusion brought about by lack of sleep and constantly reliving his nightmares. His mind went blank for a moment as he fought to stay above the pain, but found he could hardly breathe, eyes tearing up even though he tried not to cry. His resolve was broken right then and there and his demonic hand suddenly shot out and gripped the front of Dante's shirt with strength he didn't know he still had.

"Make it stop…please," he begged, the tears finally coming free. "I can't take it anymore," Dante had to lean in closer to hear the strained words that were barely above a whisper. "Something's wrong…ever since…that ugly demon…it hurts."

Dante gripped Nero's wrist and tried to understand what he was saying. "What hurts, kid? What's going on? I can't help if you don't tell me."

Nero kept trying to explain. Explain the unrelenting pain in his stomach, the horrible taste in his mouth that even now was only growing worse until he couldn't take a breath without tasting it, the haunting nightmares…he wasn't even sure he made any sense, all of the words sounding like incoherent babbling to him.

"Shit, kid, why didn't you say anything sooner?" Dante asked, trying to get Nero to sit up straight so he could get a look at his stomach, only to have the Nero fall against him and start retching, whole body heaving before the kid threw up in his lap. He pushed Nero back only for both of them to look down at the thick black substance that had suddenly become the norm for the younger slayer.

Dante took one look and felt his heart stop, barely catching Nero as another sharp burst of pain made the younger faint.

Another cliffhanger. Hope you liked. Please review