Nero remembered his way around the castle surprisingly well. Since the Savior crisis the castle had been ransacked for anything useful or valuable, and the underground lab had been sealed. Nobody wanted to know what foul things Agnus had been up to down there, although it had been a great point of dissent among the remaining members of the Order. Most of the lay people were horrified. Surely this broke with the Order's vows to fight demons. Most of the remaining Order had seen it as a shameful reminder of their transgression, but there were the rare few who felt it might have held useful secrets.

Fortunately, they had been massively outnumbered.

Nero hadn't bothered much with the debate but he had been there when the entrance to the lab was sealed with explosives and an absurd amount of cement. The first try with the explosives hadn't quite worked – the entrance that had once been hidden behind that distasteful portrait of Sanctus was sturdier than expected, so the blast only succeeded in creating a large crater in the great hall, which had partially collapsed. In the end it was buried, the tunnel filled in with as much rubble and cement as they could.

It should've stayed sealed.

But as Nero and Tess came before it, it was obvious that their efforts hadn't been quite enough. The partially collapsed ceiling let in enough light to indicate that something had been digging here. Earth, stone and fractured cement had shifted, as though tilled by a massive animal, although the entrance was still partially covered.

There was a distinct rancid smell hanging in the air, like mildew and rotting flesh. He wrinkled his nose and approached the collapsed entrance cautiously.

"Makes you wonder what excuses the Order has for the state of this place," Tess said meaningfully.

"He's right here," Nero growled and drew his sword.

He was not disappointed. There was a loud rumble from the crater and the loosely packed debris covering the hole exploded outwards violently and a large winged form darted out. Nero cursed angrily under his breath and swung the Red Queen. He caught the large gilded blade as it descended for him and for all intents and purposes completely halted the attacking demon.

"You son of a bitch…" he growled.

A quiet snort, all derision, came from Credo's demonic form – but it wasn't Credo himself. The pseudo-angelic shape seemed… incomplete. It was missing the large shield-shaped wing and instead of pearly white, it was… stained. His form was coruscated with sickly, bilious yellow and a moldy, gray tinge. The golden feathers of his wing were tarnished. Nero's Devil Bringer arm ached worse than ever and he just knew - a gut feeling, really - that this necromancer had somehow stolen Credo's power.

It still hurt to see this form again.

He gave a mighty heave and pushed the demon back violently. It landed gracefully and swung the sword in challenge, tail whipping eagerly. Nero scowled at him.

"Must be fun, just strutting around like you're some big shot. You're nothing but a poser in a stolen meat-suit," Nero snapped.

The demon chuckled. "Bravo. I expected you to get more… emotional. Reunions with the dead are so moving."

It had a deep, raspy voice that pinged through the space harshly like a blinded moth.

"Sounds like you have experience," Tess chimed in. "I wonder how long it took you to plan this. Probably longer than you like to admit, for how sloppy it is."

"Silence!" the demon snapped at her. "What do you know, witch? All you've done is break a few tethers and banish a few wayward spirits. I will deal with you once I've concluded my business with Fortuna' 'savior'."

Nero scowled deeply at the word 'savior' being applied to him. He hated that word and he hated being attached to it – like he gave that much of a shit about the city. If it hadn't been for Kyrie being threatened, both then and now, he'd have picked up and walked away. He lunged at the demon – the necromancer – oh who cared what you'd call this bastard?

The demon darted back, teleporting easily out of reach and with a sweep of the sword, tarnished gold spears spun into being out of nothing in the air, surrounding him. Nero grunted; he knew these tricks too well by now and carefully choosing his time, he used the Devil Bringer's arm to snatch one out of the air, swung it hard to shatter the rest and flung the last one straight at the demon.

"You're forgetting I've already done this dance before!" he snarled.

True to form, the spear cannoned the demon back and into the ground with a hard crash. It lay there, dazed for a moment and then screeched and arched up as crackles of power and foul miasma crisscrossed its form before it dispersed with a palpable, gritty shatter. A human stood up, panting, in Order officer uniform that was eerily similar to Credo's. He was tall, broad shouldered and had greasy black hair that grew well past his shoulders and seemed to be in a state of perpetual disarray. He had a square face with a prominent, hooked nose and looked to be in his early forties. He had quite a few scars crisscrossing his face.

Nero blinked. "The hell…" he muttered.

Tess approached, stopping beside Nero and scrutinized the man curiously.

"You might not remember me, brat," the man grunted. He had a low, raspy voice.

He smirked sardonically as he righted himself.

"Fuck you," Nero snapped. "I never gave a shit about the Order bigwigs, but I remember you."

"Deacon, Holy Knight Executive," the man said and bowed with a flourish. "And who should have been raised to Supreme General, over that presumptuous whelp, Credo."

"Oh lovely, inter-cult politics. I always love these," Tess groaned and rolled her eyes.

Nero wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Former Executive. You were a joke. You're before my time and even I'd heard of the shit you got up to. Abusing your position, going behind other officers and executing a soldier under your command over bullshit?" He turned to Tess and gestured at the man with a disgusted sweep of the arm. "The Order sunk low but this asshole was a whole new level even they couldn't reach! He was disgraced and kicked out. Guess I see why."

Tess seemed unimpressed. She glared at the man uncomfortably. "And I imagine that after the Savior incident, they were desperate enough that they took him back."

"The Order owed me! I was wronged!" Deacon snapped angrily. "I was in line for the Ascension Ceremony for years before Credo showed his conceited little arse at the inner council! He stole what was mine!"

"Ooh, I get it," Tess sighed. "You're bitter and you thought to steal it back. I knew it'd be something petty like that, necromancers almost always are. No wonder the poor man's spirit looked that troubled. I'd be livid too."

"And that's your idea of payback?" Nero sneered. "Torment the dead for a shot at being a demon? You really will scrape the bottom of the barrel."

Deacon cackled and suddenly his expression darkened. "You think I care where power comes from, as long as it's mine?" he snapped.

He began to rant; spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke and he flung his arm in irritation. "I spent years under the foot of every righteous fool who could lay me into the mud. Then the Order gave me an opportunity to make myself useful. They do like their dirty work but they don't like doing it themselves."

His body seemed to writhe with indignation. A vein bulged on his forehead and his face was contorted in a furious snarl.

"I don't give a dog's fart what they wanted or what they did or what unholy pacts they chose to make. I don't even care what becomes of my soul as long as I have power and give the orders!"

His shoulders heaved in indignation with angry breaths. "Credo, the Order's precious golden boy, disgraced me," he snapped. "Do you think he really deserved all the credit? He never had to stain his pristine hands with the kind of work I was made to do – or you. We were both in the same boat—"

"Don't bother comparing us," Nero snapped. "I never hit that much of a rock bottom! Credo had more worth in his beard than you'll ever have."

Deacon sneered. "All the same, Credo was touted as a great leader. Rubbish. He was an idiot idealist who took what was mine. What better reparation than wrenching the power that is rightfully mine from his very soul? It's been laughably easy, you know. All I need is the last little piece left in you."

The air tightened suddenly. It happened so fast that Nero was unsure how to react. It grew deathly cold and the edge of his sword frosted over. He knew what that heralded but this time it came too fast and too strong for either of them to do anything. Tess uttered a strangled shout as a great mass of spirits swarmed her from all sides and for all intents and purposes, knocked her off her feet and dragged her clean across the great hall. Almost at the same time another swarm surged around him and all of them seemed to focus unnaturally on his Devil Bringer. The dull ache that had settled there all this time now peaked into a horrible, stabbing pain that felt as though something was digging its way out of his arm. Spectral hands seized him around the neck and arms and try as he might, he could not rouse his demonic power to try and beat them back.

Before he could renew his effort, Deacon had stormed up to him and seized his Devil Bringer, which was crackling violently with power. The necromancer, surrounded by a legion of spectral ghosts roiling in foul corruption, raised the demonic arm to eye level and seemed to examine it closely.

"How fascinating. I see why Agnus might have wanted to dissect you now, but fortunately for you, I am only interested in the little bit of a dead soul you have in here," he said frostily.

Nero could never say what exactly Deacon did next. His arm felt like it was caught in a vice as multiple, barely seen hands closed around his demonic arm. They squeezed, closing tighter and tighter until he could feel them pass through the hide and flesh straight to the bone. It was so painfully cold that it almost burned and he had the palpable sensation of something being ripped straight out of his arm. He screamed in pain.

He felt the absence of Credo's power form his arm, a void that hurt a lot more than just physically. Deacon was holding in his hand a bright golden light that pulsed. He stepped away from Nero, studying the power he now held in his hand.

"Fascinating. It has life where there should be none," the necromancer observed idly.

Foul energy like a sheet leaked in every step he took and precipitated off him with every move.

Nero struggled further against the grasping specters. Their hands crawled up his body and finally started to close around his neck and squeezed. It hurt, cold yet hot and agonizing. He screamed in rage and finally his demonic power broke free, dispersing the ghosts with a reverberation of indignant screams. The ghostly demon roared along the demon hunter and Nero stumbled forward. He was in pain but he was also so very angry.

"You…" he snarled.

Deacon just stared at him irritably. "Yes, I suppose I'll have to deal with you."

He closed his hand around the power he held and the power hovering around him swelled like a wave. It engulfed him and most of the wraiths clinging around him. Nero could hold back no longer and, still in the grasp of his anger, he lunged forth to meet whatever foul demon the necromancer had become.

His sword collided with a large and heavy shield as Deacon advanced and then managed to smack Nero aside with the very same shield.

Deacon's form was at the same time horrendous and awe-inspiring. He rode a skeletal equine; the front half was clad in slick, oily black armor with white veining that pulsed and seemed fused to the ashen frame of the beast, skin sticking to bones but surging with power. A jagged short horn grew out of the animal's face. There was no rear end; the hindquarters were mere wisps but entirely there. Deacon was a perversion of a noble knight: his armor was the same black solid oil-slicks as the horse's, shaped into medieval-like plate. Between the plates the skin was a sick cherry red and it seemed to be boiling. It bubbled angrily under the plates and seemed to slough off his bones, trickling off in thick, syrupy dollops endlessly. The discharge dribbled to the ground and where it puddled the ground hissed angrily and started to decay. He carried a massive shield that reached all the way down to the floor from his seat on the demonic horse and a large blade that resembled the one Credo had once carried, albeit tarnished and stained with the foul purulence of Deacon's new form.

Oddly enough, this development actually made Nero's rage come under control. He stood straight and just stared Deacon down with a disgusted cringe.

"Y'know, I thought I'd stay pissed but right now I'm just disappointed," he snapped. "You went into all this trouble for Credo's power but now you look like you've been in the sun too long, Slimer."

"The form is of no consequence," Deacon boomed from behind the visor of his skull-like helmet. His voice sounded oddly normal. "I have claimed the power that was rightfully mine. Death is my domain and I see no reason I cannot revel in making that known."

Nero snorted and hefted the Red Queen over his shoulder. "Didn't I tell ya that I already beat Credo's power before? What makes you think you can win?"

A loud laugh came from the death knight and the demonic horse snorted. "Because I'm not as soft as your 'honorable' Credo. He might have liked his battles fair but there's no room for such nonsense here!"

He raised his sword and then pointed it straight at Nero. Instead of a direct attack though, a mass of wraiths surged from behind Deacon and attacked, surrounding the young hunter with a din of angry screaming. He gnashed his teeth; of course the necromancer would do that. All this fuss for the power of demons and he still abused the dead.

Only now could Nero appreciate just how many there were. This was no mere congregation of ghosts. This was legion. He could see, in a blur, all the different, pathetic wraiths, transfixed in their horror and pain and resent of their enslavement. He saw recognition of their horrible situation at last. He saw women, children, old men who should've been allowed rest, he saw soldiers of the Order, bearing the scars of their demonic corruption.

So many dead.

The dead of Fortuna.

Nero swung his Devil Bringer back, winding up for a strike as the power over it crackled amber and bright.

But it hurt so much when he sent the spectral fist barreling forth to disperse the ghosts. In fact, he couldn't even complete the swing because the pain got so bad he dropped to a knee and the ghostly arm faded. He gritted his teeth and snarled in pain. His arm crackled with errant energy and he just knew that whatever Deacon had done to him, it had truly hurt his Devil Bringer. The feeling of something missing from it was palpable. The horde of wraiths rallied after his initial blow and swarmed him, seizing him tightly. Their hands were cold and merciless and he felt them clawing at him, going for his throat and face and trying to peel the very flesh off his bones. They were so frenzied that even his demonic power could not beat them back. He could plainly see the miasma coruscating through them.

It was a good thing he had a partner.

Tess' voice carried a rush of power like a stampede and the circle of power burned bright under him, little bright threads of flame dancing along the cold floor, joining in circles and symbols that pulsed with power. The wraiths screamed. Their hold slacked enough for Nero to angrily force himself up and shake them off with a violent swing of his arm, the ghostly manifestation gleaming amber.

He glanced back. Tess was on the floor, about fifteen feet back; she looked pretty beaten up from the assault of the wraiths but she was propped up on her elbow and her other hand stretched out on the floor. The threads of fire connected back to her hand and there was a circle of chalk under her. A massive horde of wraiths hung over her, thrashing erratically, starting and stopping as though fighting off lethargy. More wraiths were drawn to the mass, slipping away from Deacon and he cried out in frustration as he lost his subjugated wraiths to her.

The witch's face was face contorted by concentration and effort. Her nose was bloodied and there were tiny lacerations streaking across her cheek and plenty of bruises. The wraiths above her kept trying to reach down, their grasping hands stopping just before they could touch her. She seemed to be laboring under a horrible weight.

"You've got the demonic power you wanted. Now you'll trouble the dead no longer!" she snarled. "Give him hell, Nero!"

That was all Nero needed, that clean, unimpeded shot at this bastard. He snarled and lunged at Deacon, hand tight around his sword. Deacon rallied from the unexpected loss of his minions and met Nero halfway, the eldritch horse he rode galloping forward with a frantic gait. He caught Nero' first swing on the massive shield he brandished and the contact made a loud din. The impact had such force that the horse stopped with a protesting scream and the shockwave rattled the hall. Nero almost stumbled back but instead he swung a second time with the same result and the mounting feeling he knew this power all too well. He was caught by the swing of Deacon's blade as the monstrous knight tried to run him down. He felt a hot, sizzling sensation as the weapon cut deep into his shoulder while he threw himself back.

Deacon spun the demonic horse around and after a moment's hesitation whereupon he glanced at the struggling witch, he raced for Nero again, raising the great sword and creating a series of jagged spears in the air which all went hurtling for Nero. He thought of grabbing one and firing it back at the damned necromancer but the moment the ghostly arm had grabbed one, he let a strangled shout and flung it away from him clumsily.

Contact with it burned, like it had the same corruptive properties as the melting flesh sloughing off Deacon. It was all he could do to dodge the rest.

The necromancer cackled, stopping his steed to sneer. "Decay is an uncomfortable feeling, whelp! You think that because my wraiths are held back that I am any less a master of death in all its elements?"

Nero shook the Devil Bringer like he was trying to get rid of a cramp. "Master of death, huh? Guess you'll just have company when I put you into the ground," he grunted.

"I wonder if you can," Deacon said and charged once again.

Nero drew his gun and fired a few rounds aimed at the horse, just to see how the beast would react. The impact made it jerk its head back with a scream and swerve a bit but not much else. But he did notice that Deacon raised his shield up, as cumbersome as that seemed. He dodged another attempt of Deacon's to run him down and then was forced to intercept him using the Devil Bringer, in spite of the pain, to stop him from just mowing down Tess, who was struggling to hold back the wraiths.

This time however, something felt different. Although his entire arm hurt, he felt a soft weight on his shoulder, like a friendly hand resting comfortingly there. It felt so familiar that he actually ignored how much his demonic arm hurt and he was able to seize one of the spears that Deacon manifested. Even as his hand felt like it was on fire, he spun the spear around and flung it straight at the stupid demon horse. It struck low, crushing apart the front legs with nasty snaps. The creature fell forward with a strangled neigh and threw Deacon forward, though he landed with a thud on his feet, smashing the massive shield into the floor.

The struck demon horse flailed, neighing monstrously and trying to rise yet again. Nero followed through, almost as if pulled along by the hand, by snapping up yet another spear that was had struck the ground. He wound his arm back and with a powerful leap, he used it to pin the infernal animal to the floor with a loud crash. It let a horrific scream, tensed horribly and then started to flail before it eventually dissolved into a puddle of caustic, foul-smelling goo.

"Hmmph… not bad," Deacon grunted.

Nero breathed hard but he was certain now. He was being guided. It was subtle, vague but he just knew. And it made him all the more determined to finally put a goddamn end to this bastard. Deacon lunged at him, almost phasing right up to him and their swords clashed hard in a shower of sparks. They exchanged a furious series of blows, blades colliding several times before the Red Queen crashed into the large shield, revving angrily. Deacon seemed desperate to keep the shield between them, parrying most blows with it rather than the sword and deflecting the Devil Bringer with it.

Nero nearly started to laugh; he could read every single move Deacon was going to make with that blade; he'd been over these kinds of exercises so often, so many times with Credo. He remembered often complaining that his arms were going to fall off just for Credo to sigh and tell him to carry on even when that happened.

I get it now, Credo.

He finally broke the deadlock with a powerful swing, hitting just the right spot on Deacon's blade to make him reel backwards. Nero lunged in for the killing blow just to be met by that massive tower shield that Deacon swung before him.

It was now or never.

Nero swung the Devil Bringer forward and the ghostly arm sprung forth, a bright pale light streaming from it. It still hurt but he felt Credo right there, with him, telling him silently exactly what to do, the comforting weight of his hand on his shoulder. His friend, his mentor, his brother.

He grabbed the bottom of the shield and although the searing pain from the contact made him want to shout, he gripped it hard and yanked up and back. Deacon tried to resist with a grunt but Nero was ultimately stronger. The massive shield flew out of Deacon's grip with an angry snapping noise. It flipped end over end Nero snatched it from the air. The now massive Devil Bringer manifestation closed around it, shattering it to pieces with an explosion of energy. All that was left in his hand was the fragment of power that had been stolen from him. It trembled in his hold and Nero regarded it for a moment. It felt so palpably familiar now. Not just a part of his power, the missing piece whose absence had caused him so much pain; it felt like family. He felt the Devil Bringer welcome it back with an almost audible sigh just as Deacon regrouped.

He looked quite pathetic now, left with just the sword and his melting, roiling flesh. But he still stood and blinked to Nero, creating a series of tarnished spears once again. There was no pain this time as Nero seized one and expertly flicked it around and pierced Deacon straight through with it. Deacon grunted and braced against the impact; he didn't go flying like last time and after stumbling once, attempted to counter-attack with a vicious swing of the sword. Nero was ready, pulling back his sword arm and revving the blade of the Red Queen. He swung forward, following through with an upward motion and easily disarmed Deacon, sending the large blade spinning end over end. It landed point first into the floor a few feet away.

He grabbed the necromancer by the head, ghostly hand coming in straight contact with the molten skull; with his power of Aegis restored, he felt no pain whatsoever. He turned and with a mighty swing he smashed Deacon's head into the ground with a deafening thud. He lifted him off the ground and then smashed him down into it again before delivering a series of powerful punches that just about drove Deacon into the floor, cracking it and leaving a crater.

He finally drew his gun and jammed it into Deacon's face, eliciting a choked grunt from the necromancer.

"Credo sends his regards, Slimer" he said with a savage smirk and rolled back the hammer of the Blue Rose, power flowing into it rapidly. "Have fun being dead!"

The gun roared in the great hall and Deacon's horrific body tensed with an ugly crack for a moment before going limp. The necromancer never said anything other than a strangled scream. The twisted form sagged into the ground, the sloughing flesh puddling in ugly masses exposing bone and flayed muscle. A cloud of particles not unlike golden embers coated in greasy soot drifted off the body, fading gently into nothingness.

At the same time, the mass of wraiths went completely still and then writhed one last time with a chorus of screams before rapidly splitting apart and fleeing. Tess made an exhausted and frustrated noise and slumped onto her elbow, panting hard. She then rolled onto her back painfully and groaned quietly, while the circle of power under her faded.

Nero was more interested in the sword the necromancer had relinquished, however. It seemed to crack and fall apart, exposing an inner core – a very familiar shape that he reached out and picked up reverently.

Credo's sword shook off the last flakes of the demonic shell it had been twisted into and glinted gently in the gloom. Nero half-turned it slowly and smiled softly. So much regret and so much heartache followed this sword… He'd put it to rest now, properly and for good. Him and Kyrie, the two people who had loved Credo best, regardless of what had happened.

He secured the sword to his side in haste and went to help Tess, who was still on the floor, breathing hard. He crouched down and helped her sit up.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked sheepishly.

She looked pretty bad, frankly; she was paler than before and looked a bit waxy, her face was quite bloodied and bruised. She grunted as she sat up and gingerly felt her side. "Yeah," she said tiredly. "This is why I hate necromancers… always just too many angry ghosts in one sitting. Oof."

He helped her to her feet and let her lean on him. "You don't look that great," he muttered. "Is it over?"

"More or less," she said, then snorted. "I just need to sleep for a day or two. Bet the Order never said anything about how bloody tiring witchcraft is."

Nero scoffed quietly and was prepared to help her limp out when the sudden snap of bone made them freeze and turn around. Deacon's body was twitching, quite violently. The decaying flesh had mostly melted off, exposing bone and rotting muscle. The body sat up and then jerked itself up in spasmodic, unnatural motions. Nero grunted irritably but he could see, quite plainly, that what was animating the remains was a specter, denser and more robust than all the wraiths he had encountered so far.

Whatever was left of Deacon finally stood straight and glared right at Nero and took an awkward step forward. "You… arrogant… little brat… you think that death… is the end for me?" the ghost moaned. "You've just rid me… of mortality… All I need is… servants."

The lich stumbled forward and raised his arms. His cracked voice could barely muster the words he was trying to utter and there was a palpable chill in the air and a swell of power.

Nero grit his teeth and made to let go of Tess and finish the bastard off, again, but Tess held his arm.

"Don't bother. His arbiters are already here," she said grimly.

Nero followed her gaze and winced. "Whoa."

The wraiths that had fled earlier were back, standing around them, wispy presences little more substantial than smoke. But they felt different; lighter, unburdened by the taint of demons. But they felt… angry. There were men, women, children; soldiers of the Order, laymen and devotees in their robes, tormented souls still bearing the marks of their deaths on them. They were all silent, watching. Their gazes were fixed on the lich.

The remains of Deacon stumbled over his words and he finally seemed to notice the large audience of the dead surrounding him.

"What… are you doing…?" he growled. "You… are mine…"

But they weren't.

Like a great wave the ghosts surged and rushed towards him, arms stretched and mouths gaping open in a horrible crescendo of groans. Deacon began to scream as they swarmed him; he howled in fear and flailed his pathetic limbs, trying desperately to push them away but dozens of hands seized him, gouging into his ghostly form. He was knocked over and dragged along the ground forcefully, his skeletal fingers leaving deep gouges into the stone floor. He screamed in abject horror, implying an explicit understanding of the horrors that awaited him at the hands of the wrathful dead. The swarm hurtled him into the crater in the middle of the hall and into the passage to Agnus' lab with an echo of screams that faded along the vast tunnel. There was a soft rumble in their wake and the entire castle felt like it shook before a roar of dust and debris flew from the opening, groaning and shuddering as it settled.

Nero lowered his arm after shielding his face from the vicious revenge of the dead. He reluctantly admitted to himself that he now had more than a healthy respect for the dead. They did remember and they did keep grudges.

"…Credo?" he whispered.

A single luminous form was left behind from the legion of ghosts. His shape was vague and he seemed thin, like a sheet of fine gauze but it was definitely him. The form moved closer slowly, reluctantly and Nero felt Tess gently pushing him forward as she reached for the support of a nearby piece of rubble.

"Nero," the ghost uttered. His voice was familiar but it echoed through the air as if coming from a long distance.

Nero felt a little helpless. He had a lot to say but his mind felt empty. His jaw refused to move and he just opened and closed his mouth impotently.

"There's nothing you need to say," Credo intoned. "We made mistakes, you and me. But I'm afraid mine cost us both more."

"Don't say that," Nero finally managed. "I'm… I'm sorry. About everything. If I hadn't—"

Even in his vague state, Credo shook his head firmly. "No. You put my power to far better use than I. I want you to use it. All that I did was to try and protect you and Kyrie."

"And you did," Nero choked. He hated that crack in his voice. "But if I had just—"

"You did what was right, Nero and I am forever grateful," Credo insisted. "I listened to duty more than my own judgement. We were all puppets on Sanctus' strings. I have regrets but you should not."

Credo was growing dimmer as they spoke and Nero tightened his fists and without quite knowing why he raised his fist to his chest, in the formal military salute of the Knights of the Order. "I'll… try."

Even as he faded Credo stood straighter and reciprocated. "Please, look after Kyrie and yourself. Farewell."

He faded gently into thin mist and Nero relaxed but wasn't quite ready to move. He looked up through a hole in the ceiling, to the darkening sky. His eyes stung. He didn't want to let the stinging win. He only turned around when he was sure that his eyes were quite dry. He was entirely ready to leave this place. He had one thing left to do but he would like Kyrie to be there with him for it.

He returned to Tess, who seemed to have rallied from her ordeal. She didn't ask him if he was alright, but her small smile seemed to say she was glad he was holding together.

"Hey… the ghosts aren't just going to go away, are they?" he asked, helping her walk out.

"No, not for good, I'm afraid," she sighed. "Fortuna's been inescapably marked by death. In fact… I'm not even sure I'd advise staying here. It's a land for the dead now, not the living."

"Hmph… can't say it hasn't been on my mind since before this…" Nero grumbled. "And uh… thanks for everything."

She just smiled warmly.

It was cold and getting dark when they reached the front gate. By then Tess could walk unassisted and Nero was anxious to go see Kyrie.

"Nero!"

He was startled to hear her voice and almost stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her running towards him from the bridge. He moved forward to meet her and she all but leapt in his arms. He hugged her protectively and almost laughed because honestly, he had expected to find her still worn out from her ordeal all the way back at the apartment.

"Kyrie? What are you doing here? How did you—"

"Well, you pinched my usual baggage, kid! I got kinda lonely!"

Nero's entire body tensed suddenly. "What the hell, old man!"

Dante sauntered in Kyrie's wake with his hands leisurely in his pockets and what might only be described as a smug grin on his face.

"You said you didn't do ghosts! What are you doing here?!"

"He showed up at the apartment to make sure I was alright. I was worried about you so I asked him to escort me to you," Kyrie said, almost apologetically. "I drove us up here."

She wasn't the least bit sorry, though, and it showed.

"Wha…?" Nero blurted.

"When I got bored of chasing you two, I thought I'd make sure the little lady got here on time for the finale," Dante shrugged.

Now Nero felt quite livid. He had thought that Dante had really just dumped him at Tess' door and left, refusing to get involved. And yet, here he had ample evidence that not only had Dante shown up anyway, he had actually been spectating the whole thing. He was about to let go of Kyrie and wipe off that smirk from the old fucker's face with the soles of his feet, again, but Tess walked past them, patting him on the shoulder.

"Don't fall for his shit," she muttered.

Then she gave a warm smile to Kyrie and the two women shared a quiet, meaningful gaze and grasped each other's hand briefly in greeting, before the witch tiredly ambled towards Dante.

Still quite indignant, Nero just held Kyrie's hand and glowered at the demon-hunter. "Why'd you even bother, old man!? Did you just come here to kick back and stalk me!?"

Dante kept grinning in the face of Nero's indignation and shrugged. "Nah. I was worried about your ass, kiddo, all alone with a wicked witch."

Tess had leaned against the stone balustrade of the bridge and folded her arms with a long-suffering eye-roll. "Oh har-de-har, Dante," she snarked. "You're wannabe mentor of the year."

He scoffed at her. "C'mon, Twig, you know what you're like when you're pissed," he said and then gestured at Nero. "Kid's got a talent for makin' people mad. You would've steamrolled the poor fool in no time."

Kyrie covered her hand with her mouth to stifle her giggling. "He's not entirely wrong…" she said quietly.

"Traitor," Nero accused her.

Tess blinked and then directed a truly impressive kind of look at Dante; Nero was somewhat lost in admiration. He'd seen 'are you shitting me' looks before but never one this expressively visceral. "Do I look pissed?" she said with a smirk. "Nero's a perfectly nice guy to work with. I'm sorry to break it to you, Dante, but it's you."

"Thank you!" Nero blurted.

Dante seemed to stagger briefly in obviously feigned disbelief and hurt, then arched a quizzical eyebrow at Tess, then Nero, then back at Tess. "Whaaat? Everyone loves me," he protested.

Nero's loud bark of a laugh startled even him. "Bullshit!" he growled.

Tess nodded in agreement. "Indeed, because why else do I always get angry when you start giving me shit?"

"I don't give you shit, Twig," Dante countered, smirking.

"Lies. You give everyone shit!" she snapped back with a similar smirk. "And anyway, you took your sweet time showing your face. You've been tailing us from the start. You must've been bored out of your mind."

"He's been here from the start!?" Nero blurted. "And you knew it?!"

"Oh yeah, I've been sensing him since I set foot on the island," Tess said with a shrug.

Dante grinned. "She's got a hell of a radar."

Tess rolled her eyes again. "Like it's that hard. You're just a little better than Nero at keeping your head down but you hate doing that."

Dante chuckled. "I thought I'd just be your backup in case anything went really south," he offered then looked at Nero cheekily. "But y'know, I guess I was worried over nothing. Tess kicked your butt with a piece of rock salt."

Nero responded with a strangled curse because Kyrie just snickered.

But Dante wasn't done. He had a very amused smirk on his face, directed at Tess. "And I had fun watching you flail and scream like a little girl with the spider demon."

Tess grimaced and sounded an irritable little noise. "Oh my shit, you were there for that?"

He grinned wider, amused at her irritation. "Yeah, perched by a window. Saw the whole thing. 'Don't tell Dante', my ass," he said and smirked at Nero.

"Fuck off, old man," Nero muttered.

"I did not scream like a little girl" Tess protested sharply.

"Fine, you screamed like a big girl, Twig" Dante hooted.

She pushed off the balustrade of the bridge and gave him a shove. "Fuck off."

The slayer just took a step back, chuckling lightly down at the witch. She glared up at him for a few moments then turned back to Nero and Kyrie with a knowing look. "Anyway, I think you guys will be fine now. Think about what I told you, Nero. But if anything crops up again, don't bother with Dante, he's useless when it comes to the restless dead."

"No, I'm not," Dante protested sharply, suddenly all indignation.

"Yes, you are! Need I remind you what happened last month?" she fired back.

"That wasn't my fault!" he snapped and brandished an accusing finger at her. "I had no idea that freakin' warlock had cursed the place before he died, c'mon!"

She held up her hands in response. "It was 500 in damages! I had to pay that!"

He shrugged. "But the place was still standing, right?"

"More or less," Tess scoffed. "In your case, less."

Nero groaned. "Man, what are you guys? Married?" he muttered.

Tess and Dante's gazes snapped right at him and he almost took a startled step backwards, they gave him such identical withering looks. "Shut up, kid," they said, almost in unison and then awkwardly glared at each other for a bit before Tess gave Dante a push to start walking.

"Well! Since everything seems to be wrapped up, I'm gonna take this big idiot and leave before you two start any bullshit," the witch muttered. "Come see me if you need any help with spooks."

"Didn't I tell you, kid? Expert Ghostbuster," Dante chuckled, earning himself a swat on the arm as Tess ushered him off.

"Don't call me that, you dipshit," she muttered then looked over her shoulder and waved at them. "It was nice meeting you, Kyrie! I'll come over later sometime and see you guys properly."

"Travel safely!" Kyrie called back and waved too. "And thank you again!"

Nero just stared as the two of them went back to quibbling about details. Dante had reached out and tugged her arm into the crook of his elbow so she could lean into him.

"The client said nothing about delivering the place intact."

"People don't usually expect an extermination job to annihilate two walls."

"Well good thing they weren't support walls, isn't it?"

"I can't believe you're being such a child about this."

"And I can't believe you're still salty about something that happened last month!"

Kyrie pressed her forehead into Nero's arm and when he looked down at her, her shoulders were shaking in quiet laughter. A lightbulb clicked on somewhere in his head and his jaw sagged.

"Wait. Wait. They're not—" he blurted.

"I think they are," Kyrie giggled.

"But he's an idiot!"

"Well not really…"

"She could do better."

"Credo used to mutter that about you too."

"What?!"

Kyrie giggled and hugged him. He hugged her back and kissed her forehead.

"Do you think Credo can rest now?" she asked him.

Nero bit his lip briefly. He didn't know if it was right to tell her what exactly he'd seen and what had happened. There was no need to give her anything else to anguish over. He wasn't going to be lying, anyway.

"Yeah. We just gotta do one last thing," he said and patted the sword by his side. "Let's bury it somewhere quiet, away from this place. He'll rest easy then. There's… been too much death here already. There's nothing good about this place."

"You're right," Kyrie said and tucked her face in his chest. "Let's go home, now," she added. "And we'll find somewhere peaceful to lay him to rest."

"You were right too, about him and me," he said quietly. "He… really worried about us both."

"He doesn't need to worry now," she said and took his hand. "We'll be fine. And do him proud."

Nero smiled back at her awkwardly and let her lead him off the bridge and down the path to the city. He cast a last glance back at the castle, standing gloomy and forlorn against the darkening sky. He thought he saw glimpses of figures lingering on the parapets or on the very edges of the broken windows. Figures made of wispy light and frozen breaths.

There was nothing left for anyone in that castle, anymore; just a lot of loneliness and grief and regret.

So many lonely people.

THE END

Thanks for reading! I think you can tell this was meant to be a Halloween fanfic. I'm a failpanda though. But I hope you enjoyed it all the same!