Happy Mardi Gras!

Wow... so fanfiction has been down for three days now? Imagine my dismay when there weren't any new stories out there or updates :( But everything is hunky-dory now. Yay!

Anyhoo... I have a few things to tell you before we get down to business. First off, I'm in the process of writing for Duality, Diable de la Lune, and Thanks for the Memories. I've been losing steam for quite some time (not that anyone cares). Updates have been slow-coming. Oh! And also, I'm going to start doing an overhaul on a couple of my stories... some may actually get deleted, because I now realize that I must have been extremely high when I wrote them. No one in their right mind writes plot holes like those... so yeah. I may need a beta, if there's anyone out there to take me up on my offer.

Okay... enough with the boring stuff... allow me to express my gratitude:

zenbon zakura: Yes'm... Will do!

Mariposa-Princessa: Okay! Just don't hurt me! This story is so far proving that everyone has an 'F' ed up past.

Satanic Park Of Madness: I'm glad that you are liking it... now to plan more action.

Silentdeath Bringer: Yes'm... right on the nose.

Shadow-of-a-Wolf: Cuz... you so want to do it. Like I've said before we should actually try it with water guns. By the way... when are you going to update?

Phant0m: So not my fault, but I'm happy that you liked the last chapter.

Hollow Slayer Kurosaki: Honestly, I thought he'd be to pale for it. But I guess everyone seems to like it.

Thanks to you all and any of you who bothered to even read... you really do make my day! I mean it! Take a bow, everyone!

Chapter 11: Gute Nacht

The cold snap that night hit fast and hard. The already frigid temperatures dipped into the low teens, threatening more snow or freezing rain. As confident as they may be, the meteorologist weren't exactly sure which it would be.

However, Gabriel was perfectly content with spending the night under the stars much like the hobos did. The boy had been used to braving the elements on his own, as any soldier that spent time on a battlefield should. God only knew how Kayleigh planned to endure the weather. Then there was Dante; cold and hungry with his still wet hair freezing on the cold wind. He still had no idea where he would lay his head.

He supposed that he could call in favors. How many fellow mercenaries had he saved in his short, but eventful life? Dante weighed his options. Still, his mind kept being brought the cons and the biggest one of all; he was still being watched. This complicated matters considerably. Mercenaries, especially those in the demon hunting business, were a secretive bunch and would scorn and shun those who would bring those secrets to light. And Dante had already been acquainted with enough skeletons to last a lifetime.

Then there were his former colleagues that did have demonic heritages. Going to them tonight, of all nights, would put them at risk of also being put into Government custody. When all was told, he had little recourse and nowhere to crash.

"Dammit," Dante shouted as he punched a nearby brick wall. A small fissure crept up its height from the point of impact. As he removed his tightened fist, revealing that some of the brick had buckled and crumbled from the sheer force. He was frustrated with it all. This had only served to compound his irritation over being bested by Kayleigh. She was right and front of him and gone in a heartbeat.

If only he had reacted sooner, he could have knocked her out of the game. But she had sent some sort of doppelganger in her place. Had she thought of him as nothing, not even a challenge? Why couldn't she face him with her real body? The thought of being a small fry pissed him off more than anything.

He knew that he had to rough it tonight. A men's shelter for him was out of the question. Sure there was the prospect of free food, but there were always the cons. There was normally no guarantee of a free bed, that he wouldn't get picked on from the cliques that some of the homeless created, and no matter how dank and 'off-the-grid' they were, shelters were always watched.

Dante realized that he'd have to act as a squatter and mooch off of someone in the process. He took care to stay far enough from the immediate city. He felt, possibly subconsciously, that retreating to the suburbs seemed a whole lot safer at the moment. He crossed city lines into Arlington County once again, hoping that catching some Z's in familiar territory would help him regroup... maybe dream up some new strategies. At least that was where his thinking went.

So, he dragged his aching body up one of the many steep hills of Northern Arlington. Minutes passed and he continued his cross-county tour. Time stretched on and he soon realized that midnight had come and gone. Time to stop pussy-footing around. If Dante was going to make a decision, it had to be now!

In an odd mixture of fatigue and the onset of hypothermia, his body unconsciously moved toward a two storied white stucco building in the distance. It was almost as if he were drawn to it. It stood atop a hill like a warm Californian villa with the feel of a Mexican hacienda. There were definite nods to architecture of the 1920s and 1950s Art Deco. Was it someone's house? No, much too large... and Virginian mansions are more reclusive, relegated to the backwoods somewhere. Maybe an apartment building? No, much too decadent. It was a far cry from the sterile steel high rises and the tawdry garden walk ups the county was famous for.

Dante closed in on the building and walked past and swinging blue and white sign that conservatively, but proudly proclaimed: Welcome to Marymount University. He watched it sway in the wind, somewhat thankful for perhaps his luck or his savant abilities – whichever that brought him to his oasis in the tundra. He dragged on to the building's main entrance and waited within courtyard, near the recessed doorways.

Before tonight, Dante would have never given a building's design a second thought. Now, he could have kissed the guy who decided to build the courtyard in this manner. On the streets, the cold winds, coupled with the tall structures created virtual whirlwinds and tailwinds, pushed in from all directions. Where he stood, the wind only had one way in and out, with the bulk of it being deflected off the balconies and the top of the stucco structure.

He shivered against a few stiff gusts of wind that snuck past the courtyard's defenses. It had been nearly ten minutes since Dante had arrived at the doorstep; ten minutes since Dante's exhausted body decide that it was time to snooze. It had been ten minutes before he heard the click of the front door and the voices that followed.

"Hey, man its getting late... pretty soon the RA won't let us back into the dorm."

"Blake is an ass. He takes his job waaay too seriously."

"Yeah, later... see you next time."

Two bodies breezed past Dante and the door swung on its hinges, threatening to shut him out. He stuck a foot into the door and turned his face to bask in the warmth of the near-industrial heater. He stood from the cold concrete wriggled through the doorway, trying not to alert the RA on front desk duty.

Dante positioned his hands and feet in something of a semblance of a backwards crab walk, but up five steps. He teetered up the final step, until he heard a voice clearing, "Ahem. What are you doing?"

Dante could think of a few excuses. He took a moment to look at the man that posed the question. He was in his early twenties and already balding. He wore a pair of pressed and creased jeans with a white polo shirt. His face, pock-marked with old acne scars, was framed by a pair of thick horn-rimmed glass as if he were straight from the 1950s. His mouth twisted into a deep scowl as he scrutinized the raven-haired teen before him.

Yep, Dante's mind scrolled through his plausible excuses like a mental rolodex. He eyed his own awkward position once more before parting his lips to say, "That party was awesome! The colors... blew... my... mind!" Dante stood to his full height and pulled the man into a tight embrace. He laid his head on the crook of the RA's neck before whispering in his ear, "I love you, man."

The man visibly tried to pull away in disgust, but Dante proved to be much, much stronger. Somehow he managed to maneuver his beanpole of a body away from the grasp of the overly handsy teenager. "Are you high," he questioned.

"I'm fine. You're fine," Dante answered as he inched closer to the already freaked out Resident Advisor, "We're together, here in ecstasy... We are...one." He put emphasis on the word, 'one' by tapping the tip of the man's nose.

"Who's your RA? What dorm do you live—"

"Let's not fight it, sailor... Blake told me exactly what you're into and he's into it too," Dante cut across his inquisition with a lusty glint in his eyes and growl in his voice.

"Wha— He told you? He is?"

"Wha'dya say, tiger?"

"I-I-I say—"

Before the man could properly begin a sentence, Dante face planted the floor.

"Hey, you okay," the man asked, shaking the boy's unconscious form, "Does this still mean that we can— you know?"

Dante pressed his eyes shut, hoping that the man wouldn't notice that he was still awake. He hoped that his twisted plan had worked.

"He's been out for a while," the man vocalized to no one in particular, "Maybe I should go get some help."

Success. It did work after all. With a bit of luck and an uncanny skill of improvisation, Dante had managed to get past the RA. How? It was all about playing the odds. The initial idea had been genius. When all else fails, pretend to be high. Then there was his impressive observational skill to bring it all home. The man was clearly an uptight, anal retentive bastard who postured in accordance to the pole shoved up his ass. Dante saw it as plain as day. Anyone who dressed like that and enjoyed it had to be. He must have been a sex-starved individual or a closet pervert. He didn't need to be gay for the rational to work, but rather a person whose head was filled with tons of kinky thoughts. Dante was willing to bet money on it having to do with S and M.

When the RA was well outside of earshot, Dante gathered himself up. Best to leave before he comes back with whips and chains, he thought. He moved down the hall and past an open steel door. He then wandered into a small common area. Inside were tables and chairs, a sink, a mini 'fridge, a microwave and a set of plush couches. He walked through the kitchenette and into the warm embrace of a couch. He closed his eyes as the television in the corner softly droned in the background.

Not too far away in the inner city, Gabriel lay in a park, near the entrance of a subway station. Sleep held firmly onto him but could not quell the nightmares that overcame his psyche. He tossed and turned, his body assaulting the frozen ground. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he whispered unconsciously.

His emerald eyes sprung open and he sat up with a start. He remained there, gasping for air as his senses slowly returned to him. Gabriel searched all around him to see an endless expanse of snow. The trees around him were closely hugged by sheets of ice. His eyes widened at the sight.

I haven't done anything close to this since—, he thought. Gabriel stood slowly, fully convinced that he had somehow gone off the deep end in his sleep.

"What's the matter, darling," he heard a familiar voice say.

He turned to see someone sitting on a park bench, dressed in black trousers and a dark collared shirt. The shadowed form was decidedly feminine, as evidenced by the way she crossed her legs. Gabriel gazed at the figure, practically hypnotized by the way her white lab coat flapped in the wind.

"Not sleeping well," she questioned.

"Mother?"

"Hmm?"

"No. It can't be true. This isn't right," he breathed disbelief. Panic rose up in him. He wanted to turn and run, but his body remained rooted in place, leaving an opportunity for the woman to wrap her arms around the boy.

"You've come back to me," she stated.

"No," Gabriel's body began to quake.

"My boy, my s—"

"No! Don't you dare say it! I am not your son," anger began to overtake the panic and fear, "No mother forces their child to commit murder!" Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.

This time he sat in an office, before an opulent mahogany desk. He was a child again, spinning in a swivel chair and only stopping a few times to color on a stack of papers with the crayons that he always carried with him. He suddenly stopped his scribbling and a young woman sitting on a couch near the door noticed that he had ceased his drawing and the chair was no longer groaning in protest of another spin.

"Gabriel, what's wrong," she asked as she looked up from the novel she was reading. She had only recently begun at the agency. As of two weeks ago, she was the boy's handler, whatever that meant. So far, her job was more likened to a very high paid babysitter. It was easily enough. He was polite and very well mannered. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that there was a Southern gentleman trapped in the four-year-old's body.

"Ah, nothin'... just thinkin'." She closed her book and walked around the desk to see what he was up to.

"Thinking about what, buddy," a gentle smile graced her lips.

"The picture," he absently said as he searched for a new color.

She came around a desk and spotted a framed picture that the boy referred to. She glanced at it and then at the boy again. It depicted a Gabriel petting a dog and it looked like it could have been taken a year ago.

"Isn't that you, silly," she questioned in light-hearted manner.

"Nope, that ain't me," he corrected, not once glancing away from his paper, "It's her son, Simon. He died a long time ago."

She wondered why the doctor and Gabriel seem so close. She had assumed that they were mother and child, but that bubble had been popped by the boy.

Gabriel continued his explanation, "She said that Simon had been sick for a real long time before God took him away. My real mama died when I was born and Mother said that since I didn't have a mama and she didn't have a son, we could be together." It was odd to her that someone so young had such a good handle on what had happened.

But what he said made sense, considering that that the boy was from a different part of the country than the doctor. The woman thought it all to be a very odd surrogate family, but left it at that.

"Hey, Miss Tracey... Can we go to the park?"

The woman glanced at her watch and said, "I'm so sorry, Gabe, but the doctor said that I had to take to your test at noon."

"I see," Gabriel looked disappointed, "Miss Tracey?"

"Yes?"

"What if I don't want to go? What if I don't want to hurt anybody? Will Mother get mad?"

The new agent was at a total loss for words.

Gabriel shot up again, becoming slowly aware that it all had been a dream. Still, he couldn't shake that his words were what had done in young Tracey. She was a lovely girl, but his treacherous tongue had let loose the secrets that caused her to disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. The Government had ways of making sure that information went nowhere; even information from a toddler.

He wiped the sweat away from his forehead. He stood from the ground and away from the light dusting of snow that his body had created during his dream. He gazed at it with the disdain and shame of a child who had just wet the bed. He snatched up his knapsack and pushed on.

Kayleigh lay across a couch in a posh Montgomery County apartment. It had only taken a few hours to find a suitable place that met her criteria as livable. It had to be relatively close to the Maryland park that she hid out in. Then the place had to have direct access to both Gabriel and Dante. It was less than a block from a subway station.

She had sent out her shadow familiars to find the apartment. The family had gone on vacation, the refrigerator was fully stocked and these people had cable. From there, it was only a matter of here picking the lock. Not bad for a day's work. Kayleigh flipped through the channels and stopped when she sensed another presence.

"What have you found," she asked it.

A familiar appeared before her and answered, "We have a lock on the target and your brother."

"Good job." The entity disappeared and she continued watching TV. "Looks like I win again this year," she confidently said to herself as curled up and closed her eyes.

The three demonic hybrids all bid the waking world good night, briefly resting their eyes in separate corners of the metropolitan area. Rest, for the real hard work awaited them in the morning.

Gabriel: A filler chapter?! What the hell?!

Eric: Well... um.

(gut punches Eric)

Gabriel: That oughta teach you.

Eric (weakly): Reviews?