Nero sits on the stained carpet, his back against the foot of the bed. He stares out the window, watching the occasional set of headlights drive by on the highway. The room is dark except for the glow of the television, turned to a muted religious station, where a preacher silently rails against the evils of humanity. On the bed opposite, Vergil snoozes with the occasional soft snore; behind him, Dante is stretched out on the mattress, munching loudly on his fourth bag of chips.

He jumps when something lands with a crunch on his lap. Nero looks down to see a small bag of salt and vinegar potato chips on his thigh. "Eat some more, kid," Dante says.

"Not hungry." Nero puts the bag on the floor next to him and turns back to the window.

"Gotta keep up your strength," Dante warns.

"I said I'm not hungry."

Dante doesn't answer. A few more minutes tick by, and Nero starts to feel antsy. He takes out his cell phone and presses the power button, seeing that it isn't even five yet. But there is a voicemail, so he quickly hits the call button and listens.

To his disappointment, it's just Nico. "Kids are down, dishes done, and I'm going back to the garage," she says on the message. "You owe me."

He grumbles under his breath as he ends the call. "Anything good?" Dante asks.

"No. Just Nico saying the kids were fine," sighs Nero.

"You're pretty good with them."

Nero snorts. "They're just kids. It's not that hard."

"I don't know about that." He hears Dante shift on the bed and open up another bag, the cellophane crunching loudly in the quiet room. "Not like you had anyone to show you how."

He looks over his shoulder at Dante, who is propped up on one elbow as the other hand fishes in the bag. His gaze then slides to Vergil, also on his side, only his back visible to them. "Even if he was around, doesn't mean he'd be any good at it," Nero mutters.

"That's true. We had our dad for a while and look how well we turned out."

Nero shifts to the side so he can look at Dante. "So you did know Sparda then?"

"Sure." He wipes his fingers on the bag, making more crinkling sounds, and then tears open a candy bar. "He didn't disappear until we were six or seven, so we knew him… A bit, anyway."

"He disappeared?" Nero frowns. "I don't think you ever told me that."

Dante shrugs. "Well I guess I just did."

Nero listens to him chew for a moment before asking, "Do you know for certain he's dead?"

"I dunno," Dante replies through chocolate and nougat. "I mean, he didn't come back, and he let Mother die. So yeah, he's probably dead." They lock eyes, and Nero quickly looks away. "Why you ask?"

"Just thinking about what Lir said." Nero focuses on a spot on the carpet as he remembers the empath's words. "A demon related to me."

Dante sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Nah. Sparda was a lot of things, but this ain't one of them."

"But you just said you only knew him a bit," argues Nero.

Dante leans an elbow on his knee and points at Nero. "So you're suggesting a two thousand year old demon, who has been missing for three decades, has come back to kidnap your girlfriend?"

Nero shrugs. "I don't know. It's possible, isn't it?"

"It's ludicrous." They both look over at the sound of Vergil's voice, and he rolls over to shoot them a disdainful look. "Sparda is gone. And he would not do something to harm you."

"How do you know?" Nero argues.

"Because he regarded family above all else," Vergil says simply.

Dante gives a laugh, shaking his head, and Nero looks between them in confusion. "If Sparda was such a family man, then why did he leave you?" he asks.

The question is meant innocently enough, Nero's curiosity getting the better of him and curing him of his aversion to saying more than three words to Vergil. But Vergil jumps to his feet and growls, "He didn't leave."

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know. But he didn't leave." Vergil straightens his back, visibly trying to adjust his composure. "It's impossible. He loved our mother too much to just leave. Either he was killed, or something else stopped him from returning."

Nero feels an uncomfortable heat on his ears, and he glances at Dante. He feels a bit relieved that Dante does not look angry, but his head is bowed. "You guys never figured it out, did you?" Nero asks.

Dante huffs a laugh. "Never did. Tried for a while, but… nothing really to find." He looks up as Vergil sits on his own bed, and when they glance at one another, Nero is struck by how similar they are at that moment. "Suppose we should, one day."

"Maybe," Vergil replies. "Supposing you stop trying to kill me long enough."

"Me? Try to kill you?" Dante laughs. "I think you have that backwards, brother."

"I could help," Nero offers. They both turn at the same time, and Nero shrugs. "When this is over, and we get Kyrie back. I can help you look."

Vergil looks surprised, but Dante grins wide and leans over to pat him hard on the shoulder. "Sounds great! The Spardas on another road trip!"

"Yes, because this one is going so well," Vergil comments with a roll of his eyes.

Nero actually chuckles at that, rubbing the back of his head when Dante throws a bag of pretzels at him. "You never liked having fun. Even back then."

Vergil picks up the pretzels and throws them back at Dante, hitting him in the chest. "No, I just didn't like having fun with you. Mother and I did plenty of things together."

"Mama's boy," Dante teases as he rips open the bag and tilts his head back to dump the pretzels into his mouth.

Before it dissolves into an argument, Nero quickly asks, "What was Eva like?" Vergil frowns at him again, and Nero moves off the floor to sit at the end of Dante's bed. "I don't know anything about them at all."

Dante is still chewing, but Vergil looks visibly uncomfortable. Nero swallows thickly, wondering if he did the wrong thing, but then Vergil finally says, "She was lovely. Very beautiful and kind. Strong. Not unlike your Kyrie."

They look at one another for a long moment, and some of the worry that had simmered inside Nero begins to subside. He knows how difficult it can be to talk about the past, and it occurs to him that Vergil must feel just as badly about being abandoned as he does—more, possibly, since he actually knew his parents. Dante never seemed bothered, so Nero had assumed Vergil was the same way. Again he feels a wave of emotion as he thinks about them both being here in this awful motel room in the middle of the night, just for him, fighting demons and driving everywhere and having a dinner of stale potato chips, just to help him. Dante and Vergil are hardly the best family, but they are here, and that counts. Big time.

His cell phone rings, startling Nero out of his reflection. He pulls it out of his pocket and frowns to see how early it still is. The number is unfamiliar, but he swipes to accept the call. "Maybe it's the tow," he says as he lifts the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Nero?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, his heart plummeting at the sound of her voice. "Kyrie? Is that you?"

"Yes, Nero, I—"

"Where are you?"

The others are on their feet, crowding around him, but Nero waves them off. One of them turns on the light as he tries to listen. "I don't know," she says. "They gave me something to read to you."

"They?" Fury rapidly fills him, and the pictures of Kyrie hurt and scared that he had tried to ignore come back rapidly in his mind.

"Two men. I—" She is cut off and there is a muted yelp, followed by muffled sounds. "Kyrie!" Nero shouts. "Kyrie!"

Another voice answers, deep, sounding strange as if he is disguising it. "One moment. The young lady broke the rules, so we must remind her of her instructions."

Panic swells in Nero's throat as he shouts, "You hurt one fucking hair on her, I swear to god—"

"Nero, please listen." Kyrie's voice interrupts him, and he chokes back a curse when he hears her. She sounds a bit breathless, as if she had been crying, and there is a burning behind his eyes and in his throat at how soft she sounds. "I've not been harmed. They will return me to you in exchange for the fortune."

"The what?" Nero hisses. "What fortune?"

"They want the remainder of the family fortune. All of it." She sucks in a sharp breath and whispers, "I tried to tell them, there is none, but they—no!"

"Kyrie!"

More movements, then the second voice returns. "Be at the clock tower in the center of Fortuna in two days."

The phone goes dead, and Nero gasps. "Wait! Wait!" Frantically he presses the redial button, but all he gets is a busy tone. He tries again and again, but the number won't connect, and in his frustration he throws his phone across the room, where it breaks into pieces when it hits the wall. "Damn it! Fuck!"

"Nero." Dante's hand on his arm actually steadies him, even though Nero finds it hard to breathe. "What did they say?"

"They want the fortune. Family fortune." His lip trembles as he looks up at Dante. "I don't have a fortune! I don't even have…" He looks between the two brothers, blinking back tears. "Is there money? I saw, in Urizel's vision, that was your home, right?"

Dante shakes his head. "There is nothing. It's all gone."

"The house is gone, but what about the money?" Nero pulls away, his eyes darting between them. "You had to have money, so where is it?"

"We told you that our father disappeared," Vergil snaps. "How are we supposed to know?"

"What about Eva?" Nero demands. "Her family? Did she leave a will, anything like that?"

"She was killed by an army of demons who burned our home to the ground," Veril growls. "What do you think, we're sitting on a treasure chest of some sort? All of it is gone, including this fortune, if it ever even existed."

Nero feels dizzy, and stumbles over to the wall, holding himself up with his palms and pressing his forehead to the cool surface. His heart is beating fast, too fast, but the wall is cool on his burning skin.

Behind him, Dante asks, "What do a bunch of demons want with money anyway?"

"Money is power in this world," Vergil answers.

Clenching his fist, Nero pounds on the wall. "We need to get some then. They want a fortune, so we get one." He smiles, a plan forming in his mind. "We can rob a bank. Someplace with money. The three of us, if we devil trigger then nobody can stop us."

"Woah, slow down there, kid," Dante barks. "You're talking about breaking the law."

An idea hits him and he turns around eagerly. "I know! The Order. Or what's left of it. They have all that money, we just have to take it. We deserve it anyway, we suffered just as much if not more than the city. We saved the city!" He grins at Dante. "You and I saved the city. And it was all raised in Sparda's name, right? That makes it practically ours."

Nero frowns as Dante shakes his head and says, "Nah. I'm not above a lot of things but I'm not interested in stealing."

"It's not stealing," Nero growls. "Kyrie is only in this position because of the Order and what they did. If anyone deserves that money, it's us. And her."

"And then what?" Nero glances at Vergil, who folds his arms as he wears a very pointed and unamused expression. "You go and take the wealth this Order left. And you deliver it in a bag to these people? Don't you think someone will notice it's gone? And we have no guarantee they'll even give her back."

"I have to try!" he shouts. "I have to do something, because I promised I'd protect her, and they fucking have her! Don't you get it?" He storms over to the side of the room, where he had tossed his coat and his gun. "You know what? I don't need you. Either of you. I can do this myself."

He pushes past Dante, who steps up to stop him. "Wait a minute, Nero, we don't even have a car—"

"I'll use devil trigger. I can get back to Fortuna that way." He stops at the door, his hand on the knob. Once more his arm is glowing, the demon blood still under control beneath his flesh, but ready for his word. Using the demon powers like this is something he usually avoids at all cost; but if it will allow him to save Kyrie, so be it.

Nero takes a deep breath and glances over his shoulder. "You coming or not?"

The second the words leave his mouth, he already knows the answer. Having them both with him during this had felt good. But now their disapproval stings more than he could have guessed.

He looks first at Vergil, who regards him coldly. Even though Vergil is his father, Nero doesn't care what he thinks, and definitely doesn't care if he comes along. It is what he has been telling himself from the minute they returned from the demon realm, and Vergil had not raised the fuss he had expected of a father reuniting with his son. Better to just leave it, he had decided for himself, those months ago; after all, he had never needed Vergil's or anyone's approval to get by, and getting his support now means nothing. But somehow the disapproving stare hurts, and he grits his teeth against the wave of shame that fills him under Vergil's glare.

Dante is just as opposed, but his expression is more uneasy. Nero does care what he thinks, and he hates that, especially now when he knows that Dante's right. Their relationship is stronger, built with every monster and every can of beer and every bad joke, and had even survived Nero's anger at Dante for hiding the truth. In fact, Nero tries to remember a time when Dante didn't have his back, and fails, meaning this is the first time since they had met that he will truly be alone. He can feel his face burning, muttering a curse under his breath as he squeezes the doorknob. "Fine," he snaps.

He swings open the door and stops short. To his shock, Morrison is standing there, his brows raised, as Nero gapes at him. "What the hell?"

"Can I come in?" Morrison asks. He steps by and removes his hat without waiting for Nero to answer. "Took me a while to track you boys down. You left a mess on the interstate."

"Our mistake," Dante says. He folds his arms and asks, "What are you doing here?"

"I got something for you." He looks over his shoulder at Nero and jerks his chin. "You'll want to see this too."

The others move as Morrison walks to the television, but Nero remains frozen. Breathing deeply, he looks out into the night, dark and hidden beyond the glow from the motel. Kyrie is there, alive. But going now means going alone.

Nero looks down at his arm, the faint glow still pulsing beneath his skin. He can do it with this power, but does he want to?

"Nero."

He turns at Dante's voice. Dante nods at the television. "Come see this."

Morrison had attached a small device to the set, and warily Nero steps closer. "What is it?"

"It's Kyrie," Morrison says with a grim smile.