A/N: Happy one-year anniversary to this fic! I've posted one chapter per week for 52 weeks, so chapter 53 marks the official start of the fic's second (and final, as we're well past the halfway mark) year. Thank you to those of you who have been reading since the beginning, and welcome to those who have joined more recently!

(I'm not stalling before resolving last chapter's cliffhanger, honest.) XD

A crystalline blade shattered in the air.

Its ice-blue shards rained down over Nero, rousing him from the haze of pain that was cutting off all his other senses. Somewhere above him, a web of energy shimmered into view as more summoned swords crashed into it. Barrier. Lauda had protected himself with a demonic ward of some kind, and Vergil's ranged attacks weren't getting through.

The pain lancing through Nero's core redoubled, and he felt the crack of cartilage as a rib shifted out of place. The blade pinning him to the ground was slicing downward through his chest as his body was dragged toward the edge by his extended arm, supporting the weight of…

"Julio!" Nero gasped. The word barely escaped through the froth of blood in his throat. He couldn't see over the edge, but he could feel it now—the press of fabric within the fist of his spectral arm. Somehow, he'd reached him in time.

That, or Julio had developed a truly supernatural set of lungs. The boy's screams were definitely coming from somewhere nearby. "Nero!" he shrieked. "Nero!"

Nero wanted to reassure Julio that he had him, that he was safe now, but he was in no condition to answer. Another wave of pain occluded his senses as the strained rib snapped, overcome by the pressure of the blade and Julio's swinging body weight. Nero's free hand scrabbled weakly at the stone beneath him, trying to halt his progress toward the edge.

A shadow fell across him, and abruptly a tall leather boot was planted against the top of his shoulder, stopping him from sliding. "Brace," Vergil ordered. Nero scarcely had time to wonder what that meant before Vergil bent and yanked the blade from his body. Fire tore through Nero's chest anew, but he was able to use Vergil's foot as leverage to shift into a more stable position.

Once he could see over the rim of the broken platform, he realized things were worse than he'd feared. Nero's spectral hand was fisted in Julio's collar, but the boy's T-shirt was bunched up beneath his arms and in immediate danger of slipping off over his head. The way he was hanging, Julio's back was to the remains of the wall; even if there were handholds in the stone, he wouldn't be able to reach them. "Nero!" Julio cried again. "I'm slipping! Hurry, pull me up!"

I can't. Nero's arm trembled as he fought to maintain his grip. The wound in his chest ached with every beat of his heart. Blood filled one lung, drowning him from within, and he could feel its heat spreading outward through his clothing even as his extremities went cold. The supernatural fire at his core flared, urging him to transform and heal before he lost consciousness—but he knew the change could disrupt the state of his arm, and he risked losing his hold on Julio. A hold that even now was in danger of failing as he struggled to maintain the Devil Bringer's physical form.

Beside him, Vergil knelt and gazed dispassionately over the edge at the dangling child. "Let go."

The suggestion triggered a mental flood of profanity, but all Nero could manage to gasp through the blood clogging his throat was, "Like hell!"

"Nero." Vergil turned and met his gaze. "Trust me."

Nero stared into his father's eyes, the same chips of near-colorless ice that had once watched Nero bleeding out on the floor of his garage, that had calmly observed the Qliphoth laying waste to a city, that had fixed on his own twin brother with murderous objective. The silent intent behind them was cold and terrifying—and it wanted Nero to release his hold on a child he loved like a son, to watch him fall, perhaps to his death. Despite their fraught history, despite Vergil's violent past and the atrocities he'd committed, he had the audacity to ask Nero to trust him.

Worse, Nero knew that some part of him wanted to be able to trust Vergil. Even Kyrie had argued for his chance at redemption: Do you truly believe there was nothing in your father worth saving? She'd known that despite everything, Nero still hadn't given up hope.

Even so, he wasn't willing to hang Julio's life by such a slender thread.

"Nero!" Julio sobbed. The shirt was halfway over his head; only his desperate grip on the fabric had kept him from sliding out of it completely. "Please, help me!"

Nero's vision was beginning to tunnel with loss of blood and oxygen. The strength in his arm wavered. He wasn't ready to trust Vergil, but what choice did he have?

Reluctantly, Nero nodded.

Vergil stood and drew the Yamato, letting the sheath fall beside Nero's prone body. "Now."

Despite his failing strength, it was difficult for Nero to release Julio's shirt. The sudden terror and betrayal in the boy's expression as he felt gravity assert its claim on him nearly stopped Nero's heart, and he couldn't tear his eyes away as Julio's form receded toward the roiling surf below.

With a snap of displaced air, Vergil vanished from his place beside Nero. Almost simultaneously he reappeared just below Julio, stretching out one arm to seize the smaller figure as they collided mid-air. The Yamato flashed twice, slashing a cross-shaped gash in the sky beneath them, and the two bodies tumbled through it and vanished. Instantly the portal's seams began to knit together; within seconds, only the unmarred view of sea and rocks remained below him.

Nero succumbed to the demands of his power then. He fell back against the shattered stone as the change tore through his body and began repairing the hole in his lung, the severed artery and the broken ribs. It couldn't have been long—he was too weak to sustain his devil form for more than a moment or two—but it seemed ages before his power-heightened vision faded to normal and the steel of his transformed body melted back into aching human flesh.

Through the lingering haze, he saw the sky above him peel open, four corners bending inward and bleeding otherworldly energy. An instant later, Vergil flashed through the opening at the speed of gravity and landed a short distance away, absorbing the impact with softened knees. In his right hand, he gripped the Yamato. His left arm was wrapped tight around Julio, folded over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Nero rolled away from the platform's edge and half-crawled, half-staggered toward them. Vergil was just setting Julio on his feet when he reached them, and Nero scarcely gave the boy a chance to orient himself before seizing his shoulders. "Are you okay?" he panted. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I'm… I'm fine," Julio managed in a subdued voice. He was trembling. "I'm not hurt."

In his relief Nero pulled him into a crushing hug, which Julio did not resist. He could feel the little hitches in the boy's breathing that told Nero he was crying. Nero didn't blame him; he was one frayed thread from bursting into tears, himself. I almost lost you. He squeezed Julio tighter, heedless of the pain it triggered in his battered ribs. I almost lost you.

"Nero…" Julio's voice was muffled against Nero's shoulder, and it wasn't until he squirmed in protest that Nero relaxed his vise grip. Julio pulled back and looked down at his arm, which was smeared with red where it had been pinned against Nero's side. "You're bleeding really bad!"

"I'm okay," Nero assured him. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"But there's so much blood…" The shock in Julio's voice had been replaced by fear, and he tugged helplessly at the front of Nero's jacket, trying to spot the wound. "We've gotta stop the bleeding!"

Nero glanced down at himself. His shirt and jacket were completely saturated; if he'd been fully human, he already would have died of blood loss. "Julio, I promise you, I'm fine. I heal really fast. In fact, I think the bleeding's already stopped." He probed under his arm to be sure. The entry point was still tender, and breathing too deeply triggered a sharp pain in his side, but the immediate danger had passed. He forced a grin. "The tough part's gonna be making it up to Kyrie once she sees this mess. I bet I'll be on laundry duty for a month."

Julio didn't smile. His shoulders sagged. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, sure we can." Nero smoothed Julio's hair back from his face. "You sure you're okay? You look a little banged up."

"It's just where he hit me. It's not bad." The boy's cheek was swollen from the blow Lauda had struck him, and there was a red mark at his temple—probably a burn from the gun barrel. "I bet you look way worse than I do."

"I'll bet I do. This sure wasn't my best day." Nero crossed to where he'd dropped his weapons and bent to pick up Red Queen. The motion jarred his still-tender ribs, and he hissed in pain and went to one knee.

"Nero!" Julio cried, running to him. "You are hurt!"

Nero waved him off. "It's just a cracked rib. Hurts like hell, but not life-threatening."

"You shouldn't strain it, though. I can carry your things." Without thinking, Julio bent to pick up the weapons.

Nero, distracted by his discomfort as he tried to stand, didn't realize what was happening until Julio's hand was almost on Blue Rose. He let out a shout of warning, and Julio jumped. "The no-touching rule is not negotiable. That gun is loaded."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Julio looked at Red Queen. "Uh, what about the sword?"

Nero crouched and retrieved Blue Rose, which he holstered gingerly. Damn, his ribs really did hurt. "You can try, but I doubt you'll be able to get her off the ground."

With a determined frown, Julio bent and tried to heft Red Queen. He managed to get the hilt up, but quickly lowered it again. "Oof. What's this thing made of? It weighs as much as I do!"

"Blood, sweat and tears. Also some carbon steel." Nero braced himself again for the pain, but before he could bend to retrieve the sword, Vergil scooped it up one-handed and offered it to Nero at chest height. Julio stared, wide-eyed.

"Uh, thanks." Nero slung the sword into its harness on his back. "So where'd Lauda get to, anyway? I didn't see what happened to him."

"He fled immediately after stabbing you." Vergil gestured toward a doorway at the far side of the platform. "He was well-shielded, and had obviously planned his escape. I could have stopped him, but I deemed your situation the more pressing."

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it." Nero rubbed his chest and winced. "Let's get Julio out of here. We'll get another shot at Lauda later. I'm sure we haven't seen the last of him."

Julio looked up at Nero, anxious. "Does that mean he'll come after us again?"

"Maybe," Nero admitted. "But I don't think you need to worry too much. Today was really unusual. Normally Kyrie would have been home with you, or you'd have been at the orphanage, or…" He froze. "Wait. If he's been keeping tabs on us, he should know Kyrie stays home most days. How did he know that she would be gone today?"

"Perhaps he saw her leave this morning," Vergil said. "He said he was after Dante, so obviously the attack at the orphanage was a diversion to get us out of the house."

"No, I watched the van pull out this morning. Kyrie was all the way in the back. Anybody watching the house would have just seen Nico and Lady in the front. And this wasn't a spontaneous thing—he had to have planned this." Beside him, Nero noticed that Julio was beginning to shiver in the steady wind off the ocean. He automatically started to offer the boy his own jacket, then thought better of it when he realized it was still dripping blood. "I guess we can work that out later, though. For now, let's get back to civilization." He wrapped a reassuring arm around Julio's shoulders as they turned back toward the front of the building. It would be a chilly ride, but… "Aw, shi—crap."

Julio tensed and looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing major, just that we came on Lady's motorcycle. We managed to squeeze two people on, but it won't handle three." He glanced around the ruined building. "And I'm willing to bet the telephone here's been disconnected after six years."

"I can take him on mine." They turned to see Gianna slumped against a wall near the entrance. She looked miserable, but her eyes were clear. "I have to ride back anyway."

Nero frowned. "You came on that busted old scooter of yours, right? It's not made for two people."

"We are both smaller than most adults. The weight should not be a problem."

Nero wasn't convinced. "Are you even safe to be riding that thing? You could have a concussion."

"I hit my shoulder, not my head. I just had the breath knocked out of me. I can ride." She shrugged. "Or one of you can wait here for two hours. Your choice."

Nero sighed and glanced at Julio. He supposed riding double on an anemic scooter that wouldn't even reach the speed limit really wasn't any more dangerous than riding on a full-sized motorcycle without a helmet—which he would be, if Nero took him home before coming back for Vergil. Neither option was ideal. "Are you okay with sharing the scooter?"

Julio nodded. "I just want to go home."

"All right. Go with Gigi, and we'll follow you on the bike. You go extra slow on the curves," he warned Gianna. He walked out with them and watched as they arranged themselves on the narrow seat. Gianna cranked the engine, and the scooter puttered slowly toward the main road. "Guess it's a good thing I gave that Vespa a tune-up before all this happened."

Nero turned toward Lady's motorcycle a short distance away, dimly aware of Vergil's footsteps following. He was about to mount the bike when he heard the quiet, "Nero."

Nero turned to find Vergil hovering near the rear wheel. "Yeah?"

Vergil's eyes lingered on Nero's bloodstained shirt. "Are you… as well as you say?"

Nero huffed a laugh—more subdued than usual, owing to the persistent ache in his side. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I've been stabbed by worse." His eyes flicked to the Yamato. He'd tasted the business end of Vergil's blade more than once during their fight atop the Qliphoth. Of course, during much of that fight he'd been in his devil form, and healing more rapidly…

Vergil's fingers tightened fractionally around the katana. "Evidently I am still not able to judge how much damage your body can tolerate."

It took Nero a moment to work out that Vergil was referring to the concussion he'd sustained at the factory. "Head injuries can be pretty bad. Getting stuck through the chest? That's just a typical Tuesday at this point. You just walk it off."

A corner of Vergil's mouth curved up in that not-quite-smile Nero had begun spotting more often. "That's something of a family trait."

"Yeah?" Nero swung a leg across the motorcycle. "Come to think of it, the first time I met Dante, I pinned him to the wall with his own sword."

Behind him, he heard Vergil's low chuckle. "You, too?"

It was fully dark by the time they arrived home. Nero was grateful for the extra-bright headlamp on Lady's motorcycle; the cracked light on Gianna's scooter scarcely illuminated the crescent of road before her front wheel. They made the final stretch of the journey riding side-by-side through the narrow streets, Nero lighting the way for both of them.

After following Nero to his house, Gianna unloaded Julio at the curb and puttered on toward the orphanage. Nero unlocked the garage and parked Lady's bike inside. The van was conspicuously absent, though the lights in the house told Nero that someone was home.

Kyrie was waiting for them in the living room. She jumped to her feet as they entered, but Nero saw the way her hands were clasped and wondered if she had been praying—not that she followed the Order's teachings now, but old habits were hard to shed, especially in times of stress. Ironic, Nero thought, if she'd been praying to Sparda to save them from one of his crazed followers.

Kyrie's eyes landed on Julio first, and she nearly staggered with relief. "Oh, thank goodness you're all right." She immediately folded the boy in her arms. Julio clung to her as she stroked his hair and whispered gentle assurances.

Beside Nero, Vergil had shed his coat to hang it in the closet, but he paused with his hand on the knob. His gaze rested on Kyrie, and he wore an expression Nero had never seen before. What was he remembering, Nero wondered, that could put such an odd mix of tension and wistfulness on his face?

Kyrie's gasp snapped Nero's attention back to her. "Julio, is this blood?" She was holding the boy's arm, which was still streaked in telltale red-brown. She began checking him over. "Where are you hurt?"

"It's not mine," Julio assured her quickly. "It's Nero's."

Kyrie's eyes traveled past Julio for the first time, and Nero watched her expression melt from concern to fully-fledged horror as she took in his blood-soaked clothing. "Nero!"

"It's not as bad as it looks." He caught her hands as she reached for his shirt, intent on discovering his injuries for herself. "Don't worry about me. Why don't you take care of Julio first? He's got a burn on his face you should probably take a look at. I'll go get myself cleaned up."

Kyrie went a shade paler. "You only say things like that when you don't want me to know how bad it is."

Nero sighed, too drained to continue the attempt at deflection. "I got a little more perforated than usual, but I'll live. Just give me a bottle of aspirin for dinner and I'll sleep the rest off." He squeezed her fingers. "We've got a lot of talking to do, though. Where are the others?"

"At the orphanage. When we stopped to drop off Sister Veritas and Sister Dominica, Sister Benedicta called us in, and Tony told us what had happened. Nico, Lady and Trish stayed to protect the children in case there was another attack, and I came to wait for you here."

"I don't think there will be another attack. Not tonight, anyway. It was just a diversion." Nero winced as he tried to peel off his coat. It resisted, and he realized the material was fused to his shirt with dried blood. "Probably for the best that the kids aren't here, though. This would be pretty hard to explain."

"It's going to be hard to explain to them, regardless. From what I saw at the orphanage, everyone was pretty shaken." Kyrie gingerly examined his stuck clothing. "You'll have to soak that apart in the shower. Everything you're wearing will need to be rinsed, anyway. I'll bring you some fresh clothes." She pinned him with a firm gaze. "And after that, you're going to tell me exactly what happened."

"You might as well call the orphanage and tell Nico she can bring the kids home. No point in telling this story more than once. Besides, it's a school night, and somehow we've got to get everybody home, calmed down, and ready for bed in the next…" He checked the clock. "…forty-eight minutes. Well, that'll take a miracle."

"School," Julio groaned. He looked miserable. "I never got to study for my test."

"Forget the test. You can stay home tomorrow. With everything you've been through today, you have more than earned a day off." Nero started down the hall toward the bathroom, but almost immediately barked his shin against something. "Ow! What the…" The door to the under-stairs cupboard stood slightly ajar. The wood surrounding its latch was a splintered crater.

"Oh, that's where Tony broke out." Kyrie pushed the door as far closed as it would go. It remained in place for only a second before swinging open again.

"Tony broke out?"

"That's my fault," Julio said. "When that man came to the door and I saw who it was, I got a really bad feeling, so I told Tony to hide in there." Julio hung his head. "I know we're not supposed to get into anything that latches on the outside, but I thought I would be able let him out in a few minutes."

"Well, at least it was Tony, and not one of the other kids." Nero pushed the door shut with his foot. "I think we'll just have to tape it for now. That latch is blown to hell."

"I'll do it," Julio offered.

"No, first you go put some ice on that shiner of yours," Nero told him. "I've got a roll of that extra-strong fabric tape in the garage. That ought to hold this shut, at least until I can get the parts to fix it." He turned toward the garage.

Kyrie blocked his path. "Aren't you supposed to be in the shower? I don't want any of the children coming home and seeing you in that condition. You go start cleaning up; I'll tape the door after I bring you a change of clothes."

"It'll take me all of ten seconds! You go call the orphanage. I'll take care of this and then I'll get in the shower."

"Nero, you're injured. You shouldn't be worrying about household repairs."

"It's not a repair, it's tape. And I'll be even more injured if I keep running into the door every time I walk down the hall."

"But you—"

Their argument was interrupted by the loud rrrrip of heavy-duty adhesive tape being unspooled behind them. They watched in stunned silence as Vergil tore off the length of tape, stepped between them, and slapped it pointedly over the broken latch. Then he turned and leveled the tape roll at Nero. "Shower." He turned to Kyrie. "Telephone." He looked over her head at Julio. "Ice." He spun on his heel and returned to the garage to put the tape away.

Nero stared after him, wide-eyed. "What just happened?"

"I think we just got told," Julio said in a hushed voice. "When my dad used to use that tone, the next step was grounding." He hastened into the kitchen and opened the freezer. Kyrie followed and went to the telephone.

Nero hurried down the hall when he heard the garage door open again. He was all the way to the bathroom before he realized he'd bolted so Vergil wouldn't find him standing where he'd left him. "Grounded, huh?" He chuckled as he turned on the shower tap, picturing Vergil's stern posture. It wasn't difficult to imagine him brandishing a sword instead of the roll of tape. "Guess he must have picked up a few parenting tips from Sparda after all."