Chapter 6 - Of Demons and Devils

When Nero and Devon had arrived home after the excessive shopping trip, Nero was stumped to find the house yet again empty. He could tell Dante wasn't present, his devil bringer dormant upon entering.

After they had stored away the ridiculous amount of goods, which took quite some time, he even went so far as to check on the attic, only to find it officially empty.

By passing his door, he had laughed out loud. There was a note on his door, written on the biggest scrap of the ripped pop tarts package. He had removed it gingerly and confirmed mildly disgusted, Dante used a chewed out gum to make it stick. Nasty.

smart ass, hope you're smart enough

to get me compensation for my losses

also, you're fired

This eased Nero's worries to a manageable degree about the absence of the twins yet again. Still, it all left him fairly curious. And the small voice of reason in his head hadn't gone silent again since Johnny's call.

Gathering all remaining remnants of patience he could find, he had walked back into the kitchen to find Devon still present, tentatively looking at him. He still found her to be slightly pale and opted for preparing dinner, thinking she really could use all the nutrition he could offer. At least someone in this house was considerate enough to do that.

And there they were now. Music was blaring from the jukebox in the living room. It was cheerful and happy, maybe due to the fact, Nero had opened up a bottle of wine, meant for cooking, but poured himself a glass and took a few sips throughout making dinner.

Devon had politely declined his proposition for an additional glass. No, she wanted to go through this soberly and enjoy and take as much with her as possible. His cheeriness was contagious, and Devon sucked it all in like a dying tree longing for warm summer rain, feeding off the positive energy he provided her with, enough to last for both of them.

Nero blamed it on the wine, but he was in an exceptional good mood today. They both danced around each other while performing different task to prepare all the ingredients for dinner. While Nero parried the meat and took care of other slightly advanced things, she resorted to cut up whatever else he needed. And that's where it had happened, because she was too distracted by him.

He did three things at the same time and evenly to top it all. He did not break out in a sweat, nothing. His white hair stuck out in wild angles, because he would always drag his hand through it while figuring out what to do next.

And while he did so, his sweater scrunched up, and she saw how incredibly low those jeans hung on his muscular hips.

A glimpse of perfect cream colored skin revealed itself, stretched taut over a hipbone and the streak of muscles along it. Whatever he did, it kept him in an unflawed shape.

She was lucky she didn't use much force on that carrot. The cut was not deep, but a shriek escaped her nonetheless. Shocked enough for Nero to rush to her side to lay his eyes on the damage done.

She offered him the finger without question and he retrieved a paper towel, wrapping it around her, firmly holding her hand in place in front of her heart.

"Hold it like this. It won't hurt as much if you do."

She knew this saying, to keep your wound close to your heart, but it was strange hearing it from him all the while. He was intriguing her by the minute. How can someone so gorgeous be so innocent and adept at the same time? And still live at home with both equally good-looking man? It was all to good to be true.

"Maybe we have some band aids still somewhere lying around." He started sifting through various drawers, but to no avail.

"I'm fine really." She tried to reassure him, as he was digging through the third drawer shifting the contents around harshly. "It is pretty deep." He reasoned, eyes searching as frantically as his hands.

"Put it in your mouth." The voice stopped both their actions in a heartbeat.. Devon's eyes were saucers as she spun on her heels to the additional input, but her lips inadvertently curled into a smile.

Dante sauntered in with the words falling from his mouth in a quite suggestive matter, earning him a glare from Nero already. Though it was the first for today, so Dante deemed it still alright. It'd take a few more snide remarks to finally piss the boy off. Usually between five and ten.

Devon did like suggested, her eyes fixed on Dante, who's grin widened indecently. He drifted over to her, extending his hand. "Let me see." And with a plop and without waiting for consensus he pulled the finger from between her lips.

There was the tug on her insides again. Just like before in the supermarket, when Nero had touched her. Warm. Fuzzy. Safe.

Compassion.

Her mind reeled to a screeching halt, a dull ache in her heart, and then started the faint ringing in her ears.

The bell...

Devon heard it clear as day. The brilliant, heart wrenching sound of a solitary light bell, making the sweetest of mesmerizing sounds she ever heard - evoking a joy of unknown origin she couldn't comprehend.

This was no church bell, which all held the same sadness of an impending doom to her.

It sounded even more clear in her head, the longer his lucent, blue eyes stared into hers.

That clear ring shook her to the core and ignited a fire in her heart. A longing, strong enough, it felt like it could tear her chest apart physically.

It was a longing for trust. For freedom. For a home, she never knew.

A white city under a lucid heaven. A vast blue sky above with idle floating clouds, pristine and fluffy like a painting of days long gone. Tips of golden towers shimmering from afar. Her chest tightened at the sight in front of her inner eye.

What was happening?

Rattling noises, with the clear inclination to disturb, pulled them both from their respective stupor. Devon cleared her throat and claimed her finger back. Dante's intense stare didn't leave her however. Feeling too awkward to endure it any longer, she turned away.

Dante, forgetting his previous intention completely, because the magnitude he had just experienced left his senses tingling. Something had repelled his aura. A grief, pure and deep, as cold as dark, dreary waters under a pale sun. A sadness, which left him speechless for a fraction and his inner devil in stunned silent.

"I already checked it. If you want to make yourself useful, get some band aids." Nero's voice hauled Dante and Devon back into the here and now. He was striving to make it sound casual, but the last bit came out fairly irked.

Dante sneered, naturally not complying in the slightest. But one last look at the cut distracted him one more time.

Was it healing already? To his dismay, Devon securely tugged her arm to her side, making it impossible for him to get another glimpse.

He adjusted his gaze to roam over the diminishing bruise on her face, which for a second seemed unusual, at least by human standards. Or he was just being way to cautious, having Vergil and his foul mood rub off on him from earlier.

He violently shoved all previous thoughts aside and motioned at the bag. "I got you something. Should fit nicely. Go ahead and try them on if you like." Dante said, tucking his sly smile back into place, easing off her initial discomfort. Or so he thought.

"Where'd you get those?" Nero, briefly looking from his spot, assuming rightfully these were women clothes, barely hiding his astonishment Dante had found the time to actually be usefull for a change.

"Lady." Dante replied caustically, as if it wasn't painfully obvious.

"Right." Was all Nero muttered in return. So, if they've had the time to visit the huntress, everything seemed to be in order. Or at least Dante didn't let it show in behalf of Devon. Nero still felt a bit more relaxed, seeing how Dante behaved in his usual mirth. "Vergil?"

Dante simply pointed upwards, indicating that his twin had already resorted back to his room. Nero acknowledged this with a nod. So, the older twin once more had crept past them without having the audacity to say hello. Nero gritted his teeth, his mood turning sour.

When Dante had come in to pull his show on her, Nero felt his temper rise quickly, but somehow after Dante had inspected the cut, something was off. He had learned to read the older devil hunter thoroughly and pick up on every notion, even the tiniest. Something odd definitely had caught his attention.

Nero clearly had a hard time figuring out the whole situation on his own. Also, he needed to concentrate on his dinner and his divided attention did not serve him in the slightest.

Devon, still thrown off the loop and hardly recovering however used the pause that formed, to thank Dante once again.

"Of course, sweetheart." He said, keeping his cheerful expression, but behind the face, thoughts were rattling heavily.

Dante's natural flirtation were something Nero quickly had adapted to, because they mostly were playful and harmless. Yet, knowing Lady well enough, he knew she kind of entertained a habit to show off her curvaceous body and he couldn't help but worry about the nature of the contents of that bag.

Devon joined his side, seemingly nervous, trying to regain his attention shifting back and fro. The older man didn't say anything nor did he look at him.

Best to let it go and ask him later, Nero internally decided, hoping there wasn't a problem arising from this.

Whatever this was.

"You can, uh...start up cutting the fruits." Nero had finished the carrots himself. He smiled slyly before he added, "but be careful this time." Devon, relieved to see Nero's demeanor hadn't changed opposed to Dante's, winked at him, playing her stupidity down. "Yessir." With a numb feeling spreading through her lower arms, nevertheless she took up to her resigned task .

Dante meanwhile wandered over the stove, lifting the lids one after another until Nero came and swatted his greedy hands away. "Ouch." The elder one pouted, but Nero wouldn't have any of that.

"You'll have to wait until it's ready." He shoved him over to the table, motioning for him to sit and keep out of his way. He wouldn't even try asking Dante to lend a hand. He knew exactly he would be turned down the second the question would leave his mouth. No use.

Dante complied and settled down, his eyes slowly tracing Devon's posture and movement. He knew injuries, though his demon blood always mended them on the spot. And he knew how humans had the habit to favor a certain stance, depending on the wound, to ease the pain off.

The way she moved, it occurred to him, wasn't like any of that. But he had smelled the unmissable coppery scent strongly on her yesterday, he had seen the cuts. Hell, he had even disposed of her clothes with all those bloody stains on them.

In addition, even used the dried blood on the wards, making her presence not a violation to the heavily guarded vicinity.

The bruise on her face, had faded impressively and until now he hadn't paid attention and he was sure yesterday it had been still very prominent.

No way in the world would he use force on her, but he needed to know. Needed to see the injuries with his own eyes. If they still were there at all.

Dante rested his chin in his right hand, tapping his lips in deep thought with his right pinky finger.

But the woman felt his eyes staring, scrutinizing her. Also the strange numbness to her arms was more than unsettling and added to the difficulty of the weight of the situation she currently found herself exposed to.

"I'll be right back." She announced, letting her knife sink and rest next to the chopped fruits.

"Where are you going?" Poor, oblivious Nero.

"I have to pee." She replied snidely on her way out. Devon couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes as she left two equally puzzled men in her wake.

She quickly went up the stairs and into the bathroom. Her fingers deftly started tearing away the bandages, before she even got there. Closing the door behind her, they fell onto the ground in a messy heap of unsoiled white material.

Her breath staggered upon seeing the scars that had formed, instead of cuts.

She was aware ever since of the slight advanced healing condition she possessed. But not like that. Not at all.

The ringing in her head was about to drive her crazy. The moment the bandages sailed to the cold tiled floor, it started anew and wouldn't stop.

Wide eyes stared ahead, struggling to grasp the meaning behind the horrifying occurrence, spiraling her function to form a solid string of thoughts into a mad flurry of sounds foreign to her existence.

This city had no white towers. Nor golden roofs. Nor a bright blue sky. Ever.

Hazy eyes zoomed in and out of focus, a voice echoed through the dim halls of her mind, squeezing everything out until only the resonating voice remained, bouncing off the cold, lackluster walls of her being over and over again.

Pesh.

Peshgaldaramesh.

"This city is more wretched, than my memory tells me. Though I remember the rain. It reeks of oppression."

War held his head up, face turned towards the dark sky, that slowly turned from dusk to night, rain pelting down on his heated skin from their previous journey through the vast desert, surrounding this city like a sea of sand.

He didn't know, what Death was talking about, to him it felt like normal water. A worried expression on his face as he lowered his head to give Death a brief once over, the continuous dark mood making him feel at fault more and more of the last day.

"You'd think it a mistake?" He finally inquired slowly, referring to eliminating the Charred Council.

Death inclined his head and scoffed, mildly amused. "I think, you should know me better, brother, than to ask me this."

So, what was it then, that had his oldest sibling in a such a gloomy haze? Was it really the foul weather, or the fact they had to travel to earth? Death seemed to have done an awful lot of thinking the longer they went, where War would simply trust his instincts and follow them to wherever they would lead.

"Then what troubles you?"

"Have I made the right choice?" Death eventually relented to share with War his sorrows, his doubts. "What if we don't find the answers we seek here?" Meaning, they 'd probably had to search far and wide for the hunters and their mentor.

But before he could voice out his answer, a yellow flash across the sky and far to close to earth to be a natural occurrence, flickered across both their faces. The bright bolt without thunder illuminated them and their surrounding for a second, casting sharp and eerie shadows all around.

Death pulled his scythes from their holsters. Blunted, yes, but still sufficient enough to damage whatever was fighting up ahead. Jumping diagonally to the wall he ran along it with War following in his wake, heavy boots thundering across the street below.

The pale rider took advantage of his elevated positioned, keen eyes scouting ahead, deploying Dust to do the same with a nod of his head.

He bounced of the wall with a twirl midair to land on the roof opposite of him, sprinting forward, scythes at the ready.

The crackling noise became evident as he closed in and the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air. Lightning bounced of the walls below, wildly searching it's targets. And then he saw it. Feathers were flying around in a whirlwind, sprinkled with the blood of angles.

He gritted his teeth and let out a loud snarl. The remaining angels did not see him coming, nor did the woman, whose hands were sparkling with lightning. He couldn't recognize neither of the parties involved in the fight. Nameless opponents are the easiest.

The blonde had a huge sword on her back. Intriguing, to say the least.

War turned the last corner, not as fast as his brother and halted at the sight in front of him. Angels on earth, fighting a solitary demon women. That spelled trouble all the way.

Chaoseater quickly descended on both angel and demon. He'd leave none of those creatures standing, neither belonging here.

The sword was drawn and clashed with War's blade, deflecting the heavy, brute downward swing merely. The woman leaped back, severing the wings from the last angel in the process. It fell to the ground, becoming Chaoseater's prey easily as War surged forward.

Gunshots rang out, as Death lunged forward, he dodged them with effortless elegance and fast movements. He heard her curse under her breath, unleashing the full potential of those guns at him, every single shot missing it's target as he propelled from the ground and flew past her his scythes lashing out. Yet again, hi sweapons were deflected with the demon blade. She was fast, that he had to credit.

War lunged at her, the dead angels forgotten, and Death came up from the other side of hte alley. She was trapped between the riders, aiming one gun at each of them.

But Death could only chuckle darkly. It was wasted ammo, that couldn't kill him, nor harm him enough to remotely slow him down.

The female channeled her demonic energy, hands and wrist glowing in a sick yellow, ready to empower the bullets in the chambers of her custom made guns.

One black, one white.

Upon pouncing in on her leather clad figure, Death came to an abrupt halt, catching himself mid air, spinning over her head and landing next to his brother, who started another attack.

She dodged War's heavy swing, landing few feet ahead of them, blond hair in a flurry. Straightening his posture and lowering his weapons, Death gave War a look, which told him to stop his enraged onslaught.

His gaze shifted towards the female, which was panting heavily. Both guns, still charged, aimed at his face only.

"Tell me, before I cut that head clean of your shoulders, who did you steal these guns from?"

Ebony and Ivor, he remembered.

He knew them, of course. The young, white haired hunter had made good use of them. And a slight dread befell Death, seeing them not in his hands, but that of a demon.

The answer were bullets whizzing past him, as he jerked aside to evade the charged shots expertly.

Trish didn't doubt him in the slightest. And too bad, she was already weary from the attack of those feathered goons. They had come out of nowhere, very rudely vowing to eradicate her pungent being off the face of the earth.

All she wanted was to go home and enjoy a bath and certainly not battling angles and, well whoever these two brute giants were. But she sensed them to be strong. Stronger than her. Dangerous beings, neither human nor devil. And it was also safe to say, they were not of the angel race either.

The question though was what truly confused her. Why did the black haired guy know the guns, replicas of Dante's trademark weapons since his youth? And why was he so pissed off about it?

There was only one logical conclusion. And it was either tell him or flee. Somehow, she doubted the fleeing part would turn into success. The one with the scythes was fast, even in her books. The other one maybe not so, but one hit from that enormous blade, and she'd be done for, no two ways about it.

"You know Dante?" It was her best option. That or die right here.

"Who are you?" Death asked back, full of distrust still, even at hearing the name coming so familiar of her lips. "Answer me. You can't flee, nor can you fight any longer."

Trish scoffed at his deceptive remark. She could still try to port, though her strength would leave her the second she'd do so. She hoped Dante would be there to catch her fall. She closed her eyes, afraid. like sh enever had been in a long time.

Death surged forward like a coiled spiral, hoping War would be fast enough to catch on and spring forward with him.

Trish doubted she would make it, seeing him and his companion, as both connected with her, getting sucked into the portal she had created.

Devon didn't know how long it look for her to get a hold of herself, while trying to wrap herself up with shaky hands. The clock in the bathroom though told her, only minutes had passed, but it felt like ages to her. Afraid, that someone might come to check on her, she struggled to reapply the bandages, which turned messier by the second.

She cursed at this, at herself and the overall surrealism of the whole situation. When did it alter from pleasant to disasterous this quickly? She almost felt like running. Away from the everything. But she surely couldn't escape the experience her mind had just gone through.

She solely blamed it on them though. If she was going crazy, for whatever reason, it was their fault. Not hers. There was nothing wrong with her. Not until she had met them. It resulted in the simplest of solutions. Get away from here.

Still not satisfied with how the wrappings looked, she opted for getting a sweater out of Nero's room and pull it down over both arms. That should at least buy her some time and restrict curious eyes from examination. She leaned against the door with one ear, trying to decipher any noise of an unwanted presence outside. It was as quiet as a grave.

Devon carefully opened the door only a crack, still anticipating someone. But no one was in sight. So, tiptoeing along the creaky, traitorous floorboards she was relieved to arrive at the young mans room without alerting anyone.

Devon located the sweater, the black one gifted from Nero, on the floor and slipped it on. She inspected her arms and hands, welcoming the oversized garment as it covered her completely down to tips of her fingers.

She breathed in and out a few times, begging her heart to stop beating so rapidly. Apparently no one even seemed to be bothered by her absence, at least not nearly enough to come looking. Just act normal. She could still ponder over the state of her mind later. For now, it would be crucial to put on the happy face. And the innocent act.

If she'd bail, who knows what might happen. And quite frankly, she really didn't want to leave the house, which was still a much safer confinement than anywhere else outside.

So, with renewed vigor she left Nero's room, bearing quite the confidence.

But it all only lasted until she reached the stairs.

"What are you doing?" The one person she didn't even think of.

Devon turned around, sheepish smile and all, but Vergil couldn't be fooled so easily. The moment she had entered the bath, he had heard her heart beating in and out of time. He had felt the fear. The distress. The desperation.

It was not something to associate with her initial demeanor and he curiously had shifted all his attention towards that small frightened soul slouching in the middle of the bathroom.

"I just borrowed a sweater from Nero." Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

And with a pang of guilt, Devon realized the first words spoken to Dante's austere twin were a blatant lie.

"And what did you do before that." Like a lion closing in on his prey, he pranced along the hallway, watching Devon's eyes widen with every step taken further. His eyes honing in on her with an intimidating stare, that easily belittled her whole existence into nothingness and glued her to the spot.

Devon's mouth went dry, because never had she felt something so intense, only afflicted by the simple stare of one person. In this very moment, that let her question her entire being, she was afraid of him.

Truly afraid.

He extended one hand and Devon could only watch in slow motion, as if she was a mere bystander and not the inhabitant of this body anymore. Although, when those ice cold fingers encircled her way too thin wrist, everything seemed to speed up again.

Vergil did not really know what exactly he was looking for, but scrunching that arm of the sweater up, he discovered the more than inadequate attempt of concealing her wounds. Or what apparently was left of them.

Devon jerked to life as he gripped the ending, in order to pull the bandage off. She realized it only a fraction to late, and the bandage entangled itself, as loose at it unfortunately was. His grip only tightened with her movement to the point where it hurt and she swore she could hear her joint ache under his harsh mistreat.

Vergil scoffed at the scars, he had unveiled without much of a protest form her quivering form. And he cursed Dante and his larger than life urge to help the oh so helpless.

Devon firmly planted both feet onto ground, finding her determination to wedge herself free. She clearly could see the hostility and she felt it seep out from every pore of his grim presence.

He only regarded her with a single raised brow, asking her silently what she was about to achieve from this nonsense. She had bent back so much, threatening to fall down the stairs helplessly if he would opt to just let go of her.

"Let go of me." It came as a mere croaky whisper, overall lacking determination to make him even consider it by a small fraction.

In the kitchen though, Nero's devil bringer flared up violently, breaking Dante's train of thought altogether.

"What the hell?" Nero muttered, feeling and seeing his demon arm alarming him that something clearly was off.

Dante's gaze shot up, a warning in them that made Nero flinch visibly.

Vergil.

Both simultaneously bolted for the door, Dante slipping out, before Nero could shove him aside to be the first.

It certainly wasn't a sight they had anticipated.

Vergil had let loose of his grip on her wrist, but had hauled her back enough to not fall and risking a serious injury before.

Devon had crawled down the stairs on all fours, not trusting her wobbly legs to carry her safely down and currently slouched at the bottom of the staircase while Vergil looked down on her with indifferent eyes that turned to the newest arrivals in the room.

"Vergil, calm yourself." Dante said through clenched teeth and it was the first time, Devon witnessed how alike they both really looked, staring at each other with hardened faces and chilling eyes. The gentle and cordial tone in Dante's voice had completely disappeared.

The addressed twin descended down the stairs in a slow gait towards the female. Devon crawled backwards, with the intent to get as much space between them as possible. Another set of words spoken by Dante let her head turn around. "Nero. You too."

But the younger hunter gave him an intense, defying stare, making his way straight for the frightened figure on the floor.

Nero's lip tightened into a thin line and he lowered his gaze, which brief flitted over Devon's frightened feature then settled his scowl on Dante's non committal smile. "Let's all stay calm and cool. Maybe this isn't what it looks like."

"What does it look like?" Devon piped up with an icredolous stare, seeing Nero coming towards her. At first she was relieved, but not until she saw that shimmering light from right under the fabric of his hoodie. And the leather glove seemed more suspicious than ever before.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Kid." Dante started out, but Vergil's impatience was wearing very thin. "She's no human." He all but spat at them, while his eyes bore into hers."The wounds have healed in a mere day." Dante saw his suspicions confirmed at the wordsof his brother.

Nero wanted to extend his hand to her, but his mind couldn't follow a coherent string of thoughts upon the twins revelations. His head whipped around to Vergil, who's demonic presence just seemed to have tripled. It hit him hard. He felt it tug at his insides, could almost see it swiveling and spiking around him. He could taste it on his tongue. His own devil inside him became agitated about the massive force, that whirled around them like an invisible hurricane.

"What are you talking about?" Nero's voice had dropped slightly and gained an aggressive throaty grain. His devil gnawed at him from under his skin. Don't submit, it burbled. I dare you to.

"Get away from her." Cold blue unrelenting eyes challenged him to disobey, for steep was the price to pay. Vergil had turned around and fixed him with a stare that was unmatched in authority. The authority of an older devil.

Devon could just watch. Her body was unwilling to move, she was frozen on the spot. She didn't know what the hell was going on. With either of them.

And at least with herself.

She tried to stand up, looking at Nero for any indication of help, but the faint light his right arm emitted, seeping through the layer of clothes let her shrink away. Her stomach lurched in utter fear. What was going on?

"Like hell I will." Nero growled lowly and bared his teeth, making it clear for the older twin, that he was dead serious.

Vergil didn't reply. He went to adjust his stance, letting his right foot slide a few inches away from the other. Yamato materialized in his hand, resting against the side of his leg, though his thump touched the hand guard, ready to push.

Devon did a doubletake. The sword just appeared out of nowhere. It all fell painfully into place. If the situation hadn't been so serious, she would have laughed at her stupidity. How oblivious of her. Of course, he wasn't human, neither was Nero. Nor Dante, even if never showing anything to suspect, of course as well.

Vergil's power bleed away fiercely. To Nero, it felt as if someone just had dropped a whole bucket of ice-cold glue over his head, that slowly slid down over his frame and chilled him to the bone.

All Nero could do at this point was to not let it show just how much it began to unsettle him. And he could feel Devon next to him. She had started sweating, and he could only guess what it felt like to her, if he himself could yet stand it only so much.

Her torso was heaving under unsteady and ragged breaths. And he smelled her fear out of every pore of her skin. She was terrified.

That did it. He stepped into Vergil's direct line of sight, right in front of the female.

Devon felt her heart pound at his action, but still the oppressive feeling was more than she could take. The feeling of her own weight pushing down on her with a gravitational pull that really hurt on so many levels and didn't dissolve. Her eyes tried to hone in on Nero's shape, but were out of focus, because it seemed like everything was shaking.

Dante's eyes did not fail to notice her reaction. And he also noticed Vergil's cold wrath that had settled onto Nero. He slowly focused his own aura to engulf the room and to let Vergil know to tone it the fuck down. Nero, the stubborn fool he was, wouldn't budge and Dante knew too well this could end in a bloody onslaught. Vergil was to fast for all them. And neither Nero nor Devon would heal quick enough to not be in serious trouble.

Dante really didn't want to use his power over Vergil to reduce him to what he truly was. A devil arm on the leash of a master. Namely himself. And it would be overly painful, to have his brother defeated solely by his command. It would only take a flick of fingers to let Vergil disappear and lock him up inside Yamato to calm down. No, it would be the very last resort.

So, he took a step towards them, palms up, and tried to soothe all of them. "We just wanna talk, is all. Keep it cool, guys, keep it cool. There's no need to go all out for trigger mode."

Nero felt Dante's aura reaching out to them. Probably around Vergil too, while he spoke. It quickly grazed his body and he felt the fierce warmth of it. It didn't burn nor stitch like Vergil's. It was a calm burning that reached inside him and smoothed out his murderous thoughts.

Nero did a wondrous double take at Dante. Had it always felt like this? He actually couldn't remember. The times they fought, he had seemed to never let it show. It was not unpleasant. The red hot feeling cascaed down his body and bleed into his soul. Did Dante do this purpose? Did it always feel like this?

It evidently weighed as much Vergil's aura. He could feel the pull as well. But really it was so much different than his own and that of the blue twin. It was strength and kindness. It didn't taste of snow and sulfuric ashes, but of slow a burning wood fire and charcoal.

Nero felt calmer this instant and Vergil relaxed back into his usual stiff stance. His grip on Yamato softened. Dante heaved a sigh. "Let's just sit down and have chat." He gave each one in the room a solemn look.

Devon felt the pressure resolve as quickly as it had come. Her head became light and her frantic heartbeat was very much out of rhythm, but she felt already relieved. Her stomach though told her how upset it really was about this unnatural display of whatever it was.

A telltale gathering of saliva in the back of her mouth told her just how much her stomach was displeased. She had no time to react, other than to lean forward.

Nero bent down on one knee to tend to the ungraceful heap of upset woman. Dry heaves were coming from her mouth and she groaned. Without further warning, her stomach turned and the contents splattered abruptly across the wooden floor.

Fantastic. She just barfed in their shop. How embarrassing.

"It's only a natrual reaction." Dante said with a loop-sided grin but Nero shot him a look that could kill. "It's your fucking fault."

Vergil just gave a disgusted noise and opted for leaving the scene and went up the stairs. After he had witnessed how Devon had reacted he concluded that there was no actual threat from her, whatever she was. Dante would find out eventually. He had no notion to endure any of this longer than necessary. His patience had been tested enough for today.

"Are you gonna get some towels?" Dante called after his brother, slightly amused. Of course that bastard wouldn't, but he couldn't resist. The sound of a door being slammed shut was all he received for an answer. "Is that a no?"

But he quickly made his way to the kitchen to get paper towels himself and other things to clean the mess. He felt sorry. Too much of awesome devil-ness wasn't apparently so good on her weak stomach.

Nero tried to help Devon up as she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. "What did just happen?." She mumbled. Nero supported her wobbly frame with his devil bringer and pointed his other hand at Dante's re-emerging person.

Devon immediately stiffened under the touch, because his talons had bored themselves into her right side.

There was only thought left in her brain. To get out of here as quickly as possible. They were not normal. None of them. She knew why Dante had intrigued her from their first meeting on. It must have been his supernatural aura all the way. Well, apparently a trait his ass of a brother shared, though in a much more menacing way.

At last, there was Nero and his constant cover on his right arm. And she'd be damned, if it hadn't started glowing and still did so yet, when she looked close enough.

"What the hell, old man." Nero demanded clarification.

"I'll explain to you in a second." He said and pushed the paper towels into Nero's open hand. "But first..." His eyes turned towards her mess.

"I'll clean that up myself. Thank you very much." She said with a pout and a defying edge in her voice. "Just leave me alone you all."

"No can do." Nero announced, tossing Dante a glare he could have stolen right off Vergil, informing Dante he had enough. He then turned to Devon who slowly had started walking towards the kitchen.

"And where do you think you're going?" He asked sharply. "Sit down already." He huffed, overwhelmed by the whole situation and it's utter stupidity.

"Okay." She mumbled quietly in defeat.

"What do you need?" He asked in much calmer tone. He was so unnerved, he had to keep his lousy temper in check and not snap at her.

"Water please." She all but croaked.

Nero nodded and left to get it for her.

"Uh, that's so gross." Dante whined after a few moments of silence as he went on with cleaning.

"Shut up." Nero yelled from the kitchen and Dante winced. He gathered all the used paper towels into his arms and went into kitchen and disposed of the towels in the trash, while Nero passed him and brought Devon a glass of water. Dante waited for him to return.

He watched him carefully, as Nero came back to fiddle with the coffee maker. He was desolate and needed to occupy his hands or they would want to rip something apart. Or someone.

Dante saw the fidgety anger boiling in Nero's guts, threatening to run wild. "Good call. I could use one as well." He pointed at the machine

The younger one didn't spare him a single glance, but slammed both his hands flat on the counter. "Dammit, Dante." He balled his fist, slamming them down once more, trying to fight the anger twisting his guts. "He was about to attack me." Nero snarled accusingly.

"Actually, he was not. He couldn't. I wouldn't let him." Dante crossed his arms an dleane dagaisnt the fridge.

"He's borderline crazy sometimes." Nero huffed.

"He wanted to protect you. He told you to step aside." Dante reasoned halfheartedly, while Nero's were glued to the coffee runnig through the filter and dripping into the glass pitcher with a steady and soothing rhythm.

"If that's supposed to make feel better, it doesn't." Nero3 snapped, rubbing his face before regarding his opposite again.

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't have interfered? But I wanted him to ease off by himself, not make him. He's my brother. I know how to handle him, without using the link. He can be a pain in the ass, but I assure you, he means well." He reached over and gave Nero a squeeze to the shoulder.

"If something like this happens again..."

"Kid, trust me. Nothing's going to happen. If she would be a threat, then it would have shown back in there."

Nero released a slow long exhale. "So what exactly is going on and why did Vergil find it out, out of nowhere. And you certainly aren't surprised either. Am I the only one who didn't realize? And more importantly yet. None of you bothered to fill me in. Huh?!" He ruffled his hair into a mess, then rubbed over his face once more. Using the actions and the pregant pause of Dante to ease up.

"But she never said anything. Or did anything. How's that even possible. I mean..." He lifted his again dormant Devil Bringer. "I can sense you all the time. It just reacts to whatever demonic presence I come across." With Devon it never became incandescent ever. Not even close.

Dante simply shrugged. "That's what got me thinking. Maybe we should investigate a bit more. For now it's seems she's harmless. But we gotta look what's going to happen. I have been dealing with set up traps like that before. It won't hurt to be careful around her. She even could be a mind controlled weapon, for all we know." Nero could only look at Dante like he didn't believe him to be serious.

"That's ridiculous...Didn't you see how terrified she was?" He stood in front of the older devil his arms pressing into his hips. Sassy.

"Just saying, kid. Just saying. We can't rule out any possibility."

Dante's feet shuffled as he pushed himself off the fridge and went to get two mugs for the coffee and poured the dark liquid in. Nero didn't like his coffee with anything but coffee, but he generously dropped four cubes of sugar into his mug. They returned into the living room.

"And she's gone." Dante remarked. They set the drinks on the table in front of the couch. Nero looked up the staircase and Dante gazed to the front door.

"Oh this is just great!" Nero groaned at him agitated.

"Verge?" Dante yelled and the twin was at the top of the stairs yet again. DAnte concentrated to find the human hear tpounding, but it wasn't there.

"What?" Vergil asked, ascended the staircase eyeing both Nero and his brother warily.

"Is she up there?" To Dante's question, he shook his no.

Nero just sighed and went to open the front door. "Well, how far could she get...?"

"Did she ran away?" Vergil asked half amused.

Nero threw him a scorching look over his shoulder, walking briskly to the front door. "If anything happens, I swear, this is on your head." He spat and violently slammed the door shut behind him with his devil bringer, shattering both glass windows in the process.

"Hey! That was my door!" Dante yelled after him angrily, before he turned to his brother huffing at Nero's useless antics. "You? Calm yet?"

Vergil only nodded, summoning Yamato once again. There was a silent consent between them, Vergil knowing he had gone overboard, but Dante already forgiving him. "Go." He said, knowing he was the one who had to stay behind to wait if she came back to them and Vergil following Nero, to make sure the Kid wouldn't get into trouble with his foul temper on the loose.