Chapter 7 - Compassion

Dante watched Vergil disappear into the night, secretly trailing after Nero.

He pouted at the wrecked double door and the shards of glass everywhere. A curious puzzle of glittering pieces, which started to tinkle softly to the faintest of tremors running through the house.

He knew the feeling and congratulated Trish of not finding a better time to return home than this jumbled up mess of perfect day fucked up beyond repair.

Dante took a few casual steps aside, just in time to evade the crackling bolts of lightning.

His bitter sarcastic mood had only lifted for a second, because of Trish and finally someone as sane as him in the house.

But the moment the portal opened, he knew something was alarmingly off, for Trish came tumbling through, limb and seemingly lifeless. Dante dashed across the wooden floor, skidding to a halt, boots screeching across the wooden floor, as he caught her safely in his arms and tugged her to his chest.

This just kept going better and better. Something was coming through after Trish and that now was deeply disturbing.

He suddenly knew, why she was in this state. Trish's abiltiy wasn't mean to be used by this many and certainly not this huge, people. The two figures almost crashed into his beloved desk and missed it by a hair.

Both silently straightened, while looking around, and then both their eyes gave him a shocked expression, before they expectantly waited for the hunter reaction. And one of them, with his huge sword on his back turned around and managed to bump against his desk after all, shoving it a few inches across the floor.

Wincing for a second at this, Dante walked over the the couch and gently placed Trish upon it, checking her breathing and pulse, ignoring the riders for now. "Trish." He called softly, caressing her cheek with his finger.

"She's just exhausted, hunter. Nothing to worry about." Death told him in a nonchalant voice, and definitely not like someone who had crashed into his household just a few seconds ago.

Dante scoffed at them, but knew he was right. She'd come to eventually, pissed off for sure, but as long as she was alright, he couldn't care less. He gave her lower arm a squeeze, before he turned and cocked his head.

"Two riders and no horse?" He gestured around with arms wide open. "I'd say that's not much of an entrance. Or is it a joke I don't know yet? Two riders walk into a bar-"

"Certainly hasn't lost his wit." Death remarked sardonically, interrupting him rudely.

"Lost his courtesy, though." War admonished sternly.

Dante outright laughed, shrugging. "Not that I ever had it." And secretly he could not wait for them to meet Nero and his potty mouth. Compared to him, Dante was a harmless school boy.

They viewed each other for moment, half assessing, half approving, until they broke out into equal wide grins. "Hey big guy." Dante spoke first, walking over to greet War, rapping against his chest plate with the back of his hand. At Death he simply nodded, knowing him to be just as moody as Vergil and maybe to keep his distance for now. "Death."

"Hunter." The rider dipped his head as proper greeting. It's what you did with brothers-in-arms, for that was, what Dante truly had been so many years ago. He had changed in appearance, but not in terms regarding his ever chipper mood, no matter how dark times were.

And these were dark times once more, they just didn't know yet. And it was now their responsibility to explain things in a very thorough manner, at least thorough enough so the hunter would show understanding. Encountering the angels already on the loose, though fortunately low in number ,was a massive situation in development.

Yet, he could only marvel at the apparent luck, that straightforwardly had let them meet the one person out there, who could have brought them to Dante in a literate flash. His eyes flitted across the woman, a full fledged demon she was, but his first assumption had been way off. Dante seemed to harbor a great care for her, and Death was curious to find out the story behind it. Well, Dante had a knack for finding people to trust, whichever race they belonged to.

"Well, I think we have a long night of catching up to do." Dante said. He walked over to his desk, shoving it back into the right spot. He plopped down on his swivel chair, placing his feet on the wooden surface.

"It is as you think." Death replied solemnly, watching amused, how Dante slouched into a comfortable position.

"Well, make yourselves at home."

War, highly doubting any of the furniture to be stable enough to carry his weight, opted to sit down on the floor where he was, placing Chaoseater next to him.

Pragmatic as ever.

He pushed his hood back, giving Dante a solid view of the red glowing marks on his forehead, emitting faint light like fiery cracks. Dante always had liked the earnest rider in red. They had clicked in a pretty smooth way, he had found astounding giving his hard demeanor. Under that shell of commitment and restraint, a blazing heat raged, ready to run wild, if honor or loyalty were tested.

Certainly not one for unduly histrionics, Dante received a dismal look, before the pale rider dropped the unadorned truth on his head. "The Charred Council is no more."

Dante closed his eyes. A big silence followed.

He knew enough to be aware of what an irreversible chaos the riders had unleashed. His guts twisted. He couldn't deny nor fight the dread that crept up on him like shadow. An unknown stealthy beast and it turned his usually heated blood to run cold.

On the other hand, Death was not one to rush into anyhting and handle things on a irrational basis. Or so he hoped.

Many questions started to pour in, messing his head up. What of Earth? What of Hell? What of Heaven? They all must be certainly out for the riders.

He settled for the one closest to him. "What do you expect of me? This is your responsibility."

"We seek aid. Yours. And the one they call Danzig in this realm. He disappeared some time ago and we haven't been able to contact him."

Dante's feet left the desk to be planted firmly back on the ground as he perked up. "Danzig?" He asked incredulous, ignoring the fact they just had asked for his help. "What could you possibly want from him?"

Death sighed. "The vault. It needs to me moved. We know, he is the one capable enough to do so. Earth as of now, is the only place, the Tree of Life doesn't have a direct connection to. All other realms are out of question."

The hunter scoffed. "Haven't got a clue where he is. Sorry." He stood up, wandering over to the bar, both riders watching him curiously.

Dante grabbed the nearest bottle of the shelve and a glass. For a second he regarded both back to back, pursing his lips. The glass went back to the shelf and he uncapped the bottle and unceremoniously poured half it's contents down his dry throat.

Both riders exchanged another amused look, hoping Strife and Fury were fairing better with their respective individual, if they had found him to begin with.

Dante shook his head like a wet dog would. "Better." He kept the bottle, as he wandered back to his desk, throwing both riders a wry smile. "So, what about that precious balance of yours? Wasn't the Council in charge of that?"

"They betrayed the us. My brother. The corruption, that had spread in the universe had taken effect eventually. We couldn't stand by, idly watching, any longer. Now, we must see to the balance."

Dante sneered, greeting the notion that all of it was big gigantic mess. "Just the two of you?"

"Our brother and sister are on another quest. We must address the problems by it's roots. They intend to find us another companion, who could be able to turn the tables before severe damage can be done to this world." Death said.

"Oh, for fucks sake. Stop speaking in riddles." Dante huffed, for once feeling his patience failing him.

The oldest rider stared as impassive as ever. "The Heavens are safe I deem, with Azrael still in charge. He's not a friend of mine, but he will do anything to prevent the White City from acting rashly, because he still follows the now broken rules. But there are those still full of hatred towards humanity. They know how mankind has taken it's fall and is spiralling down, even with the origin of corruption defeated, it still has affected your race."

War nodded, apparently in thought, before he lifted his gaze towards Dante. "We've come across a small unit of angels earlier, fighting with your companion. I doubt they were here on higher orders. But the whispers got louder, even with the Council intact, that mankind has forsaken it's right for existence. The angels believe, as the Creator had turned his eyes, that you were doomed." War said, trying to explain the danger they supposedly were already. Dante just waved is hand dismissively at the enlightenment that apparently angels did not harbor much love for the human kind.

"As I walked across the boundaries of your city, I saw." Death said, motioning at the door to the outside world. "I cannot argue with their suspicions. The grounds are festering with demons. But with your brother summoning that wretched tower of fear, things turned worse. But I know, not all are alike. Even if the Council wanted to make us believe, not all is black and white. You are the most adequate proof, that this logic is faulty."

"So what? Want me to do a petition and drop it on Heaven's doorstep?"

Death groaned at Dante, eyes flashing dangerously. "The time for petty jokes is over, hunter. There are many things shifting in this world and you better stay true to your nature you so easily flaunt. Hell won't stay away from this either. They have their eyes set on the White City. And after that, who will come next?" His voice became a threat, a dark menace, and it wasn't lost even on the half blood. It stirred his insides.

"You need to take up arms at some point. Now, or right before the end." War told him, grim voice matching his brothers.

Death waited for their words to take effect, wandering from one side of the room to the other and crossing his arms wile he did so. He cast his eyes down, the bright orange growing dim. "The power of the Council lies not dead, but dormant. But we were severed from it, the moment we walked against them."

"I see." It slowly dawned on Dante, what they tried to achieve. They wanted to restore the Council, if that was even possible.

"The balance must be renewed, but with the ones we can trust." Death confirmed the hunters thoughts.

"So, that's the your overall plan? To set up a new Council, while trying to keep Heaven and Hell at bay?" Dante let out a humorless laugh. How could they believe to accomplish this? Yet, if what they said was true, about the corrupted entity, he knew he would have done the same, without so much but batting an eye.

And a future looking so grim and dark, he wouldn't want for any of them. He had to think about the others. And it all veered into one simple truth. It was the right thing to do.

Dante let out a long exaggerated sigh. "Well, I guess, I can offer you my help, but under the circumstances you don't hold back any information, because I still have that notion, you are not telling me everything."

"Granted. But only when we find Danzig, for it is not for me to tell, just yet." Death replied, a shadow of a smile crossing his face, one of hope War hadn't seen on his brother in a long time.

The moment Nero ran out of the house, he ran up the street, but stilled right on the first crossroad. He was presented with to many directions she could have run off too. Also, his sensing of humans wasn't as good as Dante's or Vergil's. And with other people around, he found himself incapable to decipher all the scents and not mingle them together in his brain.

And sensing demons was so different from sensing humans. He wasn't adapted to it at all. Though with Vergil's training he had made progress all the while, but not sufficiently enough for his liking. Though he couldn't blame the twin alone for that.

But a she stood there head turning from left to right and back, all he could do was guess. Immediately he felt stupid, but going back in wasn't an option. He'd do this of his own. He didn't need any of them. He turned left, just trusting the feeling in his guts and broke out into a sprint, just hoping his instincts wouldn't fail him.

He knew, she would not go the direction of the tower, that he was the only thing he was certain. But still, she could be anywhere, the streets were long, the many alleyways like a spiders web and he couldn't possibly think to be able search any nook and crevice.

Not to mention he was still seething and I didn't help with his overall condition and the task of finding a straw in a stack of needles.

A strange feeling had settled itself somewhere in the back of his mind since he left the shop. And it wasn't just because of what had happened. It was a deeper and much darker thing. And it kept pulling and eating away on his insides. A premonition of some sort, pure instinct, and he had learned to trust the sixth sense his demon blood provided him with.

And if he could feel this, he was certain the twins could do as well.

It evidently had Vergil on edge enough, to overreact in a for him irrational matter. And he was sure, he had triggered at one point, if it hadn't been for his brother. The other thing was that kept gnawing on Nero, he couldn't have defended himself even if he had wanted to.

On contrary to Dante's belief before at home, Nero couldn't trigger any more.

But since both of them were so dead set on pampering him like a child, with mission only assigned to him, that never got past your stray minor demon, the need to had never occurred. He could still crush those things effortlessly with the devil bringer. But the power to trigger had left him, since Danzig had separated him from Vergil and Yamato.

He had become painfully aware that all his power had originated from the hybrid he had harbored and his essence, that was used to make him the way he was. An incomplete being. Neither human, nor devil. Something less in between. A freak accident with a weird arm.

The manifestation of that blue devil's shell, he had been able to call forth and engulf him securely, was nothing but a borrowed feature, which had returned to it's true owner, upon being ripped away from his body. Or so Nero believed. Though, when Vergil had been close to unleash his powers, he thought had clearly heard that inner voice. Whispering. Snarling. Or it had been just his inner monologue. Who could truly say where human ended and demon started.

And the reason he kept this from the twins, was that from his initial conviction to be a tainted being, somewhere in between, he resorted to appreciate it for what it was. For what he could turn it into and use it for. The shame and heavy guilt about the deaths of the two people, he had once cherished more than anything, had only determined and hardened him in his decision after all. And he didn't want the twins to see anything less in him because his powers had failed him.

Or would fail them, until they realized they wouldn't even need him anymore.

He wanted to stand up for others, who couldn't. For the innocent, that shouldn't be made to suffer or die. Just like Dante, who had gone from a maniac, who shot His Holiness in the face, to the closest of people he knew to trust in. And he wanted the twins to believe in him as well, but was so afraid to tell them the truth.

Everyone should have someone to and vice versa. He knew what it felt like, to be forsaken and looked down on. He knew, Dante could be the same for Devon as for had been for him. A chance to change things. She had no one, and he would make sure to change that.

When they didn't do anything, who would?

Devon had felt slip the ground from beneath her feet, crumbling away rapidly. An iron grip on that last thread of the fabric of her sanity pulled and it came undone. She slipped out of the door and the moment her feet hit the cobble stone, she ran.

She slipped into the shadows of the alley next to their home, leaving the safe streetlights behind and followed the maze of dark passages, in between the tall buildings. She didn't know if they would trail her, but she would make sure to make it as hard as possible. Turning right, left, forward, another turn left.

She stopped for a second, no sense of direction and looked up, but between the cramped buildings she couldn't see the dark silhouette of the tower she wanted to avoid. Fighting the panic, that held her heart and mind hostage yet, too a moment to catch her breath.

Her eyes wandered left and right, making sure she was alone as she leaned against the cold brick wall behind her. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see the alley she was in. And only now she noticed that the constant rain had changed to misty drizzle, chilling her even more to the bone than the usual heavy raindrops. It crept in to every pore, but focusing on the cold helped her spinning thoughts to freeze with over with it.

It had all been to good to be true.

Devon's knees buckled under her, forcing her to slide down, back against the wall. She rested her elbows on her knees and wiped the rain off her face. In this moment she hated herself for even remotely thinking to go back.

She should just forget about it. And what the hell did they even mean, she wasn't human? Of course she was. And never had been anything else. She could go hungry. She felt pain. She bled. There wasn't anything different about her. And neither did she glow, nor could she make someone crawl on all fours by just looking at them. Or engulf someone in warmth with a strange aura, that spelled anything but human.

The faces of the three men flashed before her inner eye.

Why?

Why did she let herself fall into the comfort of those blue eyes? They had spelled trouble from the start, just her stupid heart had made her ignore it. She slumped forward, cursing this stupid beating lump, that knew no rest.

Voices from somewhere close by let her head snap up, eyes in a blur. She swiped the water from her face once more, head turning to find the source. Knowing she shouldn't linger like this, she scrambled to her shaking feet, darting in the opposite direction of the voices.

Who knew, what would happen to a lone girl, drenched to the bone if she were to cross the wrong kind of people. She broke out into another breathless sprint, muscles burning already.

She stepped out into the open, the main street at her feet, she crossed it, only to disappear again into another narrow alley. But her jog through it was abruptly stopped as she stumbled over a pile of stinking trash and crashed into the overly stuffed cans next to it. The noises echoed and bounced off the walls, disturbing the silence she so sought.

"Gross." She hissed through clenched teeth standing up, wiping her frame off the wet litter that had kept stuck. The stench was mindnumbing, so she quickly climbed over the mess to get away. Turning the next corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, coming face to face with a three figures on the move, maybe drawn in by the ruckus she had caused, all turned towards her with curious looks.

Great.

Devon squeezed her eyes shut, sending silent curses to the Heavens, if they would even listen anyway. She spun around on her heels, walking back the way she had come from, praying they weren't interested in her.

"Oi, puppet!" A snarky voice called out, to close for comfort.

Tough luck.

Vergil trailed after Nero at a safe distance. Like the tip of a tail dangling behind, mimicking his movement. Stopped whenever he stopped to have a brief look.

Vergil tried to channel his focus, trying to find her frantic heartbeat, bu the streets were still to occupied to have a decent guess.

They both had no idea where she had gone off too. But Vergil guessed, she would keep herself hidden from strangers eyes. So, at one point, he veered off from Nero's path and warped quickly over the rooftops of the area, he had assessed she could have covered yet on foot.

He scanned every dark passage from the above, but couldn't find a clue. Having to keep track now of both Nero's presence and every other on in close range, he went on in normal speed, not wanting to risk to divide his attention any further.

"Damn, woman." He muttered to himself. It had been a stupid thing to do, and he couldn't believe he was now the one looking for her.

However, his curiosity had peeked, when he had seen all the scars of wounds just a day old. Though it wasn't the healing capacity he and his brother possessed, it still had impressed him. And unsettled him to the same extent.

Yet, seeing her writhe at his feet, he had become aware, she maybe had no real clue what she was. Even if she tried to hide the evidence so clumsily before him, knowing only that she was different. Her panic had almost thrown his devil into a frenzy, and the close proximity to Nero, who had willingly tried to shield her, had added up on his inner turmoil.

He wouldn't let any danger close to them.

But in the end, maybe she just was one meek, poor soul, who didn't understand what was happening. And Dante had realized this, before any of them could.

And Nero was too kind for his own good, a trait he shared with Dante, but because he lacked the experience, he tended to let his guard down way too easily. He could have endangered them all with his stubborn foolishness. Vergil had thought, because of their shared training, that Nero had yet come to be wiser.

But now they were both running across the city looking for a woman of unknown origin, which could be really everything and nothing. So, apparently none of them had learned their lesson well. How ironic. He would have never done such a thing of his own accord.

He always was the more aloof one of the twins. But him and Dante complemented each other. After almost a decade trapped in hell, though, he knew he had turned even colder. Vergil wasn't delusional about the toll it had taken on him. He wouldn't change and certainly couldn't anymore, but being with Dante and Nero had certainly taken some effect on him, as tiny as it was.

Still, if he would find her first, he would make sure to get some answers straight away. And then haul her back, to drop her on Dante, depending on the nature of those answers. It wasn't for him to decide on her fate.

Vergil berated himself, to let his mind wander off so easily. He interrupted his search to stand on the edge of the roof he was on to gather himself and return to his usual focus on things, not feelings. Noises of cars and people and faint music of a nightclub drowned any small chance out to find her. Nero was still close, few streets up ahead and his heart sill beat at a faster pace than Vergil's own.

He shifted his attention down onto the city below, humans and nonhumans alike drifting through the rain like mindless masses. This weather and observation didn't help his sour mood in the slightest. He turned from the ledge and leaped across the alley opposite to land safely, away on another building and leaving the bustle behind.

Still concealed from Nero and careful to let his energy not spike up to be noticed, he closed his eyes and with great effort focused in on every bit of sound, smell and anything in between. If they wouldn't find her now, chances were slim they would find her at all. She knew the city just as good as them. Or maybe, even better.

Vergil's eyes snapped open. It was the faintest of scents, but it was there. Agitation rippled through him evidently. Up ahead, he determined the direction to follow. Rain pelted against his face as he warped towards the source.

With a heavy thud, splashing up water, sending droplets flying in a flurry all around him, he landed next to the figure on the floor. With a flick of his hand, Yamato was laid to rest inside him, for now.

A heavy weight settled on his shoulders, letting his straight posture slump upon the sight. A deep sigh escaped him as he laid eyes on her form, slumped against the wall, probably left the way she fell.

The sight disturbed him more than he would have anticipated. He bent down on one knee, not caring how water, mixed with blood, soaked into his clothes. Resting his elbow on his knee, he took a moment to survey and process what must have happened. Her face and body were covered in blood. Muddy clothes even more ripped apart than before.

With an unreadable expression, he extended his right hand slowly, fingertips ghosting over the tangled mess of wet strands all across her face. With a gentle touch, as to not disturb her, he wiped them away, seeing the severe damage done from up close and unveiled.

With eyes closed and head hanging low, he sighed yet again in defeat.

Even though she was just another of those dirty, epidemic-like street rats scurrying all over the city, in this very moment Vergil felt sorry.

Because, she looked like she never stood a chance against her attacker.

Behind him a steel door flew open and three people came out. The nauseating smell of smoke, alcohol and something rotten accompanied them. They were laughing and cheering. Words floated over and Vergil's heart clenched. A merry bunch of despicable human scum.

One last look at her, before Vergil narrowed his eyes at the thrash in front of him and let his energy flare up to an unbearable amount, alarming Nero somewhere in the distance, and to let his opposites know, who they had just walked into.

Wide eyed, all of them instantly choked. Vergil knew even before he closed the short distance between them, they had her blood on their hands.

"Can you hear me?" A male voice, faint and gentle. Young.

"Y-yes..." Her voice cracked, maybe because of the way she had wanted to scream earlier, but the hand on her throat hadn't let her.

"Ah, good, you can hear me." He sounded kind and pleased.

"What? Who are you? Where are you?" She opened her eyes, but it was so bright, tears welled up instantly, because it almost hurt. From the dark alley to the a light like staring into sun, her eyes failed to see anything.

"I am right here." He said in an assuring tone, that let her frantic heartbeat ease and know a peaceful rest in silence.

"It's so bright. I can't see you..."

The light fainted to tolerable level, and Devon's eyes came into focus. Standing in a vast bright space with no evident boundaries or any shapes to recognize, she wiped across her eyes, for the tears that had fallen blurred her vision.

But the pain and fear dissolved and and endless calm was settling in on her. She took a deep breath and held it for a second. And as it eased out again, she knew she was safe. No broken bones anymore. No cuts and bruises.

Just this.

And the bright light didn't seem so blinding anymore, but gentle. It was consoling her, more than anything ever have could.

If there was an eternity of bliss to follow after having to see all the harshness of the world, she knew it would be like this.

And through a bright haze a figure approached slowly, stopping only a few steps away from her. He was dressed in the purest white. Pants made of soft looking linen and a simple unadorned tunic shirt around his upper body, stood in pleasant contrast to the sunkissed skin of his face and bare arms and feet.

Eyes shining like golden stars, gave her a sympathetic look.

"Poor girl, look at you." Though his face and eyes told her he felt sorry, his voice sounded cheery, as if it could be made right in single a moment. And Devon couldn't help, but to feel that happiness bubble up from an unknown space within her, she didn't know she still possessed.

Following the line of his pointed finger, motioning her up and down, she looked at herself, though she already knew what to expect. Streaks of red and brown, dirt and blood mixed on her tattered clothes.

"You are used to this?" He asked in his gentle, yet cheery voice.

"Somehow." She replied, not knowing what to make of him. The way she had relaxed into a serene state gave way of his kind nature.

His golden eyes narrowed, because of that brilliant smile on his well formed lips gave her. He even sported dimples as he did so. Gold-blonde messy short hair, with strands sticking out on top and the sides, accented his boyish cheeky face to a perfection.

Devon's heart somersaulted, because of the joy he seemed to exude and it the most irrational feeling to a situation and her mind couldn't process this. She could only stare.

"Do we know each other?" She asked, and he was very amused by this. Coming closer he widened his arms and before she could react, he pulled her into a crushing, impulsive hug, his lean figure misleading easily to the strength he might possessed.

"I know you." He said next to her ear.

But all she could think about was, how she wanted him to stop. It was a scorching heat, that radiated off him. And she was afraid she might burn on the touch of his skin.

"That's not much of an answer." Devon croaked, having trouble to breath and speak.

To her surprise, he let her go instantly. "Sorry." He smiled sheepishly, flexing his arms. "I, uh forget sometimes,you humans are squishy."

"What did you say?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper, shocked by his words.

His ashamed grin widened. "Squishy? I know, that was rude. Sorry."

"No, the other word." Devon shook her head impatiently.

"Human?" He tried again. "Well, that's not offending now isn't."

"Who are you?" She wanted it to hear from him. She wanted him to make her believe there was more to life and death, than just existing and vanishing into a pile of dirt.

In a world forsaken and godless, she wanted to believe that still someone was holding the reign. Someone to tell what all the sense in this was. And she always thought, that if she would hold on long enough, that someday someone would eventually tell her or help her to find out. Because all alone it was so hard.

And the irony of it all didn't miss her. How she would, in all her hopelessness, come across one, apparently playing for the other team.

After the tower incident, the city had been swarming with creatures not from this world. Vile beings that had no sentient thought.

Dante. Vergil. Nero. Where did they originate from when not being human? Every fibre of her being, the moment he had touched her, had become inflamed to his oppressing aura.

The man in front of her felt so different from the effect Vergil have had on her.

If demons existed in this world, then angels could too? Right?

Eyes set in determination she saw the blonde man with the golden eyes point his finger again, this time at himself with pride and an expression of utter joy. "Me?"

Devon huffed at him and nodded, how long did he want this to keep dragging on? "Yes, you."

He suddenly thrust his hand out. "I'm your friend. I was with you, the moment you stepped into this world. Though, I can't really remember everything. It's all hazy most of the time. But, it changes sometimes. I could see people, who became aware of you. How they looked at you. The way they did."

His lifted his hand to put it on his chest, right over the spot where his heart sat.

"And when they do, I can feel their eyes on me. And I know, I am still alive." His voice had become yet more gentle again and grew quieter. "You know that feeling, don't you?"

So, it was true. If she believed this being in front of her, soaked with gold and light, that could cause a heart leap and a soul to be at peace, then she could rest assured.

Their eyes found in each other and locked into a state of complete mutual understanding, that went deep, like a lance of fire piercing her beaten and battered body.

She nodded, feeling the telltale prick of tears in the corner of her eyes.

His eyes became glossy as well, as he spoke. "I could see it in their eyes. They woke me up some time ago. There is energy in those eyes I can feed upon. I am so far away from home and sometimes all I need is a friendly face to be reminded of who and what I am. And it's hurts. But it is better than to loose oneself completely. So I endure, until you would find them."

Devon didn't understand a word. But somehow, she could feel what he was trying to say. "The friendly faces?" She almost choked, knowing exactly who he was talking about. He nodded solemnly.

"But...I" It was hard suddenly. In this very state of serenity, where she knew to be safe forever, she thought of them. "I...can't go back, can I?"

Devon had realized, her body had stopped it's vital functions. She knew, and to make sure, her hand flitted across her own heart, which was silent.

"Here." He extended his hand. "Do you trust me?"

Sobbing, she nodded and stretched her own hand out.

"Good. Because we can't die just yet. We are not allowed to. We have to endure. Together."

And with that he firmly grabbed her small hand and a jolt shot through her, her breath escaped her throat in a choked huff. It felt like she was being pulled under water. A current arose, to which he appeared to be completely unaffected by, and was about to rip their hands apart. His brilliant golden eyes looked at her, and suddenly Devon did not want to leave him behind, this poor creature, all alone, yet with so much hope in his eyes, that it could last for many lifetimes.

But her body jerked away from him. "Who are you!?" She yelled as a flurry waterspout erupted around them.

He gave her a last grin before his fingers let loose. "Can't you tell?" He asked cockily, laughing loudly over the crashing waters. "I'm Compassion!"

"What?" She screamed. The noises grew louder, a hurricane of water and darkness swiftly drowning his voice and frame out.

"I'm Compassion, but you can call me Pesh!" He yelled happily on the top of his lungs. And with that she fell into darkness.