Mirror, mirror on the wall Pt. I

"Kid..." Dante sighed after a while of silence, the sniffing didn't last long. The room was dark and he could hear every faint heartbeat in the house, except of course for Vergil's. But he knew, his brother was still with Devon in the kitchen. Curious.

"Nero." Dante started again, his shoulder tentatively rubbing against the younger man's, who's head still hung low, watching the pulsing light of his arm. Dante glanced sideways, enough to catch the despising look towards the glow, which indicated his strong presence. Nero didn't lift his head, though his heartbeat had calmed down to match all the others beyond the naked walls of Nero's bedroom.

"You can't keep doing this." Dante's open palm closed into a tight first, pointing his index finger at Nero, as he sighed. "You just can't. Your mood swings are a danger, for yourself. For others." His voice dropped at the last words, reminding Nero of the fragile human in the house. "You have to control yourself." Dante's voice was close to a hoarse whisper by now. Deep and grave.

At this Nero immediately scoffed.

Finally, a reaction. Not the one Dante would have wanted, but he'd take it nonetheless. He shrugged, as they made eye contact. Dante's was expression stern and unwavering, continuing without so much as a change to accommodate his seriousness. "What if you would trigger? What if it wouldn't have been me, but someone else entering the room?"

Nero's eyes narrowed, then closed and creased, as he let out a taunting chuckle. Oh, this was too ridiculous. Dante's clueless remark made him want to guffaw his heart out at him.

The older devil felt uneasy under the sound, the pit of his stomach twirling, as he viewed his opposite in bewilderment.

Nero wiped his face and the grin off with the back of his human hand. "As if." He spat the words out as if they had a bad taste. He then nodded, more to himself than to Dante and stood up, widening is arms. And Dante was afraid he finally had succumbed to his devil and snapped.

"As if I could hurt her. Or hurt anybody for that matter." He stretched his devil bringer out, palm turned upwards. "This magic glow stick couldn't hurt a damn fly." He laughed again, shaking his head at Dante, but eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I couldn't trigger if I wanted to!" His deep voice boomed. So sudden, that Dante flinched visibly at the abrupt change of volume. It hit him like a splash of burning acid to the face. The spite in Nero's voice was as painful as it could get.

But Nero looked pretty pleased with himself, sneering at his arm. There. He said it. The one thing, he never wanted to admit to anybody, let alone himself. But it had weighed on his him and inside him for quite a time, and hurling it at the by now fairly perplexed Dante in a more than defying matter felt surprisingly good.

"I CAN'T!" His voice cracked with the harsh outburst.

Dante jumped to his feet, invading Nero's personal space quick and intense, planting a firm, scorching hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough so the younger one thought it might pulverize his collarbone. Nero winced, But Dante's sturdy frame didn't falter much at Nero's pain, nor did his narrowed eyes. Dante fixed him with a piercing glare, and then gave him a shove to which Nero stumbled backwards and almost fell on his butt.

Dante turned entirely, willing his agitation back, calming his rage for keeping such a secret for way too long from him. Did Vergil knew of this? If so... But on second thought, he doubted it. His brother would have told him, because they had to be able to rely on each other. They had to know exactly what the other was capable of in term of strength, especially when it came to hunting demons together. Him and Vergil were practically an item, but with Nero, it was something each had still to fully ingest, and a secret like this was far from giving them any opportunity to fully trust each other. God, this stung more than Dante would have known.

And it simply was not acceptable, no matter from how he looked at it, wasn't it? Nero had gone too far. Dante's patience was at it's end with the boy.

He didn't look as he addressed Nero with a calm, but forced voice. "Why did you not tell me?" He heard fidgeting and rustling, knowing Nero he was probably ruffling his hair or fiddling with his clothes, like he always did when he was nervous. This gave Dante even more fuel to fire his deep anger. Nero's fidgety behavior was like an indicator to how he might had spilled the beans only involuntarily. Dante's knuckles turned white as he balled his fists.

"Explain. Now." The edge to the half bloods voice made Nero's jaw tight and his whole body tense. The looming presence, teetering on the edge of self control wormed it's way straight into his human heart. The calm demand did nothing to smooth the bordering fear the pressure made his knees nearly buckle.

"I'm waiting, kid." Dante felt the eyes on his back and he smelled the dread from the boy. Dante's inner devil growled in satisfaction to the crumbling resolve, like an ancient brickwall which broke apart by the tremor underneath it and heavily collapsed into a pile of worthless dirt. And that was what Nero felt like at this exact moment and under Dante's red hot anger, calmly sifting through every cracked line of his skin.

But Dante's restrain willed the surfacing menace back to where it belonged. He wasn't here to frightnen Nero and put him down more, than he himself did. Still, Dante couldn't shake the feeling of being hurt either.

Nero's shoulders sagged and a long shaky sigh broke from his dry throat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me." Dante warned. "It's not what I want to hear from you. It doesn't mean anything."

Those words pierced right through Nero's heart. Did Dante hate him for keeping this from him?

"I...I was afraid, okay?" He confessed in a small voice.

"Of what?" Dante sounded as cold and indifferent as Vergil. Which hurt even more.

"Of how you would have treated me." Nero had backed up to the wall behind him, looking for any leverage to serve his body from crumbling at the distant hybrid, he'd known for his heartwarming demeanor, which he had needed more than he had ever known. So, staring at his tense back and hearing him talk with a gut wrenching, unemotional voice, could not have agonized him more. He'd take a sword to the chest any time in favor of not hearing it from Dante ever again.

But he had it coming. He knew it was vital. He knew it was a question io trust. And he, who had been betrayed by so many, should have known better as to do the very same to the one who had cared for him the most the past year.

Nero's heart was ground to a bloody pulp between regret, heavy as a boulder and a tower of dread, shaped liked the huge frame in front of him.

And that was what Dante could feel and it helped him calm down wholly, as well. The sadness coming off of Nero quickly penetrated the sturdy layer around Dante. "Just get out of here." He said in a deflated tone. It pained him to not have Nero's full trust upon all the support he had offered the boy, when no one else had done so. He surely deserved better than this.

Nero's head snapped up, mislead by the wording, assuming that he was thrown out of the shop for good. A plea formed on his lips, not wanting to leave the man, who became very much the center of his life. And didn't he help Nero out and saved his life in more than one way? He would not throw him out, would he? His voice quivered when he spoke. "Dante...Please..."

But the devil strode towards the door, opened it with a jerky movement of his usually so steady aim and hand, but before he stepped through he halted, his back straight and voice firm. Nero's shock and guilt hung pungent in the air and was glued onto his tongue in a taste of bitter smoke. And Dante hated it from the deepest corner of his heart.

"You will plant your ass on the couch below and not move until I tell you to. I have enough to deal with than your childish antics, Nero."

When the boy didn't move and just stared with a gaping mouth, Dante turned. "Now." And to his own surprise, Nero did. He pushed himself off the wall, eagerly to get away from him. As he brushed past Dante with quick, but uneven strides, he felt the jolt of electricity from the older man, silently daring him to disobey his orders. Nero's heart was beating in his throat as he made his way down and did what he was told to.

To his surprise, he had to join Devon, who looked pretty much comfy on the big, cozy furniture and his eyes fell upon the blanket she had draped over herself and and the cup of tea on the small side table. His brow furrowed. He knew the blanket. It was Vergil's. And the tea, he knew instantly when the familiar smell of jasmine hit his flaring nostrils, was Vergil's favorite. His mind reeled and did a swift 180.

He certainly had missed something vital, he thought as he sat down at the opposite end of the leather couch. Not as comfortable and sluggish as one might have assumed him to, yet. No, he was still tense to the bone, guessing Dante would have him stew in his own juices for a while, until he would dish out his punishment.

Nero rubbed his tired eyes. He had fucked it up.

"What's wrong?" Devon's concerned voice ripped him from his thoughts, but he tried to give her grin, but it turned out utterly awkward and was something in between baring his teeth and a sad smile. He puffed his cheeks out and released his breath through pursed lips, while looking utterly defeated. He was simply to tired to act out like nothing had happened

Devon caught up quickly on his grim mood, but still gave him a weak smile herself. "That good?" She asked wryly and he shrugged halfheartedly, not really wanting to talk about. Instead he shifted his focus towards the TV. "Mind if I switch that on?"

"No. Not at all." It was his house home after all. Nero sank into the cozy soft leather, seemingly relaxed and thankful to have something occupy his mind, that didn't spell devil or angel for once. But after a few minutes of relentless switching through all channels, his eyes strayed over to her. She sat there, huddled in that soft, midnight blue blanket, he still wondered where she got it from. He did not know, that the answer was busy in the kitchen, since Nero had abandoned his kitchen duty, and tried meticulously to fix dinner for the rest of the household.

So, after bouncing back and forth ideas of how to discover the mystery behind the blanket, he opted for his usual blatant straight forward assault. What harm could it do, anyway? "That's Vergil's, right?"

Devon had chewed on the inside of her cheek, enthralled by the huge TV in front of her and didn't hear him over her own awe at the movie, that was running across the screen, big enough to make her feel even smaller than she already did.

"Huh?" Her eyes briefly strayed to his slouched form. His messy hair in his eyes, which he clearly didn't bother about. The white came out even better with the fluorescent light from the TV. God, how could it be so white, and shiny and soft looking all at once?

"The blanket?" He tried again, her stare hitting him square to the stomach, twisting it with an unknown feeling. Nero already had ventured, it might be the presence within her, according to the twins who had experienced a different, yet still likely effect. His arm grew warm, and he half turned to her and hid it behind him.

"Oh yes." Her hand stroked it a few times, relishing in the soft feel. "You were right." Devon stated matter-of-factly And Nero gave her puzzled look. "Of course you would be. Since you know him good enough at all..." God, she was rambling, wasn't she?

Nero could only grin at her. Was she...nervous? It sure seemed that way, how she avoided to look him straight in the face and instead concentrated on her ever busy fingers. "Who?" He asked like he didn't know, what she was talking about.

"Vergil." She huffed, having to say his name out loud. "He seems nicer, than before, I mean. Not he was mean, just you know, protective of some sort..." Devon snapped her mouth shut. She was rambling yet again, and wanted to bite her tongue of at this. Eyes fixed on the blanket, her fingers pointed to where it covered her knees and thighs. "He gave me this. Even made me tea..."

Nero did a double take at that. "Did he now?" This was interesting. Devon nodded, smile growing wider, when she finally lifted her head to see his amused expression, as he stopped flipping channels to regard her fully. Big blue eyes was all she could see for a second. Her mind refused to see anything else.

"So, I guess, he is a decent guy." Oh, this was precious. And she totally forgot about the super human hearing. Nero knew, Vergil was close by, straining himself to sense the faint presence by now. And he knew, that he heard every single word.

"Told you so." He replied still grinning, wishing he could see the older twins face and reaction to this. Well, it was a good thing, wasn't it?

"And Dante said I am allowed to stay. Since I don't have anywhere to go anyway...And..." He voice became quiet, and even cracked.

Nero finally scooted over a bit, his earlier rage and shame utterly forgotten. He had been sure, that Dante wouldn't let her leave again. Especially with that handicap and her other circumstances, meaning the angel business and homeless thing.

He awkwardly patted the spot where he assumed her feet where. "It's okay. Nothing's gonna happen to you. Promise."

Devon wiped her nose, and willed back those awful tears, threatening to spill every fucking time. She wouldn't cry again. It was pointless, whether it were happy or sad tears. No more, she chastised herself mentally, but his gesture was too cute in all it's clumsiness to ignore either.

"I know." Devon confirmed him in his endeavor to make her feel better and exhaled a deep breath, forcing her eye to zero in on him. "I know." But it wasn't alone the effort of the three men that eased her inside, but the warm fuzzy feeling Pesh seemed to exude, whenever she felt a touch lately, or just a friendly word or gesture. He was there and enjoying it in his innocent way, that made her tears spill for him, or so she assumed.

"So, what are we gonna watch." A few deep breaths later, Devon gave away nothing anymore, of this slight hope she allowed herself to feel, to not expose herself to much to the young man next to her who started to switch channels again. Nero huffed at the bad program, until finally a movie flickered across the screen he hadn't seen in years.

"Oh, you gotta watch this." He sounded excited and happy, while grinning madly from ear to ear. Now there was a sudden change of mood, if she ever had seen one. Quite remarkable. He was almost as good at this as she was.

Devon observed the screen. A young Asian man moved across the screen, apparently getting drunk on something, then with strange movement started to whoop the asses of another man. Devon furrowed her brows at his burps of bubbles and jerky fighting style, utilizing all his limbs in a quite unusual way.

Oh.

This was supposed to be funny. The light tone of the movie finally registered in her brain.

"It's a classic. A martial art comedy called Drunken Master." Nero explained, eyes briefly flickering between her mild smile and the TV.

Devon chuckled. "Okay. I see. But what's he drinking?" She asked, motioning at the wooden bamboo bottle.

"Uh, sake, I guess. Heard it's really mean." He actually heard it from Vergil. "And, it's supposed be warm." The older twin had a lot of this kind of seemingly useless information stored away in that big brain of his. And Nero never tired of hearing all of it.

Devon made a funny, choking noise in the back of her throat. "That sounds completely disgusting to be honest. You ever tried?"

Nero rubbed his nose and shook his head. He was more of a coke and whiskey guy, which he learned through Dante a few quite memorable times. And he could hold his liquor quite well, which he had also learned with the devil hunter, saying it was because of their demon blood. He'd down two bottles and not so much but feel a tingle and pleasurable warmth to the cheeks. Not to mention had been eager to find out exactly the amount to have Nero dwindling into a drunken, highly amusing, stupor. At five, they both had lost the ability to count.

"Uh, no. Not yet. But I might. Vergil thinks it's actually good. And when he says it, it's gotta be true." Nero praised the older hunter to the very heavens, not intentionally, but Devon could hear the admiration in his voice and see it in his face, when she stole a glance and had to grin.

He was focused on the scene on the screen anyway and either didn't seem to notice or simply didn't mind and Devon went back to watch as well. If he liked it, it must be a good movie. Because her opinion of Nero was just as high as his was of the older twin. Nero was a remarkable individual himself in her eyes, though he might not even knew it.

A commotion could be heard from upstairs, making both their heads swivel around. Then they heard a loud voice drone, which they easily recognized as Death's. He sounded not so pleased. "Hunter. What are you doing? Is this the time to fool around?"

"The only time!" Came the flippant reply and with it Dante appeared on top of the staircase. A black, chalk board in his hands. It was quite large and hid most of his impressive figure behind it. Devon blinked, brows furrowed, until she heard a low groan next to her. Nero had turned and hid his face in his large hand. His devil bringer though, was securely tugged into his lap, glowing brightly, like it glaring at Dante, who seemed to have found his sense humor again and was ready to deal with the younger hunter.

Nero, from his end of the stick couldn't believe it. But when Dante came over, impressively towering above him, he watched through his fingers with slight dread. Not now, his eyes seemed to plead, but Dante was far from acknowledging it with more than a dismissive grunt. The lesson was about to start. Embarrassing or not, Dante could care less.

"What's that?" Devon inquired, two curious eyes fixed on the board for a moment before watching Dante's face split into an unsettling grin. It wasn't a happy one, that much was certain. And Devon felt sorry for asking and pulling his attention towards her in the first place.

"See this?" Dante addressed Nero without any explanation, or indication, that it was a foreign matter to the young man and his reaction pretty much had confirmed it to Devon, that he knew exactly what this was about.

Nero clenched his jaw, but said nothing. Eyes however burned with a blue flame he couldn't fix to die down, he took a gander at Devon, before he glared back at the hunter. Oh, he wanted her leave, but Dante would not heed Nero's silent plea. Fat chance, his expression spelled as he gave Nero a satisfied once over. The wooden board ached under his tight hold.

"Since you opted for a rather immature display of an agnry fit and kept this one impostant thing from me, you will have to face the consequences of your actions. So, Iittle buddy here will take care of that. What do you think? How much does it up the count?"

His tone was spiteful, mocking Nero's actions from before. "Three? Four?" Dante stroked his chin for good measure.

He sat the thing to rest against the table and slowly walked up and down in front of two flabbergasted individuals. He snapped his fingers, turning gracefully on his heels, catching Nero's accusing eyes. "I know! Let's make it ten. It was a solid ten, no? Or, maybe yet, a twenty. That sound's good. " His voice was loud and stern as he announced something, that made not the slightest sense to Devon. "I think that's a new record. Good one." Dante restrained himself from applauding, nonetheless the burning sarcasm hit it's mark just as spot on as the pat Nero received to his head.

Nero's mouth hung open at him as he jerked his head away from Dante's touch, before spluttering indignantly with a slack expression. "Are you for real?" Devon noted, that to Nero it made enough sense to raise his voice. He looked shocked.

Devon was painfully clueless, and barely kept herself from yelling, at what the hell was going on with them. A shadow moved in the corner of her eye and it distracted her for a second and her mouth snapped shut. She saw Vergil had appeared to lean against the door frame of the kitchen. Arms crossed over his chest, looking...amused?

So this was not serious? Could have fooled her.

Dante regarded Vergil for a second, who only gave a single nod. He apparently knew as well what this was about.

Damn it all. Why was she the odd one out and no one bothered to even clarify this stupidity to her? Devon's eyes traveled from Vergil back to Dante, expression growing disgruntled at this particular thought.

"Alright, with that out of the way..." Dante read Vergil's approval right, guessing he was save to get on with the punishment.

Nero did a sharp intake of air, puffing his chest out, wanting to argue so badly, but Dante held his hand up, one finger, pointing at the board. "You brought this upon yourself, kid. I advice you to take your punishment like a man and keep your mouth shut. When you really think about it, I let you away pretty easy. You know your behavior is not acceptable. And Vergil here..." He did a flourish towards his brother, who came over in slow deliberate steps. "...will beat it into your head. Time and time again, if he must."

Well, the count said it was yet twice, but Nero knew the dangers of it becoming far more, if he would speak up now. Dante and his voice made it clear to him, it made him vibrate all over with the veiled danger looming under the surface still, like before upstairs. No, despite making it look like a game, Nero was aware the hunter had enough. And he felt the shame and the guilt weighing down on his broad shoulders, not knowing if he could take anymore of it.

And it was embarrassing to be chastised like a school boy in front of Devon. His ears were burning brightly under his hair. But the anger still bubbled up with it. Though this time, his control had a firm grip on that one too. Or so he hoped. His bringer nonetheless didn't cease to burn and light the space closest around him, even leaving a slight sheen on Devon's face.

The woman still stared, feeling the serious and foreboding thread exuding off the red hunters frame. The light tone was gone, wiped away with one single whip of his huge hand. Vergil had taken up the spot next to him, staring them both down equally.

"You at least gonna tell me when?" Nero asked quietly, looking up at Vergil this time. "You wish." The older twin replied nonchalantly, receiving a pat to his upper arm from his brother in return.

Nero slumped back, not even trying to hide his disappoint any more. He would yet again have to face it whenever he least expected it. Like early in the morning, being pulled out of bed to land flat on his drowsy face, which had happened quite a few times.

"You wanna have the honors?" Dante asked Vergil, a slight mischievous glint in his eyes. The older twin flexed his muscled arm, seeming equally playful at this point. Devon's gazed tattered back and forth between the twins, not knowing what exactly to anticipate.

She jolted wide awake on the appearance of a bright blue flash, forming a blue blade. "Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, without thinking, pressing herself into the back of the couch. Nero now openly scoffed at the raw and senseless display of Vergil's powers. "Dude. You're scaring her."

Vergil twirled that damn blade around his index finger, giving Devon a once over. "Oh this? Nothing to worry about." Indifferent voice, narrowed eyes. Vergil just acted like he knew what this was all about. Apparently Nero had submitted a great error and let Dante have his way to instill this sort of punishment. Vergil played it off easily, knowing and trusting his brother's judgment enough to just roll with it. But somehow he already knew and had guessed a long time ago, that the boy was hiding a few things still. Well, seemed like not anymore. Dante though was indeed pissed, holding himself together remarkably well, because Vergil could sense the rage deep inside, his own devil trying to get in tune with his twin's, which Vergil had to keep from happening himself. He just hoped this was soon over. He hated it when Dante was angry. It was agitating him more than anything else was capable of putting this kind of stress on him, more like he wanted to admit.

Vergil focused on his the small blade instead and in swift motions, to fast for the single human eye in the room, his blue weapon left ten straight marks on the already beaten and battered surface of the chalk board. Nero's name appeared on top as well. "Ten it is."

It all looked like magic to Devon, and the woman was tantalized by the actions of the twin. Fear forgotten, her face contorted into a look of straight awe. She looked at Nero, finger pointing at Vergil, then at Dante, sticking her arm out, frantically motioning at the blue blade. "What the?"

Nero pursed his lips and Dante grinned stupidly. "Neat, right?" To which Nero gave his best sour look, but remained silent and opted to chew on the inside of his cheek, keeping him from biting his tongue and swallow the curses that threatened to spill. He missed the swords, but wouldn't give Vergil the courtesy and applaud this childish showoff either. And the fact that Vergil could alter their appearance, shape and size at will, added to his overall irritation, kneading his insides with envious hands.

Damn him. And his powers.

Vergil let the blade embed itself next to Nero's name like a vibrant exclamation mark, before it finally dissolved in a burst of white hissing smoke and glittering shards like dry ice.

Dante shifted hi sattention to rest his eyes solely on Devon . "Now for you." His voice didn't soften much and Devon's heart started pounding agaisnt her ribcage.

Her suspicious eyes stared back at him, letting the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. "Some ground rules, since you're going to stay too." His stance was straight and Devon felt the telltale tingle of raw power on her spine, which wasn't pleasant at all. She hardened herself against it nonetheless. "You're not permitted to leave the house on your own accord."

Devon leaned forward, eyes wide, not believing her ears. "What did I do?!" Clearly not seeing, when she had committed an error so grave as to deserve this, her voice even dared to raise with the exclaimed question.

Dante clicked his tongue, holding his hand out, silencing her immediately and her face went slack. "If you behave like a child, you are treated as one." He wouldn't tell her, that since she came back, he couldn't sense her anymore. Her heartbeat and anything else human was veiled under a bubble of nothing. It was strange and didn't sit well with him. And he knew, Vergil would be aware of it either, which concluded that no one would be able to track her down, if she'd ever pull a stunt like that again.

Devon seethed at him, but to no avail. The icy stare let her burning stomach acid freeze over.

Dante didn't think to clarify, because she damn well knew why. "It's the only rule. You wanna stay? Then take this advice. You will listen to us. Me and Verge for that matter, since we seem to be the only ones with enough common sense to handle situations when they arise." The weighty air of authority that came with his words hit Devon straight in the guts. How he was doing it, was all she could think about. That crushing look, only Vergil had given her so far, held her gaze in a tight lock. Her heart pounded. Out of anger, out of guilt or shame? Devon wasn't too sure. It only left her speechless, though she managed a slow nod, before Dante let her lower her head.

"Good."

Nothing more to say, Dante turned to Vergil. "Come with me for a sec." And Dante lead them upstairs and Nero and Devon to their own vices.

The atmosphere cleared of the low hanging cloud of older devil fumes. And they both felt their heartbeats return to normal and the tension ease away. Devon regarded the board. "Care to elaborate?" She asked amused, despite what just had happened. Strange how the absence of the twins had lightened up the mood. And for she knew, they meant well. And she could the reason. She did after all act idiotic, even in her eyes. She was thankful he didn't dive into the topic any further than had been necessary. It still stung and reeled in the back of her mind. Feeling so surreal and very tangible all the same, when seeing, that her vision was still halved. And it wouldn't get better for certain. She gritted her teeth and shoved this unpleasant thought right into the darkest corner of her mind, where it could sit and sulk by itself. She wouldn't let it resurface for now.

Nero wanted to give the chart of shame a profound kick, but caught his foot in the last moment, knowing it would obliterate the poor wood. And he would have to face another of Dante's speeches. Or worse, Vergil's take on how to deal with his antics, which wasn't words but painful actions.

He gave the board his best scowl, before Devon patted his arm. "You okay?"

Nero shrugged at that and simply went on to clarify, for what good it would do he didn't know. "Dante calls it the shame game." He informed her with a chuckle, because she looked at him like they were all crazy, which maybe wasn't even too far off from the truth. It must look very unconditional to a normal person. Not that she was anything but normal, but clearly not that much affected by it, than he first believed her to be. Somehow, Nero admired her for it. For she could act like the most human person in the vicinity. And maybe she was, only harboring that angelic soul, which he had felt warm and glowing when he had watched over her sleep the other night.

One thing was certain, it helped him to calm down. And this strange need to be close, he blamed the heavenly creature inside her for it. But the urge he felt, to only get a single fraction of that soothing feeling, was dangerous and overpowering in itself. Just another thing he didn't need upon his pile of dirt, he consequently seemed to find himself in.

"I guess I brought this on myself." He mused in defeat, before he stood and grabbed the board, still managing to resist his first and foremost impulse to hurl it at the bar, wanting to hear the noises of the crash so badly. But he only huffed and used his human hand to carry it over to place it next to the jukebox, where it could glow in silence and, rivaled by the blinking lights of said device, not pull his attention towards it everytime he would enter the room.

Devon watched him, hesitating for a second, but her mouth opened of it's own accord. "What...did you do?"

Nero turned and walked back over, with his usual stride, those long legs allowed him to do. Devon saw his hips sway and swallowed, averting her eyes to not let the image burn into her head. Wow... Even when looking like a lost puppy, his demeanor acted still like the one of most self assured beings she'd ever came across. He was a force and sight to behold and hold your breath upon.

"I trashed my bedroom. " And when he said it, he couldn't help but laugh, plopping down next her again. "And my punishment is sparring with Vergil. Whenever he sees fit. Literally. Dead of the night, morning, dinner. It's not as funny as it sounds." He gave her a feigned annoyed look, masking his true anger still.

"Oh." Devon blinked a few times at him. For as mellow, as he appeared to be, this action was a new facet to him nonetheless. A startling one at that. What got him so angry to do something like that? On a second note, maybe she'd rather not know. Must have been big, to rile him up from the kind and good spirited exterior he had shown her in that short time they had known each other. "That indeed sounds bad."

"Oh, you have no idea." He threw his arm over the backrest, as he turned on his spot to face Devon. "And what did you do?"

Devon shot him an incredulous look. Like for real? She grabbed a cushion, starting to knead it in her lap, needing to drown out the feeling his scrutinizing eyes called forth. "Me?" She asked to buy some time and fix her face into her usual polite looking state. "I died, remember?"

Now it was on Nero to look incredulous. His brows raised at her, but a small grin appeared as soon as she laughed at her own blatant statement. It truly was getting easier every time she said it.

"Right." He replied with a smirk.

"Right." She repeated, bursting into that laughter, she so desperately needed, to conceal the fact of the unbelievable things that happened to her. It was quite comical. What a pair of idiots they were. It was not lost on Nero. And the way Dante had played it like an older brother or father? To apparently protect them from this stupid kind of behavior was even more funny, when they both gave it a second thought. The sound of laughter cleared out the rest of the initial sullen feeling and they relaxed into their respective spots. It was kind of curing. And Nero liked, how he could laugh at it as heartily as she could. As ridiculous and even severe as it seemed.

His admiration grew yet again. Laughing fate in the face? He kinda liked it.

Dante stared at the mirror, fingers barely touching the dark surface. It was one of the mirrors from Mallet Island, Vergil had been send through to kill him, and it was currently residing in his bedroom. Oh the irony, Mundus would have ahted it and that thought was amusing him to no end. He did not know which one it exactly was and it didn't even matter in the least anyway, or if the others where unscathed or had been destroyed along with the castle. The magic was still the same.

It had been a miracle all by itself, thatTrish had even managed to get her hands on this single one. And who knows if it was good or bad. Dante saw it for what it was and she apparently did to. It had been used to traverse between realms, but the magic had weakened with Mundus' defeat. Yet still it could be a powerful tool - with the right hand and adamantine will to lead it.

But even if one could still use it, they couldn't say where they would end up looking. And from where in Hell Vergil had come through, he didn't know either. He had almost no recollection of their fight on the island, and Dante felt it was better this way anyway. So he wouldn't dare to torment his brother with questions, he did not particularily needed the asnwers to. He would do without and take the small risk willingly.

They had to fight each other three too many times. And the less Vergil remembered, the better Dante could still look inot his eyes. And at himself for letting it happen in the first place. Vergil was putting enough blame on himself as it was. Dante wouldn't want him crumbling under it. Again. And eventually this incident didn't even matter, because it hadn't his free choice to fight his brother at that time.

Dante lightly shook his head, as to get rid of these painful thoughts of a brother thought lost for a long time. And the shock and aftermath of this revelation. By God, if he ever had received a wound so deep that it would hurt and bled profuesely, it had been on this very day. He could handle fighting Vergil at his peak and full conscience, but not as a redusced puppet devoid of everting that had made his brother the person he was. Vergil.

"That's the plan?" Death ripped the red hunter from his dark thoughts yet again. Dante wanted to bash his head against the wall to get his act together. But he conjured up a wide grin from nowhere instead.

"It's the best I got. If Danzig doesn't want to be found..." Here his gaze drifted from the pale rider to his brother next to him, and back, "...then you won't find him. At least not with normal methods." Trish and Lady had searched the whole city far and wide, with nothing of a trace left behind by his mentor. The abandoned building, Danzig used as space to place the entrance to his small realm on had vanished. The magic had been wiped away like a small speck of dirt thoroughly cleaned off a window until it blinked, it was gone. And Dante could only wonder about the dangers that let Danzig take on this course of action.

"Are we that desperate?" Whoa. Dante's head turned quickly, he simply hadn't anticipated Vergil's voice to sound so opposing to the idea all of a sudden.

Dante scratched the back of his neck. He wasn't in the mood for friendly brotherly banter right now. Not in the slightest. "Yes we are. You heard it, didn't you?"

"I forbid it." Scornful, unwavering eyes stared back at their equal.

The sheer delusional state and self assured tone agitated Dante more than it should. It wasn't his brothers choice. "I'm sorry Verge, but this time you won't get a say. It's critical as it is, and I totally agree we need him here with us. And that creepy vault of his.I can only sleep soundly, knwoing it's under our protection, and Danzig's." He jabbed his thump at Death, who glared at the sloppy gesture.

"Just hurry." The Rider gave of an impatient snarl, swatting the improper gesture of the devil hunters hand away like one did chase off a puny, annoying fly. Well, for the once who knew the rider enough, it was actually his normal voice, but it always sounded the way it it did. And only changed slightly between mildly amused, sarcastic or downright mean and threatening.

Yet, not taking it personal or serious, Dante only chuckled at him. "Leave it to me, big guy."

Vergil crossed the room from the door, where he had been standing to occupy his brother's side and take a gander at the mirror. The same dark energy, as faint as it was, still twirled under the glass, which reflected them, but it was way too dark to barely make out enough or if they were indeed staring at themselves. How Dante could sleep in this room with that thing, was beyond Vergil's comprehension. It practically bled hostily, gushing like an open wound, whenever eyes met reflection. Vergil looked away, head spinning slightly from the venomous, dark magic it gave off.

Vergil wished, he could change Dante's spur-of-the-moment decision, and the remark he got in return? it stung way too deep to let it slide. "Have you any idea, what happens when you don't use it properly? How do you wanna prevent anything from coming through once the energy flow is restored?"

Dante had to admit, his brother was of course right to worry to some extent, but he clearly underestimated his younger brother onthe other hand. Dante had have ten years. Ten years ahead of Vergil. Ten years to learn and master. To become so much more than a sword swinging, gun shooting loudmouth.

Oh, he still was, but the addition of the knowledge of Danzig's crafts was a portion he had not paraded around lest revealed more than necessary. Vergil would soon get a share of what Dante had truly learned all along those long years he spent alone and in company of the old lunatic with his grandiose nature. The mad trader with a taste for fancy, elegant clothes and an even more extravagant taste for fine spirits. And questionable powers, which no one knows the root of.

Danzig stalked through the ashen laden sands of the realm of the dead. The harsh winds, he weren't clearly used to and hated the second he set foot onto the land, let his tattered clothes swish and his ripped, black coat dance behind his back. The air tasted of nothing but sand and stale smoke of fires long burned out. This was bothering him the most. His nose was practically clogged with sand, but the smell still found a way through to bother him to no end.

His grey hair was pulled back into his fancied, sophisticated ponytail of grey hair, yet the gritty texture he could feel under his fingers, with pads rough from all his meticulous writing and keeping notes throughout the long ages he had resided in the human realm. A trader and keeper. A watcher from days of yore, yet not heralding from the realm of men he so intently and dedicated documented on.

Scrawny, ugly and faceless creatures adorned his path like little rats, scurrying back and forth to have a curious whiff of the man that didn't belong anywhere near and yet pranced along the sandy folds like he owned the place.

The attack was quick, however effortlessly interrupted by a mere flick of Danzig's long, bony finger. The few, lowly bred creatures, which truly dared to venture close enough to see those fervent eyes, caught on a treacherous fire, which burnt ferociously but slowly to melt their rotting flesh off the chalky bones, much like ice cream dripping of a cone on a warm summer day. The sands were stained with the grimy substance they left in their wake, dissolving into ashes after long last. The wails were snatched away by the traveling storm and reaching far and wide, like lonely desperate sirens calling in vein, warning every other creature to not wander his direction any longer and meet their fate, which prowled the lands of the dead on steady legs, not giving away any indication of the age his pale face showed with deep etched lines and wrinkled skin.

Danzig scaled the distance, but the land tried to trick his eyes the further he got, telling him he didn't get a mere inch onward and the Eternal Throne watched with sleepless eyes from still afar. Danzig grunted, pulling his coat tighter around his tall and skinny frame. If it would take days or weeks, it wasn't something he couldn't tell yet. There was no sun, no moon, no night. And even the everlasting day seemed like nothing but a mere absence of dark. No time to measure, only Danzig left to count his own heartbeat and keep walking on for what seemed like an eternity in this forsaken grounds and it's lifeless soil.

Danzig, feeling the weight of this realm, but still having the luxury of needing no rest or anything to sustain himself met the towering inhuman construction with indifferent eyes. The leviathans rested on the other side, presumably guarding the arena he had heard of from the one that Death had called the Crowfather, who was now the sole protector of the entrance to the Well of Souls. A spirit stuffed with knowledge ready to burst from his ghostly existence, keen eyes seeing right through him. And what Danzig had learned upon their unscripted meeting within the Tree of Life, had him walk away in a flurry of glum thoughts.

The Riders had left their realm, and Danzig had so wished to meet before they would set out to do whatever they had planned to do. Heaven was already in a determined uproar, feeling the full impact as startling effect of the dead Council like no other realm. Their blind obedience had cost them dearly. The vengeful angels with their now unveiled spite, had turned the tables quickly. The hell guard had been annihilated. Lostlight reportedly laid in ruins and the stone bled under their fierce battle, not that Danzig had ever intended to set foot upon the heavenly realm in the first place. He would have rather taken his chances in the demon realm and Hell then come anywhere near the kingdom and the White City itself.

The persevering White Guard were the watching eyes to ensure no one would get close without stating their business to a long golden lance o the tip of a silver blade. Over more, too proud were the immortal souls inhabiting the walls, that no one could lay siege upon the walls and not leave anything but a scratch on the marble stone surrounding it and standing high as the highest tower inside with their golden tip. A glittery beacon in the sun for everyone to see from afar at the outposts. Not that anyone had been left there to see it as of now. The city had been closed off and the never rotting corpse of their former leader Azrael adorned the white gate on the outside. Hanging there in shame like a grim reminder to those, that had followed the Council as blind as the dead eyes of the righteous angel, now dull forever. And this was the gravest news Danzig had to receive along with a burning sting to his heart, cursing Death and his companions to have left so impulsively and not see the city's leader first. This divine blood was on the Riders hands. And in Danzig's eyes, this was a sin they had committed willingly. He only hoped, the pale Rider had more than excruciatingly good answers to Danzig's questions. If they would ever meet again.

Free from their chains and commitment they were free to roam wherever they liked from that day forth. And their conquest for freedom had been consuming their youngest brother's mind for such a long time, Danzig's wasn't even half surprised when he had felt the Council fight for their existence and loosing rather gracelessly to the unbridled rage and need for vengeance. So much hate to have bred and grown inside the red rider, inevitably so, to have the Coucil meet their self-afflicted end, after the corruption had infested the former neutral party.

Oh, he knew how much Death loved his brother and felt forever compelled to ensure he would get whatever he asked for. Danzig almost laughed. Now where had he heard that story before...

Danzig couldn't approve of the method and blunt execution of the deed, but what had to be done, had been done, by the very same Riders, that had vowed to protect the balance and the realms from whatever, with an oath no one would dare to break. Concerning the Charred Council, appointed by the creator himself as the universe had been young, even by their own standards, they had only carried out their roles. And to this, Danzig had to admit, they seem to knwo perfectly where their loyalties lie and with the betrayal on War, they had sealed their very fate. For the better or worse. But Danzig doubted, that corruption could have been driven out of a living Council to begin with.

But what was the worth of an oath now, if there was no one to pledge their loyalty to but themselves? Death was a wise leader, but still Danzig couldn't help but feel worried if their freedom wouldn't send them on rampage of misguided righteousness. Duties always came first, own needs second, but they would yet have to find out what would be left to protect without the wide reach of the Council and the tight net of watchers now nonexistent. A task, Danzig had acknowledged as soon as the Council fell. And he had grabbed the ugliest and oldest clothes he could find in his home, venturing out with no hesitation only to find himself devoid of the Riders presence in a realm yet not devoid of any control. Someone still held the invisible reign over it, and he was anxious to find out who it was.

The seat of the ruler seemed to be empty as he reached the inner court of the Eternal Throne. But the only thing, that was eternal appeared to be a group of skeletons, gathering at the far end, near the tunnel that lead to the arena. And who knows, if it still was functioning and to what purpose, if the Lord of Bones was now resting forever?

Long, secure strides carried Danzig over across the dirty wooden planks and closer to the hooded figure, standing amidst his entourage, for Danzig could easily detect who was the strongest of the figures in their sickly green light and engulfed in pale vapor. If he could ever feel fear, this was not an occasion, a strange sense settling in his guts, as he neared the group of what looked like full on armor warriors. Except for the one in the middle. Curious.

He could only guess, who it was he laid eyes upon, as a skull in green flames and hollow dark caverns stared back. And Danzig could only wonder about how dignified that stare could have been, if this particular warrior would be still alive. Danzig was almost able to picture the face of grief and determination with his inner eye. Loose hair framing a handsome pale face with high cheekbones. And in his mind, there echoed a wicked laugh, which could rival that of a sincere maniac at any given time under scarring circumstances.

And in this moment he was reminded of his very own two, and not long ago upped to three, little maniacs, all alone at ther home. He wondered if this had reached them yet or if they already had to fight for the lives. Though Danzig had steel himslef and remind his inner own maniac at how well he had prepared at least one of them and be given the time to raise the sturdy, red hunter to grow with his tasks. Beyond a measure that was yet to be seen.

Danzig told himself to have faith in his small, infamous ball of mischief, sack of self loathing shit and their newest addition of sweet cookie and sour milk, which had grown in strength and company, fit for a protector of the realm. Dante would never let him down. And he knew he taught him well. And the mix of father and mother and their best intention had formed and molded him into a hyperactive child, with a nose that could smell evil fifty miles off. And with a heart big enough for the whole world to fit, tightly tugged into his uncanny cloak of happy go lucky, ready to be underestimated and giving him an advantage every single time. A stroke of genius or not, no one could be really sure about that. Even the quieter hours had seldom permitted Danzig to look into the soul and it grew harder with every year Dante had taken towards maturity. Though he for certain had fought and conquered his inner demon, something the other two, especially young Nero, had still to learn. But youth was like this with the hybrids. Never a dull moment. And Danzig always had cherished every single second of it, for the kind hearted boys had given their everything and more to live up to their own expectations. And that was the only thing that mattered. They heeded no one, but their own call from within their souls. And some had paid dearly for it as well.

Danzig left with good intentions, for he was well aware, if he would have left a single trace behind, he wouldn't be standing here alone, but with three fierce pair of eyes added into the mix. And they weren't needed here, but back at Capulet City, where danger lurked at every corner, over the more so yet, when the balance had no other to maintain it. And the realms needed to be kept in order. This one as much as the next. And how to deal with Heaven, Danzig had still no clear vision of. But he would have to face one burden at a time. And this one right here did not seem so bad as he at first had anticipated.

Not missing a beat, the old man dipped his head in a greeting and came to a halt right in front of the warrior. He couldn't feel any hostility and that was indeed an uplifting occurance. Here, he knew, he had met someone with a cleverness hidden behind a sight that didn't paid his sense of good judgment any respects. What looked like a mere pile of bones and clothed, draped in a beggar's outfit, was indeed a powerful soul, put to shame by none other than the master of this realm. If there was a master left, or this one simply lacked the memory or good taste to choose his exterior any better. Danzig would find out soon enough, if this proud soul heeded anyone any longer.

Danzig gave a warm smile to the skeleton man in front of him. His doubts had completely dissolved by now, he knew who he had made acquaintance with. He could feel it vibrate deep within in his soul. The vengeful righteousness. And the fierce love for someone long gone, but still etched into his unbeating heart. A burning memory of the man he once had been, reflected through the eyes of another. Dante was in awe of this brave and proud soul, which wasn't lost at all.

"You must be the one they call Draven." The greatest warrior that had ever walked the third kingdom, or so they said, even Death.